(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

I circled around the cart, and there he was. Coughing blood, the axle
pressing down on his ribs. "What happened, Berrog?"
"I was... fleeing the city... when it began to slide. I was near... him..." he
indicated Torvus, "and he grabbed me. The wagon fell from the sky, and he
tried to shove me under it... while he escaped. But I still ask that you ... find
a way to free him as well."
Dak'kon nodded to me coldly. Maybe we should just lift from this end and
crush the damn gith.
"I still command the guards of Curst..." Tovus pleaded. His voice sounded
frantic, no doubt with the fear that I would allow Dak'kon to execute him
right then and there, "I can inspire them, aid them, slow the tide of
monsters that stands between you and the deva... free me, and your tasks
shall be easier. Free him, and you gain nothing."
"You gain nothing by freeing me... I confess to that," Berrog admitted, "But
surely... the tide of goodness will swing... if you save me without thought of
gain... better still to save us both."
"How about if I lift this off both of you? My companions and I can do it if we
throw ourselves into it."
We couldn't count on leverage to free them both. We'd have to lift the cart
straight up, and with the rubble weighing it down our task was all the
harder. No time to clear the stones away either...
My muscles strained as I lifted from Berrog's end. Annah, Dak'kon, and
Nordom lifted from the other. My knees buckled. The muscles of my lower
back seemed to twist into a knot. But inch by inch the cart rose, until it was
loose enough for Grace to help pull Berrog out, kicking and shuffling. On the
other end of the cart someone let out a pained wail.
"Tovus?" I called, "Tovus!"
"The sod's fine, chief!" Morte replied, "I just had to bite on something to get
him out."
Great.
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