Unbalanced
It would be a lie to say that the last thing you remember is diving forward, arms outstretched for a desperate grapple. The axeman, his eyes lowered, leapt forward with a speed incomprehensible for his size. With a single swing, his axe bit deep into your neck, separating spine from skull instantly.
It would be a lie because ten seconds later you opened your eyes.
Laying sideways in the hallway, you barely make out the figure of the warrior growing more distant, bellowing some challenge to the darkness streaming in through the cracked walls. You wearily try to get to your feet, but something about the attack seems to have paralyzed your limbs.
Then, as your vision grows less bleary, you see your limbs attached to your body, which is itself facing the wrong direction from your field of view.
It would be a lie because ten seconds later you opened your eyes.
Laying sideways in the hallway, you barely make out the figure of the warrior growing more distant, bellowing some challenge to the darkness streaming in through the cracked walls. You wearily try to get to your feet, but something about the attack seems to have paralyzed your limbs.
Then, as your vision grows less bleary, you see your limbs attached to your body, which is itself facing the wrong direction from your field of view.