When Elta laid her hands on Gajol, the barbarian woman gasped and arched her back as some painful cracks resounded from her chest, her ribs putting themselves back in place. Though she was not anywhere near good condition, she was far better than not, and in a few seconds, was able to stand again. Thrusting her sword into the ground, Gajol leaned onto it while panting. Her chest still hurt, but she imagined she'd live.<br/><br/>As for Mirnea, she would suddenly feel her sentience rush through her, starting from the base of her neck and going all the way to her skull. Flashes of what exactly had gone on from the time of her torture until she'd been hit by the Feeblemind spell smashed into her brain like a ton of bricks. The great pain from having the demon's vise-like grip around her neck would fade instantly, as would any other sort of damage she'd taken.<br/><br/>While all of that happened, Falameezar watched Elta with a strange combination of threat and worry. It seemed that, to some degree, he cared about Mirena's well-being, but was not only too proud, but also still too angry at the nalfeshnee at the time to say it. When Mirnea recovered, the closest thing that Elta would get to his thanks would be a quick glance in her direction, one that distinctly lacked malice. He then sat on his rump next to the sorceress in a manner not unlike that of a cat, and looked about the rest of the group. "<span style="color: olive">I imagine that it would be in everyone's best interests to recover while we can, hm? There would be a great lack of resistance on our trek out of this foul place, so I am not worried if you must rest.</span>"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>