Nasser’s man Iakob–the one whose knee was recently reconfigured by István’s claw hammer–would recognize Zach if he saw him. They met last week, when Iakob came to Littleford’s agency to hire a killer. He wasn’t supposed to get a good one. Nasser just wanted to pull Sara’s hair.
Now Littleford is dead, and Pál is dead, and Zach and Iakob are in tremendous pain. Nasser can’t tell Sara what she wants to know; Zach knows very, very little.
Nasser’s smile is cold and sweaty, the smile of a man whose reach exceeds his grasp. Hidebound doesn’t smile at all.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
“What the hell was that out there?” yells Coach von Bloöd.
“Sorry, Coach,” says Thung, as the team medic wraps bandages around the axe in his skull.
“I want to see hustle! I want to see some execution!”
“But we ran that play just like you–”
“No! Literally execution!” says von Bloöd. “Can’t any of you decapitate their paladin?”
“Us not been playing dungeonball very long!” whines Ragachak. “Ragachak forget most of rules.”
“There are no rules!” roars the Coach, swelling with dark rage. “Just go kill the stupid adventurers!”
“Yeah, right,” mutters Bazuzel, “after we all got nerfed in 3.5.”
Wednesday, December 2, 2009