A full powered swing aimed at Balthor's midsection!

You shout out in fury as you begin to swing your hammer in an arc towards the Beast-kin's ribs. You put all your strength into the swing, telling yourself that your power is all you need to get through this. You are the prime minion of your master, the one he had crafted from his own magical essence! You were a being meant to be superior to all and you would prove it right here and now! You would prove that this beast-kin was no match for you, no matter what others may think based on your size!

So you put all of your strength behind the swing, the muscles of your arms, shoulders and back flexing as you exert your strength upon your weapon. You start to swing...but before you can even swing the weapon halfway towards its target, Balthor's attack has struck soundly. The heavy wooden shaft of the weapon slams down into the top of your skull and you hear a wet crack at the point of impact. The strike sends a jolt throughout your entire body and, in an instant, you are crumpling to the ground like a marionette that has had its strings cut.

Blood pours down into your eyes from what can only be a grotesque blunt **** wound atop your head. You would like to try and inspect the wound, but your hands don't want to listen to you. In fact, your body as a whole has given up as you fall facefirst into the dirt. Blood pools beneath your head and, soon, you are suffocating in mud made up of your own blood and dirt.

You think you can hear the sound of the beast-kin cheering and Balthor speaking, but the sounds are all very far away now. Indeed, everything seems so very far away, including your very body. You feel like you are floating free, somehow untethered from your physical form. It is a pleasant feeling, you think, and one you slowly allow yourself to fall into, your consciousness floating free until it has drifted away completely, leaving behind only a shell of meat and blood sighing out its last gurgling breath into the bloody mud beneath it.