Lending to Death a New Terror {Fledger, Day Three}

Fledger Rells

Well nobody cares.
Does anyone care if nobody cares?

The sand sucked at his feet. Bewildered, Fledger glanced down, half expecting to discover that he'd stepped into a pit of mud. But it was just sand, as it had been before. He pulled at his foot, but it stayed stuck. Swearing a bit, and in more of a panic now, he pulled at his leg again, swinging his whole body in the effort.

[dice=6]

Still stuck. Pain lanced through his cheek as the creature's whip-like horns cracked against his cheek. It was a firm reminder of what he had to do. Hefting his weapon, he swung out, hoping to catch the beast across the neck and end this quickly.

((Attacks Whip-Horned Buffalo; Fauchard))
[dice=200+13000]
((Deep Gash on Neck; 10.0))

Fledger Rells

He's not listening to a word now.
He's in his own world
And he's daydreaming.

The creature's hooves slammed down on Fledger's arm. It hurt, but not nearly so much as losing his arm had. The blood rushing down his cheek was a much more pressing concern, and even that didn't much matter at this point. What was important was to get out of the sand so he could concentrate fully on fighting.

[dice=6]

After such a good attack on the creature, Fledger knew his odds of doing similar damage would be small. If he was really lucky, he'd manage another deep gash past the furry thing's thick pelt. More likely, he'd end up scratching it, or miss altogether. Crossing his fingers, (figuratively, of course, since he didn't really have any fingers to spare at the moment) Fledger struck out towards the beast once more.

((Attacks Whip-Horned Buffalo; Fauchard))
[dice=200+13000]
((Miss; 0.0))

Fledger Rells

He'd rather be doing something else now,
Like cigarettes and coffee with the underbelly.

Fledger watched in horror as his weapon was sucked away into the sand. Now what? it wasn't as if he could kill this thing with just his fists. No, make that fist. He only had one now, after all. For a while, he didn't think, just stared at the creature as it reared up and struck his leg with its hoof. No blood this time, but it still hurt like hell.

[dice=6]


Fledger was ready to give up, to just let the sand fold over his head. It would be easy, far easier than trying to smash somethings skull with his bare hands. That was when he saw it. The silver parachute. He looked around, thinking there was another tribute nearby it was intended for. But no. There was just him.

It fell delicately in his hands. Ripping away the strings, he discovered the shine of a blade balancing across his fingertips. It didn't look as deadly as his last weapon, and it certainly wouldn't cut off legs, but it was better than nothing. He closed his fingers around the knife and lunged forward as best he could with his legs still trapped in muck.


((Attacks Whip-Horned Buffalo; Knife))
[dice=200+2000]
((Shallow Cut on Stomach; 4.0))

Fledger Rells

FILLER.

[dice=6]

FILLER.

((Attacks Whip-Horned Buffalo; Knife))
[dice=200+2000]
((Stabbed in Back; 9.0))