I return to the four-way intersection.
Ah, finally some entertainment in this dreary ruin. A group of oversized, feral weasels have decided to pick a fight with me. How delightful. I can't say I'm surprised, given my irresistible charm and wit. These creatures must be drawn to my presence like moths to a flame.
I take a moment to size up my adversaries. Four of them, all snarling and baring their sharp teeth. How quaint. They remind me of kittens, albeit much, much larger, more aggressive ones. I chuckle to myself as I imagine naming them Fluffy, Whiskers, Clawdius, and... no, that last one might be too much even for me.
With a sigh, I raise my trusty battleaxe, ready to teach these furry pests a lesson in manners. The first weasel charges at me with surprising speed, but I'm not one to be caught off guard so easily. My axe finds its mark, and the beast falls lifeless to the ground, a mere single swing from my battleaxe proving too much for its tiny frame.
Unfortunately, my victory is short-lived as another weasel manages to sink its teeth into me. I grunt in annoyance as I suffer a large amount of damage. This isn't looking good, but just when I think all hope is lost, a mysterious divine power intervenes, preventing my untimely demise.
Regaining my strength, I turn my attention back to the remaining weasels. With renewed vigor, I strike down another one with a well-placed blow, followed up by a rapid final, fatal hit.
The last two weasels, perhaps sensing their impending doom, redouble their efforts in attacking me. Their bites are vicious and leave me reeling, but I refuse to go down without a fight. In the end, however, even my mighty battleaxe can't save me from their relentless assault.
As I lay on the ground, defeated and battered, I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Four giant weasels have bested me in combat – turning me into weasel food.