Teclos couldn't move, so he had plenty of time to think—and his thoughts were torture, poison seeping slowly through his mind. Images flashed left and right, inescapable and ever-present, each one sending a sharp knife into his heart.
'Shit...'
His tears flowed freely, half from the emotional pain tearing through him and half from the physical agony he had no choice but to endure in this broken state.
At some point, his memory simply cut off. He remembered Gillard taking his last breath, and then, for a while... nothing.
The next thing he remembered was sitting in front of Gillard. A dark pool of blood surrounded them, and an empty flask rested in his hand.
Whenever he tried to remember more, pain stabbed through his skull, as if the worst migraine imaginable had split open behind his eyes. Still, small snippets flashed through his mind for a second at a time.
Hands ripping one of the orc's eyeballs out and feeding it back to him.
