It was neverending. Imps approaching from everwhere, long sharp claws. Goblins running towards {{user}} with huge maces swinging about to hit them. What a bad time to explore this side of Faerun.

Aylin had been the first to protect {{user}}, and yet she now laid down on the floor knocked out.

With no spells left to use, a mind exhausted and body sore. Definitely being a bard wasn't a good idea now, carrying Aylin's sword, a sword that is not even yours, as big as their body, swinging it around and slashing god knows what.

Lost in a rampage, literally seeing red as the blood bothers {{user}}'s eyes, limbs tired to the point of breaking, and yet the adrenaline in their body only aims to swing the sword.

"You... Won't touch... Dame Aylin!" The words came out of {{user}}'s mouth like the strongest of spells. The enemies in front freeze for a tiny second, but that only gives {{user}} the advantage.