As the sword made very clear its intent to cut Haeftin to ribbons, the lieutenant realized a couple of things. First of all, this guy was a troll. So much for the purge. Second, Haeftin was on the defensive, which he was not used to. Not at all. But evasive action seemed to be a good idea. This occurred to Haeftin in a fraction of a second, and once it had there was no time left to think up a clever escape. As always, the obvious response was some kind of conflagration, in this case the release of the ball of plasma.<br/><br/>The explosion had to be visible for miles. The force of the blast was enough to fling Haeftin several yards, and he would have gone further were it not for a massive redwood tree. At least he had been prepared, he thought as he slid down the trunk. Not being braced for that would have made a quick recovery near impossible. He landed on the forest floor on his rear, the front of his uniform charred and flecked with embers, the back ripped by the rough bark of the tree. And something hurt. Something hurt a lot. The soldier tried to push himself to his feet, but his left arm simply wasn't cooperating. He glanced at it and switched arms. His elbow was smashed, and his arm hung limply when Haeftin got to his feet. Well, he'd rather be bleeding than dying. What was it those motivational posters at the barracks said? "Better red than dead!" But it would certainly be better if this troll was dead. Haeftin was pretty sure if he wasn't he'd come to Haeftin, and the blast nymph decided he'd rather prepare an attack than make the first move.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><br/>Having already lost the battle to act rationally, Fossil assessed the situation. Four inquisitorial soldiers, the most elite of a highly disciplined and well equipped army. And the inquisitor herself, who was probably also good at killing people and/or doing horrible things to them. Then there was no time for whatever faulty tactics the girl might have been able to muster. The soldiers fell upon her, and Fossil wished she hadn't dropped the poker. Punching doesn't work very well in handcuffs, so she tried to make the cuffs a weapon, swinging her wrists blindly, hoping to catch one of them with the hinge or chain. Her knee got someone in the crotch, but in general it was an obviously futile resistance. Fossil knew the standing orders in this situation though.<span style="font-style: italic">Use all force necessary until resistance terminates completely.</span>Unless someone gave other orders, the soldiers wouldn't stop hitting until she did, and Fossil's intention was to resist until she was dead.<br/><br/>It seemed quite honorable and all, but Fossil felt a problem with her plan when the pommel of a sword struck her between the shoulder blades. It's not so simple to just keep resisting when you're a half-elf genetically predisposed to having an absurdly low tolerance for pain. In concert with a subsequent blow to the stomach and another to the chin, the blow to her back brought Fossil down to the dust outside where Ms. Robin's door used to be.