You grit you teeth and do a clumsy one-handed chop with your sword. The light weight and sharp edge goes a long way, making the arm come off in just three chops. Which is good, because the force of your own blows keeps dragging the hooks deeper and deeper into your skin.
When the arm finally releases you, you fall backwards and allow yourself to scream through grit teeth. Despite no longer being attached, the hook-hand retains a deathgrip on you, but it's not forcing itself deeper. You hold your sword in one hand, downwards, ready for stabbing.
The Butcher is almost completely in disrepair. The loosened stitchings may have made it substantially more weird, but also a lot less healthy. Now that you aren't busy dealing with horrifying screaming and something doing its damnedest to drag you into the maw of undoing you see that it is completely covered in its own blood.
The butcher is just gurgling as it shambles towards you, using his hook to drag himself across the floor. You decide to just let it bleed out and back up a bit. Taking the time to try and figure out how you are going to remove these hooks without outright ripping your arm off.
Suddenly, the blob of gathers up its final strength to throw its hook at you again! With your wound, you can't jump aside as...
Classified grabs it in midair. He stomps on over to the butcher with a walk that implies a rarely used emotion of rage. He stomps his foot down on the giant flesh-monster, forces the hook through another part and PULLS.
Blood and organs splatter everywhere the butcher is torn apart completely by its own hook and a two-ton man in a bad mood. Classified stomps on the half he kept in place with his foot for good measure. More gore comes splattering out with wet disgusting sounds and...
Squealing?
the gore pile that Classified stomped out shudders and moves, until at last, a baby pig removes itself from the organs. As soon as it's free, it dashes towards you, squealing, and tackles you to the ground. After which it just sorta sits there, staring at you face in the most adorable manner possible for a pig.
It licks your face, cleaning off some gore which it spits out.
You'd appreciate this scene a bit more if you did't have five hooks digging through your flesh.
Health: Wounded (mutilation possible).
Energy: Tired.
Inventory:
Polished European Greatsword.
Ugly old Jumper(gore-covered)
Jeans(gore-splattered)
Flashlight
Thoughts:I'll call him Waddles. 'cuz he waddles. Unless, of course, I decide to kill it for safety. I dunno, I'd probably have a better thought if I had more blood in me and less hook.
Author
Topic: Brass and casinos: A detective game. (Read 9229 times)