The thug fell to the ground, screaming and bleeding profusely from both legs.
Aphra's vengeance in her flush face was red as the blood pooling round her boots and gleaming in dripping trickles off her curved sword.
She had never never murdered a man before. She would be forever changed, though no thought of that occurred to her now. She knew only she'd murdered a man and there'd be consequences and her life would never be the same...and for that price, she knew she had to take full advantage of this grisly crossroads. For the people of Kintargo. Yes, she would have his head cleaved off and held high in her hands for all to see. She brought her rare blade around after her elegant but deadly swing, now bent on beheading the man at her feet - to grab and raise into the air as a symbolic gesture that the people of Kintargo were not weak - that they were capable, capable of anything. After all, she herself was no strong or especially skilled woman with a sword. Just fed-up.
Spitting her own hair from her mouth from her quick action, she paused suddenly - just short of the downward arc that would be the brutal act of decapitation. Another red bandanna was moving toward her. There was a quick flash in her mind. She liked that term - red bandanna. When she killed a red bandanna, she could hide from the fact she was committing murder. But indeed it was only a flash.
"You're next?" she spat with wild venom with no hesitation as the second red bandanna came for her. There was also at least one more behind her in the chaos.
"You learn the hard way!?" she hurled. After all, he'd practically stepped right in front of the arc of her downswing meant for his fallen cohort's neck.
"Are you paid enough gold coins worth this!!"
With her downward arc she aimed for the crook of his neck and shoulder where veins of hot blood were most vulnerable. The moment steel slit flesh she followed through shutting her eyes from...from...
She felt the blood spray her and in her blink of blindness the cries of the crowd were intensified to her senses. She opened her eyes alertly, but did not look down at her own carnage. She gripped her sword tighter for an upswing as she whirled around in the other direction. There it was, a third red bandanna. The man that wore it didn't seem so eager to be cut, though Aphra knew not it was Voltarus's doing.
"Don't tell me you are so stupid!" she taunted amidst all the shouting, her white blouse splattered with blood, sword dancing in the tight grip of both her gauntleted hands. "Are YOU paid enough gold coins worth it!? Know that your mace, every spare mace - like their's - will end up in yet another citizen's hands!"
standard swing at c3. d20(13)+6= 19. damage 1d10(8)+4= 12 slashing.
move none, whirl around to face c2.
Last edited by Bong Bellowsmoke; 03-14-2017 at 08:33 PM.
The Red Condor shrieked at Sir Darvig in full wrath. Wings flapped storms of fire across the sky. "The Mage-God grows in power swifter than it appears to Paladine. This I know. A warning," Sargonnas told Darvigl, "for you to give to Paladine in your prayers."
“I will,” Darvig uttered.