[ @teasnrps ; continuation of this ]
Jester winces and holds her leg, giving a shaking smile up to Caduceus. “My hero,” she says weakly, but the usually cheerful tiefling’s voice is strained from pain. Still, she squares her shoulders as he announces his intentions, nodding grimly. She knows Caduceus is trying to be as careful as he can while lifting her, but the movement still sends lances of searing hurt shooting through her leg. She cries out from the pain, clutching to the front of Caduceus’s tunic with shaking hands. The blue-skinned cleric lets out a stream of curses both in common and infernal through gritted teeth.
“How far away is camp?” Jester can totally make it that far without passing out, or so she hopes. Damnit, she and Caduceus had just gone out to collect some herbs (him) and sketch some flowers (her.) The direwolves had come out of nowhere, it wasn’t fair. And now poor Caduceus has to carry her all the way back!
