OOCOuch. Kudos to you for taking the hit... though it's a BAD one. :|
Luckily, you gave me a good point to start bringing this to a wonderful close! It'll be one last post on my side, after yours
After having that important tendon cut, Kreig would find his right ankle completely unable to twist or turn or hold any weight at all. In fact, it would hurt... and hurt a lot... He'd been standing, so the tendon had been taught and practically snapped when the blow came. He would fall in one way or another, simply unable to stand on his right leg.
Considering his condition, Kreig's threat was simply laughed at, and the swordsman and the dagger user stepped back, the latter scowling and rubbing his shin from the last blow the brawler had given him. "And so have you," their leader said, in a cold hard voice... Though it was emotionless, a pleased smile was spreading on his features, one more of malice than anything else.
"Jute... your turn again," he called out, focusing on the club wielder again. The brute of a man nodded and stepped forward towards the fallen squire, knowing there would be little resistance from this blow considering Kreig was practically crippled. The man would take a moment, grin, before swinging his club towards the squire's skull and neck, something that was so big and heavy it was nearly unavoidable...
Then a spear would come in the way. A glittering, golden one, that blocked the blow cleanly, despite the fact that all physics said that such a thing was unavoidable. All eyes followed the shaft of the weapon up, up... to see the wielder. Everyone in the room had seem the man before, actually... though never like this. It was the Spiritist, with the same face and the same hair and the same clothes... but there were a few other things that were different.
His eyes were shining, brighter than before, and there was almost a glow coming off of him. As well as the spear he'd come up with a golden belt, wrapped tightly around his waist, though it was oddly placed on his average clothes. The most startling change of all, however... were his wings, big and just as gold as the rest of his new things. They were folded neatly behind him, as if he was simply supposed to have wings, and would have been strange without them.
After blocking, all of the thugs stared in shock at the Spiritist, but the man kept moving. Using the spear he flipped the cudgel up, now held in loose hands, so it flew to the other side of the room. The man would dart in on a limp and startled enemy, before bringing the but of his weapon down on Jute's skull with a crack. The brute fell limp, crashing to the floor loudly.
He dealt with the rest of the thugs in a similar manner, though the rest attempted to fight back... they just seemed to be no match for skill and strength. The swordsman managed to cut the Spiritist's arm, a light slash, though if Kreig looked back at it... there was no mark. Soon all were on the floor, unconscious.
Only then would the strange winged man turn back to look at Kreig, a thankful expression on his face. "You did well, Kreig Messer," he stated, kneeling down to be level with the fallen squire. "The knights are on their way. Be faithful... be pure. Do the right thing." He smiled in a benevolent way, resting a hand on the brawler's shoulder.
Luckily, you gave me a good point to start bringing this to a wonderful close! It'll be one last post on my side, after yours
After having that important tendon cut, Kreig would find his right ankle completely unable to twist or turn or hold any weight at all. In fact, it would hurt... and hurt a lot... He'd been standing, so the tendon had been taught and practically snapped when the blow came. He would fall in one way or another, simply unable to stand on his right leg.
Considering his condition, Kreig's threat was simply laughed at, and the swordsman and the dagger user stepped back, the latter scowling and rubbing his shin from the last blow the brawler had given him. "And so have you," their leader said, in a cold hard voice... Though it was emotionless, a pleased smile was spreading on his features, one more of malice than anything else.
"Jute... your turn again," he called out, focusing on the club wielder again. The brute of a man nodded and stepped forward towards the fallen squire, knowing there would be little resistance from this blow considering Kreig was practically crippled. The man would take a moment, grin, before swinging his club towards the squire's skull and neck, something that was so big and heavy it was nearly unavoidable...
Then a spear would come in the way. A glittering, golden one, that blocked the blow cleanly, despite the fact that all physics said that such a thing was unavoidable. All eyes followed the shaft of the weapon up, up... to see the wielder. Everyone in the room had seem the man before, actually... though never like this. It was the Spiritist, with the same face and the same hair and the same clothes... but there were a few other things that were different.
His eyes were shining, brighter than before, and there was almost a glow coming off of him. As well as the spear he'd come up with a golden belt, wrapped tightly around his waist, though it was oddly placed on his average clothes. The most startling change of all, however... were his wings, big and just as gold as the rest of his new things. They were folded neatly behind him, as if he was simply supposed to have wings, and would have been strange without them.
After blocking, all of the thugs stared in shock at the Spiritist, but the man kept moving. Using the spear he flipped the cudgel up, now held in loose hands, so it flew to the other side of the room. The man would dart in on a limp and startled enemy, before bringing the but of his weapon down on Jute's skull with a crack. The brute fell limp, crashing to the floor loudly.
He dealt with the rest of the thugs in a similar manner, though the rest attempted to fight back... they just seemed to be no match for skill and strength. The swordsman managed to cut the Spiritist's arm, a light slash, though if Kreig looked back at it... there was no mark. Soon all were on the floor, unconscious.
Only then would the strange winged man turn back to look at Kreig, a thankful expression on his face. "You did well, Kreig Messer," he stated, kneeling down to be level with the fallen squire. "The knights are on their way. Be faithful... be pure. Do the right thing." He smiled in a benevolent way, resting a hand on the brawler's shoulder.
