Mesaraih burst into a small but brief fit of laughter. His leg burned, ached, and felt practically useless. Despite that, however, he steadied it on the ground and readied himself to jump back into the fray. He licked his lips and looked up at the ogre with burning eyes before nodding his appreciation to Valhena.<br/><br/>"You're a godsend," he said to her.<br/><br/>The elf looked at him askance before turning her attention back to the ogre. Clearly now that his talkative side was back he didn't need any more care. And she couldn't be more right.<br/><br/>Mesaraih's leg felt heavy and unresponsive, but it obeyed his will enough to allow him to run forward against the ogre. It tried to swipe him off the ground, and he he relied on his healthy leg to jump out of the way. He was so dependent on hopping motions that he felt a bit like a rabbit, but he didn't care. Anything to survive.<br/><br/>His daggers were still on fire. He chanced a look back at Ester, who didn't seem to be doing so well. Something inside him felt guilty. As much as she seemed to hate him, she was one of the reasons he was still alive right now. And her blizzard, cold as it was, helped numb his wounds so that they didn't pain him as much.<br/><br/>Mesaraih's thoughts were swirling, the pain making him consider everything that would normally seem like an unrealistic idea. That was how he knew it would work.<br/><br/>As Valehna sent another fists of boulder hurtling towards the ogre, he hopped on top of the flying rocks with his healthy foot. As he flew with unsettling spped against the ogre's upper torso, he readied his daggers. The ogre snarled at him, as if he knew what he was planning, and placed his fists in front of him as a last line of defense. Mesaraih closed his eyes for a split second before flipping over the ogre's fists. He let his body fall slightly to be level with the ogre's heart, then he began slashing at it.<br/><br/>The ogre screamed in rage, then batting away at the pesk of a human that clung to its chest. Mesaraih swung with the leverage of his daggers to avoid the ogre's blows, digging his knives even deeper inside. The flames blackened the corners of the ogre's wounds, and just as Mesaraih felt his vision blur, the ogre began to fall backwards. He wasn't sure whether the ogre was done for, and he wasn't sure how much it mattered to him, but all he knew of the next few moments was utter blackness.