Warshawski steps forward, seeing what appears to be an opportunity to stifle Kriegler's actions by taking his feet out from under him. She swipes her scarf around his ankles, but the wind swirling about Kriegler tears at the scarf, preventing its blades from hooking into his flesh or robes. Kriegler feels the tugging and spins on his heels, leveling his spear at her.
However, Warshawski quickly ducks out of the way of the spear, allowing its enchanted head to pass harmlessly over her shoulder. Bacarov takes an opportunity of his own, hurling his spear toward Kriegler. His aim would seem to be perfect- but just before the weapon makes contact, the whirlwind around Kriegler snatches the spear up and sends it hurtling harmlessly away from him, into the reeds.
Meanwhile, Marsh shouts out a command in Draconic into the rows of reeds, and there is a rustling as the young river drake, Dio, hops out of the brush, chirping fearfully. Marsh spins on his heels and brings his longsword from its scabbard, cutting down the other cultist that threatened him in one fell swoop- cutting his masked head from his body. Dio hesitates for only a moment before rushing forward and wrapping his hind claws around Marleyna's shoulders. His leathery wings spread, and with a few flaps, it drags Marleyna down the row and into the brush, disappearing from sight.
Dramin's empowered bow lets loose an arrow, but this one fares better than Bacarov's spear. The arrow strikes Kriegler in the shoulder with enough force to nearly throw the cult leader from his perch atop the troll-stone. Moments later, Voyla hops back to a safe enough distance to unleash a pair of shots as well. The wall of wind deflects one of the arrows, but the other finds its mark, piercing Kriegler's thigh. He cries out in anguish and nearly falls to his knees, but the dark power of his god seems to force him to remain standing. Kriegler grits his teeth as he bears the pain and focuses his gaze on his attackers.
Niklos, seeing the agony his ursine partner is in, moves in, braving the cloud of hungry mosquitoes to heal Duroj. The bear's wounds begin to close, but with the mosquitoes still buzzing about him, it seems inevitable that they will be reopened soon enough...
- - - -
Kriegler gestures toward the targets in front of him with one hand, the spear raising above him in the other. His fingers clench, and the cloud of mosquitoes that had been torturing Duroj suddenly buzzes away. The mosquito cloud soars instead toward the investigators clustered around the eastern side of the mound, and they are assaulted immediately by hundreds of tiny, biting monstrosities.
The remaining two cultists each close in, one pursuing Warshawski while the other steps close to attack Marsh. Each of them swings a sickle at his target. Despite the distraction of the mosquito swarm, Marsh is able to catch the incoming sickle on the edge of his sword and turn it away; Warshawski, meanwhile, is not so lucky, as the cultist attacking her hooks his sickle into her back. [/ooc]Warshawski takes 7 damage, but resists the Blue Whinnis poison.[/ooc]
The two devilish spiders called forth by Kriegler chitter hungrily, responding to Kriegler's mental commands. Both of them crawl toward Voyla, hoping to catch her between them. Both of them spring toward the young Desnan, mandibles clattering hungrily. Voyla manages to spring away from the first, but the other catches her in the calf with its fangs, tearing leather and flesh alike.
Seeing the carnage unfold around him, Andretti Kriegler laughs. "I didn't want it to come to this, Inspectors!" he shouts, raising his spear high. "But this is the will of Ghlaunder! He has decided that I must be tested, and tested I have been! Oh, how I have been tested! But even now He bolsters my strength, while sapping your own! He grants me sanctuary against you!" Energy surges forth, swirling around him, catching in the swirling winds and briefly illuminating the cult leader as if caught in a maelstrom of unholy light.
- - - -
Miss!
Hits!
Hits!
+ bleed
made it
failed
made it
nope
hits
misses
Voyla tries to somersault back into the reeds to prevent being flanked. Once there she will ask for Desna protection.
A sharp, sudden pain in my back sent me staggering forward. I caught the altar with one hand. I used the other to shield my eyes as the mayor turned into a swirling, glowing maelstrom of evil. I was bleeding. I could feel it soaking into my tunic.
I could feel the elf in me calling out for Kriegler's blood but we needed to thin the herd. I couldn't try to kill him while one a bug man was free to stick a sickle in my back. I took a step back and swing. I wanted to introduce the cultist's neck to the razor's in my bladed scarf.
I had a feeling they'd get along.
Marsh tried to figure out what Krieger was doing.
”I have no f$$$in idea what the hell he’s castin, but if I kill him I kill the swarm right?! I'll cut you a path Sebastian. Get out of the bugs!”
