|
Loudewater was spent after screaming his lungs off for the second time and the appearance of two more bellowing and thrashing trolls did not help at all. The farmer's knees went soft and he fell onto the ground like an unstrung marionette.
"This isn't happening! This isn't happening!" Muttered the shut-eyed farmer to himself as he crawled aimlessly (and rather comically) on all fours in a small concentric circle where he fell.
I'm not here! I'm not here at all! This is all just my imagination. When I open my eyes I'll be at home sitting on my overstuffed couch infront of the fireplace. Nothing but me, couch and fire. Maybe Helga...
Helga nagging...
Oh my God! Oh my God! This isn't happening! This isn't happening!
A high-pitched dying shriek jolted Loudewater out of his stunned confusion and back into a grim reality. The battle raged on like an undeniable flood and the harsh sounds of death and suffering seemed to get louder with the tick of each second.
Andas Loudewater dropped onto his elbows, buried his face in the ground and covered his head with his hands and cried,
"God... PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"
He was totally oblivious to the fact that an orc that had seen him earlier was now scampering towards him in great speed, marking him out as an easy prey amidst the lot of skilled elven and human fighters...
|