[It's useless. She's down. Something tight and hot squeezes Damin's chest. In his panic he almost forgets his attacker. A blow comes down at his head, and it's only through his reflexes that he manages to block it with his rod.]
Ugh!
[The man has the advantage of his bulk and freakish strength. Another blow falls, forcing Damin to stagger backwards into a defensive position. The room was small. Too small to maneuver. There's no way he can dance around like he usually does.
Damin can feel the rod shudder with each hit. He can't focus on anything except the sheer size of his attacker and a sickly, icy feeling trickles from his mind down to his gut. They're going to die here. There's no way out. This is it.
When the man raises his arm to prepare another attack, all the tension explodes inside of Damin. It happens so fast he doesn't register his own movements. He doesn't remember hitting the man, but his arms are quivering from exhaustion. The attacker's on his back with blood streaming down his face.
The rod is bending, but Damin doesn't stop his assault. The man raises his arms as if to defend himself.
Damin doesn't stop.
The foot he planted on the man's chest is starting to feel wet and warm.
Damin doesn't stop.
Even when the arms fall and the smell of something recently dead pricks the air, the rod continues to hammer away. Eventually, a shudder runs through his core. Damin props himself up with his bloody weapon. His shoulders are hunched. His legs are shaking.
There's blood and brain matter everywhere. The smell makes him sick with each quivering breath he takes, but he can't move. His entire body feels numb.]
no subject
[It's useless. She's down. Something tight and hot squeezes Damin's chest. In his panic he almost forgets his attacker. A blow comes down at his head, and it's only through his reflexes that he manages to block it with his rod.]
Ugh!
[The man has the advantage of his bulk and freakish strength. Another blow falls, forcing Damin to stagger backwards into a defensive position. The room was small. Too small to maneuver. There's no way he can dance around like he usually does.
Damin can feel the rod shudder with each hit. He can't focus on anything except the sheer size of his attacker and a sickly, icy feeling trickles from his mind down to his gut. They're going to die here. There's no way out. This is it.
When the man raises his arm to prepare another attack, all the tension explodes inside of Damin. It happens so fast he doesn't register his own movements. He doesn't remember hitting the man, but his arms are quivering from exhaustion. The attacker's on his back with blood streaming down his face.
The rod is bending, but Damin doesn't stop his assault. The man raises his arms as if to defend himself.
Damin doesn't stop.
The foot he planted on the man's chest is starting to feel wet and warm.
Damin doesn't stop.
Even when the arms fall and the smell of something recently dead pricks the air, the rod continues to hammer away. Eventually, a shudder runs through his core. Damin props himself up with his bloody weapon. His shoulders are hunched. His legs are shaking.
There's blood and brain matter everywhere. The smell makes him sick with each quivering breath he takes, but he can't move. His entire body feels numb.]