Dungeons and Dragons

The Luskan mercenary has his shield on mid-level, while the sword is held before him. “Try, if you dare, Sellsword!” comes your only comment and funeral speech in one.

Devoid of thoughts you remain one with the flow of chi, which you prefer entitled as the wind from the nine hells. The moment your adversary strikes with the sword is the moment your deceptive helplessness explodes into martial arts.

Both hands wielding your quarterstaff you wait for the enemy blade to come closer. When the swift strike of his sword has started you blink out of known reality for just one instance, and reappear behind the Sellsword's back.

Wasting no time you do, what you have been trained to do, unleashing two brutal staff-swings against the quite unprotected neck of your opponent. One from the right, one from the left.

You can feel the tiny bones of the spine crack with each devastating impact by your staff. The Luskan shakes ,and twitches, while you just watch him die...