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02/14/10(Sun)23:40 No.8091626rolled 2, 4, 5 = 11
>>8091448 >>8091451 >3, 6
No good. Clubs are coming down, you don't have the time or the energy to bring the axe up. No parry. You're taking this one on your feet.
Sidestep, dodge if you can. One hits the ground right beside you, the other strikes you square in the shoulder. Left. Dammit.
Something cracks. Three days of healing to end up like this. Left arm hangs limply now, useless. Can't feel it, can't move the fingers. That'll make this a bit harder.
You move, putting your right side forward, stepping back as quick as you can. Axe falls by the wayside, shortsword comes out of the sheath. Trolls are right there. Two of them, uninjured. Their buddy's dead, lungs empty. What a day.
Bolt. Meets the eye, comes in for a drink. Gray and green mix, leaking from the wound. Down. One more.
One chance. Solid strike, move in, dodge the club, get him in the heart. Simple, right? Don't trip on the intestines. The wooden weapon falls, too quickly. Rusty spikes tear into your shoulder, dragging skin and muscle with them. You can hear footsteps behind you, close together. Shortsword slips right between the ribs, finding the spot. Blood leaks all over your hand. A quiet sigh, and he's rolling over.
Lights out. |