fixed
Climbing up onto the shore, Njord grunts in surprise at the sight of the rat person.
"What'r weres doin' here?"
Njord pulls a vial and smashes it against his forearm.
Randall begins vomiting all over the wreckage, but tries to move out of the swarm anyway.
Fíriel looks worriedly at Randall, then focuses back on the task at hand. Following the wererat, she tries to stab at it again. She misses.
A yell comes from the darkness in the north. "Are you alright?"
The wererat retaliates with a dagger-slice and a fierce snap from his slavering maw.
The flying cockroaches let Randall go and pursue the bigger meal that's just come into view.
Njord grunts in surprise as the roaches swarm over him, biting and clawing.
After batting them aside, the big Ulfen lumbers forward into the flank with Firiel. With a great shout, he brings his sword to bear.
The wererat goes down with a gargling shout of surprise as his head rolls off into the swamp.
Jametor steps forward and flings out some colored sand and a command word into the swarm of cockroaches.
Ol' Antal just keeps swimming in hopes of catching up to the rest.
Randall, recovering from the dizziness caused by the insects, quickly searches what remains of the wererat, mostly for identification, but also for weapons and coins. While doing do, he tries to stay down from whoever was firing from the other direction.
Randall doesn't find any identification on the body.
Randall gathers up the items, offering the bow and sword to the Ulfen and the elf first.
Inappropriately Sized Weapons: A creature can't make optimum use of a weapon that isn't properly sized for it. A cumulative –2 penalty applies on attack rolls for each size category of difference between the size of its intended wielder and the size of its actual wielder. If the creature isn't proficient with the weapon, a –4 nonproficiency penalty also applies.
The measure of how much effort it takes to use a weapon (whether the weapon is designated as a light, one-handed, or two-handed weapon for a particular wielder) is altered by one step for each size category of difference between the wielder's size and the size of the creature for which the weapon was designed. For example, a Small creature would wield a Medium one-handed weapon as a two-handed weapon. If a weapon's designation would be changed to something other than light, one-handed, or two-handed by this alteration, the creature can't wield the weapon at all.
Janetor pulls a scroll from his scroll case and begins reading the words, finally pointing to the swarm.
Fíriel hurries over to Randall, but stays a few feet away to avoid attracting the cockroaches. "Randall, are you alright?"
The grease coats the ground, but somehow the swarm manages to dodge the worst of it. Flying up into the air almost as a single creature, the cockroaches engulf Swiftwing and begin consuming the bird in little bites.
Suddenly there's a splashing, slurping sound from across the wreckage, where a huge creature has just emerged from the water. One long tentacle reaches out toward Njord hungrily, just tickling the Ulfen's chin.
Njord's eyes go wide in surprise as the tentacle monster springs up and swings a tentacle at him.
"Har! This place is full of surprises!"
"Randall, are you alright?"
"As well as I can hope for at the moment."
Jametor feels the attack on Swiftwing through his empathic link. Even worse, there is nothing he can do. Jametor runs away from the swarm trying to get into a better position to attack the new threat.
[url=http://beta.ditzie.com/44387/523659378a6ab[/url]
"Randall, are you alright?"
"As well as I can hope for at the moment."
Swiftwing, fly into the grease!! Jametor yells.
Fíriel does a cartwheel across the wreckage, landing next to the giant tentacle monster and trying to stab it.
The monster lunges forward and chomps at the halfling as she passes.
Randall holds his dagger up defensively and tumbles into position behind Njord.
A slimy tentacle slaps at him almost playfully as he approaches.
Swiftwing takes a deep breath and plunges into the swamp, crowing insults at the cockroaches as she goes. Drawn by the smell of blood and the tasty fowl-flesh, the cockroach swarm descends to the surface of the water. An agitated rustle begins, quietly at first but swelling quickly to a loud rumble as the swarm is foiled in its attempt to get the bird. All its attempts result only in the swarm coating itself in grease.
The tentacle monster opens its toothy maw wide and wraps one meaty tentacle around Njord.
Seeing the tentacle creeping towards him, Njord takes another mighty swing.
”Har! None of that. Back you!”
The slavering maw opens more widely, the tongue sliding silkily over razor-sharp incisors. "Nooo..." it whispers. "Come to ussssss..."
Jametor yells, "Does someone have a torch or some alchemist's fire? Swiftwing has dipped them in grease, we just need something to light them on fire!"
Jametor pulls out a candle and a small sack and begins his summoning spell.
Determined not to be out-wrestled by a slimy swamp monster, Njord tears free from the beast.
Njord manages to break free. The tentacle that was wrapped around him withdraws slightly, waving gently in the darkness as it prepares to strike once again.
Randall shouts, "There's nothing here for us! We should retreat - it was a trap to draw us away from Saul!"
Not listening to his own advice, Randall tries to get among the figures of the 'meeting'.
"Trrrrrap..." replies the monster, swaying slightly as if deciding which delectable item to consume first. "Yessss..."
Fíriel stabs at the monster again, heedless of her wounds.
"You must be disappointed. They told you that you would have a lot to eat, didn't they? They didn't tell you it would be such small bites as us. We can work together and get you better fare. What do you think?"
"Ssssssmall bitessss, yessss... deliciousss..." it responds, still munching on a piece of Fíriel.