All this violence is rapidly undermining your moral constitution, and instead of thinking like a bold, heroic adventurer, you start thinking like a football hooligan, or indeed an enraged and thuggish supporter of most any sport (I wonder if there are Chess hooligans).

You lift a foot and prepare to stomp mercilessly on your fallen enemy. Unfortunately (and this time without the Whaaaaa!), your opponent has been able to roll forwards bringing the sword upwards at a highly nasty angle just as you stomp down.

this results in about a foot of very sharp steel ending up in a very sensative area of your anatomy (whichever genda you belong to, it's a sensative area), and one unfortunately full of major arteries.

The only good news is you don't have time to either feel the ful extent of the intense pain or bleed to death, sinse the warrior quickly gets to his/her feet and treats your helpless form to a dazling display of sword work.

Suffice it to say, that should someone even decide to collect up your remains and arrange a funeral, you'll be in more need of a toastwrack than a cofin.

You are most certainly and deffinately dead!

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