Your head throbs with adrenaline and a blood-filled rage. That bastard murdered the people you had fought with, survived with, and loved for the past fifteen years. Your feet stomps in sync with your skull throbbing as you rush towards the swordsman. As you rush him, something snags your leg. It was your bud Bob's leg. You fall on your nose; the last thing you see is the dirt soaked in your blood. All that rage and adrenaline leaking out of your neck.