Rictor/Raol/Emily/Zacheus/Foxe
With Emily's Cure dragging him back from the brink, Rictor saw the rest of the battle through a haze: Foxe covering the mage, his harpoon warding off the fliers; Zacheus drawing back and loosing another arrow which landed squarely in its eye; the monster rearing backwards in pain and lifting its foot from Raol, easing up so the knight could be dragged out of the way. Rictor was still underneath the Tyranorox, watching the straight line of the arrow quivering as its head swung back and forth, half-blinded but trying to watch all of its assailants at once.
The holy knight stepped forward. Dodging its tiny grasping arms, he drove his sword up through its ribs. The stone wasn't as tough as he'd expected—the monster seemed to be more aggression than defense—and so blood gushed as Ric tore the claymore loose, his breath heaving. Again—and again. With the sound of a rockslide, stones crashing and thundering to the ground, the great lizard finally toppled.
There were still other enemies floating, however, ready to dart in. Wearied, Rictor threw another blast of Holy at a Grenade (which it only absorbed, flaring up and turning redder, angrier).
"Everyone alright?" The Korporal kept an eye on the line of bobbing Grenades, reaching out a hand to help the bloodied, half-crushed Raol back to his feet. His hand rested on the other man's shoulder and a flicker of concern ground its way through his gut, watching both his Vizekorporal and Zacheus in the midst of this fray.