303
You pull away from the packleader and roll under a chariot to avoid its continued attack. But it is determined to kill you and, with a shrill howl, it launches itself blindly at your legs. You avoid the lunge and scramble to your feet, your weapon poised to strike as soon as your pursuer appears. Snarling, the green face bobs out close to the wheel. For an instant its red eyes glare insanely, before, with one swift blow, you cleave its scaly neck in two.
