Silver Creek from keyboard man in a rocking ska band

no, koro toro was not okay. a tremor had advanced upon his shoulders and he, along for the ride the way a worm encapsulated in debris might be along for the ride of a lifetime in a landslide, resigned himself to his unduly fate. his skin rippled, his limbs tremored -- haltingly, spastically, excruciatingly, koro toro put one shaky limb in front of the other with a grit of his teeth.

he was so occupied in his work and pain that he could not manage a sarcastic reply -- his skin, drawn and pinched over a frowning countenance, seemed to ripple with disfiguring shocks -- until at last the tremors subsided and he collapsed in the ground, spent. "i'm okay," he wheezed into the snow, so tired he could scarcely keep his wits to him. "just lemme rest here a second. it's the shock from being swept off my feet by a ravishing knight, you know."