Crask felt an immense sadness at Boris's words, "A good job..." Crask spluttered incredulously, "I couldn't even look after myself, let alone any of you. Look at the rest of you..." He could feel his self-loathing returning "There's not a scratch on you, I let an untrained, inexperienced villager damn near cut me in half".<br/><br/>His outburst brought on a coughing fit, his throat raw from shouting, and as he rubbed his hand up to his mouth, it came away stained with blood. Things were worse than the surface of the wound suggested, the villager had obviously pierced something internally. Quickly, he wiped the blood away, to ensure that no-one would see it.<br/><br/>He reached into his pockets and pulled out a small vial. He would not die like this, he pledged as he gulped the mixture down. Although the contents had no healing properties, but they would at least let him control the pain for as long as possible. The potion began to work, and he felt instantly invigorated, he stood up slowly, shakily at first, but with more confidence as his strength returned.<br/><br/>"I'm fine, the wound was just superficial" he asserted, and smiled broadly "And that vial just restored my strength, now why don't we go "talk" to those villagers?"