Chting! Frrrip. Thud…
… Ranon's face had instantly paled. His fury was gone. His anger vanished. Doubt riddled Ranon's face as he stared down at his feet. Then at his first rapier. He noted the painful sting of the muscles in his hand, struggling to grip the hilt. Then at his second rapier. It was laying on the ground. Blood spurted out from his severed wrist as his disembodied hand clung to the rapier tighter than ever.
Finally, Ranon looked to his left.
Hurman stood there, one step passed the fallen hand and sword.
Hurman had narrowly swatted the first rapier to the side, letting it pass less than a breath away from piercing his heart. In that same stroke, Hurman took a step closer to the boss assassin. His blade flew by and swiped through the assassin's wrist while Ranon adjusted his rushed, unplanned swing of his rapier. Hurman's shortsword cleaved through flesh, bone, and armor without prejudice, all while Hurman took his second step to the side.
