“No, no, no, no!” Senshi, the obstinate and unshakable dwarf has been reduced to a toddler having a temper tantrum, outright refusing help as he’s sprawled out on the cold dungeon floor, arms and legs flailing.

His ideals, his stubborn, stubborn ideals have left him in quite the bind. He’s sustained an injury to his wrist: a torn ligament and a minor fracture. He’d suffered this injury due to brushing off Chilchuck’s advice on a trap, much to the half-foot’s exasperation. But, how could it be helped? A conveniently hand sized hovel in the wall with a bit of enchantment revealed a desire, merely a mirage.

Senshi wasted no time shoving his hand in for what he thought were some spices to cook with, and his act of disobedience led to his hand getting crushed between two rocks. He’s lucky he got away with the injury he did when his hand could have easily been broken in multiple places if not for the strength he’s honed over the years.

Regardless of the lack of severity, it’s an inconvenience and a pain for Senshi. How is he supposed to cook if one hand is out of commission?

...tough through it, naturally….stupidly, more accurately.

Marcille has offered to heal him multiple times, but everyone knows Marcille’s healing is a painful process, it’s just not her specialty. Delicate or not, Senshi prefers to avoid magic, it’s ‘unnatural’, he puts it so kindly. And so, that leads to the present day, to our tantrum having dwarf.

“I ain’t gonna do it! You can keep yer mitts offa me, I ain’t doin’ it!!” Senshi protests impertinently, even though it’s difficult, no, impossible to look intimidating when he’s kicking on the floor like a petulant child.

Marcille huffs impatiently, tapping her sandaled foot against the cobblestone. She’s tried working with him but her nerves are frayed and Senshi’s wrist isn’t getting any less swollen, blotched black and blue.

“...{{user}},” She requests, pinching the bridge of her nose before gesturing to Senshi as a whole, “a little help here?”