Bellalalallinda chokes as the arrow hits her square in the chest. There it is, sticking out of her. Still. She breathes in and she sees the arrow's fletching rise. Suddenly, she is scared. "Whistler!?" she calls out.
The Sahaugen is down, but his accomplices remain. These storm-balls are becoming a nuisances, she thinks, as she reloads her crossbow, and raises it against her attacker.
She fires, and then moves to cover behind one of the large memorials in the graveyard, hoping to be out of the ranged attacker's line of sight.
Meanwhile, Whistleris awash in weird body parts. An illusion?, he wonders, until he feels the acidic fluids eating his imagination -- or so it feels.
He hears Bellalalalinda's voice. Can he still see her? He thumps at the spell caster with his massive fists, and then withdraws, knowing that he might draw an attack if he does so, but it will keep the others safe.
The Sahaugen is down, but his accomplices remain. These storm-balls are becoming a nuisances, she thinks, as she reloads her crossbow, and raises it against her attacker.
She fires, and then moves to cover behind one of the large memorials in the graveyard, hoping to be out of the ranged attacker's line of sight.
|
Meanwhile, Whistleris awash in weird body parts. An illusion?, he wonders, until he feels the acidic fluids eating his imagination -- or so it feels.
He hears Bellalalalinda's voice. Can he still see her? He thumps at the spell caster with his massive fists, and then withdraws, knowing that he might draw an attack if he does so, but it will keep the others safe.
|
|