bigbadbeardo:

Stupid mobs… Jack hisses as he cradles his right arm against his chest, from where several arrows have struck him from angry skeletons. His clothes are singed from a close call from a creeper, and he’s only just keeping out of the view of the spiders, as he stumbles towards the City. He’s exhausted, hurt, and he’s just hoping someone’s there to help, because he’s about five minutes away from passing out.

Turns out his luck is turning around, because there is someone home.

Ryan had just left his house, mind preoccupied with other thoughts and brow furrowed slightly. He had grabbed a couple of sticks and diamond ore, planning on making a new sword, when Jack came tumbling out of the woods. Ryan glanced up at him, doing a double take when he realized that Jack looked less than well. He watched the unsteady feet of the Gent for a few more seconds before dropping what was in his hands, running to assist the wounded man.

“Jack,” Ryan called, small worry echoing through his voice. He offered his arm to Jack before the man toppled over. “Where are you hurt?"