Post by silentspeaker on Feb 26, 2022 9:11:28 GMT
Sparsam roared out a chilling and feral battle-cry as the wolf charged towards him, daring it to attack him and the Sherpas. The wolf attacked with abandon, its teeth flashing like jagged knives poised to tear into his flesh. A weaker man might have dodged, side-stepped, or even stood their ground against such a brazen attack, but not Sparsam! Sparsam had the great Sherpa's leading him in this holy fight, and he knew that all he needed was faith in their plan to survive.
Charging forward, he shoved his ice pick-wielding hand deep into the wolf's gaping maw. The teeth pierced his flesh and tore his muscle as he scrapped the pick deep into the thing's throat. The pain united them both in sweet terror, but neither were willing to stop lest the other gained the upper hand. The wolf tried to bite down entirely without shredding its throat, while Sparsam used his other hand, which wielded his heavy holy book, to bash at the wolf's head without mercy.
Eventually, the two managed to get free from the other, but not without paying the price on both sides. The wolf was bleeding a torrent of blood from its mouth; the visage conjured a sight of a cursed hell hound that clawed its way from the depths. In comparison, Sparsam's arm is entirely wrecked; bone is visible amongst the viscera of what one would charitably describe as an arm. However, despite this, both combatants were not willing to back down. "The great Sherpas will be done on this day!" Sparsam screamed as he raised his gory hand to swing his pick at the charging wolf.
The wolf used its claws, its teeth no longer available to it, to swipe at him. The ice pick cruelly sliced into the wolf's head as Sparsam leaned into the attack rather than back away. The claws made a deep cut into his side, but the sheer audacity of embracing the attack rather than trying to dodge it had shocked the wolf enough to falter ever so slightly so that it didn't go deep enough to cut into anything vital. With a sickening wet sound, sparsam pulled out his pick from the wolf's shattered head and roughly caught the creature's body before it fell to the ground. Using the last of his strength, he gently lowered it in front of him and used his good hand to open his now bloodied holy book.
"Holy Sherpa's, thy will has been fulfilled. We beseech you to guide this lost soul into your embrace. Let this unholy one be bathed in your forgiveness and tell it that its loneliness shall not persist, for we will send its brethren to it forthwith."
Charging forward, he shoved his ice pick-wielding hand deep into the wolf's gaping maw. The teeth pierced his flesh and tore his muscle as he scrapped the pick deep into the thing's throat. The pain united them both in sweet terror, but neither were willing to stop lest the other gained the upper hand. The wolf tried to bite down entirely without shredding its throat, while Sparsam used his other hand, which wielded his heavy holy book, to bash at the wolf's head without mercy.
Eventually, the two managed to get free from the other, but not without paying the price on both sides. The wolf was bleeding a torrent of blood from its mouth; the visage conjured a sight of a cursed hell hound that clawed its way from the depths. In comparison, Sparsam's arm is entirely wrecked; bone is visible amongst the viscera of what one would charitably describe as an arm. However, despite this, both combatants were not willing to back down. "The great Sherpas will be done on this day!" Sparsam screamed as he raised his gory hand to swing his pick at the charging wolf.
The wolf used its claws, its teeth no longer available to it, to swipe at him. The ice pick cruelly sliced into the wolf's head as Sparsam leaned into the attack rather than back away. The claws made a deep cut into his side, but the sheer audacity of embracing the attack rather than trying to dodge it had shocked the wolf enough to falter ever so slightly so that it didn't go deep enough to cut into anything vital. With a sickening wet sound, sparsam pulled out his pick from the wolf's shattered head and roughly caught the creature's body before it fell to the ground. Using the last of his strength, he gently lowered it in front of him and used his good hand to open his now bloodied holy book.
"Holy Sherpa's, thy will has been fulfilled. We beseech you to guide this lost soul into your embrace. Let this unholy one be bathed in your forgiveness and tell it that its loneliness shall not persist, for we will send its brethren to it forthwith."