"Huh. Ye're a big'un," you muster, undoubtedly striking fear into its heart with your scorching invective. It lowers its head and begins stalking forward, essentially pulling itself along with its outsized limb.
As it's still a fair distance from you, you take a moment to assess the surroundings. The thing's wingspan is enough to cover the entire width of the bridge, so circling around it is a no-go. A hit from that arm wouldn't be enough to kill you, but it would launch your pious ass off the bridge and into Bumfuck, Nowhere. It's covering too much distance with each pull for you to try to fight it from the outside.
Nothing for it, then. You gotta fuckin' get inside on him.
You send a bayonet whistling towards what you think are its eyes as it's mid-pull. It quickly lowers its head to take the blow at the base of its antlers and bellows at you for having the audacity to try to hurt it.
It did exactly what you wanted, though: took its eyes off you.
Mid-bellow, you're inside its reach. It rears back and swipes with its smaller hand, carving up the cobbles in a near-miss. Before it can pivot, you're through the gap between arm and leg and cutting into Achilles' tendons the size of power lines that snap with an audible twang under your blades.
It's so fucking loud. Your ears are ringing as it tries to round on you on feet that can no longer support it. With a lurch, the thing shifts its entire weight onto the arm and pivots to face you, landing on its knees. It rears back and, this time, it's the big fist.
It may not have quite the leverage it did before, but it's still enough to shatter the area you occupied a second prior. You dive through the gap once again and jam a bayonet into its thigh. Once more, it pivots on the arm, but without the use of its feet, it's just not built to fight at this range. You sidestep a vicious headbutt and again circle to its back.
Its mane is thick enough to smother a man and, you realize with glee, probably highly flammable. With a flourish, a chain of blades slinks from your sleeves.
You have just enough time to dig a pair of "links" into its back before it kicks you like a mule.
You soar back into the solid stone at the bridge's end with a worrying crash. It's difficult to keep your footing as it turns to face you, dragging its knees along the broken cobbles with no regard for its tearing skin.
"Got a lil' somethin' on ya," you tell it. Unfortunately, the concussion seems to have thrown off your timing, so your chain explodes while you're saying "lil'" and drowns out the rest.
Eh, not like it would have understood you, anyway.
Its fur and all the assorted shit it's picked up over the course of the evening goes up brilliantly. It writhes cacophonously, rolling about on the stones in a desperate effort to put itself out. Judging by its limp lower body, the explosion caught a piece of its spine as well.
"C'mon, goatfucker. That all?" you ask with a grin.
As though it heard you, its thrashings slow. Still smoldering, it picks itself up by its forelimbs, heedless of the absolute ruin you've made of its lower body. It looks you dead in the eye and roars one final time, its rain of spittle interspersed with thick globs of blood.
And you're between it and a dead end.
No, apparently. That was not all.
[] Write in...
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CURRENT STATUSES:
Anderson: Concussed, broken ribs.
Cleric Beast: Paralyzed from waist down, internal trauma, blood loss from lower body and back due to scraping along ground to snuff out flames. Pissed as all get out.
