Growing frustated, Alwyn ducks and leans behind Hudak while looking for an opening. Spotting one, he jams his greatsword past Hudak's shoulder at a vulnerable face-faker.
Dravite backs out the door again, scanning the exterior of the tower to look for windows, a target, or anything that could be helpful...
Alwyn's overhead chop hacks off the creatures arm. It staggers, the wound squirting a foul, watery white ichor but continues to claw at his brother with its remaining arm.
The face-faker with the crossbow fires at Hudak, but in the confusing melee misses, the bolt thudding into a wooden beam by the Shoanti's head. From the quarrel's head oozes a green, tarry substance - poison!
Elisile takes the opportunity to take her oil of magic weapon from her pack and apply it to her longbow.
Hudak ends it with the ravaged face-faker, and its thuds to the wooden floor, stone-dead.
1d20+7=8 listen.
Da wind be a might hard a' de blow tod'y! Dammit! I be needin' ta find a winder or somefin oop dere!
The remaining face-faker by the stairs swipes at Hudak but the clumsy thrust is easily avoided.
Alwyn steps forward before hewing the next face-faker.
Alwyn tears what should be a gory rent across the creatures chest, but instead pallid viscera and white fluid leak out. It staggers but presses on.
Alwyn forces his way upstairs like some kind of northern giant, and Illes shouts out encouragement, "That's it! Carve 'im up a pretty new face."
The bard grabs a vial from his belt, yanks the stopper out with his teeth and empties it into his quiver.
*moves into a good position outside the tower, hoping his buddies find a window and drive some prey his way, Bow out arrows ready to fly*
"I do nae be tinkin' de stairs in dat rickety ole tower be a good idear...."
The face-faker in the corner hastily reloads the crossbow and fires again, but the shot is poor, going over Hudak's head.
Then I will kill more.
2 point pa on the faker in f2.
r11+11-2+1 inspire courage=21
damage r6+5+4(powatk)+1(courage)=16
"Die foul one! Bleed your yeasty venom and die!"
The face-faker was already half-killed by Vethran's fireball and Alwyn's huge sword. It finally collapses under Hudak's assault, coating the floor with its foul fluids.
Ogay....this is a floor, right? I'm pretty sure it is. I'm going to move to c4 to close with Mr. Crossbow.
Sorry guv, it's been a few....
Alwyn follows Hudak and closes in on the face-faker with the crossbow.
"Now, faker! See what shoanti steel tastes like!"
Die, crossbowman coward! Die!!!
"The endgame is nigh.....we will paint the floor white with your....fluids...."
Once the way above is clear (Hudak and Alwyn off the stair), Elisile will make a double move up the stair, stopping just shy of the chamber above if she gets that far.
Alwyn follows Hudak and closes in on the face-faker with the crossbow.
Alwyn lashes out but the face-faker dodges and mainly takes the flat of the blade instead. But such is the force of the blow that its body deforms under the impact, like wet clay hit with a hammer. But it somehow still lives in that hideous state, its shoulder dented and its arm dangling.
Once the way above is clear (Hudak and Alwyn off the stair), Elisile will make a double move up the stair, stopping just shy of the chamber above if she gets that far.
Such is the force of the blow that its body deforms under the impact, like wet clay hit with a hammer. But it somehow still lives in that hideous state, its shoulder dented and its arm dangling.
Alwyn shakes his head at the faceless thing's stubborn refusal to just lie down and die. "I am impressed..., impressed and repulsed by these things. I guess their gods gave them toughness in return for becoming such hideous monstrosities."
The face-faker lashes out with its good arm at Hudak and smacks him a mighty punch, almost spinning the Shoanti off his feet.
"You have not finished them yet Shoanti?" quips the elf, surveying the situation.
"Saving the best for last, Elly," he jokes, grimacing, while blood bubbles out of his gouges.
Alwyn keeps hacking at the bleeding face-faker.
Dravite.
The last of the face-fakers is put down, and it subsides by the wall, spurts of white blood spuming before dribbling away in death.
Elisile looks at the stairs leading up, a delicate eyebrow raised.
"It seems likely that anyone waiting above will have heard the battle here," she muses softly. "There is probably little benefit in stealth. Let us re-group and heal here if required, before continuing as a group."
"Ah yes." Alwyn smiles contentedly as the bisected face-faker collapses in a oozing heap. "Very nice. Now, one favour deserves another, so let me have a look at that..."
"Ah yes." Alwyn smiles contentedly as the bisected face-faker collapses in a oozing heap. "Very nice. Now, one favour deserves another, so let me have a look at that..."