Hrimnagel happily ignores Argor's commands; that human always thinks he is in charge. The deep gnome also hears Cladissa's whimpering and rapid breathing coming from the entryway, so he knows those misty skeletons are not attacking her. However, the blubbering sounds like his Maeva, which checks him with a wave of images of a choker slowly taking her life, and the whimpering comes from himself.
After blinking hard a couple of times, Hrimnagel continues to stealth forward into the granary looking for the poisoners. He has only seen guards so far... and sneaky ones. Now that he knows what to anticipate, he tries to detect misty bubbles.
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With only the bubbling remains of the alchemist in her vision, and the silence penetrating her core, Cladissa moves forward slowly and cautiously. He drank something. Something that interfered with the formula. That won't be me, she tells herself as she tries to pull her eyes away from the doctor's remains and looks around for signs of the others.
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Argor looks around confusedly as the mist envelopes him. Then, things appear to move slower around him and the world goes silent. He raises his free hand in front of his face, trying to take in the effect, when the skeletal form of their foe materializes through the fog in front of him, slicing out at Grommuk.
Grommuk, now fully incensed, finds his inability to let loose a battle cry nearly as infuriating as the injury inflicted upon him. Eyes wide with bloodlust, the orc seizes the skeleton's spinal column with his left hand just above its hips. At the same time, his right hand grabs hold of the undead creature's sternum before he rips both hands away with tremendous force. Vertebrae pop and break like a snapped length of rosaries as the mutant separates the creature's upper half from lower. The thing continues struggling against the brute's attack even as its legs and hip fall away, but is finally forced still when Grommuk, still gripping its chest in his right hand, slams it forward into the unopened door behind him. The back of what remains of its ribcage splinters into dozens of pieces, while skull and arms fall motionless to the floor.
Argor steps away from the abomination, and suddenly regains his hearing and regular speed. "Ah. These creatures have some sort of aura about them." With the ability to speak again, he calls out, "One is just ahead of me in the mist. About 10 feet or so. Grommuk was in the process of crushing it I think..."
Hrimnagel happily ignores Argor. That human always thinks he is in charge. The deep gnome also hears Cladissa's whimpering and rapid breathing coming from the entryway, so he knows those misty skeletons are not attacking her. However, the blubbering sounds like his Maeva, which checks him with a wave of images of a choker slowly taking her life, and the whimpering comes from himself.
After blinking hard a couple of times, Hrimnagel continues to stealth forward into the granary looking for the poisoners. He has only seen guards so far... and sneaky ones. Now that he knows what to anticipate, he tries to detect misty bubbles. The wall of mist on his left hand seems to be the only one visible, but he spots an ancient looking iron chest sitting open in the grain in the next chamber.
With only the bubbling remains of the alchemist in her vision, and the silence penetrating her core, Cladissa moves forward slowly and cautiously. He drank something. Something that interfered with the formula. That won't be me, she tells herself as she tries to pull her eyes away from the doctor's remains and looks around for signs of the others.
Three more undead fiends emerge from the interior of the mist cloud to replace the one that Grommuk bashed into pieces. As they do so, the cloud of mist pushes forward to fully envelop Cladissa and Argor. They can still hear, but can barely see anything. Three of the undead lash out at Grommuk silently with their wicked curved blades. One of them manages to open a long shallow cut along his forearm as the orc deflects the blow away from his face. Not a whisper of sound gives away the orc's desperate struggle to his companions. The four of them remain separated on their own islands by an impenetrable sea of fog.
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Hit
Hit
Grommuk remains undaunted despite the overwhelming odds being brought to bear against him. As far as he is concerned, there are simply more things to break. Reeling momentarily from the scrape across his forearm, Grommuk retaliates with an overhand smash against the skeletal menace. His clenched fist impacts against the top of its head and doesn't stop until his fist has collided with the ground, sending another explosion of bone fragments across the granary's floor. Even so, and in spite of his considerable strength, he is one against many. Trails of blood cascade down the orc's side where the scythe rent him viciously.
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As the cloud continues it's advance, Argor comes to a frustrating realization...
"With the passing of the doctor, and the deep gnome nowhere to be seen, Grommuk is our only front line. If he falls, we all are likely to join him."
