And still no sort of answer. Yep, Thomas was resigned to it at this point. Screw this guy and whatever group he was part of then. Next time this would be a very different story, of that the guy could be sure. He'd get stronger, more powerful, and then he'd be able to beat anyone he fought. That, he promised himself.

Then he suddenly had more pressing concerns as the guy said something about 'convincing', and before he could comment on that, he guy was gone, and he just as suddenly had a significant gouge in his chest, before he was falling through a CoD. Idly, the rational part of his brain that wasn't screaming in pain wondered how the hell he'd done that. Could he attack from inside a CoD? If so, that was kinda BS. How was he supposed to hit a guy who wasn't in physical space? The rest of his mind though, was busy coping with the wound he now had.

He landed with a thud and a groan, proceeding to ignore everything War said as he was more busy with his current wound, clothes already stained red as blood swelled up and flowed freely. "Ah, dang it," he grunted with a wince as he retrieved a potion from his inventory, He quickly applied it, it helping to dull the pain and deal with the wound, which gave him the clear head he needed to hold his hand over his chest and cast a Cure spell on himself. 

It felt weird, his skin crawling as muscles and flesh knitted themselves back together under magical influence, made him want to hold his breath or stop and scratch the newly healed patch, but he refrained from doing that. At last he was done, and stood up with a groan. "That...was not fun," he commented, shaking his head as he glanced down to see his shirt pretty much ruined. Great. Then he noticed the fact that everyone else appeared to have had their faces kicked in as well. "Geez, what happened while I was gone," he wondered aloud, at the same time enjoying the fact that his arm was free from it's armor and he could now enjoy what it felt to be cool and stuff. A small favor. EMphasis on small.