His hands came up and braced himself from the soft impact while his body shifted to keep the weight off his leg. He then rolled over and moaned his grievances about this unfair treatment, dramatically as always.

"Maker's breath, no need to be rough. I'm already injured."

He was thankfully smart enough to keep his hands and other limbs out of the way while she pulled him out of the neat patches of leather straps and plates. The leather had taken the blunt of the hits, and dull blades matched with unskilled hands had certainly helped kept his chest clean of fatal injuries. The fact that his ears were ringing was probably nothing but a residue of flat metal sword to flat metal helm.

"I'm fine. A few barbarians putting a Grey Warden down? That'll be the day. Are you doing alright?"