Last man standing

Great Desert of Skulls

Tarmen felt a wave of hope fill him as he felt his trusted weapon on his hand. His anger fueling his movements. From the corner of his eye, he saw the young witch on her hand and knees, blood dripping from her mouth and eyes. Before he could locate the last assassin the heard the crack of the whip close to his left ear, before the barbed leather tip, hit him fully in the face.

She sharp pain felt like he was being burned. Blood poured down his cheeks. That was going to leave a nasty scar if he survived this. The dark robed assassin taunted him, from a distance, flicking the weapon through the air, with expert twists and turns of his wrist.

Tarmen rushed the man with a blood curling scream but his opponent knew that was the only option opened to him. He saw as the whip met his charge, wounding itself against his left leg painfully. The dark robed man pulled at it sending Tarmen into the air. Landing on his back with a heavy thud, all the air left his lungs and in a sudden rush.

Lightheaded from the loss of blood and hitting his head, he could not move away, as the assassin jumped on the hand holding his machete. He grimaced in pain feeling bones crack under the sandaled foot.

The man spat at him and pulled a long thin knife from the folds of his robes and dropped a knee on his chest grinning.

He raised the knife laughing before his eyes rolled on the back of his head. As Tarmen passed away from the pain, he saw the assassin fall on top of him and the young witch standing behind the two, holding a bloody dagger.