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Description
The mage's fire spell was unruly, but powerful. It tussled through the air like a dying angel. I saw it a ways off and gave myself fair room to dodge, but a last minute spasm down and left had it singe my arm. I take cover behind a wagon, my blood trickling onto the sodden cobbles, mingling with the urine and mead.

The spell took alot out of him, he is breathing heavily, but his calm suggests he believes I have fallen-big mistake! I tear a band of my coat and bind it, like a viper around my wound-it'll last a day or two, I can see healer when my business here is done.

The mage and a some accomplices are approaching me now-mostly elves, badly bred Hivelings. I back away, dash down a narrow alley. Having one arm makes it hard, but I clamber onto a gutter pipe, and shimmey round to a balcony over looking my foes.

A deep breath. The approach the wagon. I pounce!

Both feet land on the head of one of the elves-his soft skull yields and his crumbling spine, straining under my mass, lowers me to the ground. A second elf turns, mouth agasp. I plunge my hand into it and gouge a hole in his assophagus. Now for the fire chucker. He is kneeling and whimpering. In need of coin for his next hit of Nectaria no doubt. It makes their spells strong, but the spirit, unnurtured, wanes like an oak tree amongst desert dunes.

"I am not going to let you live, but if I were to have reason to let you go what would it be?"

The wretch ponders my words,

"Ay Knave. Or will you end a wordless fool. At least beg."

Finally he shudders out,

"You are Klasp-there is a price on your head. All of the Hive bay for your blood. They said that if..."

"They"

I thunder.

"The ones who..."

I have no time for chatter. I grip him at the throat and hip and tear him clean in half. It doesn't matter who wants me dead. In my line of work its best to assume everyone wants me dead. No matter. I'll kill em' all.

Description
The mage's fire spell was unruly, but powerful. It tussled through the air like a dying angel. I saw it a ways off and gave myself fair room to dodge, but a last minute spasm down and left had it singe my arm. I take cover behind a wagon, my blood trickling onto the sodden cobbles, mingling with the urine and mead.

The spell took alot out of him, he is breathing heavily, but his calm suggests he believes I have fallen-big mistake! I tear a band of my coat and bind it, like a viper around my wound-it'll last a day or two, I can see healer when my business here is done.

The mage and a some accomplices are approaching me now-mostly elves, badly bred Hivelings. I back away, dash down a narrow alley. Having one arm makes it hard, but I clamber onto a gutter pipe, and shimmey round to a balcony over looking my foes.

A deep breath. The approach the wagon. I pounce!

Both feet land on the head of one of the elves-his soft skull yields and his crumbling spine, straining under my mass, lowers me to the ground. A second elf turns, mouth agasp. I plunge my hand into it and gouge a hole in his assophagus. Now for the fire chucker. He is kneeling and whimpering. In need of coin for his next hit of Nectaria no doubt. It makes their spells strong, but the spirit, unnurtured, wanes like an oak tree amongst desert dunes.

"I am not going to let you live, but if I were to have reason to let you go what would it be?"

The wretch ponders my words,

"Ay Knave. Or will you end a wordless fool. At least beg."

Finally he shudders out,

"You are Klasp-there is a price on your head. All of the Hive bay for your blood. They said that if..."

"They"

I thunder.

"The ones who..."

I have no time for chatter. I grip him at the throat and hip and tear him clean in half. It doesn't matter who wants me dead. In my line of work its best to assume everyone wants me dead. No matter. I'll kill em' all.