Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1734134-20180205202802/@comment-33521582-20180228234257

Crimson blood spills from the wound, even as the Larraman Cells rush to fill the gap and the Belisarian Furnace pumps stimms into his system. His pupils become tiny pin-holes in his eyes.

Daon's bulk crashes through the rubble and cover, his bolt pistol loosing a torrent of fire against the saber wielder. He fells aliens with blows from his iron prosthesis as he advances, drawing the lithe swordsman closer. "Offer flesh." When the pugilist is close, Daon exposes a weakness, a vulnerability where the swordsman can strike. "Take bone." And as the blade cleaves his flesh again, blood flying, he triggers the adhesive charge on one of his krak grenades as he plants it on the alien during its backwards leap to safety, and keeps a hold on the pin.

"FROM WILL COMETH FAITH".