No matter what master said, I am strong! I will attack head-on!

You remember your master's words doubting you could fight on even ground with the heroes and you feel your pride pricked by the words. The master had created you to be stronger than the others who fall and die without putting up a fight. You have his essence within you, his magical power pumping through you like your life's blood. You have the weapon he gifted you with and the faith he had instilled in you. You are strong! You will fight!

This conviction burns in your heart as you raise your voice in a battle-cry, lifting your club up above your head in one hand as you charge forward towards the heroes. You charge, your blood singing with adrenaline and your body burning with energy as you go to meet your destiny and cross weapons with your fated foes. There is no doubt in your heart that you will smite your foes and prove to your master that you are strong!

There is no doubt, but there is an arrow as, without warning, an arrow finds it's home in your chest and piercing your heart. You don't even have time to feel pain before you fall down to your knees, blood coming from your mouth with a cough. You look down at the arrow in disbelief as your blood flows from you and you feel your mind go hazy, thinking all the while that this cannot be how you die. This cannot be how your story ends.

But there is no doubt that it is the end as the heroes reach you and you see a massive blade hurtle down towards your skull, the wet sound of your own head being split in half the last thing you hear before all is darkness.