Sir Pallam's target, peppered with crossbow bolts, and confused by the outright assault of a gilmmering, shining beacon of a man in these sandy hills, is completely caught off-guard by the attack-- well-placed as it is-- and manages to rear on its six legs in a display of fierce retaliation and dripping-stingered fury... but that's about all, just before his blade is driven three-quarter's length into the quivering maws of the creature to erupt out in the middle of its body, the twisting angle of its shocked lunge aiding his return stroke, which splits the fore-half of the beast open with a wet crunch.  It's left a heap of dripping, chitinous legs, claws, and tail, spurting a mixture of greenish ichor and clear seeping fluid onto the desert sand as it dies.