The prosthetic Arsenic had thrown together worked, functioned, at least. With a bit of time, Whetstone was managing to walk again. The presence of Collapse hung over him like a noose, like reaching claws and teeth of predation, like a death waiting in the wings. He knew away from him, out of his sight, and merely parroted what Collapse had claimed had happened - and it seems that was enough for 'Lapse, who paid him no mind. Still, it hung. Rake was accompanying Whetston...

About his shoulders, Collapse wore a draping cloak that pushed out a cool temperature into the air around him. Collapse hadn't yet broken a sweat, unlike Terrence ahead, and Whetstone behind him to one side. By this time, Whetstone was half soaked, grey and red coat a darker color, panting audible enough for Collapse to hear it - lagging a bit behind, under their supplies. Lapse paid it no mind, simply shouldering his own half shattered greatsword, and slipping up to take the lead next to Ter...