The fight was not going well.
Up until the point it had begun to go less than well for me (roughly at the one second into the kerfuffle mark) , I can assure you that events leading up to it had gone very well indeed but now it was going pear-shaped faster than a yo-yo dieter over Xmas.
I had run into Nan Watheren full of vim, vigour and vimto and I had raced through the orcs with consummate ease (after all, they were several levels below me and therefore ‘whited out’ and simply ignored me unless attacked) until I had found the Defiler. True I had paused to consider how wise my plan of action was given that what I was embarking upon in the most cavalier of manners was, in all actuality, classed as a task for a small group of 3 or more warriors, but I chided myself that he too was whited out and I could easily take him down alone, on my own and by myself.
No one told me about his two buddies! No one mentioned their ability to heal each other! I couldn’t burn them down fast enough. Without their constant re-healing I could have taken him and his henchman/orc, hell I may even have just had enough juice left to take the other one I hadn’t seen and who bushwhacked me from behind (and not in a good way, either) but not when they just kept getting better faster than I could kill them!
I hit my biggest heal pot. I hit my biggest power pot. I hit my ohshitohcrapimdead skill of Dire Need but still they remained stubbornly, resolutely, mockingly not dead at my feet. In the end I had but one option left.
I legged it.
I hit my sprint skill, blew the popsicle stand and got the fuck out of Dodge. And fast.
It may have been my imagination, but I’m sure I heard the Angels above weeping at such a sad sight as a brave Champion leaving a yellow streak a mile wide in his wake. They did their best to mask it behind laughter, but I felt their tears man, I really did…