"I'm not going to hold up much longer either," Sandor muttered, staggering as he tried to push through the pain flooding his body. The direwolf was doing its best to keep the gigantic beast away from them-- away from Sansa, really-- but it was only a matter of time before the thing got even madder and swept the wolf aside. Sandor nearly tripped as he stumbled toward the pile of weights he'd dropped. They were a long shot, but he was rapidly losing control of his arm-- he could see it had begun to swell around the bite, and the fluid seeping from the wound was green now as well as black-- and wouldn't be able to swing a sword with any skill for much longer.
He waited til the other man looked his way, then tossed him the sword he'd taken from the smaller monster. "Have that," he said, and hefted a weight with a 50 on it in his other arm. He grimaced; in order to do real damage it should be twice as heavy, but if it were, he couldn't have lifted it. So he made do with what he had, and spun around once to get some momentum before aiming and letting the barbell fly.
It caught the monster in the nose, not exactly where he'd been hoping it would hit, but close enough. Its head flew back and it appeared to lose balance, momentarily addled. And that was when the direwolf struck. Rearing back on its hind legs, it launched itself at the monster, latching onto its neck and tearing. The thing tripped back, flailing blindly to try and dislodge the predator at its throat, but with no luck. Sandor rushed at it, his weight bulling it backward, and he saw the man on its other side do the same.
One of the Darkspawn's windmilling arms caught him on the temple, and his vision went grey. When his eyes cleared, the direwolf was covered in black sludgy blood, and the ogre had stopped moving; the wolf had torn its throat out.
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He waited til the other man looked his way, then tossed him the sword he'd taken from the smaller monster. "Have that," he said, and hefted a weight with a 50 on it in his other arm. He grimaced; in order to do real damage it should be twice as heavy, but if it were, he couldn't have lifted it. So he made do with what he had, and spun around once to get some momentum before aiming and letting the barbell fly.
It caught the monster in the nose, not exactly where he'd been hoping it would hit, but close enough. Its head flew back and it appeared to lose balance, momentarily addled. And that was when the direwolf struck. Rearing back on its hind legs, it launched itself at the monster, latching onto its neck and tearing. The thing tripped back, flailing blindly to try and dislodge the predator at its throat, but with no luck. Sandor rushed at it, his weight bulling it backward, and he saw the man on its other side do the same.
One of the Darkspawn's windmilling arms caught him on the temple, and his vision went grey. When his eyes cleared, the direwolf was covered in black sludgy blood, and the ogre had stopped moving; the wolf had torn its throat out.