Jose Baca

They came as a four headed demon from hell itself. All were brandishing some type of club or blade. No time did I have to take notice. My staff I ripped left to right across in front of me, the tip found the face of the closest savage. Damage was done as the man's hands went for his eyes.

My second move with the staff was a forward thrust which sunk deep into the chest of the second. So sharp was my point that I ran him through. His movement forward had not been slowed, the force of which bowled me back. His falling club found my shoulder but the staff through his chest had lessened its impact. Dead men have no strength. Bowled as I was I hit the ground hard, rolled and tried to come up, but I couldn't. A savage was on my back; hard were his blows.

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