Undely Trench: "...I don't know who made that stick, but I'm going to guess it isn't from a wood company. At least not from the ones I know of."
"Thatâs because itâs not wood. Itâs a special kind of metal," Orleonor says, "why?"
-
The bashing succeeds. He doesnât seem like he can put up a fight much longerâŚ
⌠This guy is awful at dodging, isnât he?
He tries to strike Undely with his staff to get the bug away from him, not even bothering to use magic at this point as he flails the pole at the bug.
Undely jumped to her right into a roll to where she stopped, coughing a bit. âFuck your staff, fuck your magic, and fuck your demon bullshitâŚâ She coughed again, making one last charge in exhaustion for the demonâs left leg.
The strike hits, and apparently much harder than anticipated - in a game, one would call it a Critical Hit.
Too bad- or perhaps itâs a good thing, depending on what outcome you hope for- Orleonor isnât the sturdiest of hellspawn.
A loud snap, and heâs on the ground, unable to get back up. His weaker legâs been brokenâŚ
He tries to relax, but cannot. How is one to remain calm when somebody just broke their leg?
He cannot focus enough to use another magical attack.
The moth moved back slightly, coughing a bit. The rain felt more cold, seeing as the hellspawn was not going to get back up. She laid on her side, not wanting to stand anymore. She just tried to drink some of the dripping rain for any sort of refreshment. She took small bits at a time, then coughing again. She stared at the crippled hellspawn. ââŚâ She didnât say a word, and just stared and kept her breath going.
He says and does nothing, just giving the moth an angered look while waiting for its next decision.















