Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24510587-20190219030909/@comment-5543592-20190219231321

In Meyline's desperately fumbling her fingers passed over a fist-sized piece of stone.

The Forsworn leered at her, nails biting into her throat, and then the rock cracked into the side of his head. Something warm and wet splashed across Meyline's face, across her lips, and the Forsworn flopped onto the ground next to her. Empty eyes stared at the side of her face. Precious air flooded back into her lungs, the darkness behind her eyes clearing.

One of the dancing Forsworn screetched, a high-pitched chilling noise, and they descended on her, seven to one, each holding a spear or axe.



The wind whispered past Cade’s helmet. He heard nothing, and then the ground was beneath him with a loud crack.

The breath was shoved from his lungs as his chest painfully retracted and shivers of pain traveled up and down his spine.

The Forsworn began to tug at his armor. One drew a knife and began cutting the straps. They did not talk as the work, the only sounds being their breath and the occasional triumphant whoop.

Cade wheezed, struggling to bring breath into his lungs.

One of them straddled his chest and began to pry at his helmet, slowing pulling it off. The helmet was meant to unscrew and the teeth screeched as they lost their grip millimeter by millimeter. The Forsworn grinned as she made progress. At dagger made from a sabretooth hung from her neck.

Cade tried to lift his arm and found he couldn’t.