whatever comes, let it come
what stays, let it stay
Loren hesitated for a long moment at Deimos’s question, before nodding. Gingerly taking the sword and shield, the summoner settled into his best stance, which was, well, not great. Still, he gamely faced the General. As the other man’s sword swung towards the Launceleyn’s left shoulder, he attempted to maneuver his shield into its path in time.And totally, completely failed: Deimos’ blade slammed into Loren’s shoulder with a sickening pop. His vision whited out for a moment, and in some distant corner of his mind he identified the injury as a dislocation. However, his body, honed his whole life, still sprang into motion; although his shield dropped to the ground and his left arm hung uselessly, he slashed with from his left to his right (the other man's right to left), trying to score a hit across the General’s chest.
what goes, let go
LOREN
