[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		    was blind, deaf, and functionally mute, his body charred, his clothes with holes burned in them. The pain was endless and this time he didn’t feel the immediate rush of vitality surge through his body. He tried to swallow, but the sensation was beyond painful. His hand fumbled numbly at his vial pouch for a second, found purchase, and then weakly stabbed the syringe into his thigh. He groaned and even that hurt, but the vial of the Old Blood began to suffuse him, an ecstatic heat that spread from where the vial had punctured his flesh down through his leg and up from his thigh at the same time. It combined with a prickling sensation, like pins and needles dialed up past reckoning with. The heat reached his head and the haze in his mind cleared almost immediately, followed swiftly by his vision returning. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Fucker…”[/b][/color] Farren rasped out, then he managed to move, bringing Bulwark down into the gap of the damaged chain link. The blade easily punched through the silt, then the dirt, driven by his rapidly returning strength as heat and jagged needling nerve pain coursed throughout his body. With a pained grunt, Farren twisted his hand, activating the mechanism of the blade…and Bulwark expanded in a sudden burst of force, each ‘expanding edge’ aimed at a weak point of the chainlink. With any luck it would be enough.

Too dazed to notice, Farren barely even registered the sound of the bell, perhaps he’d missed it while he’d been deaf and recovering. Further, he hadn’t even glanced in Torquil’s direction and his peripheral vision felt hazy and inconsequential in that moment of narrow pain-ridden focus. Perhaps it was better that way.