With that, Argor opens up the black scroll case at his hip and removes another piece of parchment. He squints his eyes to read it, as despite his enhanced vision, the mist makes it somewhat difficult to read the prepared spell upon it's surface.
As the magic manifests itself, he wills it to maintain the conjured affect about his hand for the moment. He then looks forward into the mist, looking for the large outline of the orcish wall in front of him...somewhere...
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Hrimnagel continues creeping forward looking for poisoners and misty bubbles.
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As the cloud continues it's advance, Argor comes to a frustrating realization...
"With the passing of the doctor, and the deep gnome nowhere to be seen, Grommuk is our only front line. If he falls, we all are likely to join him."
With that, Argor opens up the black scroll case at his hip and removes another piece of parchment. He squints his eyes to read it, as despite his enhanced vision, the mist makes it somewhat difficult to read the prepared spell upon it's surface.
As the magic manifests itself, he wills it to maintain the conjured affect about his hand for the moment. He then looks forward into the mist, looking for the large outline of the orcish wall in front of him...somewhere...
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Hrimnagel continues creeping forward looking for poisoners and misty bubbles.
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[dice=Stealth]1d20+20
[dice=Perception]1d20+8
WHERE IS EVERYBODY! she shouts in frustration.
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As the cloud continues it's advance, Argor comes to a frustrating realization...
"With the passing of the doctor, and the deep gnome nowhere to be seen, Grommuk is our only front line. If he falls, we all are likely to join him."
Argor reaches into his component pouch and removes a pinch of butter, slides it over his palms, and begins muttering an incantation. He steps towards the fight, and motions his hands out flat, palms to the ground. As he does so, the slippery film leaves his hands and spreads out beneath the feet of the skeletal forms in front of him, causing them to fall to the ground.
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Hearing the arcane casting of Argor, Cladissa will try to move forward, peering desperately through the mist for a figure she recognizes. If she spots the wounded, hulking figure of Grommuk, she'll chant a quick word of healing and touch him.
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Grommuk remains undaunted despite the overwhelming odds being brought to bear against him. As far as he is concerned, there are simply more things to break. Reeling momentarily from the scrape across his forearm, Grommuk retaliates with an overhand smash against the skeletal menace. His clenched fist impacts against the top of its head and doesn't stop until his fist has collided with the ground, sending another explosion of bone fragments across the granary's floor. Even so, and in spite of his considerable strength, he is one against many. Trails of blood cascade down the orc's side where the scythe rent him viciously. Despite being reduced to a pair of legs attached to a spine, shoulder blade and sword arm, the skeleton thing Grommuk just smashed appears to still be "alive".
Hrimnagel continues creeping forward looking for poisoners and misty bubbles. He sees none, but the chest laying on the floor contains several glass bottles.
As the cloud continues it's advance, Argor comes to a frustrating realization...[i]With the passing of the doctor, and the deep gnome nowhere to be seen, Grommuk is our only front line. If he falls, we all are likely to join him.[/1]
Argor reaches into his component pouch and removes a pinch of butter, slides it over his palms, and begins muttering an incantation. He steps towards the fight, and motions his hands out flat, palms to the ground. As he does so, the slippery film leaves his hands and spreads out beneath the feet of the skeletal forms in front of him, causing them to fall to the ground.
Hearing the arcane casting of Argor, Cladissa will try to move forward, peering desperately through the mist for a figure she recognizes. She sees Argor after a couple of steps and the wizard directs her forward to where Grommuk is struggling against the beasts. "Cast your spell first, Cladissa. They are surrounded by an aura of silence," he tells her. Nodding her understanding, she casts the spell and holds it glowing on her hand.
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Hrimnagel quietly approaches the chest and examines it for traps.
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With Argor's instructions, Cladissa casts the spell before the silence envelops her, holding it ready in her hand. Supernatural silence, she thinks. That explains some of what's going on. Swallowing hard and stepping forward, she looks for the looming shape of Grommuk and hopes desperately that he'll be able to tell friend from foe.
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Argor heaves a sigh of frustration, as he tires of dealing with this mobile fog. However, he knows he needs to find some way to help dispatch these terrors before they manage to rend Grommuk to shreds thanks to their numbers and magic.
He removes a scroll from the red scroll case at his hip, and quickly chants the magic written upon it. He then holds up his hand, and a small ball of fire lights up the mist for a moment, before he angles his hand down out towards where the undead monstrosities were that he had caused to fall moments earlier. The flames sweep over the creatures, covering them in living flame.
