Mud Bath felt himself herded over towards the pile of sticks that looked vaguely like a friendly kin, who hadn't done anything to him in particular.

"And this will help the cause," he said, in case he had misunderstood.

It was all the quick talk that Bath wasn't necessarily resonating with.

"I suppose," he said, feeling very put upon. He could be rough. If pressed. It wasn't like he hadn't ever been in a scrap. This just felt a little like hitting himself with a stick.

Keep: 4, 4, 1

Mud Bath had very nearly, sort of managed, but doing more all felt extraneous.

He was supposed to run into the thing again. Yes. Wonderful. He may have missed.

Hand: 4, 4, 1
Not Keeping Anything

He noted the slight frown tugging at the mouth of the buck. Not going to help the cause like this, apparently.

Bath landed one more slightly petty strike against the thing, and that did...whatever it was this was supposed to do. Stir up the motes a bit.

"Well. It's been lovely. That's me, I believe. I'm going to sleep all this off," he looked at the buzzing motes, "In a riveting way," he promised, not meaning it.

Hand: 4, 4, 1, 1
Score: 16