You stagger on, the weather taking its toll as it gets stronger and you wonder after the bandits and stuff whatever kind of strange unexpected new or original encounter you will have next.
‘None shall pass’ says a voice up ahead.
Despairingly you marvel at this innovative and inevitable encounter.
A dashing figure comes out from the side of the road he draws his sword, swishes it around in a suave and debonair way
Do you
Say ‘Have at you
then you cur’ and draw your sword and wave it in a gawky and maladroit way
Say ‘Whatever’ and shoot him