“He didn't make it father.” Gymiran bounced his club in his free hand.
“So who will be the first of you to be washed down my gullet?” The warriors flung their spears, sending a wall of iron flying at the monster. Our weapons deflected and bounced off of Gymiran's rocky body. Those that did stick were simply swatted away as one would brush away a mosquito. The jotnar leapt forward, swinging his club sideways and knocking every single warrior to the ground. Our formation was broken; each warrior stood quickly and converged on the tall creature. Gymiran leaned back for a moment, seeming startled that we would actually attack.
“It is frightened!” yelled Pytr. “Kill the beast!” Pytr lunged in front of us, pressing his shield against Gymiran's knee and hacking at his leg with a sword. Gymiran
