Dies Irae - {Demeter vs Wednesdae, day 7}

Ribbons of scarlet ruined the untouched body of the boy who had hoped to be immortal, her blade biting ferociously into his flesh and exposing his insides to a world that perhaps thought he was invincible. A victorious smile crossed her lips despite the blade failing to have struck any vital organs, and after withdrawing her blade she watched him retort with words that would never bring harm to someone as hollow as the empty shell that was Demeter Glory. ”You will not touch me again, girl… The threat was meaningless. She was not intimidated by the little boy, even if the deadly fire in his eyes was worthy of appraisal and acknowledgement. He was nothing special, nothing she couldn’t dispose of; his body was as frail as her own, as easily broken as every other tribute’s. Why should she treat him any different? He was the enemy, another obstacle to overcome on her path to victory. He had challenged her, she had complied, and now their fates were sealed. It was only a matter of time before he slipped up and fulfilled the tradition that belonged to district nine; the death of all their nobody tributes. And when his inevitable moment of weakness did arrive, she would be prowling, waiting, and ready to pounce with her sword in hand and her eyes alight in the wildfire of passionate triumph. To kill and to forget - this was the destiny she had created for herself, and a future she would never forfeit to such an insignificant boy.

”You will kneel for your God!” Suddenly, it was Heather’s sweet voice ringing in her brain. Do you believe in God?

There is no God. Not here, not in Panem. His words were absurd, his visions demented. He was a nutcase, just as she had initially predicted, and here he was trying to demand her of all people to kneel before him like he was king of this arena. Demeter Glory kneeled for nobody, not intentionally. Not until she disobeyed the orders of her “God” (a boy playing his delusional games) and lunged only to find her leg being swept from beneath her by an armored boot. Fortunately, the blow did not snap any of her bones, and perhaps left a nasty bruise at best, but she was unable to prevent herself from buckling to one knee in front of the bastard while he made a lunge of his own and struck out with his blade. Searing fire erupted near her spine and seemed to melt away her flesh with molten agony. She could not suppress the cry of mixed frustration and anguish as she felt her own sticky blood cascading down her black to stain the angelic white of her ripped toga, but as soon as she caught herself in her moment of mistaken submission she clenched her teeth and sucked in a sharp breath of air. ”Is that what you think you are? A God?” She managed to swallow her gasps and speak clearly with the venoms of rage still evident in her melodic voice. She craned her head to flash him a spiteful glare, and stared directly into his fierce little eyes, unafraid and never defeated.

”Last time I checked, Gods weren’t cowards.” She had hoped he would be courageous and duel her face-to-face like a real warrior stranded in the heat of battle, but instead, he had merely proven himself unworthy of her respect by stabbing her in the back. Such a cowardly move for such a bold boy - it disgusted her. ”A God would face his enemy head-on, not stab them in the back when they’re on one knee.” Her distaste and disapproval of his actions were both apparent in her icy tone, and as she regained her footing and began to rise she could only glare at him. ”If you can’t bear to look me in the eye when you attack me you are far from being a God you stupid boy.” And then she was out of his range, knuckles tinted white by the tightening of the muscles in her hands gripping the almighty blade that would slay this beast. The wound in her back was impossible to neglect, the stinging ache impossible to forget, and yet she still stood with her chin held high, her spine straight and her eyes still ablaze. ”Enemy?” What makes you think I see you as an enemy? “ Again, his words were bitter nonsense to her ears. ”This is nothing more than elaborate pest-control.”

He was attempting to belittle her with insults, to use her own methods against her and wear her down. Nice try. She did not care how he perceived her. He could think of her as a pest, as a threat, as a piece of dust - anything he wanted, really. At the conclusion of their story, however, she planned to make him swallow those insults when she cast his life into the dirt and forever stripped him of his so-called “God status”. ”Not an enemy? You should be concerned for you life, boy,” Sometimes, it was the subtle aspects that could leave the deepest of wounds, and this was no new knowledge to the cruel temptress. You’re such a little boy, Wes. Just a boy, only a boy, a dead boy. She would torment him to her heart‘s content and devour the boy‘s pride while she hacked away at his flesh and bone until he was reduced to a heap of nothing. He would die a whimpering dog like he was meant to be, just like every other tribute who thought they could rise above her. They were badly mistaken - all of them. She was their victor, because she was the only human being worthy of such a prize.

