Crippled Pride

The slight rest given by their retreat let Tarmen assess things further.
The truth was that once again he was useless in the ongoing battle, barely aware if his right arm was still there and his leg still leaking blood and sensation. His anger hadn’t abated, slowly pooling in his mind at being dead weight.
Once again Silina proved a formidable ally, both dragging him along and continuing to fight. She set him down to make full use of her gifts, giving him a chance to try and patch himself, only to finally notice that the other fighter near them was Alexis!
By the Gods what kind of sick joke this was all becoming, as glad as he was to see that she had made it this far, it was far from a celebration. Not wanting to call out and risk her death, he focused on the blood covering him and its origins.
His quick solution was to bind his arm just above the knife wound, not a solid fix but it was something and it would staunch the flow. As for the knife still embedded in his leg, he chose to leave it. No point giving his blood another hole to pour from.
His head was throbbing, both from the rumbling and the sound beating he had accrued over the night, so there wasn’t much to do for it.
All in all, he was pretty much out of the fight. Even so, he held his machete at the ready and led with his good leg, keeping his back to the wall as he sought any way to be of use.