He almost blacks out the moment the spear sinks into his open wound, letting out a short cry of pain. He was hopped up on adrenaline and stronger than he looked, but he wasn't invincible. Guts had lost too much blood, he was exhausted from a day or more of battle, and his limbs were wavering.

Faintly, he feels small arms grip around his throat, and he bucks his head on instinct, knocking off whatever wretched little creature had climbed on him this time. He gives one more kick at the knife biting his at his leg with his remaining boot. Then the world starts to swim, and his struggling weakens.

Eyes fluttering, he slackens his grip on Lashan, rapidly losing consciousness. He only manages a faint scowl at the woman before his vision goes black.

Well then. This was it. All the pain of living was finally coming to an end. And he couldn't even manage to take the old crone with him. Pathetic.