”You consider yourself a God, and I just made a God bleed."

[Attacks Wednesdae - Xiphos]
[dice=200+1000]
[Block - 0.0]
[rand=590926310513168646792642725631595142028828384354721376627520658076]

Pins and needles raced through her arm as their blades clashed and released an angry roar that bounced across the walls of the pit. In her flurry of mocking and distraction she had failed to anticipate a successful counter attack. She had underestimated him, such a foolish thing to do in this arena, and mentally she chastised herself for acting on behalf of her impulses rather than playing this out using her developed skills as a swordswoman. She may have bested him in height, but she was no match for raw strength and masculinity and therefore could only struggle against his sword as they held one another in this single stance, her arm trembling and seeping strength and sweat by the second. To be overpowered by a man again no, not again, never, never, never again please was humiliating enough given her circumstances and her internal goals as the valiant dragoness wishing and praying for victory, but now he was spreading the embarrassment with a grin as if flaunting an accomplishment. Yes, he had successfully countered one attack, but oh, there were others to come, and her wrath would not be taken as a gentle greeting. Gritting her teeth, she maintained her seething glare and clenched her jaw as they broke apart and returned to their previous positions.

”You are disillusioned, and that is your downfall,” he began, granting her a few moments to recuperate and recapture her breaths. ”What do you know of Gods?” She was considering cutting his tongue out and roasting it over an open fire if he decided not to drop God complex business. He was in desperate need of a therapist to drill the truth into his head until he understood the true meaning of what a God was, and why he would never measure up to one. She was tempted to sigh, to shake her head like a disappointed mother punishing her child before she tore him open and exposed him to every living soul in Panem, but unfortunately, time and the priority of fighting would never allow her to do so. He came barreling toward her with his blade at the ready, a string of words leaving his lips before she could process the movements. ”You know nothing…” She side-stepped as quickly and elegantly as possible, and his blade only barely nicked her arm, yet it was enough to leave a scar and force her to lose possession of the composure in her face. Beauty twisted itself into an expression of pain, but only for a moments as she tried her best to shrug it off and ignore the rivulet of blood crawling its way down her right arm.

”I know enough to recognize a God when I see one, and you, boy, are not a God,” she spat through a stifled gasp.

The pain was proving itself a difficult obstacle to bear. Her back ached with every movement, and the fresh painting of blood on her flexed arm was enough to distract her momentarily - however, there was no slaying this dragon with such ease. Elaborate pest-control? A dragon was a hell of a pest to kill, and she was prepared to watch him try his luck. ”Gods in the real world do not bleed, and they do not die. You? You’re just another average boy from district nine that everybody will forget. You mean absolutely nothing in this wretched place, and once I paint this arena with your blood, you will realize it.” Her spitfire was enough to infuriate her opponent, for the instant the truth words escaped she spotted the instantaneous change in his expression. ”You don’t know me, you don‘t know what it is to be a God!” Illusions, illusions. Demeter was no therapist, but she would be pleased to hammer the truth into his stubborn skull the moment he let his guard down. The God-complex idea was becoming almost to ridiculous to bear, and the boy himself too insufferable to keep alive. If this lasted any longer, she might just succumb to madness as well. ”You’re just a failed Career, living in the shadow of me, your replacement!” Oh, fuck you.

A failed Career? Demeter had never been a Career to begin with. She possessed a matching attitude, a matching passion for bloodshed and victory, but she was far from the Career status - her score was enough to reveal that despicable truth by itself. However, there was an advantage of lacking such a status, and that, of course, was the truth that she had fooled everybody into believing she was. ”YOU’RE A NOBODY, YOU HEAR ME? A NOBODY!” The simple word was such an ice cold shock, a bullet to the ribcage, a blow to the back of head. Mentally, a wasp had buried its stinger into her brain and forced her to remember. Demeter, the nobody. Are you nobody too, papa? FuckyouFuckyouFuckyou. She wouldn’t allow it to bother her, not now, not ever, never again. She cast his insult aside and focused on the task at hand, and then at his initial claim. ”A failed Career? Hah!” The laughter was fabricated, but enough to fool a gullible audience if they weren’t listening too intently. ”You don’t know anything about me you pathetic excuse of a tribute! My name is Demeter Glory, this arena was built for me, and you will die for my fucking crown!”

