As his wounds faded from the touch of Sister Agnes, Drizzak found himself as fascinated as ever with the soft, soothing ministrations of the positive energies that healing magicks brought. He could feel as though his wounds were pulling themselves back together, a familiar but still strange feeling. He coughed, throat still burning as he was given a large bottle by the kindly holy woman Agnes. She spoke softly, and shared a rather unchaste wink in his direction. What was this... feeling, stirring his heart into an inferno at the sight of such a gesture? Was it because of her pure nature? Was it her kindly manner?
He pondered for a moment before realising that, no, it was in-fact his heart being stirred into what felt like a literal inferno. Quickly, he sparingly quaffed from the bottle of mint-ice before slipping it into a pouch in his small pack. He tied it with string, and patted it as if to ward off bad luck. Whatever had happened earlier, it had torn his throat up something fierce, but he could feel the cool effervescent flavors of the mint and the soothing textures of the ice almost massaging his throat like a caring lover. Had he just screamed too much? Was he too dizzy? Drizzak looked down at his hides to find only red. He stunk of blood, from his fingertips to his elbows and all over his face and chest. Regardless, he looked to Sister Agnes and pounded his fist against his chest. A sign of respect. He could not talk for fear that his throat would tear itself apart, but he could show his thanks. She was nice. He would have to bring her back the hands of the strongest warrior he found whilst on the hunt. Surely she would appreciate that.
Sana's stern order snapped him from his pondering, once again. If he could talk, he would have chattered laughter at the prospect of another battle not far away. But for now he simply wheezed in joy. Checking his whip and blade, Drizzak turned to Fiona upon her steed and took a moment to consider the enormity of the beast compared to himself. The fair, fire-haired woman was looking down at him expectantly. He was to get up on the horse? They expected him to climb all the way up there? Ludicrous. Outrageous. But Drizzak, to this day, has never turned down a challenge. Especially not from one who had nothing to expect from him. Drizzak walked around to the rear of the horse, patting its flank with a silent nod before crouching down and curling his toes to grip the earth. Then, with an explosion of muscular strength, he propelled himself into the air like a majestic bird of prey taking flight.
As he landed square on the horse's behind, he scrabbled his way to the saddle with various sounds of mute frustration and struggle. Yes, he was a strong goblin, but this was a live, moving animal he was dealing with. All kinds of difficulties were present, evident in the fact that he fell out of the saddle and off the horse twice before managing to grab onto Fiona's shoulders for support. He said nothing, for he could say nothing. He simply nodded that he was ready, dwarfed by the human in front of him and looking like a particularly bloody backpack in comparison.
@Luminosity@Afina