Quoted By:
>Silence her yourself. Time to end things.
You look down at the woman beneath you, a blood-smeared grin spread across her face. She gazes at you with lidded eyes; every so often, she cranes her head in an attempt to spot your master, silver locks spilling across the edge of your sword, still planted in the ground.
"Hey," she begins. "How about we–"
You wrap your fingers around her throat.
Finally, her chattering cuts off. The assassin's eyes widen ever-so-slightly, breath catching as she realizes what you're about to do.
She swallows. Pale skin bobs beneath your fingertips.
"I surr–"
You squeeze.
The woman sputters, hands instinctively rising to tear away your fingers. Her already-impressive strength is further reinforced by that particular animal desperation, unique to mortals facing imminent death.
It's not enough. Your iron grip tightens further, crushing, bruising, speckling–
>STR DC: 25 | Roll: 5d6 + 5(Ogre's Force) = 20
To your surprise, she manages to work a single finger beneath your hand, and in that moment–
"I surrender!"
>AGI DC: 18 (Reduced from 20 by Concussive Strikes) | 2d6 + 10(Tailwind) = 16
You bare your teeth at her raspy declaration, lunging forward in an attempt to rip your sword free from the earth. The blade digs further into her hair and leaps into your reach, shearing off several silver lengths as it goes, but it's too late.
She's already beginning to disappear, swallowed up by the same white lights that whisked away your previous opponent.
Ignoring your failure, you slam your sword into a limb–any limb. Anything within reach. Anything still present, yet to be taken away from you.
The bent iron of your blade tears into her thigh, shedding a belt pouch and a fragment of leather. A red spray splatters against you as the woman's body doubles over, thrashing despite the lack of limbs or a head.
Then, your prey disappears, leaving you to sit in the dirt.
