Next one.
OOC: Maybe a bit unrealistic, but everyone makes mistakes at time. Big mistakes.
Flint Ironwood.
Flint threw down the bow with a growl of frustration. His remaining arrows joined the weapon a moment later. ,,Screw this! I'm too old to do this kind of stuff. I'm going to help with the retreat. Feel free to use these arrows." He spoke to no one in particular and made his way for the stairs.
He stopped at the bottom of the breach. So far, no snakemen had crawled over the pile of rubble yet. The Breton looked at the stacked bricks and then begun to climb. At the top, he could see the defenders who had fallen. ,,I wonder why they haven't stormed over the place yet. This close to the wall, the archers can't shoot at them." He thought to himself.
At the top, an unwelcome surprise awaited him. One moment, he was looking at the cloudcovered sky. The other, he was blinded by a red flash. ,,Aah!" Flint screamed as he tumbled backwards. Somehow, he managed to fire off a telekinetic blast on pure instinct that smashed the top off the improvised wall he'd been climbing. The old man groaned when he came to a halt at the bottom. He didn't feel well. His forehead was throbbing, his right hand felt as if it was on fire and his knees weren't doing much better either. And he still couldn't see. Something was running into his eyes, something warm and liquid.
He heard a hiss. He then heard the thunderclap of air moving to fill an irregular vacuum. ,,What was that?!" Flint thought. He had been unable to see the snakeman that had first attacked him at the top of the wall, then slithered after him as he fell, finally to be teleported away by Aleatoire. Or at least, partially. What was left wasn't in any condition to do anything. Flint heard a crack. ,,And what was that?" He mumbled and used his left hand to wipe the liquid out of his face. The pain had now almost ceased as he'd become numb to it. Now he could finally see again and he looked at the hand he'd used to wipe with. It was covered in blood. ,,Oh, crap."
He looked at his other hand. The mashed piece of flesh didn't look like it could be saved. Somehow, it looked a lot worse than it felt. ,,Ugh. I'm never ever going to climb a wall again during wartime." The Breton muttered as he staggered to his feet. The archers up on the wall were too busy holding back the enemy to notice what had happened. Flint wiped the blood from his face again. ,,Ok, legs hurt, but still functional. Right hand, not recognizable as a hand anymore. Head, big bump on the back, gash at the front. Glass got split like paper. Ugh...swordslash? Oh, this is not good." He thought.
He looked around him. There was something off to his right, with what looked like a formless lump of golden scales in the center. The end result of the Aleatoire's victim. Just beyond it, there were the fallen defenders, some of which had rolled down after he'd fired that telekinetic blast. One form he felt he recognized. ,,Green-Root....Damn...Damn you. You just had to do a heroic sacrifice, didn't you? Damn you. I hope you enjoyed your moment of glory." He spat. Another snakeman reached the top of the breach. Flint struck it down with a telekinetic needle without giving it any further thought. He then turned and began to move to the assembly point, leaning on the walls of the buildings he passed. He was beginning to feel lightheaded. ,,Not a good sign. The wall won't hold much longer once those snakes get enough people across to flank the archers. I should warn some melee-fighters." He knew. He felt oddly unconcerned, however.
This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 21 2007, 09:17 PM
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Fabulous hairneedle attack! I'm gonna be bald before I hit twenty.
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