Sometimes you rolled a crit. Other times, you whiffed.

This was the other time.

Ettamri, sped by her steed and possessing abnormal strength, sent her lance flying through the air with force that few other humans could emulate. Though she lacked still the skill and experience that many other veteran soldiers possessed, her brute power and material resources made up for it, and the lance struck true.

But that was it.

Slimy as it was, the rolling toad’s flesh had naturally picked up thick amounts of soil, grass, and stone, the terrain itself creating a rudimentary armor around it, and that earthen defense had been sufficient in preventing the lance from piercing too deep before it was naturally flung off into the distance by the toad’s rotational force. No doubt, more blood had been drawn, but that was all that was, and, like a demented snowball, the rolling toad continued to accelerate further, Ash’s own skill with the bow being wholly insufficient for such a miraculous shot at the eyes. It was both offense and defense at once, and, worse than that, it looked as if the toad wasn’t even going to be able to stop of its own accord.

That didn’t matter, of course, to Matteo or Gwyn, who ran together, boots striking hard as they pushed their way through the tall grass. Even at full sprint though, it was clear that they were too slow, the building momentum of the toad ball gaining more and more speed as time went on. Neither thief nor priest ran faster than the other, but as time passed, Matteo became the first whose pace began to flag. A week of panhandling and soup drinking wasn’t enough at all to grant him the strength necessary to continue, and soon, it wasn’t Matteo who was pulling Gwyn along, but Gwyn who had to pull Matteo along.

And in such situations, there was no way that either of them would be able to dodge without sacrificing the other.

So, who made that choice?

Moments before they could both be flattened, Gwyn pushed Matteo aside, the thief tumbling away as the giant toad smashed into the priest. There was clear ‘thump’ before Gwyn was sent flying, the buoyancy of the inflated toad saving her, perhaps, from being crushed underneath, but also separating her from the rest of the group.

And there was no situation where a separated, prone priest was of any use.

The toad rolled on, gathering more earthen mass as it continued its path towards Gwyn.

If it rolled her over this time, there was no doubt that she’d be completely pulverized, nothing but a bleeding fleshbag filled with broken bones.