!EabccEYuUs 06/30/11(Thu)19:08 No.15436303|
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The path you've taken with these ignoramuses has been a winding and dangerous one. You know that you must end this now before they end you! Using the last ounce of your strength you push away at the ungor, tears chunks of your flesh out but disentangling from its sharp horns. The creature bellows with rage again, and ducks his head, once more to charge! You are still a Tzeentchian, though, and you learn from your mistakes. At the last moment, you roll away to the side, and now the ungor's horns are buried deep into the trunk of the dead wood that he had pinned you to!
Gasping for breath, you take out your sword and cry out as many names of Tzeentch as you can remember in the span of a breath, making the mark on your hand glow and the sword shoot fire as well.
You swing down on the back of the beast's neck, not enough strength in your one uninjured hand to chop off his head, but the gory sight is enough. The blad sinks halfway into the spine, and the ungor brute squeals before vomiting blood and ceasing it's struggles. Now it hangs, almost dangling from the few chords of muscles left to it on the tree trunk.
You are bloody and battered, and your arm is all but decimated, but you survive. You look out to the now paralyzed congregation of ungors and the still laughing raven cloud.
What now, as you stand bleeding over the dead ungor dissident? (Roll 2d12 and an action. First die being the priority given, the second die being the effectiveness of your action. First four rolls will be considered.)