'Dammit!' nearly tripping over something laying on the ground, Isilt stepped back, a small cut left on his cheek.
Ignoring the blood flowing from the negligible wound, the knight-in-training eyed his options, but he might as well have been blind for there was nothing to consider, Frenand was the undead who had faced his king in combat, and just the fact that he had fought Cleavster and was still here was proof that Isilt could do nothing.
'If I somehow manage to run away, the other undeads and beasts will just come after me… I can't possibly outrun any of those creatures…' not only were they much faster than himself, but they would never run out of stamina too.
'If I try to fight this guy, I'll just get pounded into red sludge…' he didn't even have a weapon right now, unable to even find solace in the lie that he had the reach advantage, this was unarmed combat for the both of them, and Frenand was stronger, taller, an undead, and a champion of Loimos.