Rolled 3 (1d6)
There is a strange, greenish hue on the horizon, a bleached smell in the air as you scramble frantically to the horse
>>5683940which now looks rather skittish, and agitated. It makes you briefly think of what the scarred warband commander impaled on a distant rusted spike behind you meant when he was calling forth the "sacred incense".
>>5684319You can see the shapes of some large rats scurrying to all sides of you, disturbed by your rushing movements, and the vermin provoke horrible sensations of crawling and revulsion, but you feel quite confident that you can reach the horse before the Trench Raider can catch you, impeded as he is by escarpment and ditch.
The bleached smell is very strong when you reach the horse, and the Trench Raider is still nowhere to be seen within the maze of tunnels behind. You quickly scrabble for the metal bridle - the horsebit feels chillingly cold as you dig it out of the frost and icy slush of the earth, as you wipe the mud from it. You are quickly harnessing the horse, mounting it and stepping up into the saddle, the animal becoming more and more agitated - and when the cold metal bit enters the horse's mouth it rears suddenly, its agitation uncontrollable, its neck whipping and straining uncontrollably. You pull on the reins but the jointed bite of the snaffle and its pressure on the horse's tongue causes you to lose your balance and fall heavily.
You are Bruised but not heavily injured. As you rise awkwardly rubbing the throbbing ache of your limbs, the sharp snap of a gunshot splits the air -
1 Even at this range, the Trench Raider aims unerringly - at your head!
2 You dive instantly to the ground; the gunshot has missed you. But you have snagged your arm in barbed wire...
3-6 The Trench Raider has missed you entirely. You can see him now, slowly advancing towards you.