Her screech was final, and her mind made up. This time, his vital organs were not her target. This time, he would feel the true flames of wrath exhaled by the dragoness. This time, he would suffer.

And she would revel in this victory.

[Attacks Wednesdae - Xiphos]
[dice=200+1000]
[Severed Right Foot at Ankle -- 9.0]
[-3 because combat boots - 6.0 final damage]

The dive was elegant, the swipe clean and executed with the utmost perfection. Her precious steel lifeline sheared through flesh and bone as if it consisted of melted butter, severing the armored boot that once tried to buckle her into submission to a false deity. Lips curling into a devious smile, she watched the boot thump against the floor of his death bed, and did not need to rise from her lowered position to know that her wrath had made a permanent incision into the boy’s fantasy world. She heard his body strike the ground rather harshly, spotted the droplets of blood his injured limb was shedding into the pit and relished during the eruption of agonizing screams that followed her triumphant blow. She rose to her highest position, standing as if reaching beyond the capitol skyscrapers and past the puffs of white clouds and into the depths of the sky to grab a handful of stars and weave them into the gown she would wear at her ceremony of championship.

He is nothing. He was defeated, down and out of the count, screeching with a throat raw from the harsh truth and looking through tear-stained eyes as the blood crawled its way out of his leg and into the soil to forever shrivel beneath Demeter’s radiant glow. Now, it was her turn to circle the animal as if waiting to engulf him like prey on a platter, the devilish smile never ceasing to curse beauty with cruelty. You’re mine.

The insults were still termites picking apart her filter, pestering and pestering her until she could hear her father’s voice mocking her behind closed doors, You are nobody, Demeter. You are nothing. And because of you, I am everything but happy. She could not bear the prospect of absorbing such a rejected insult, such a lie without retaliating, and while severing the boy’s foot was beyond satisfactory the fire was still searing her veins and encasing her pounding heart like a barrier of constant burning - burning her until the chambers turned black. Squeezing the hilt of her blade until her palm throbbed, she found the boy’s dirt-caked face dampened by tears and stormed over to his crumpled form - the crumpled form of a supposed God. ”WHO’S THE NOBODY NOW, BOY?” She wanted to kick him, to push him over the edge and listen to him cry as he melted beneath the flames of her wrath. But all she could do was laugh. The cackle of a mad-woman craving victory, craving something she could only kill and maim to earn on her own terms. I’ve killed a God to claim my crown. She was smiling, teeth and all. I’ve killed a God!That is, a God who only wished his dreams could meet reality.

She retained her patience. To kill a dog while he was down was cowardly, and a deed unfit for the future Queen of the arena. She let him rise, let him summon his inner strength and support himself with his sword thrust into the ground. It did not matter anyway - he was a dead God. ”It…” He groaned, and she stepped closer, waiting for the blow that would never come. ”It-It…It’s..” He was hopping on his single intact limb, trying so desperately to retrieve his pride and perhaps knock her down, but she knew what the outcome would be. I’ve always known. He would fall, but from his death her victory would rise. One tribute closer to my crown. She was so close she could taste the capitol’s luxurious sweets, she could hear the roar of the crowds cheering for her, and she could feel her heart swelling with pride, glory, and endless joy. I want it.

”It’s just a scratch…” The lie was as pathetic as his tears. He could continue to play pretend with her, but it was too late to fool his audience. Now, everybody knew. And as he hobbled closer to her form, she gripped her blade and prepared to counter his blow and strike with one of her own, one that would end his life once and for all. But then, fooling her expectations, he fell. The sudden alteration in movement startled her, for she had failed to anticipate his losing his strength yet again, and especially at such a close distance to her bleeding, yet stubbornly mighty body. He crashed into her, his form too heavy for her to withstand without staggering backwards and lowering her weapon. She felt the tip of his blade sink into her arm like a mutt’s teeth gnawing her flesh and bone, and bursting with overwhelming amounts of ire and pain came forth a scream that tore through her red throat and ricochet off the walls of the death’s domain in a frightening chorus of roars. Blood painted her arms red and soaked through her toga to stick the material to her flesh, and in a fury she tried to shove him away and brought her weapon up. ”ENOUGH!” She was sick of the pain, sick of this fighting, sick of this bastard and his games. She was going to end his time and take everything that belonged to him - including the one piece of him that was keeping him alive.

It was time for his reign to end, and for hers to begin.

