SLYCE
HP: 2;
Condition: Fine;
Initiative: 22
Regardless as to when it occurred, he healed his bruise back last round.
Slyce held the follow through on his claw strike as he watched Katana fall. He looked at him disdainfully for a second, shook his head and then casually stepped over him. “A disgrace to Carolina Blue,” Slyce said with mock sadness.
Seeing some of the other Weapon Masters fall at the hands of his new teammates, quickly giving them the advantage in numbers, he almost started to relax for a second, then he could hear his high school football coach’s voice in his head. A loop of, “an animal is at its most dangerous when it’s wounded…when you have an opponent down, you gotta step on their throat…never let up…” and other clichés ran through his head as he snapped back into battle mode.
Next target…, he thinks as he surveys the melee.
I’d jump in with Pete, but that’s probably overkill, he’ll smash that dude. Beefcake’s got the other sword wielder, Old Timer has the staff dude, the flying kid’s got that dude with a rope…a rope, seriously?...so I think I’ll go for the one throwing…um…what are those things called again? I remember them from track in high school, but I’m blankin’ out…
“Hey, you in the green!” Slyce shouts as he dashed over and takes a swipe at the throwing arm of Javelin. “Before I take you out, can you remind me what the hell those things you’re flinging around are called? I wanna say ‘spears’, but that ain’t right is it?”
Me fail English? That's unpossible. - Ralph Wiggum