Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-27550231-20180703054411

Partially blind, Praetor removes his shield from its clip and brings its  divine metal to bear the brunt of the oncoming Hound. He slams the curved slab of worked metal into the ground in an attempt to further anchor himself into the ground. The it hit him... he had been here before. This exact situation played in his mind once more. The sight of Marcus' hand reaching over once more made his hairs stand on point once more. He wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. Praetor would have to adapt if he wanted to survive and so he readied himslef once more as he threw away the broken sword and reached for a small hilt, one of many that lay on his belt.

"Armata guide my strike! My vision has not yet returned!"

He lied partially. HE could make basic shapes and facial features but that was all he needed to make it to his target. That was all he needed to execute his plan.