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Seeing two of the creatures fall beside him, Grommuk wheels around to unleash another vicious display of pugilism. His knuckles crack and break bones before his attention returns to the pair that stand before him, the orc's blood still staining one of their weapons. Though angry and a dullard, Grommuk is smart enough to appreciate the growing desperation of his situation. Thinking a momentary retreat might be in order, Grommuk kicks the door behind him open. If he can bottleneck them, the fight may favor his odds greatly.
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Hrimnagel quietly approaches the ancient chest and seeing it open, stoops to examine its contents. It contains half a dozen small, glass bottles. Hrimnagel grabs a couple of them and puts them in his bag.
With Argor's instructions, Cladissa casts the spell before the silence envelops her, holding it ready in her hand. Supernatural silence, she thinks. That explains some of what's going on. Swallowing hard and stepping forward, she looks for the looming shape of Grommuk and hopes desperately that he'll be able to tell friend from foe. She sees the orc looming in the mist, next to a prone skeletal figure. She reaches out silently and touches him with her healing spell, Grommuk is startled by the unexpected soft touch. The magic flows into the huge, green brawler healing his wounds.
Argor heaves a sigh of frustration, as he tires of dealing with this mobile fog. However, he knows he needs to find some way to help dispatch these terrors before they manage to rend Grommuk to shreds thanks to their numbers and magic. He removes a scroll from the red scroll case at his hip, and quickly chants the magic written upon it. He then holds up his hand, and a small ball of fire lights up the mist for a moment, before he angles his hand down out towards where the undead monstrosities were that he had caused to fall moments earlier. The flames sweep over the creatures, covering them in living flame.
Seeing two of the creatures fall beside him, Grommuk wheels around to unleash another vicious display of pugilism. His knuckles crack and he breaks bones on one of the prone skeletons before his attention returns to the pair that stand before him, the orc's blood still staining one of their weapons. Though angry and a dullard, Grommuk is smart enough to appreciate the growing desperation of his situation. Thinking a momentary retreat might be in order, Grommuk kicks the door behind him open. If he can bottleneck them, the fight may favor his odds greatly.
The two prone undead stand up. As they do so, Grommuk smashes the already damaged one into little pieces. The three remaining skeletons slash at the orc with their sickles. Two of them cut deeply into Grommuk, undoing the healing Cladissa just gave him, and making things considerably worse. Blood flows quickly and freely from the orc's wounds, soaking his green frame. He won't be able to withstand this for much longer.
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Hit
Hit
Fully appreciating his plight as the combination of blood loss coupled with an enraged pulse begins blurring his vision, Grommuk pivots back on his left heel. He swings a parting haymaker at the mostly-maimed form of the undead monstrosity to his left then begins bouncing on the tips of his toes, bobbing and reeling away from the scything attacks that will soon renew their assault. Concern gnaws at the corner of the orc's psyche as well, as he has seen no sign of Hrimnagel since the deep gnome entered the granary. That one of the scythes held by the creatures is covered in fresh blood that does not belong to Grommuk only compounds his fears.
Grommuk tries to yell something, but no sound emerges. He hops backwards, still desperately trying to avoid the wicked blades that continue seeking his end.
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>
>
Argor decides to step around the corner away from the mist, hoping to find a way behind these abominations and discover a weakness to exploit to the living combatant's advantage. He wills the orb of light he summoned earlier to follow at his side.
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Hrimnagel continues to quietly empty the chest into his backpack. After every bottle or two, he looks around the granary for anything else that does not belong here.
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As several bladed weapons scythe from the fog and slash into Grommuk, Cladissa bites her lip in concern. Without additional healing spells this day, her best bet would be to assist in harming these undead. She throws the flask of holy water into the mist straight ahead, hoping that she would be able to make contact.
Then, knowing that Grommuk would likely need it, even if she had to pour it down his throat, she draws out her healing potion.
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Fully appreciating his plight as the combination of blood loss coupled with an enraged pulse begins blurring his vision, Grommuk pivots back on his left heel. He swings a parting haymaker at the mostly-maimed form of the undead monstrosity to his left. The punch obliterates the remaining pieces of the skeleton, sending bone fragments flying back into the mist. Grommuk begins bouncing on the tips of his toes, bobbing and reeling away from the scything attacks that will soon renew their assault. Concern gnaws at the corner of the orc's psyche as well, as he has seen no sign of Hrimnagel since the deep gnome entered the granary. That one of the scythes held by the creatures is covered in fresh blood that does not belong to Grommuk only compounds his fears.
