Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20160115222625/@comment-5543592-20160118161342

Scire danced about blows and slashes. He felt invincible, knowing where every blow would land before it was swung, able to know each enemy's percise moves-

Something leaped onto his back. Scire shook and reached back to yank the lizardman off. He did so, pulling the flailing creature into the air, and threw it to the ground. However, as he did so, a second took the opportunity to bury a dagger in his left thigh. The blade began stuck in the muscle, and the very tip of the point poked out the back of his leg. Scire kicked the lizardman back with his good leg, barely upright.

He cried out, stumbling backwards, completely off balance, and barely managed to parry a second blow. He was swarmed instantly at the show of weakness and knew he was probably about to die. One did not recover from four subsequent impalings.

However, he knew when the attacks would be coming, that meant...

Scire dropped to his left knee, taking the weight off his bad leg, and paused. The lizards drew close. Then, with a scream, he slashed out with his dagger in horizontal arc, maintaining perfect course. Four lizardmen dropped, all with lines through their throats, and blood gushed out onto the damp earth.

Scire panted, weary, but knew it was far from over. He glanced up as more came.