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Ahron came face to face with the black crow who had orange hair. Akmong had been a thorn in Ahron's journey from the beginning when Akmong stole Ahron's dear motorcycle. Ahron hadn't forgotten those transgressions. Greaseface and Malus were weary of the journey especially after being beaten down by the neverending Mage hands of Faedouchea. But Ahron persevered. Ahron would not be denied his final confrontation with Akmong. Ahron reached to the side and pulled up his heavy bag of gold to taunt Akmong with it before throwing it to the side for safekeeping. Suddenly Ahron's mind was overcome by a flash
Piper: Don't lose faith, Anthony
Anthony: (amid the exploding debris of his DARPA Lab) PIPER! NOOO!
Piper: Just please hold onto your humanity
Ahron snapped back to the present. Akmong was smirking right in front of him and he wondered why he thought back to this particular moment at the most convenient of times. Almost as if it was part of a pre-determined plot. And Ahron hated that. Ahron would be nothing if not the author of his own fate. With rage in his heart Ahron clasped his longsword with both hands and lunged at his ravenous foe
Ahron: (a mere moment before he struck Akmong he said in a whisper) Akmong. Bad.
##B. Attack him with your trusty longsword
Rolled: 23 (23) [1d100] | congrats YYY
and congrats to everyone else that Faerodney didn't win | 
