9. Potshot
11 May 2006
Gen

A couple of daggers whizzed past his head, and he was sure he saw a hank of black curls tumble to the ground.

He threw himself to the ground to avoid the long javelin, and took a rolling leap out of the path of an ornate broadsword.

The chakram came next, whistling as it passed. He turned to see it ricochet off a pillar and head for his throat again. With what he'd vehemently deny as a girly scream, he ran.

God of War or no, he was never going to laugh when a certain warrior princess's line snaps and loses a catch again.