Grommuk tries to yell something, but no sound emerges. He hops backwards, still desperately trying to avoid the wicked blades that continue seeking his end. He finds himself standing directly next to Cladissa, who is fiddling with some glass bottles.
Argor decides to step around the corner away from the mist, hoping to find a way behind these abominations and discover a weakness to exploit to the living combatant's advantage. He wills the orb of light he summoned earlier to follow at his side. He makes his way out of the mist and into the next room, where he spies a small chest, which is partially filled with glass vials and cloaked in shadows. Hrimnagel sees Argor walk up right next to him, but apparently the human doesn't notice him.
Hrimnagel continues to quietly empty the chest into his backpack. As he reaches for the bottles Argor notices him with a start. The gnome ignores him, finishing the removal of the bottles. He then disappears into his own shadow again.
As several bladed weapons scythe from the fog and slash into Grommuk, Cladissa bites her lip in concern. Without additional healing spells this day, her best bet would be to assist in harming these undead. She throws the flask of holy water into the mist straight ahead, hoping that she would be able to make contact. She can't see what happens to the water, but she hears a crash as the flask breaks. Then, knowing that the massive orc beside her would likely need it, even if she had to pour it down his throat, she draws out her healing potion.
One of the Black Echelon agents surges silently forward through the mist, bringing Grommuk and Cladissa back into its aura of eerie quietude. It attempts to finish off the badly wounded, but still threatening orc with a quick slash of its sickle. The blade flashes in the misty half-light that is filtering through the open doorway of the granary. The blade slices across Grommuk's throat, opening it neatly. By some miracle, Grommuk's airway remains uncut, but his jugular vein and carotid arteries are torn wide open. A hot spurt of thick, salty, red blood squirts onto Cladissa with each frantic beat of the giant warrior's heart. If he didn't get healing, the mighty mutant skeleton smasher would bleed out in seconds.
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A staggered creature may take a single move action or standard action each round (but not both, nor can he take full-round actions). A staggered creature can still take free, swift, and immediate actions. A creature with nonlethal damage exactly equal to its current hit points gains the staggered condition.
Fortunately for those around, the silencing aura of the very creatures he faces stifles the choking gurgle of his own blood as his features twist further in rage (apparently such a thing is possible). A brief buckle in the knees is replaced by a frenzied assault. Grommuk's fists swipe blindly before one finally collides with his foe, sending a spiderweb of cracks and chipping away bone where his wild swing meets his opponent's skull.
Grommuk seems nearly oblivious to the world around him now. His eyes are unfocused but wide, face affixed with what would likely be a terrifying howl of bloodlust. Even so, he is draining of blood far too rapidly. Orcs are ferocious, but that too has limits.
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>
>
Cladissa sputters in shock at the arterial spray, and moreso at the fact that the large orc hasn't fallen. The very real fear that Grommuk will keep fighting until he has bled out seizes her, so even while holding out the potion in one hand, she draws her dagger and slashes ineffectually at the creature appearing before her out of the mist.
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Hrimnagel continues to quietly empty the chest into his backpack. As he reaches for the bottles Argor notices him with a start. The gnome ignores him, finishing the removal of the bottles. He then disappears into his own shadow again.
From the shadows, Hrimnagel says, "Argor, I think these bottles contain the poison, so we can get them out of the granary. Are the skeletons destroyed?"
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Argor glares into the shadow that contains Hrimnagel, and says coldly, "Not yet, Grommuk is the only one able to harm them. Cladissa and I have supported him with our magics while you have been busy collecting bottles. He could use your help on the front line, I would wager. That is, if you aren't too busy here."
He then turns and moves back towards the fight, hoping to find their rear flank.
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"Me on the front line? How about you on the front line?" Hrimnagel replies to Argor in aggravation and caustically continues, "you don't look like your supporting Grom from here. And you heard what I said, right? If I have the poison, then we can retreat with a win, right smart man?"
Hrimnagel glides through the grain toward the other room fading into the shadows.
