[Trevor motions vaguely with one hand. There's a clearing nearby, about fifty yards from the path, where a few creatures' corpses litter the ground in pieces. It's difficult to say how many are there, but the heads Adrian can see suggest at least five.]

Forged, a whole mess of them. Think I tripped a perimeter. A few of them were glowing at the mouth. Tried to give them some space but they're persistent...

It's close, though. Wherever that bastard is hiding, we've nearly found him. Just--

[Just have to get up. Get his Morning Star. Press on. He's had worse than this, he's sure of it. He can't even remember all the chemicals he had to swallow as a child. To build up an immunity, his father said. A fat lot of good that did him now. Though, arguably, perhaps he'd be dead already if not for that aspect of his training.

Trevor jabs his elbows into the ground, though his arms are badly shaking when he tries to heave himself up. This is always the hardest part. Getting up. Once he manages that, everything else gets easier and easier. Just have to get up--

There's that gurgling choke again, and he collapses on his side just before he violently vomits a rather worrying shade of pitch into the ravine beside the road. And there, on the very edge of unconsciousness, it's time to admit that maybe he hasn't had worse than this.]

Sorry. I don't-- Uh. I don't think I'm getting up.