"Bleerghhh," the archer spat up a fountain of blood and viscera when the glaive rammed through his chest, eviscerating his heart, leaving him no chance for survival.
The archer looked up at his killer in anger, he grabbed onto the glaive with his remaining strength hoping to pin down Frost for a moment more. As long as he held Frost in place, his comrades could attack at once and avenge him. Like a loyal soldier he would complete his mission.
With the goon's desperate grabbing of his glaive, Frost was awash with respect, but it didn't prevent his next action.
Riiiiiiiiip!
He forcibly tore his glaive from its victim, generating a bone chilling sound as well as scream from the goon but still he held on, his eyes filled with unwavering determination. His brave, relentless actions achieving their goal.
That extra millisecond of time it took Frost to pull out his glaive was enough for the second archer and the axe thrower to move.