[Attacks Wednesdae - Xiphos]
[dice=200+1000]
[Severed Right Hand at Wrist -- 9.0]
[-3 for gloves, final damage 6.0][rand=1753964149393141303916552127338946301777334418147812999334326013923]

Lost. Without pride, without a weapon, without defense. This was the reduced heap of nothing Demeter had created with her own passionate rage and desire for superiority - a sobbing, blubbering boy missing not only a foot to walk to victory with, but a hand to clench his weapon with. His sword clattered to the earth, dripping in her own precious blood as the severed piece of him lay still and eternally worthless. His broken, trembling body crawled and crawled for the steel weapon he thought could slay the dragon, and as his endless screams flooded every crevice in her being she merely watched him in the midst of his struggles with a tight frown plastered on her twisted face. Her injured right arm quivered from the sharp waves of pain, prompting her to loosen the muscles in her wrist and stand feebly with her weapon slacked and the blood drenching her skin.

”Looks like the tables have been turned,” she muttered bitterly and calmly through pants of withdrawn anger and newly-formed gasps of pain. She stepped closer to him, dangerously close - he had failed to retrieve his sword, and was now lying vulnerable with his chest facing the sky, facing her blade. He was prepared to submit himself to her as her first victim (and certainly not last) of the Games, and now willing to sacrifice himself for her crown. ”Do you still think you’re a God?”

The task was too simple. To plunge her blade through his ribcage and into his beating little heart would be too easy, and an act of mercy on a bastard who deserved to bathe in his own blood for daring to stab her in the backside like a coward. Make him hurt - he would do the same to you, Demeter. Would he? Would he torture her? The answer was all too plain and clear as a crystal’s edge - yes. Therefore, not a shred of guilt a was spared when she pressed her foot against the bleeding stump of his leg, summoning another anguished cry from the boy who thought he could make her kneel and get away with it. She did not wish to kill him in such a weakened, pathetic state. This was a war, a battle for victory, not an act of mercy. He would stand up, he would endure the pain and the bleeding and he would fight her face-to-face like a true soldier, and then plummet to his death with at least a small sample of his remaining dignity. ”Stand up and fight me like the God you claim to be!” she bellowed, shifting her weight and crushing the stump beneath her foot as he replied with only whimpers of defeat. He refused to swallow his suffering and comply, further irritating the previously infuriated dragon. With her teeth grinding she moved to his opposite side and thrust the sole of her shoe into his nose, splitting bone and spattering blood against his pretty face.

Finally, she had forced a response out of the helpless boy. ”I..I” It was a weak stutter, followed by another repeated wail of pain. ”I’m not…” Not what? Not strong enough to defend himself? Not brave enough to fight through the pain and face her? ”..not a God.” A smile painted her face in delight, her heart fluttering in ecstatic victory and her eyes twinkling maliciously. She had done it, she had broken him. His will was drained, his fantasies crushed, his dignity stolen. He was hers - all of him, and his fate rested in her bloodied hands. Yet for somebody so destined for failure and humiliation, his face was rather soft, the muscles relaxed and the wails subsiding. He thinks I will show mercy. No, mercy was no longer in her vocabulary. Her mercy had perished with Ailis Copper, and guilt was something Demeter Glory had never known. ”Say that again, I don’t think everyone in Panem heard you,” said the heartless dragon, her foot inching closer to the stump of his wrist that was oh-so tempting to step on. Again, he refused to reply, but the relief that had once relaxed his face had drained and morphed into a mask of horror. You’re afraid of me, boy, so say it again. She pressed her foot against the stump of his arm, earning herself yet another desperate scream from the suffering tribute.

”I-I..” She eagerly awaited his response, jades failing to spot the free hand reaching for his lost blade as she shifted her weight to the stomping foot. ”I said…fuck you, bitch!” A sharp sting in her calf made her flinch and step away from the boy, a hiss escaping her parted lips. The slippery bastard had taken advantage of her distracted state and sliced a chunk out of her leg, releasing a trickle of blood that flowed along the flexed muscle. It was a weak blow in comparison to the gashes scarring her arm and back, but was fresher, ripping open previously unscathed flesh and sending small waves of pain through her nerves. ”Bastard,” She growled, irritated by the lack of submission she had hoped for. She watched the boy rise to his knees, as if he stood a chance, and shot him another sinister glare. ”If you still think you can kill me, you’re badly mistaken.” She started toward him, eyes narrowed and pupils dialated. ”I won’t be killed by scum like you. You’re just an insufferable peasant trying to take the crown away from a queen, and you stand no chance!” She brought her blade down upon him again, aiming nowhere near his heart, his neck, or his skull. She was going to suck the life out of the district nine low-life until he pleaded for her to end him. Perhaps the queen will show you mercy, Wednesdae.

