Leafchange Stroll

Jorseval You can dunk me in the river, gonna clean my sin But you might as well dunk me in a bucket of gin Not insane, technically, but certainly not cognizant of his own personal wellbeing now or ever. Indeed Jory only realizes his mistake when that dragon's almost upon him; there's time to raise an arm but that's it before he's being knocked backwards. His right arm takes the worst of it, doing an excellent job of shielding Jory’s face but finding itself directly within Pim’s pretty pink jaws. ”Fuck!” Jory yells, startled by the combined shock of the bite and the horrible pricking zaps that zip through the limb. The claws find his chest beneath but the main damage from that initial attack if relegated mostly to shredded leathers and a set of shallow scrapes on the skin. Even with the clear provocation, Jory doesn’t feel quite right about striking such a beast and thus adopts the defense strategy of a halibut. Flopping prone on his back he brings the uninjured arm up to give its fellow some help in protecting the vital area of his scrawny neck. “FuckfuckOwfuckokayokayokay! I give! I give!” It's a fairly high-pitched squeak, but Jory had never been one to cling to his pride. Staying alive always seemed so much more appealing.