((Music))
The Ettin stayed it's course, roaring trough the blistering pain and swinging around a heavy flail.
Furnace pushed on also, along with the floating inferno before him.
Like a fiery game of chicken they rushed at each other.
With a groaning sound chains snapped as links softened and a glowing hot flail head plummeted into the crowd like a meteor strike.
Furnace shouted in dismay as he saw the brute step on his sword, kicking it into the dust and burning his foot in the process.
"Mine!" With a primal yell he threw himself forward while the flames launched into his point of focus.
Stepping on sharp and rapidly heating metal gave the brute pause for a moment, he lifted his foot but the softened metal had embedded itself and curved into the foot. Funace dove under the foot equal his size and grabbed hold of the hilt. With all his might he pulled the blade free, leaving conciderable traces of steel in the giants bare foot. The Ettin was thrown off balance and missed a swing with his club. Howling in pain the massive four eyed monster hopped on one leg. The earth shook each time his broad foot slammed down.
Furnace slashed wildly with the white hot metal, blood splatters in his eyes clouded his vision, so if it had any effect he didn't know it.. A piece of leather came flying by and whipped him on the left arm, reactively he grabbed the belt and was pulled up by the momentum of the flailing and spinning giant.
In a split second he saw himself fly past the man's chest, two heads stared at him with faces of rage, pain and frustration. The Ettin swung at him with the flail, Furnace grabbed and barely held on the pole, had the flail-head still been there he would have been hit right across the.. well everywhere as the flail-head was about his size.
Furnace dangled on the broken flailpole like a mariomet on tangled rope. He had no chance to think about how he got here, or what he was doing. All he knew was that this person needed to stop moving right now, if he was to make it out of this intact.
The Ettin trashed and shook the stick in an attempt to flick the annoyance away, unable to stand and in considerable pain. Furnace held on barely by wooden pole he felt turning to coal.
All around him he saw the bodies of creatures lying perfectly still, the one thing they all had in common was that they were damaged.
Perhaps enough pain will make you sleep? A long shot, but worth the try.
He clumsily held on to the sword with one hand, unable to swing it while being slung around.
The ground suddenly came a lot closer as the Ettin had worked out the brilliant plan of smaking him into the ground. A dull crack and a thurough jolt of pain informed Furnace that he was broken. Not burnt or cut, but broken. Like wood. Furnace didn't know that was possible. It was certainly an intresting development. Rushing wind and a confused sense of direction suggested he went up again. He opened his eyes to see a glimpse of the backs of two heads, and beyond that, red ground. Furnace felt himself become weightless, he felt tired. He let go of the staff and saw the Ettin become a little smaller before moving past him as he fell to the ground and rolled away.
He wiped the blood and ash from his eyes to see he had lost control of his furnace, the ball dissipated while small flames slowly spread across the battlefield unchecked. He felt like he'd channeled negative energy into himself by accident again. It made him nausious and sad somehow. But he did have his sword, as damaged as it was gripped tightly in his hand.
Between the legs of the Ettin he could see Carver aproach, weapon drawn. He wondered why Carver was zigzagging like that. And how the Ettin stood at that angle. And why those stars showed up in the daytime this time. Why he was so sleepy. Slowly Furnace slipped into unconciousness.
The Ettin stayed it's course, roaring trough the blistering pain and swinging around a heavy flail.
Furnace pushed on also, along with the floating inferno before him.
Like a fiery game of chicken they rushed at each other.
With a groaning sound chains snapped as links softened and a glowing hot flail head plummeted into the crowd like a meteor strike.
Furnace shouted in dismay as he saw the brute step on his sword, kicking it into the dust and burning his foot in the process.
"Mine!" With a primal yell he threw himself forward while the flames launched into his point of focus.
Stepping on sharp and rapidly heating metal gave the brute pause for a moment, he lifted his foot but the softened metal had embedded itself and curved into the foot. Funace dove under the foot equal his size and grabbed hold of the hilt. With all his might he pulled the blade free, leaving conciderable traces of steel in the giants bare foot. The Ettin was thrown off balance and missed a swing with his club. Howling in pain the massive four eyed monster hopped on one leg. The earth shook each time his broad foot slammed down.
Furnace slashed wildly with the white hot metal, blood splatters in his eyes clouded his vision, so if it had any effect he didn't know it.. A piece of leather came flying by and whipped him on the left arm, reactively he grabbed the belt and was pulled up by the momentum of the flailing and spinning giant.
In a split second he saw himself fly past the man's chest, two heads stared at him with faces of rage, pain and frustration. The Ettin swung at him with the flail, Furnace grabbed and barely held on the pole, had the flail-head still been there he would have been hit right across the.. well everywhere as the flail-head was about his size.
Furnace dangled on the broken flailpole like a mariomet on tangled rope. He had no chance to think about how he got here, or what he was doing. All he knew was that this person needed to stop moving right now, if he was to make it out of this intact.
The Ettin trashed and shook the stick in an attempt to flick the annoyance away, unable to stand and in considerable pain. Furnace held on barely by wooden pole he felt turning to coal.
All around him he saw the bodies of creatures lying perfectly still, the one thing they all had in common was that they were damaged.
Perhaps enough pain will make you sleep? A long shot, but worth the try.
He clumsily held on to the sword with one hand, unable to swing it while being slung around.
The ground suddenly came a lot closer as the Ettin had worked out the brilliant plan of smaking him into the ground. A dull crack and a thurough jolt of pain informed Furnace that he was broken. Not burnt or cut, but broken. Like wood. Furnace didn't know that was possible. It was certainly an intresting development. Rushing wind and a confused sense of direction suggested he went up again. He opened his eyes to see a glimpse of the backs of two heads, and beyond that, red ground. Furnace felt himself become weightless, he felt tired. He let go of the staff and saw the Ettin become a little smaller before moving past him as he fell to the ground and rolled away.
He wiped the blood and ash from his eyes to see he had lost control of his furnace, the ball dissipated while small flames slowly spread across the battlefield unchecked. He felt like he'd channeled negative energy into himself by accident again. It made him nausious and sad somehow. But he did have his sword, as damaged as it was gripped tightly in his hand.
Between the legs of the Ettin he could see Carver aproach, weapon drawn. He wondered why Carver was zigzagging like that. And how the Ettin stood at that angle. And why those stars showed up in the daytime this time. Why he was so sleepy. Slowly Furnace slipped into unconciousness.
