[There's a few burns-- some from fire, some from ice-- and an impressive assortment of scrapes and cuts. The cuts from what must have been a sword or some other blade are the deepest, but that's probably not too surprising. Overall he's a mess that shouldn't even be standing. If he recognizes that though he's certainly giving no inclination. Rather he laughs at the question. It's soft at first, but he can't stop it from growing into something more evocative.]

Hahaha! If I said I let them off easy so they could save the world, would you believe me?

[That didn't work out too well. Pressing his hand against a particularly nasty graze along the side of his ribs he looks down, red hair covering his face.]

It seems you really can't fight fate. It was just my...friends.