A bit more… Keep the feedback coming. I really appreciate it. Apparently I need the motivation, too <grin>
The goblin feinted a rush, but only took a couple of steps. Bern’s awareness was on overdrive, though, and he did not react to the feint. This seemed to make the goblin even more angry – if that was possible. It screamed in rage at Bern and thrust the dagger into the air over its head. Bern was a bit confused by the display, but would not let his concentration waver. Bern knew that the goblin could kill him if given the opportunity. Bern was not planning on dying that day.
The rush came, and Bern was ready. His muscular body tensed as he prepared to unleash his strength through the club. The goblin was not stupid and stayed to Bern’s right side as it closed the distance. It was apparently hoping to minimize the swing of the club.
What the goblin did not know, however, was that Bern had been carrying and swinging that 3-foot long piece of shaped ironwood since he was five summers old. Now at 20 summers, the club had become the extension of a very powerful body. And Bern knew how to use that club just as well as his father’s garden hoe and plow. The goblin was stopped hard in its tracks by a quick, sharp jab to the face with the end of the club. A muffled crunch could be heard as the bulbous nose on the goblin’s face was crushed.
Bern did not waist a moment as he spun to his right starting a roundhouse swing of the club leveled at the goblin’s head. The goblin was quicker, though, better seasoned in a fight and less stunned than expected. It ducked Bern’s swing and lashed out with its dagger, taking advantage of the momentum Bern had created for himself with such a powerful swing.
As the club whiffed through the air just above the goblin’s head, the sound of tearing homespun cloth could be clearly heard. In spite of the blurred vision that a crushing shot to the nose most assuredly had caused, the goblin had aimed its thrust well, and the dagger caught Bern’s tunic tearing quite a hole in it underneath his right arm. Then as the goblin pulled back, it managed to turn slightly into Bern and rake the dagger across his flank.
Bern gasped through gritted teeth as white hot fire shot through his side. He stumbled slightly as he pulled away from the source of the pain. The falter in balance probably saved his life because the goblin had managed to keep some its footing and tried to thrust the jagged bone dagger into Bern a second time. Another hole was torn in Bern’s tunic, but the dagger only tasted cloth that time.
Bern had never been truly injured in the few fights he’d experienced before this one, and most of those fights did not involve potentially lethal weapons like the goblin’s dagger or opponents with such deadly intent. The searing pain on his side was causing Bern to feel a little lightheaded, and the biting panic of fearing for one’s life was trying to take hold of his psyche. As level-headed as he usually was, Bern had not been prepared to deal with what he found himself facing in the fight with this goblin.