[The cleaver's aim is true and the creature has no time to avoid Vincent's strike. Maxim would be impressed if they had the time to ponder it more but not now; the other hunters have taken out their rifles and are changing formation. They distance themselves from Max and the mysterious hunter as they circle the beast.
Maxim dashes at the monster with his lance and performs multiple strikes at its knees. The effort is rewarded; the monster cannot run anymore but it can still attempt a palm slam while rasping for breath. The scarred man keeps stabbing at its knees and then its thighs until a satisfactory amount of blood is spilling into the snow.
He creates some distance again close enough that Vincent should be able to see him. Maxim makes a gesture with his thumb, slashing it across his throat. And then he shouts:]
Behead!!
[He speaks in a familiar tongue this time, a singular word with an authoritative tone. It's all decisive action right now, nothing else, and instinctively he feels like he can trust this stranger to deal the final blow.]
[What a weapon that is, with reach and piercing ability enough to break a monster to pieces. Again, it's something he can appreciate later, after the fight has come to a close -- and this fight will come to a close.
Blood spills into the pristine white. Vincent only takes to the command with such an ease that he might not have required any command at all; he knows when to strike, to take advantage of vulnerabilities when they are presented to him.
He cleaves his weapon across hard and horizontally. The serrated edges of the blade slice through the monster's frame, sending its head detached from its body and landing harshly into the snow.]
Wretched thing.
[Of course, one must make sure such a monster will not be getting up a second time.]
[The screams die with the monster as its head lands on the snow and sweet silence fills the air with the exception of the harsh breathing of anticipation from Maxim and his other hunters.]
The tension starts to lessen in Maxim's body but after a minute he speaks up, commanding his unit to dismantle their prey. They move in closer to the body unsheathing machetes and another a pistol.
While they work on that, Maxim rests his lance across his shoulders and moves towards Vincent, his voice gruff as he properly addresses him.]
Good work. Thanks, stranger.
[He doesn't flinch when four bullet shots ring through the air. One of his men is quadruple-checking the monster by shooting the heads that were in its ribcage.]
Your weapon. Never seen before. Not a local hunter?
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such is icon life
Maxim dashes at the monster with his lance and performs multiple strikes at its knees. The effort is rewarded; the monster cannot run anymore but it can still attempt a palm slam while rasping for breath. The scarred man keeps stabbing at its knees and then its thighs until a satisfactory amount of blood is spilling into the snow.
He creates some distance again close enough that Vincent should be able to see him. Maxim makes a gesture with his thumb, slashing it across his throat. And then he shouts:]
Behead!!
[He speaks in a familiar tongue this time, a singular word with an authoritative tone. It's all decisive action right now, nothing else, and instinctively he feels like he can trust this stranger to deal the final blow.]
the real eldritch horror is having 15 icons only
Blood spills into the pristine white. Vincent only takes to the command with such an ease that he might not have required any command at all; he knows when to strike, to take advantage of vulnerabilities when they are presented to him.
He cleaves his weapon across hard and horizontally. The serrated edges of the blade slice through the monster's frame, sending its head detached from its body and landing harshly into the snow.]
Wretched thing.
[Of course, one must make sure such a monster will not be getting up a second time.]
no subject
[The screams die with the monster as its head lands on the snow and sweet silence fills the air with the exception of the harsh breathing of anticipation from Maxim and his other hunters.]
The tension starts to lessen in Maxim's body but after a minute he speaks up, commanding his unit to dismantle their prey. They move in closer to the body unsheathing machetes and another a pistol.
While they work on that, Maxim rests his lance across his shoulders and moves towards Vincent, his voice gruff as he properly addresses him.]
Good work. Thanks, stranger.
[He doesn't flinch when four bullet shots ring through the air. One of his men is quadruple-checking the monster by shooting the heads that were in its ribcage.]
Your weapon. Never seen before. Not a local hunter?