Being critically stabbed by a post-apocalyptic warlord that terrorizes the wasteland with a gruesome gang of infamously cruel and battle-hardened cultists, who took reign after a nuclear conflict between major powers. Using the last of my strength, right before I am executed, I swing back when the warlord thinks it's all over, slicing off his arm. He stands there in shock, watching his bleeding wound, the camera pans to me as I swoop the blade through his lower abdomen, cutting him clean in half.
The surrounding cultists flee in terror. My faithful apprentice whose sword was shattered during the battle stands back up. He knows I am close to death. He tells me it was an honor to serve the faction. I hand him my sword, telling him the fate of peace, humanity, and all good things now rests in his hands, before falling to my knees as I embrace death.
OT: probably in my sleep LoL
