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Zell never did get to stab the skelly-summoning bastard.  By the time he got to the old man, Adam and James had already made a mess of him.  Besides, it was much more attention-grabbing to see the final moments of the Greater Wraith as it let out the most discomforting roar Zell had ever heard.  Zell was leaning heavily on his borrowed spear, looking up as Big Bad Bossy exploded, the shockwave fluttering his hair as it blew by.

[i]It's done,[/i] was all he thought.  "Fuck," was all he mumbled.

He didn't have much energy for anything else at that moment.  Bleeding, hungry and soooo goddamn tired.  He almost fell asleep leaning on the spear.  For a split-second, he might've have literally lost consciousness...

...The drow-made black sword came falling back down from the ceiling and landed point-first, burying itself into the wooden lecturn where the priest would've once given so many sermons, making a large crack in the furniture.  Zell heard a sadistic, echoing, evil chuckle...

...but his eyes blasted open, suddenly wide awake and looking around until he sighted his sword.  There it was, looking like King Arthur's sword in the stone, stood tall and proud as it protruded perfectly straight from the lecturn.  But that thing was no Excalibur.  And it didn't belong to Zell.  He was just using it.  A nice rental, one could say.  Like those guys back in London who would waste a tonne of money renting a Ferrari for the weekend so they could pretend they were mega rich and live the dream.  The sword was a Ferrari alright - a goddamn Bugatti, even.  Zell hadn't quite figured out what the price would be just yet to 'live the dream' (the drunken-sleep nightmare in the early hours before Second Chance left Valhiem was kind of a clue,) but he needed the power to keep up with the others, at this moment.  Keep up with pulling his weight.  Keep the people he cared about safe.

[i]Enough bitching.[/i]

"Well," the Englishman said loudly. "I must say; I'm starting to enjoy these dramatic endings." He looked at James as he cast the spear away and strained himself to reestablish his usual cocky posture.  "Just how many of those random-ass blessings have you got bro?" He grinned.  "A party trick for every occassion, huh?"

He did his usual thing and touched base with everyone on the team - handshakes, hugs, pats on the back and "Yalrite?"s all-around.  When he got to James, who happened to be the only party member who looked as beat-up as Zell felt, the swordsman couldn't help himself.  "You look like shit, mate."

He broke character and chuckled.