Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20170904163113/@comment-24510587-20170910001951

"My thoughts exactly, lord Lott," Mortimer nodded. "Stand aside, please."

The slender stitchwork man got in front of the heavy wooden door and gave the thing a kick that was far more powerful than his physique would suggest, knocking the door wide open and almost off its hinges.

What the pair walked into was Seris, in full armour as always, stumbling through the room like he was having a psychosis. As of right now, his back was turned to them as he leaned over a table.

"Ah... ah-ha-ha! I'm not dead... oh gods, why am I not dead? I should be dead!" The man exclaimed, his tone swinging from maniacally upbeat to desperately weeping to angrily frustrated in that single blurt of speech. He nearly flipped the table over in a fit of rage.

It was only now, when he was somewhat turned around, that Mortimer and Lott could see what had happened: he had his rondel dagger driven all the way through a visor slit in his helmet. And he was still standing.

"I-I don't understand! Where is my face? What happened to my face?"