Anyways, I was surprised that so far this famous film quote/scene hadn't been played with, so this scene rather wrote itself as a consequence.
Again, please feel free to let me know if this doesn't measure up.
And I hope you enjoy it anyways.
Neb flinched as the ranger drew nearer. The gnome had been so close, so tantalizingly close, to his goal, only to have his dreams snatched away by some pansy elf. Or--or perhaps all wasn't lost yet. His Specially Comissioned Crossbow lay only just beyond his reach. If he moved quickly...
He started towards his crossbow, only to be restrained by the ranger's voice. "Ah-ah-ah," the elf taunted, "I know what you're thinking: 'did he fire twenty arrows, or only nineteen?'"
To the gnome's surprise, the elf managed to pinpoint Neb's line of thought with an accuracy he wouldn't have expected from a tree-hugger. Once more he wondered: was it twenty or nineteen? Would he stand a chance against the wounded ranger? He crooked his head in an effort to see better, but the shadows and the ranger's pose both conspired against Neb. He still couldn't tell for certain! He bit back an oath.
"And to tell you the truth, in all this confusion I sort of lost count myself."
Somehow the gnome doubted the ranger's assertion. The elf did not seem like one to lose track of anything, for only someone as meticulous and driven as Neb himself would have put all the clues together, fingered him as the child killer, and then located this cleverly-concealed hideout.
The ranger continued in the same mocking tone, "But being as this is the Eagle's Bow, the most powerful longbow in Baldur's Gate and will knock your head clean off," Neb swallowed convulsively as he vividly imagined the sensation, "you've got to ask yourself a question: 'Do I feel lucky?'"
Again the elf's insight astonished Neb, for he had been pondering just that point. Did he feel lucky? Would he pin his life on a desperate lunge for his crossbow? He darted another glance at the grim-lipped elf. Yes, he rather thought he would, and he supposed his counterpart would as well. They did have much in common, considering. Now to wait for the best moment, when the elf's guard was at its lowest...
"Well, do ya, punk?!"
If Neb had suspected the forest-prancer was bluffing, this hostile barb convinced him beyond all doubt. Had their positions been reversed, if the gnome were standing there defenseless and without an arrow to nock--although as a self-respecting gnome there was no way on Toril he'd be caught dead using a bow!--he'd pretend to be powerful and arrogant too.
The ranger began to lower his longbow.
Now!
With a manic peal of laughter, the gnome dove for his crossbow, only to notice the sharp modulation of his voice. Then the pain hit, the searing agony that stole his breath, and the puzzled killer noticed the fletching protruding from his throat. He immediately became aware that he couldn't breathe, and that the blood from his wound was pouring down into his lungs. No...air...
As Neb's sight grew black and the world buzzed around him, the gnome would've sworn he heard the elf whisper, "For you, Deheriana."
