The wounds still burned like fire but the water seemed to have washed the worst of the offending spray away. Gannicus bit back the pain, suppressing the discomfort. He'd had worse, he tell himself, and still lived to fight.

But the pattern of burns across his palms worried him more than his hands; with the skin on his hands eaten raw in long streaks where he had tried to wipe the acid from his arm, he knew that he would have difficulty holding his weapons.

"Binding," He said between gritted teeth. "Bind my palms and I may yet still fight."