Didn't think these pointy-eared little chumps would find me here. Frankly, I'm shocked they were even able to get Rhydin. Here I thought I was all special by gaining access to this place from back home, but evidently, the KinnicKillers managed to scrape together enough dough to afford similar means of cosmic travel. This bugs the livin' hell outta me. All I wanted was to get away from that rotten city, but it seems the city just manages to follow me wherever I go.
Not that I don't have it comin'. I've probably iced well over three dozen of these guys all on my own, not to mention the damage I've caused by strategizing ambushes and gang battles. The worst was when I was expected to wipe out a ringleader's whole family. I didn't do it. I don't kill children; don't kill mob wives. Hell, when I looked at that elfy lady's bruised-up face, I thought to myself, "Damn. This lady has undergone enough abuse in her life by being married to that punk-ass. Killing him would be doing her a favor, and she deserves a chance at a happy life." I still had to send a message though. So I wrapped her arm up in a cast and told her to tell her hubby that I broke it. Had to threaten her a bit to make sure she'd follow through with the lie, but she complied like a good sport.
And now I'm surrounded by eight of these tree-worshippin' hippies. Actually, one of them looks Drow, though he could just as easily be half African-American and half Wood Elf. It's hard to tell at night.
One of them starts talking, "Well, well, well....look what we have here, boys!"
Great. They're armed too. Mr. Talky-Pants has a gun pointed straight at me, and the others have bats and chains. I don't have time to play around. They're all inching their way in on me.
"Did you really think you'd be able to dodge the bounty that we put on..."
I'm so happy he started talkin' again. It's perfect timing, really. Best time to throw the first shot is while the smug SOB is in the middle of a sentence. I come down to my knee to avoid a potential gunshot to the head and throw one of my knives right into the chump's liver. He'll probably die of that alone soon enough, but the goal is to scare the others off so that I don't have to work so hard. So I charge in at him, take him down with a Russian sweep and mount him. I smash my forehead into is nose, summoning his blood onto my face. Then I headbutt him again. And then again. And again. With one more, I grind my forehead into his pulped hamburger of a face, indulging in the squishes and the squirts. He's done. I stand up to face the rest lookin' redder than Woody Woodpecker, "WHO'S NEXT?"
Remember how I said the goal was to scare the others off" Yeah, well, evidently it didn't work. Guess I gotta do this about seven more times.
Not that I don't have it comin'. I've probably iced well over three dozen of these guys all on my own, not to mention the damage I've caused by strategizing ambushes and gang battles. The worst was when I was expected to wipe out a ringleader's whole family. I didn't do it. I don't kill children; don't kill mob wives. Hell, when I looked at that elfy lady's bruised-up face, I thought to myself, "Damn. This lady has undergone enough abuse in her life by being married to that punk-ass. Killing him would be doing her a favor, and she deserves a chance at a happy life." I still had to send a message though. So I wrapped her arm up in a cast and told her to tell her hubby that I broke it. Had to threaten her a bit to make sure she'd follow through with the lie, but she complied like a good sport.
And now I'm surrounded by eight of these tree-worshippin' hippies. Actually, one of them looks Drow, though he could just as easily be half African-American and half Wood Elf. It's hard to tell at night.
One of them starts talking, "Well, well, well....look what we have here, boys!"
Great. They're armed too. Mr. Talky-Pants has a gun pointed straight at me, and the others have bats and chains. I don't have time to play around. They're all inching their way in on me.
"Did you really think you'd be able to dodge the bounty that we put on..."
I'm so happy he started talkin' again. It's perfect timing, really. Best time to throw the first shot is while the smug SOB is in the middle of a sentence. I come down to my knee to avoid a potential gunshot to the head and throw one of my knives right into the chump's liver. He'll probably die of that alone soon enough, but the goal is to scare the others off so that I don't have to work so hard. So I charge in at him, take him down with a Russian sweep and mount him. I smash my forehead into is nose, summoning his blood onto my face. Then I headbutt him again. And then again. And again. With one more, I grind my forehead into his pulped hamburger of a face, indulging in the squishes and the squirts. He's done. I stand up to face the rest lookin' redder than Woody Woodpecker, "WHO'S NEXT?"
Remember how I said the goal was to scare the others off" Yeah, well, evidently it didn't work. Guess I gotta do this about seven more times.