"Son of a...!" Big Dutch begins, lurching forward suddenly before falling back abruptly and tumbling into the mud, his hands clamped vice-like around his club. "Something grabbed the adjectival stick!"
He squeeges watery filth from his cheek with a mucky hand as he scrambles back to his feet, wide-eyed. He appears to be expecting something to leap out of the pit at any moment. Brandishing the stick with one hand, he reaches again for the revolver tucked in his belt.
"I'm really starting to hate this place..."
Last edited April 5, 2018 1:58 am