Tenebrae had been bracing himself for a sudden attack. It didn't lessen the pain any; being thrown into a wall couldn't really be lessened by anything but not getting thrown into a wall. The pain was immediate and lancing, paralyzing his muscles just long enough for Tenebrae to crumple to the ground like a rag doll, where his limbs jerked with the radiating hot fire.
He waited, teeth clenched against an audible cry, until that fire was bearable. A quick examination of himself by testing each limb on his way back up to his feet revealed nothing broken or sprained; his back hurt, but that would likely resolve into bad bruises and nothing more. Tenebrae found himself laughing, partly out of relief and partly out of triumph.
It didn't last very long. The momentary relapse almost seemed to cause Solomon more pain than before. He dropped the knife and curled in on himself with a strangled noise, and Tenebrae balanced himself on the wall behind him with a raised eyebrow.
Either the Cleric was too far gone for help - which Tenebrae refused to believe - or there really was something beyond just the lack of Necromancy that was hurting him.
And if that was the case, the chances of Solomon Wreath agreeing to wield his reforged cane once more were next to nothing. Tenebrae couldn't say he blamed the man. But it did put the rest of the Temple in a bit of a bind, never mind that Tenebrae still wanted to know what had changed Solomon's mind so completely. Because whatever it was, it was a threat. To the Temple, and to the Passage.
Tenebrae balanced himself back on shaky legs, walked slowly over, and reclaimed his knife. "What did this to you, Solomon?" His voice had grown deceptively gentle. "What could?"
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He waited, teeth clenched against an audible cry, until that fire was bearable. A quick examination of himself by testing each limb on his way back up to his feet revealed nothing broken or sprained; his back hurt, but that would likely resolve into bad bruises and nothing more. Tenebrae found himself laughing, partly out of relief and partly out of triumph.
It didn't last very long. The momentary relapse almost seemed to cause Solomon more pain than before. He dropped the knife and curled in on himself with a strangled noise, and Tenebrae balanced himself on the wall behind him with a raised eyebrow.
Either the Cleric was too far gone for help - which Tenebrae refused to believe - or there really was something beyond just the lack of Necromancy that was hurting him.
And if that was the case, the chances of Solomon Wreath agreeing to wield his reforged cane once more were next to nothing. Tenebrae couldn't say he blamed the man. But it did put the rest of the Temple in a bit of a bind, never mind that Tenebrae still wanted to know what had changed Solomon's mind so completely. Because whatever it was, it was a threat. To the Temple, and to the Passage.
Tenebrae balanced himself back on shaky legs, walked slowly over, and reclaimed his knife. "What did this to you, Solomon?" His voice had grown deceptively gentle. "What could?"