Ethan shifted his gaze from one outlaw to another, weighing them up.
Christ, I'm only a red-belt and I've never had to take on four armed
opponents before, he thought. He flicked a glance at Aaralyn to make sure
she got away ok, and that was when the outlaws chose to attack. One charged
at him with his sword. Ethan danced out of the way and landed a solid punch
in the man's ribs as he rushed past. Another outlaw started swinging his
axe at him, forcing him to back up. The big man sneered at him, baring a
row of crooked yellow and black teeth. Ethan felt his back hit a tree trunk
– bad move. Snarling, the brute swung the axe for Ethan's head. Eyes
widening, Ethan ducked, just in time while chips of wood and bark flew out
from the impact. While the man tried to free his axe blade from the trunk,
Ethan struck him with a spinning kick. Bellowing in anger, the others
attacked.
One threw his dagger which Ethan couldn't avoid in time. It grazed his upper arm. He tried sweeping the feet of the one of them, but over balanced and landed on his back. He glanced up to see a dark heavy shape rushing towards his face. Reflexively, he rolled to his left, and the wooden club pounded harmlessly into the ground where his head had been just moments before. Something slammed into his stomach. Groaning, he doubled over in acute pain, gasping for breath. They kicked him again, this time in his face. There was a loud crack as his nose broke. Ethan cried out in wordless agony. For a second, he almost blacked out.
Suddenly, the derisive jeers and roars cut off abruptly. "The duke's men!" One of the outlaws yelled. There was the scuffle of retreating feet. Ethan lay there, trying to catch his breath. He listened, feeling the ground shake with the sound of many approaching horses. Then silence, except for the slight jingle of metal and the restless neighing of a nearby horse.
Swallowing, Ethan opened his eyes.
A dozen knights heavily armored in mail and red tabards bearing a yellow raven crest sat upon their chargers, peering down at him.
One threw his dagger which Ethan couldn't avoid in time. It grazed his upper arm. He tried sweeping the feet of the one of them, but over balanced and landed on his back. He glanced up to see a dark heavy shape rushing towards his face. Reflexively, he rolled to his left, and the wooden club pounded harmlessly into the ground where his head had been just moments before. Something slammed into his stomach. Groaning, he doubled over in acute pain, gasping for breath. They kicked him again, this time in his face. There was a loud crack as his nose broke. Ethan cried out in wordless agony. For a second, he almost blacked out.
Suddenly, the derisive jeers and roars cut off abruptly. "The duke's men!" One of the outlaws yelled. There was the scuffle of retreating feet. Ethan lay there, trying to catch his breath. He listened, feeling the ground shake with the sound of many approaching horses. Then silence, except for the slight jingle of metal and the restless neighing of a nearby horse.
Swallowing, Ethan opened his eyes.
A dozen knights heavily armored in mail and red tabards bearing a yellow raven crest sat upon their chargers, peering down at him.