Lumpy

Lumpy grunts something vaguely appreciative at Lissa, slowly stirring himself free from the shock and trauma of his wound, aided by her healing touch. The burly orc probes experimentally at his wound to see the extent of it's damage and the limits it would place upon his movement. It was still there, a gaping line across his neck. The cut had been close; only thickly layered muscle and the minutest of involuntary flinches had spared him a mortal wound. The downside, of course, was that those same muscles were generally used to move his head, which was sure to make the healing process exceptionally unpleasant.

Stiff-necked, he sets himself into motion, oushing himself up onto his knees. Half crawling, he gathers up three things nearby before standing - his flail, which he loops back around his belt, his discarded gauntlet, and the bottom half-foot of his beard, shorn free by the same strike. The latter he surveys forlornly, a red-fanged scowl forming upon his face. With a resigned shrug, he tosses the loosely braided length of hair back into the dirt.

Finally, he tries his hand at speech once more, his voice growing stronger, but definately a great deal softer than the norm, and raspy to boot,

"Just great. I hope everyone's happy now."