Something going on under ground.

Steiner had done as any sane person would have done if they saw someone close to them laying out on the floor in as bad as shape as Mirja had been in. His concern and deep care for the his wolfish master should have been noted, more so than that it should have been respected, and yet the situation that was coming for the young man was no where near any of those things. He had done as he had been told earlier, staying behind to fight an army of stone warriors and undead zombies, and even more so he was exhausted and hurt. Yet, as he leaned in to hear if Mirja's breathing had normalized, he heard her shout at him, and then lash out at him in what some would consider a dazed burst of aggression. Steiner had mere seconds, no mere milliseconds to back his face up before Mirja's fist came at his face with reckless abandon, and in those milliseconds, Steiner found his THIRD wind. Where the sudden burst of stamina or speed has came from, Steiner didn't know, but he knew all to well what would happen if Mirja's fist made contact with his face. He probably would be eating through a straw for a month and to be honest, he really didn't want to have to go through an ordeal like that.

So he did what any sane man would have done in a normal fist fight, he leaned back, ignoring the pain coming from his body, and tried his best to take his face out of the impact zone of that fist. This, however was not a normal fist fight, this was not a normal person he was dealing with, and in that moment Steiner knew he had fucked up. Leaning back had allowed him to dodge the impact of the fist upon his face, but the air that was disturbed by the punch of someone as powerful as Mirja was not something that Steiner had anticipated. With a sound similar to that that of a small sonic boom, Steiner's face was hit with a gust of wind unlike any that he had ever experienced in all of his years of training. He flipped, rag-dolling in the air, and spinning like he was some kind of ace fighter pilot in a jet plane until finally he came face first with his very own point of impact. A nearby tomb wall. The walls shook, not from Steiner's impact, but from the vibrations being set off by Mirja's sonic boom punch. Steiner found himself falling down the wall, face first almost cartoonishly, as slowly as possible, his face becoming acquainted with every minute detail of the cave wall, and its deteriorating state.

He lay there for a bit, the third wind being completely removed from him as if the impact of the punch had been squarely in his gut, and he lay there groaning as it was the only thing he could do. His jaw felt horrible and upon further investigation, as his hand delicately began to feel his face, he found that his jaw had indeed been dislocated, and it didn't feel very good to be absolutely honest. He let out a roar of disapproval as he touched a much to tender part of his jaw, and tried his best to get back up using his good arm to do so. He then heard Mirja say his face would make a good shield and for the first time Steiner shot his mentor a death glare that would defeat all death glares that she probably had ever seen. This was the glare of a man who had been through the shit and had been rewarded for doing so with a snide comment and an even more shit. He dropped the glare, letting out an audible sigh that was quickly followed by a rather large howl of pain, and then put his hand on his jaw. He wouldn't cry, not in front of someone as strong as Mirja, but feeling his jaw he knew that he would probably come close to doing so. Without a second to waste, Steiner did what any person would do in that situation. He reset his jaw.

Steiner had of course from time to time had to reset his own bones, it was part of training too hard, or training by himself. He had not once in the course of this time on this green Earth had to reset his jaw and when he did so, it was very clear that he had never felt pain much like that before. He let out a rather large yell, one that rivaled any yell that he had ever done so before, and as he let this yell go he felt the pain throughout his body magnify the yell which bounced off the walls, disturbing a few bats, and probably notifying anything else in the tomb of their presence. After what seemed like a good minute of yelling, Steiner shut his mouth, and began to breathe deeply as any man would have after getting their jaw put back in place. Steiner gave it a few delicate chomps to test the integrity of the set and then glared at Mirja a bit longer before letting out a defeated sigh as he wobbled his way over to the Wolf without saying a word. He looked broken, maybe even a bit angry, but he wasn't defeated and to him that was all that mattered. He didn't say a word to Mirja, wobbling by her on a busted leg, and on almost no stamina remaining to begin looking for something to take with him.

He went to adjust the scabbard that lay empty, his once prized possession, the last memory of being someone strong, and his bond with the spirit of that sword were now gone. Broken, broken like him, and that made him regret using it as he had. He felt naked without it, it had been such a big part of who he was, and now he didn't have it anymore and the emptiness of that emotional conclusion just left a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. All the while, Steiner's eyes danced around the treasure room. Sure there were things of value here, but nothing that seemed to interest someone who wasn't about material things. He could take some trinket he imagined, there were a plethora of those, but Steiner didn't want some dinky cup or a medallion. He wanted his sword back. His eyes drifted some more, moving from point A to point B across the room until his eyes came upon an altar of sorts in the corner. He shone his flashlight on the altar and caught sight of a metallic glint that shone brightly back upon him. He stepped forward, timidly as to avoid hurting himself further, and found himself inches away from the altar in a matter of seconds, his eyes brushing over a sword of interesting make, and form.

His hand hovered over the hilt of the blade, his eyes drifting back to the wolfess as she scavenged the room before looking back at the blade, and then he would grasp the hilt of the sword.



He tested the weight, as he did with every sword he had every wielded, and then casually tried to slide it into the scabbard that had once belonged to Excalibur. The scabbard was not small enough to hold the blade properly, but none the less he needed something to carry it out with. He made his way over to Mirja, the blade jingling inside of the scabbard as it clanged against the sides of the scabbard as he joined her in what she was doing in looking for whatever she was looking for. He would continue to remain quiet, not knowing what to say to her, and not knowing if he was even ready to talk to her after what she had done to him only moments ago.