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You scoot back as best you can, finding yourself able to walk and move, but only barely. You clutch your side and try to get away from the beast before you, who is reaching out into the air to grab you. Even in this state, his hands could twist your head off even if he can't aim a punch, so you have to stay calm...
“Where did you go!? Come back here! Face me you coward! Pay for what you've done!”
He whirls his head around as you fall silent, looking more fearful by the second that you could come from any angle. He pulls out his sword, standing in a pose, readying for a blind swing that could bisect two or three men at once. You reach over for a random can and toss it across the room, to which the Viking strikes as hard as he possibly can towards the source of the noise; and he smashes his blade hard against the edge of a countertop, breaking the one of a kind sword with a massive crack and bladed chips falling all over the floor. The sword goes tumbling out of his hand from the hard impact, spinning off somewhere into the kitchen.
“My sword! Give it back!”
He starts crawling across the floor, trying hard to retrieve his weapon before you can get it first, patting the slick ground with his burnt and hands, his fingers trembling from the pain. Thinking fast, you toss bottle after bottle of synthalcohol, finishing oils, whatever else you find and throw it at him, the glass shattering on the floor leading to glass shards poking and slicing his every step.
