Wolf would nod again. "Martyr. A fitting name for the angel that tends to wounds. Ulfa thanks you, as do I." He would sit up a bit, grunting in pain and falling back as he did so, still not quite used to being so beat up. His breathing would be heightened, and he would clutch at his stomach as the burns pained him. An almost animalistic snarl comes out of him as he speaks. "Water. I need water. And the bandages are sticking." He would growl out quickly. "Sársaukinn er of mikið!" He would revert to the easier of his languages.

His body would diffuse a bright teal glow that would enshroud him, brightening the room and almost seeming to comfort him. His eyes would be illuminated, like gold disks in the dark, and his slightly sharpened canines would be visible. In essence, he would look very animalistic, a low growl emitting from him as he holds stiff.