Improv: ECL 3, Kona, Shield Elf, Battle Dancer level 3: Entry 4

Hands. 
Holding him down.
Hands: clawing.
Grabbing. 
Reaching up. 
Reaching up from within the wall - right out of the stone.
Snaring him. Gripping. 
Dragging. 
Hands dragging him down. Pulling his feet and his legs back into the rock and mortar.
More hands reaching up. Holding him fast. He wasn't struggling this time; just watching passively. Watching grey skin and maggoty flesh and protruding bone seizing  every part of him, weighing him, sinking him ~  the wall swallowing him as if it were soft mud. Up to his waist. Up to his neck. Hands over his face. Hands pulling his hair. Covering his eyes. Until he disappeared into the wall. 
Then Quiet. 

Kona gasped for air and bolted up from the blood stained pew where he had been lying. He managed this time to get both feet on the ground and pointed more or less the same direction before his legs gave out and he collapsed onto his face at the front of the church. His stomach heaved and he spit up the meager remains of his last meal.

"Well, that's progress, I guess," a voiced drolled behind him. Someone grabbed one arm and hauled him clumsily back onto the bench. "Last time you came out of it you didn't have the strength to vomit."

Kona let his head loll back and tried to focus on the ceiling. It was still dark outside. They were still still in the church. He breathed in shallow gasps, and his hand went to the gouge in his gut. This had not been his best week. He tried not to laugh at that, since each movement was a punch to his probably scraped kidney.

What a way to die. One chop at a time. He frowned, thinking of the end of the last battle. His near capture on the wall, saved only by a miraculous last second kick to the teeth of one of his assailants. Was that disappointment he felt when he broke free? Annoyance that his death wouldn't be quick? Then his reckless charge of the corrupted paladin. Bravery? Or just hoping to avoid the inevitable sacrifice he'd have to make later? 

He groaned and very slowly stood. He would .... he would....

He looked down and grimaced. He would clean up the mess he made, take a few slow laps of the perimeter of the sanctuary to regain his balance, and then settle back for a third meditative trance. They were right. He was getting stronger. And no matter what else happened to him - no matter how grisly or unpleasant his end would be - he had one thing now. One thing they could not take away - one victory they could not deny.

He looked around and smiled grimly at the orc snoring several pews down.

When MY turn came, war-brother..... I didn't pass out.... Did I?......