He lost himself in battle. There was nothing for him that was not truly primal... just kill the damned Hounds before they killed anyone else. He barely noticed his own wounds - he wouldn't let himself notice his wounds.
No time. Too many of them. Put the bastards down like the dogs they were named for. One after another, faces and bodies blurring into each other as he reduced them to meat.
He ran out of bullets and switched to his shortsword - for the first time in this life, driving it into flesh, that sick jar as it hit bone, wresting it out. Don't look in their eyes. There's nothing there to look at, just a thing trained to kill.
Shove the thought down. Turn the corner, here's another, got a Tamrani corpse behind him - and Fenris in front of him. Fenris outright growled as he rammed the blade home before the Hound could react - felt someone behind him, spun, punched the Hound down. Saw a mob of them on the street behind.
Ran for them, blade gore-slicked. Come here and die, you sons of bitches.
*lets hair down* Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the halfway point of this Blogathon.
I'd say it's all downhill from here, but it's not. We're still on the uphill. It's all downhill from 8 AM to 9 AM. 8 AM is a long way off.
But now we're halfway through, and in the dark.
C'mere. Let me tell you a story.
We're now up to $2,590.60! Let's see if we can push it to $3,000!
Remember, every dollar facilitates one phone call to RAINN's hotline.
Buckle up, y'all. It's gonna be a bumpy night. :)