you can turn off the sun, but I'm still gonna shine
The options laid before Koa are simple: accept that this is a terrible plan and bow out, or (literally) brute force his way through this bad decision until it results in triumph or death. And since the first path is reprehensible to his sense of pride, we're committing full-tilt to option two. "We've got shields?" he offers in response to the issue of, well, shielding, striding over to an armor rack to fetch one for himself. He's been putting his boxing wraps on as they've walked, which, while they offer little protection, make him feel better about his (abysmal) odds. "Are there specific types of material that are good for avoiding magic? Or like, techniques you'd recommend?" Is it a willpower thing, or more of a stop-drop-and-roll situation?
Now outfitted with a leather buckler, the boy turns back to his mountainous opponent. "So.... obviously I know I'm about to get my ass kicked, but could I make a tiny request?" He chuckles nervously, weight shifting in anxious anticipation. "Just, like... don't mess my face up too badly? Or my hair?"
Now outfitted with a leather buckler, the boy turns back to his mountainous opponent. "So.... obviously I know I'm about to get my ass kicked, but could I make a tiny request?" He chuckles nervously, weight shifting in anxious anticipation. "Just, like... don't mess my face up too badly? Or my hair?"
Koa