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"I've been back there fighting, in case plainly spoken Taldane is lost on you. I am looking for another means to lend aid while you continue to waste time with pointless banter."
Argor eyes the latches to the grain holds in the ceiling, but quickly dismisses the idea, as he did not have the skill to strike such a small target. He could fling acid at it all day and likely only melt through the ceiling instead of the actual lock, and they had no time for that.
"And I find it highly unlikely these skeletons will just give up with their poison being stolen. They have been programmed with a mission, and will not stop until they are either successful or destroyed."
Fortunately for those around, the silencing aura of the very creatures Grommuk faces stifles the choking gurgle of his own blood as his features twist further in rage (apparently such a thing is possible). A brief buckle in the knees is replaced by a frenzied assault. Grommuk's fists swipe blindly before one finally collides with his foe, sending a spiderweb of cracks and chipping away bone where his wild swing meets his opponent's skull. The creature is obliterated by the dying orc's wild blows. As it dies, the mist fades and sound returns to the vicinity.
Grommuk seems nearly oblivious to the world around him now. His eyes are unfocused but wide, face affixed with a terrifying howl of bloodlust. The sudden booming sound of his bestial howls reverberates through the enclosed space of the granary. His companions twich back involuntarily as his death cries replace the eerie silence. Even so, Grommuk is draining of blood far too rapidly. Orcs are ferocious, but that too has limits.
Cladissa sputters in shock at the arterial spray, and moreso at the fact that the large orc hasn't fallen. The very real fear that Grommuk will keep fighting until he has bled out seizes her. "Grommuk, here takes this! TAKE THIS, drink it!" Cladissa shouts at the howling orc, waving the healing potion in his face and then pressing it carefully into his hand.
From the shadows, Hrimnagel says, "Argor, I think these bottles contain the poison, so we can get them out of the granary. Are the skeletons destroyed?"
Argor glares into the shadow that contains Hrimnagel, and says coldly, "Not yet, Grommuk is the only one able to harm them. Cladissa and I have supported him with our magics while you have been busy collecting bottles. He could use your help on the front line, I would wager. That is, if you aren't too busy here."
He then turns and moves back towards the fight, hoping to find their rear flank. It is clearly visible now that there is no mist.
"Me on the front line? How about you on the front line?" Hrimnagel replies to Argor in aggravation and caustically continues, "you don't look like your supporting Grom from here. And you heard what I said, right? If I have the poison, then we can retreat with a win, right smart man?"
Hrimnagel glides through the grain toward the other room fading into the shadows.
"I've been back there fighting, in case plainly spoken Taldane is lost on you. I am looking for another means to lend aid while you continue to waste time with pointless banter."
Argor eyes the latches to the grain holds in the ceiling, but quickly dismisses the idea, as he did not have the skill to strike such a small target. He could fling acid at it all day and likely only melt through the ceiling instead of the actual lock, and they had no time for that.
"And I find it highly unlikely these skeletons will just give up with their poison being stolen. They have been programmed with a mission, and will not stop until they are either successful or destroyed." Frustrated with the gnome, and seeing his chance with the mist down, Argor heads back towards the fight. He flings a dart of acid at the skeletal creature slipping around in his grease spell. The dart hits the undead right in its back and melts a chunk of armor and bones, which slough off onto the floor with a "plerp" noise.
The skeleton lurches off the grease and swings its scythe at Grommuk, trying desperately to end him before it is destroyed like its companions. The sickle slices open the faltering orc again, this time across his chest.
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Hit it! Kill it! Cladissa shouts into the strange silence. It's obvious the orc is refusing to relent while enemies persist, even though his life's blood is streaming from numerous wounds and the healing potion is pressed into his hand.
Though she feels her small dagger could scarcely match the meaty fists of Grommuk, she pressed her attack as well. She slashes desperately with her blade, this time making contact with the foul apparition.
_________________________
Hrimnagel continues to move through the granary looking for anything out of place and potentially a flank. He turns the corner and the sight of Grommuk bloody and sliced stops him flat. Not wanting another death of a friend, he screams out in his thin, shallow Common, "Hey Black Eschelon! I've got your poison!" Then he shoots the last skeleton with his bow for punctuation. His arrow goes right through where the heart would be and continues past Grom and the cat lady to the wall behind. Right. Arrows don't work well on skeletons.
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