<strong>Name;</strong>Zam Sharrow<br/><strong>Location;</strong>The Prancing Pony, Everesta<br/><strong>Time;</strong>Midnight-ish<br/><strong>Tagged;</strong>All y'all<br/><br/>Zam peeked over the bar in time to watch the elven monk lady tear into the horde. Burning demons fell around her, laid low by her divine protections. He was interrupted by an arrow striking splinters from the bar inches from his face, before ricocheting up and grazing his cheek. The pain startled him, and when the ache set in, he got<em>angry</em>. His temper finally broke its leash, obscuring reason as the red mist descended.<br/><br/>He vaulted the bar, kicking off for extra momentum, and launched himself at an archer. He dodged a toad-thing as it pounced for him, and grabbed at the neck of one of the demons nearest to him. Swinging around its neck, he yanked its head back and plunged his dagger into one of its eyes. It screeched, convulsed, and died. "Fuck! You!"<br/><br/>He rolled out of the way as a reaver-type swung a barbed sword at him. The left side of his face felt as if it were on fire. He remembered distantly that the arrows were diseased. He didn't even care any more. His blood was up. He looked about him for the next demon, uncaring that this was not a fight he could hope to survive, let alone win.<br/><br/>A wave of lethargy and confusion swept over him. He looked down and saw a serrated arrowhead, seeping pus and dripping with his blood, protruding through his shoulder. "Who... put that there?" He was so tired. He sank to his knees. Wouldn't it be nice to curl up on the floor just here, and sleep? The fire from the remains of the doorway was pleasantly warm, and here was a nice, soft, squishy demon corpse to lie on. He blinked heavily.<br/><br/>His survival instinct kicked in, forcing him to shake his head in an effort to clear it. He looked up. "Someone! I think... I need help."<br/><br/>The hydrodemons closed in.