As tempting as it is to wade back in and beat the motherfucker with your stump until he says he's sorry, shenanigans like that are best attempted when you aren't getting your ass handed to you by a freeze-dried beanpole with irrationally large harvesting equipment. Come Hell or high water, you're getting that hand back.
Maria re-enters the fray, ever-so-slightly wobbled by the earlier blow, and bursts forward with another flurry. Logarius keeps her at range with his massive scythe and you watch, enraptured, as Maria bobs and weaves with serpent fluidity to try and slip past the prowling blade. As the dance continues, you lash out with a bayonet flurry and dive forward, hand in sight. The scythe disengages to intercept the blades and Maria charges into sword range, scraping her off-hand weapon across its haft to keep it at bay.
Her attack is beautifully timed. So, you have to admit, is Logarius' return fire.
His sword parries her thrust and the scythe terminates its intercept course halfway into your left femur. Several of your favorite arteries begin evacuation procedures as you yank it free and roll away, fumbling with your newly-reclaimed hand. As best as you can tell between the spurting blood and your de-amputation efforts, Logarius took Maria's shorter blade to the midsection without issue. He brings the scythe back around, drawing her attention, and launches her back with the same front kick he hit you with.
Once again, he maintains his position against the wall as Maria circles and you hobble back to your feet. You've got just enough feeling in your right hand to grab your club and twist it like this, aiming down the sights at the sword that's been giving the two of you so many issues. For the first time, the big man seems to hesitate, caught between defending and winding up for another sweep of skulls. He's slow to react when you drag the beam across his left arm, although the resulting explosion wakes him right the fuck back up.
Logarius howls in pain as his blackened sword skitters away, turgid blood oozing from the ugly wound you left behind. Maria pounces and, without his other weapon or his composure, Logarius is in no position to respond. She tears into him in a torrent of blows that you strain yourself to follow. You can't really contribute with ranged support for fear of hitting her, but she doesn't even need it. Robes in tatters and supporting wall cracking beneath the onslaught, he slumps forward.
Then the displaced sword explodes.
The familiar smoke it disgorges coalesces into a rain of blades that Maria deftly avoids. She does not, however, avoid the massive scythe swing that crunches into her chest and nearly sends her hurtling off the roof. You follow her flight with your gaze, watching as she stabs her sword into the tiles to arrest her motion, and turn back just in time to see Logarius bearing down on you like a freight train carrying other, equally-intimidating freight trains. While your club stands up to the overhead blow, the wrist you'd just finished putting back together splinters beneath it.
He looms over you, forcing his enormous leverage onto your damaged leg , and swats you across the face with his limp left hand hard enough to crack a tooth. Your grip falters just long enough for him to wind up and send you flying with a horizontal bash that's more tennis swing than elegant swipe.
You pull yourself out of the wall, spitting out a few globs of blood, and stare down the renewed Logarius. His smoke is pouring off his body and you can hear the tiles crack beneath his footsteps as he walks over to his sword. When his left hand proves too damaged to pick it up, he rams his staff into the rooftop, picks up the sword with his now-free right, and shoves the blade through his palm up to the spiked guard. It scrapes along the ground as he marches forward, adding a fresh coat to the trail of blood he's been leaving behind.
Said blood is, for some reason, making a slow surge towards Maria's kneeling form. The other scattered puddles follow its lead as you pull yourself as tall as you can, slamming your wounded hand into your chest in a show of defiance.
"Nice special effects, ye beef jerky-lookin' sack o' shit. I'm gonna hang ye off the Chapel roof and use ye as a fuckin' smoke machine."
He responds by swinging his sword in an ungainly arc that nonetheless comes within inches of cutting your throat. It is, you have to admit, a fairly effective retort, though its thunder gets stolen somewhat by the explosion of blood behind you. The both of you turn to see Maria, bent nearly double by her wounds, storming forward with flame in her wake.
You'll have to ask her to teach you that.
[] Write in...
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CURRENT STATUSES:
Anderson: Damaged right hand, chest, and left leg.
Maria: Near-broken jaw. Severe blunt force trauma and stab wound around sternum.
Logarius: Stab wounds on chest, extreme damage to midsection, nonfunctional left arm.