The Night Thing's attention flicked from Evie to Ragnar. He stepped out of his hiding spot as if the fear in his chest did not exist. He had no escape left, but that was fine. All he needed was a few seconds—to draw the monster, to give Evie time to vanish again, to let the Orcs breathe and strike.
"Over here," Ragnar said, voice steady in a way his legs were not.
He cast [Taunt] with a sharp thrust of his hand. The skill pulsed like a bell. The Night Thing's gaze tightened, the red in its eyes narrowing into knives. Evie ceased to exist to it. Only Ragnar remained.
He did not get to speak again. The monster's hundred legs slammed into the ground, a living avalanche of spikes and chitin. The stampede rolled at him like a falling cliff.
Ragnar forced himself not to run. He locked his knees even as feeling drained from his limbs. A cold numbness crept up his spine. He swallowed once, Adam's apple bobbing.
"You… really are ugly," he said.
RoOaArgH!
