Racksdin lunges forward as well, but he's not aiming to wound. His knife goes right Turin's armor and into his heart. He twists it and turns it, coating the blade in bleed, rending his heart into pieces. After holding it for a couple seconds, he pushes Turin off and throws him onto the ground.
"Your indecision is your weakness."
-Turambar thrashes as he is stabbed, managing to bring his sword down to strike Racksdin. It should hurt. But as per his original lunge, it is not nearly enough to kill, or cause a major wound, and as the knife twists, Gurthang falls from his hands-
-He looks down at his chest as light fades from his eyes-
So. In the end, I am Túrin only.
-Thus ends the tale of Túrin, son of Húrin, in a land far from his own-
edited 27th Apr '15 9:54:43 PM by ThanatoSeraph
Racksdin's chest is cut open by Gurthang. He yells in pain; he wasn't expecting that. He doesn't have time to dodge Fen's swords. His limbs are skewered, but he keeps his grip on the blood-soaked knife.
"I saved you the agony of- of choosing. Now, you get to go home."
edited 27th Apr '15 9:54:17 PM by ramuf
-Is limp-
-There's a long time to go before rigor mortis sets in-
-But Cloud would know that-
-Oho-
-Archer will see that Gurthang is a sword forged from the metal of a meteor-
-It was forged by an elven smith who burnt with a black anger inside-
-It has been reforged, as it broke when one who earlier used it died at the hands of a friend-
-A friend who had thought the shadow looming over him was an enemy-
-Turin-
edited 27th Apr '15 10:05:19 PM by ThanatoSeraph

-Fen is slashed-
-Turambar's face grows even darker-
Well. Thus you show your fangs.
-He lunges toward Racksdin, aiming not to kill, but to incapacitate and pin-
We may need you to return. But I for one, will not dance to your tune!