She already knew that she wouldn't.

[Attacks Wednesdae - Xiphos]
[dice=200+1000]
[Shallow Cut on Right Shoulder -- 3.5][rand=19104482163675132412323269527405500369008118286728868455751882866025]

The screams finally faded into winces and grunts. Her sword bit into his shoulder, scarring him with another dragon’s scratch as his arm and leg continued to leak precious blood onto the earth. The wound was negligible in comparison to the missing pieces of him scattered about the pit, the intention being not to kill, but to maim. To cause more pain to the broken boy who was dancing with death and bathing in his own pools of blood.

Playing with your food, Demeter? The dragon had never meant to keep breathing tributes on their feet when the chance to finish them was easy to take, but the temptation to snap every bone in the boy’s body for thinking himself a God was too difficult to resist. Why fight it? His fate was sealed, his death imminent. He was on his knees, thrusting his weapon into the soil in defeat. He had given in, and death was just around the corner if he would only cooperate. She didn’t appreciate the newly formed injury on her calf that created a spasm of stinging pain whenever she took a step, but she intended to punish him further for his misdeeds until his clock stopped ticking - until he was out of blood, and out of time. And once the cannon sounded, she would be on her way, his belongings shoved into her backpack to be used at a later time.

”Well, go on then…” said the kneeling corpse, his face screwed up and his injured arm cradled. The position, the lack of a weapon, it was an obvious sign of submission, and almost too easy - too easy to believe, perhaps. Has he really given up? She tilted her head, waiting for further demand - not that the Queen would take orders from such vermin. ”Finish me! Kill the immortal God!” Gladly. Expression neutral, she approached her fallen enemy and scanned him from head to toe, analyzing, contemplating. To kill, or not to kill? In his current position, driving her blade into his heart would be all too simple to perform without hesitation and without a single drop of guilt. Almost too simple. And yet, she knew she had been lingering for far too long. Her reason for entering this arena was not bloodlust, not torturing. Her goal was to reach the finish line with her heart still beating and her lungs still intact and her beauty unscathed, not to toy with the other tributes, even if this one did deserve every ounce of suffering he was enduring. Get it over with, it’s time to move on. But why show mercy? Her mercy was dead, gone, drained. Why suddenly try to revive it? Why? Because this isn’t you - this is your demon. Kill it, kill him, and get out.

Wednesdae was smiling when she approached him. His eyes were closed, and the muscles in his face relaxed, as if he were waiting for a blissful end, a ticket out of his torment. She squeezed the hilt of her blade, frustrated with herself for creating the internal conflict, but it was too late to betray her decision now. She was going to finish him, right here, right now. She would leave his corpse for the hovercrafts, steal his belongings, and turn her back on the past once again. With her chin high and her spirit invigorated with pride she would stare only at the path ahead and never again glance over her shoulder at the sinister traumas lying in her past. She would start anew, and when the crown was within her grasp she would place in on her golden mane and smile at the very same people who had saved her life. It was a moment to hope for, to pray for, to prepare herself for once this obstacle was out of her path. All smiles faded and eyes narrowed, she brought her blade back for the finishing blow - a stab through his rib cage was all it would take. One strike, a few seconds, and the cannon’s explosion. She knew he would consider it a blessing to be killed so quickly after bearing the amount of agony she had inflicted, but his well-being was of no concern to her. It was only his life that mattered, and she was about to extinguish it.

