[@FalloutJack][@Winter Star12]

[i]The human was on his back, virtually unprotected, and judging from the way he acted, a few eggs short of an Easter basket.[/i]

[b][color=9e0b0f]*Yet...*[/color][/b]

[i]When the Trygon got close enough, the barbarian wouldn't be regarding him with either surprise or fear. The hulking berserker's single eye stood out like a beacon, flat and hard, almost melancholy in its calm inspection, following the creature like one of those trick paintings in a haunted mansion that always seem to stare at you. The look an ex-SAS officer may have when you push his drink over in a bar, and you can tell he almost feels bad about what he's about to do. Twin skeins of smoke steamed from the barbarian's nostrils. He still hadn't set his pipe down. 
Could the creature feel it? Oily fingers running cold up the back, a premonition of death icing over spine-marrow. It wasn't too late, not just yet. He could change targets still, or veer off.[/i]