“Ah! God dammit!” Sylvia looked over to the source of her pain: Ayse, who had used her flames to burn away the poison inside her. Of course, this helped her rid the deadly venom, but there was a side effect: There had been burning flames inside her, at least for an instant, and it felt about as painful as it sounded.
“Thank you, but damn, that hurt!!” Sylvia held her wound, and besides the earlier blood, she felt no new blood flowing out. Most likely, the flames had dried up the wound in a way. Probably not enough to cauterize it, but enough to at least staunch the bleeding. She quietly recited the words to her transparency spell, and she felt the familiar lightness overtake her.
She was see-through now, nearly invisible. All around her, the battle raged on. Dwarves clashed with Skaven, hammers breaking skulls and swords piercing flesh. The sounds and stenches of battle and death filled the air, and occasionally a Skaven or Dwarf would come near her, missing her hunched silhouette.
At this point, she was really regretting getting rid of her armor earlier, but still, not getting rid of it my have gotten her impaled by that halberd, which would have been a fate much, much worse.
I suppose I’ll just consider myself lucky.
She still had her dagger in her hand, in case a Skaven tried to get a stab at her. When -- if she got back, she made a mental note to buy some better armor, something more, well, stab resistant.
She felt the remnants of the rat poison coursing through her body, numbing her limbs and making them go lax. She kept hitting the back of her hand on the ground to regain feeling in them, so much that she had begun to see bruises form on her knuckles. Still, anything was better than losing the ability to fight. Once that was gone, she might as well be dead. The good thing was, however, the poison seemed to be fading. Once it did, she would be able to fight properly again. Well, if the cut on her belly was ignored.
She saw a pair of armored paws shuffle in front of her, stopping in their tracks. She looked up to see another Stormvermin, sniffing at her translucent form, turning its metal-encased head in an inquisitive way.
Well, guess I have no choice, then.
From her crouched form, Sylvia rose up quickly, attempting to stab the skaven through its vulnerable mandible. She saw its eyes widen, and at the last second, it batted away her hand. Sylvia staggered to the side, struggling to keep her form. However, her limbs were reacting slowly, sluggishly, like they were under water.
And I have your bastard halberd friend to thank for that.
The Stormvermin wielded a vicious-looking warpick, the single spike at its end bristling with razor-sharp protrusions and dwarf blood. The weapon looked like it could bring down the most heavily armored warriors in a single, powerful strike. And judging by the dead dwarves around them, it already had.
And what did Sylvia have? Her own bloodied clothes, and an excessively sharp knife.
“Thank you, but damn, that hurt!!” Sylvia held her wound, and besides the earlier blood, she felt no new blood flowing out. Most likely, the flames had dried up the wound in a way. Probably not enough to cauterize it, but enough to at least staunch the bleeding. She quietly recited the words to her transparency spell, and she felt the familiar lightness overtake her.
She was see-through now, nearly invisible. All around her, the battle raged on. Dwarves clashed with Skaven, hammers breaking skulls and swords piercing flesh. The sounds and stenches of battle and death filled the air, and occasionally a Skaven or Dwarf would come near her, missing her hunched silhouette.
At this point, she was really regretting getting rid of her armor earlier, but still, not getting rid of it my have gotten her impaled by that halberd, which would have been a fate much, much worse.
I suppose I’ll just consider myself lucky.
She still had her dagger in her hand, in case a Skaven tried to get a stab at her. When -- if she got back, she made a mental note to buy some better armor, something more, well, stab resistant.
She felt the remnants of the rat poison coursing through her body, numbing her limbs and making them go lax. She kept hitting the back of her hand on the ground to regain feeling in them, so much that she had begun to see bruises form on her knuckles. Still, anything was better than losing the ability to fight. Once that was gone, she might as well be dead. The good thing was, however, the poison seemed to be fading. Once it did, she would be able to fight properly again. Well, if the cut on her belly was ignored.
She saw a pair of armored paws shuffle in front of her, stopping in their tracks. She looked up to see another Stormvermin, sniffing at her translucent form, turning its metal-encased head in an inquisitive way.
Well, guess I have no choice, then.
From her crouched form, Sylvia rose up quickly, attempting to stab the skaven through its vulnerable mandible. She saw its eyes widen, and at the last second, it batted away her hand. Sylvia staggered to the side, struggling to keep her form. However, her limbs were reacting slowly, sluggishly, like they were under water.
And I have your bastard halberd friend to thank for that.
The Stormvermin wielded a vicious-looking warpick, the single spike at its end bristling with razor-sharp protrusions and dwarf blood. The weapon looked like it could bring down the most heavily armored warriors in a single, powerful strike. And judging by the dead dwarves around them, it already had.
And what did Sylvia have? Her own bloodied clothes, and an excessively sharp knife.