When the rocks tumble under his scrambling feet, Oswyn goes down with them.

If it were not the hungry mouths of the large plants, then let it be the dark chasms themselves that lay claim to what little life he has. Ismere's desperation is evident by the way it darts down after him, its vibrant blue glow lighting the way until it disappears completely.
The rubble is abrasive against his skin as he rolls down the incline. There will surely be wounds to treat, scars to carry, a pathetic story to tell when - or maybe if - he makes it out of this dungeon alive.

With a resounding thud and a grunt of pain, his back cracks harshly against something solid.

He gathers himself up on shaky legs to find himself in the middle of a pitfall trap, the bodies of the less fortunate gathered around him; their bones are scattered, internals laid bare at his feet, dead eyes staring up at him as if somehow he could help them. Oswyn regards them. He sees his face in the heraldry of a Courser perhaps much too confident in themselves.

"What the hell, Oswyn!" Ismere exclaims, the wisp's voice a crackling static in his head that makes his ears ring. He turns them back.

He can hear the distant call of his companion - of Merlin, his mind supplies - from up above, the frantic chant of his name and the back-and-forth beat of Merlin's hooves echoing through the darkness. Merlin is searching desperately for a way down in an attempt to help, but with a startled shout and the scattering of gravel, Oswyn realizes it might not be possible.

An errant rock smacks him square in the head.

"Ow! Merlin, you fucking-," he starts, shaking the sharp pain out of his head. Then: "...be careful, it accomplishes nothing if we're both stuck down here."

When he takes a step back, a sharp wooden spike scrapes across the raw flesh of his hindquarters. Searing pain shoots up his spine like lightening, along with an anger so unfamiliar to him that it becomes uncontainable: he whirls around, sinks his teeth into the wood, and with a jerk of his head that will surely make his neck hurt in the morning he snaps it in half and tosses it angrily at the rock wall.

"God FUCKING dammit!" He yells in a volume and timber uncharacteristic. The anger leaves him with a sigh.

He glances up towards the sky again and Ismere follows the line of his gaze. The rock that crumbled underneath him has formed enough of a hill for him to climb, if he took particular care not to slip on the loose rock again. So, with a steadying breath, he starts his ascent, unwilling to succumb to the dungeons like she had.