Flying across the slick, pearly grey gravel, you land your most powerful attack yet, aiming for his head. But as you charged, you noticed he wasn't bracing for impact, or even readying his blade. Your blade hits hard with thick, flawless metal, and you expect he blocked it with his sword. Opening your eyes (as they had been clenched shut) you see to your great dismay that he was
holding the sharp edge of your sword with his armored hand. You gawk at it for a second, not processing what you are seeing, when he knocks you down with a swift, clean kick to the legs.
You stumble and attempt to get up when he places his armored boot on your chest. The black spikes dug into your flesh like daggers as he leveled his sword with your head. He held it there tauntingly. You aren't amused.
"Disappointing..." he trails off.
You feel the tip of his wicked sword graze your neck, tickling it with a small trickle of your blood. He seems to be giving every opportunity for you to escape: he is in no manner afraid of you.
Home 
Browse 
About 
Help 
Register