#underdew dnd

Borf's PC Blurb:

The feeling of gritty dust and blood is wet and sticky under her face. The pain in her gut is blinding, but blinking away the spots, she can see a dust-covered figure advancing toward her friend. She tries to say his name, tries to reach out to him, tries to do anything, but all that comes out of her mouth is a weak whisper of his name. She can do nothing but watch as the figure cuts her friend down, can only watch as his body falls to the ground and begins to join the choking dust in the air.

A tear snakes its way down her face, clearing a thin path through the grime on her cheek.

The figure turns around, and even through the blurriness and spots in her vision she can see his manic grin. He slowly advances towards her, twirling his dust and blood covered knife. Her hand trembles, still outstretched toward her friend's decaying corpse.

No.

She won't go down quietly or easily.

She owes that much to her friends.

Her hand curls into a fist as he gets closer. She slams it into the dirt, rocks and coarse dirt biting at her knuckles, bloodying them even further. She pushes her battered body to its knees, then to its feet. She grasps her sword, the blade gleaming like a thousand stars, and she rises to her full height. She knows she won't last long. It's a downright miracle she hasn't succumbed to her injuries yet.

The twisted man in front of her just smiles, but she can see a hint of wariness in his eyes. She can see several slashes in his shirt from where she attacked him earlier, and a faint feeling of smugness blooms in her chest at the sight.

He's not infallible.

He can be killed.

But in her heart, she knows that she won't be the one to do so. She's on her last dregs of health with no help in sight, lost in a maze beneath the surface, face to face with a relentless killer.

But that doesn't mean she won't try.

With a scream filled with anguish and rage, she points her sword at the man, calling upon the ancient spirits she knows linger out of sight around her. They burst into action, flames licking across their spectral bodies as they dive at the man. She doesn't waste another moment, lunging forward and slashing across his chest in quick succession. They slice through bone with a satisfying cracking sound, and she allows the smallest of grins to grace her face as the man shouts in pain and staggers back against the onslaught of attacks.

He stops moving backwards as the spirits finally dissipate, red and blue eyes in dark sockets glaring into her very soul, face twisted into a snarl. He lunges, knife ready to carve her to pieces, and she faintly registers a sharp pain in her shoulder, then her body hitting the ground.