Rules of Eldritch Fight
The driver sat carefree, holding the reins loosely, completely oblivious to the chaos unfolding behind him. Of course, that was the work of the extraordinary. The carriage hurtled through the night, rattling with every bump and crack of the cobblestones beneath it.
Inside, I was in a dire predicament. The assailant on the roof, dressed in tattered, hauntingly old-fashioned clothing, had laid traps at both exits. A nearly invisible wire was strung at neck height on the left, ready to snap and kill. On the right, he lurked, poised to strike the moment I made a move.
Cold sweat trickled down my neck. My hands trembled as I clutched my old revolver. In the world of the Eldritch, direct confrontation was a death sentence. Yet here I was—trapped, with no apparent escape.