[ Ser Jorah doesn’t have the luxury of a steadying breath before Simon reaches for a second gun.
The old knight surges forward only to crash headlong into Chilton’s desk when his right leg buckles, the boiled leather of his skirt stripped through to meat, and meat stripped through to bone. Heavy wood slams back down beneath him, papers sent up in a flurry, expensive pens jarred off the edge.
It sounds like someone’s ripped his gut out through his throat before he can stifle pain down to a growl through his teeth.
Mormont holds himself half upright over the corner of the desk, a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow of gore. He’s still dripping from the nose, all anguish and impotent fury, with his sword anchored into the floor like a third leg. Unfortunately laser vision is not on his list of abilities.
What about him?
Jorah waits to see if he’s going to be shot dead in this idiot’s office.
A piece of his thigh drops loose off the tail of his skirt, chased by a burble of arterial spurt. ]
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The old knight surges forward only to crash headlong into Chilton’s desk when his right leg buckles, the boiled leather of his skirt stripped through to meat, and meat stripped through to bone. Heavy wood slams back down beneath him, papers sent up in a flurry, expensive pens jarred off the edge.
It sounds like someone’s ripped his gut out through his throat before he can stifle pain down to a growl through his teeth.
Mormont holds himself half upright over the corner of the desk, a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow of gore. He’s still dripping from the nose, all anguish and impotent fury, with his sword anchored into the floor like a third leg. Unfortunately laser vision is not on his list of abilities.
What about him?
Jorah waits to see if he’s going to be shot dead in this idiot’s office.
A piece of his thigh drops loose off the tail of his skirt, chased by a burble of arterial spurt. ]