Before the final delivery could be performed, a bloody hand lashed out at her, and Wednesdae was no longer knelt with his eyes closed and his expression softened. He grasped a fistful of her blonde curls and forced her down to his level, a sharp gasp escaping her as she instinctively anticipated the arrival of a new surge of pain other than the stinging in her scalp. After the instantaneous slip up she pursed her lips and stared into the burning eyes of her supposedly beaten enemy, unable to glance away from the newborn flame of malice kindling within them. He was angry with her, absolutely enraged by his defeat, yet she knew that even with a handful of her locks beneath his fingers he was still at her mercy, for his weapon remained thrust into the soil and away from his hand. He was still defenseless, still dead. But what he was trying to accomplish now was a mystery to her. ”Because if you don’t kill me, Demeter Merwin-Glory..” Then what? There was nothing he could do, nowhere he could run. ”..t-then you’re a…a fool. If you so much as hesi-hesitate, I’ll kill you…before you get another chance!” Demeter was at a loss of words, but never without the will to attack. Despite his venomous words she was prepared to kill him and unafraid of his lurking threats. What could he do? He was helpless against her, even when she was practically bowed in false submission. She clenched her weapon firmly, ready to thrust it into his beating heart to end the struggle forever, but a smile crept onto his filthy face, a smile that warned her of something lethal that was hiding out of plain sight. Before the blade could contact him, he yanked her head forward by the messy strands of hair and forced her skull down upon the hilt of his protruding blade. Stars swarmed her vision, and the atmosphere turned black as night when she squeezed her eyes shut and yelped from the unexpected blow to the forehead that disoriented her. Legs quivering, she nearly fell to one knee in an attempt to support herself rather than topple over from the temporary dizziness, and struggled to keep a hold of her weapon. She parted her eyelids a moment too late, failing to witness the blade burying itself deep within her chest before she felt the pain erupt in her midsection.

Her lips parted in a silent scream, and it took every ounce of energy within her to fight the tears back, to stop the screams from tearing out her throat and popping her eardrums, to keep herself upright as the blood gushed from her chest. ”Never t-trust a d-d-…dying man…” Suddenly, it wasn’t Learna Libertine dead amongst the statues - it was Demeter Glory, eyes glossed over and body sprawled awkwardly across the ground as Wednesdae towered above her. It was not Alaska Putley whose face was twisted permanently in horror as the harpoon entered her eye - it was Demeter, her last words stolen, her beauty caked with dirt and scarlet crust. It was not Ailis who lay helplessly on the ground with her leg separated from her exposed body - It’s me. I’m dead. I’m.. Dead? She couldn‘t be. The gasps escaped her, ragged and irregular, but they were breaths nonetheless, and they kept her alive. ”You can cut off..m-my hand, slice my f-foot off, but I’m still…I’m still dangerous…I’m still a G-God.” She could not look at him. Her eyes remained fixated on her wound, a fatal blow. No, no no no no NO! She was not dead, she was not dead. Demeter Glory was not dead. Heather could fix her, Heather knew first aid just as well as she did.. But Heather isn’t here. There was nobody to help her, nobody to come to her rescue. But that’s always how it’s been, hasn’t it?

You were born alone, Demeter, and you will die alone. Her father’s words were burned into her cranium, singing the back of her scalp and scarring her permanently with a truth too difficult to fathom, and when she felt the twist of Wednesdae’s blade tear through her organs she screamed. ”I am going to kill you…” He twisted and twisted and twisted until she dropped her weapon and curled her fingers into the dirt. ”Slowly!” ”NO!” She thrust her foot forward with all of her might - all of the might that hadn’t melted into the soil with her blood - and kicked him away from her, desperate to clutch the life that was so precious to her. The blade withdrew from her chest, and with an animalistic groan of pain she collapsed into the dirt and clutched the hole in her chest as if trying to push the blood back inside. Lying only a few feet away from her crumpled body was the steel sword, the last piece of hope she could hold onto before Wednesdae took the life that was supposed to be spared. She crawled toward it, dragging her knees and elbows through the dirt as the dry sobs threatened to dominate her. She wrapped her trembling fingers around the hilt once again and used the crevices of the pit’s walls to pull herself to her feet. ”I-I w-will not b-be…k-killed…” It was painful to breathe, painful to speak. Her mouth tasted bitterly of iron, and her chest seemed to heave with every gasp that escaped her parted lips. ”Not when I’ve…w-when I’ve been working m-my entire life…just to survive…” She pushed herself away from the wall and started toward the laughing bastard. ”I w-won’t…I w-won’t…” She grinded her teeth and sprang. ”I won’t!”


[Attacks Wednesdae - Xiphos]
[dice=200+1000]
[Deep Gash on Right Thigh -- 8.0][rand=61162116471678020368160218931734566239812714047739661524097900838]