With the girl and the dragonkin safe, Marsh is free to switch to two weapon combat with his poisoned blades.
"Shoulda put some pants on or somethin. God I love skinclad cults. Makes my job so much easier. Huh?! I guess that's why you dumbasses never really take over the world, just banjo towns. Maybe next time join a cult that encourages armor, but hey!"
"Blood for dah blood god guy right?!"
Bacarov tries to focus long enough to draw his Burning Hands wand but only succeeds in dry heaving as the nausea of the mosquito swarm's bites grips his midsection.
Free from the oppression of the biting mosquito swarm and with fresh eyes towards bloodletting, Duroj turns his attention on the nearest target - the fiendish spider before him. Rearing up on his hind legs, a meaty claw looks to bludgeon the arachnid where the head meets it's carapace...
Claw: for
Bite: for
Niklos keeps beside his companion, knowing that the bulk and fury of Duroj would carry the day far further than his blade.
Status
HP:26/30
Condition: 1 Bleed
Round 3
Dramin looks at the bugs. Or well he tries to throughout the blood and wings in his eyes. There was no way he was going to make a shot on these...
"Bacarov!" He sees the man and his queezy look, its almost unholy in a way. Just a second ago I could have sworn...
Now where did he keep that thing?
He activates the magic innate in the wand, praying that there is some left in it after Bacarov's purging tendencies have died down a little.
He swears a drop of blood hisses from him when the hands come out.
plus
Voyla exercises her agility, gracefully backflipping away from the spiders' gnashing jaws, and having attained relative safety, quickly casts her protective spell.
On the other side of the mound, Warshawski turns to her attacker, her bladed scarf flashing in the night. She pays the grievous wound she was given back in spades, as the scarf's hooked razors slash through the cultist's throat. The force of the blow causes the mosquito-masked man to spin to the ground, where he crumples in a twisted pile of limbs.
The other remaining cultist does not last much longer, as Marsh braves the swarm to draw his main gauche and turns both it and his longsword against his foe. Two blades plunge into the nude cultist's body and immediately end his life. Bacarov's attempts to turn Nettleby Brackenweld's old wand against the swarming bloodsuckers is stifled as he is overwhelmed by their buzzing, nearly collapsing in nausea, but Dramin quickly snatches up the instrument and unleashes its final remaining charge. The flames ignite many of the mosquitoes, but many more continue to flit about, jabbing with their sharp proboscises at the exposed flesh of the three clustered investigators.
The great bear Duroj swats at the closer of the two fiendish spiders, almost killing it in the first blow- but when the creature still stirs defiantly beneath it, Duroj puts its other paw and gnashing jaws to work, finally tearing the creature to pieces, which quickly return to the embers from which they formed. Niklos keeps pace with the bear as it slowly presses forward toward the Mayor of Ravenmoor.
- - - -
Kriegler sees the last of his followers that remained at his side fall to Marsh's blades, and his jaw sets firmly in anger. "You're as strong as that Elias Kyle was," Kriegler says as he gestures toward Marsh with one hand. "We'll have to do something about that, won't we?!" His spell goes off with a horrid sound like an ethereal shriek.
You feel a strange coldness come over you- especially in your eyes. And then, suddenly... everything goes black. You can still hear the sounds of battle around you, still feel the wind whipping at your cheeks and a few of the lingering mosquitoes crawling across your skin, still feel the heat of the fire from the wand... but you see nothing.
Kriegler laughs maniacally as he realizes that his spell has taken effect, and thrusts his spear into the air in victory.
The lone remaining fiendish spider ignores Marsh, instead resuming its attack on Voyla. Its mandibles clack hungrily as it attempts once more to take a bite out of her. However, between Voyla's agility and the protection of her spell, it is unable to come close.
The mosquito swarm begins to drift eastward as many of them continue to tumble, smoldering, from the air, but they continue to tear at Bacarov's flesh as they go.
A voice shouts over the din of battle and the buzzing of the swarm, in a language only a few members of the party understand:
- - - -
Bacarov grinds his teeth and presses forward, trying to extricate himself from the storm. He sees Marsh get hit then begin flailing blindly. "Vinnie, I'm coming!"
His eyes begin to glow with dark-blue energies, his right hand frosts over again but this time Bacarov seeks to expel the bone-chilling void upon someone else. To give them the fear that he's felt since Markham's house...since Ustalav.
He moves up to place a hand upon Marsh's shoulder to steady his friend. "I'm here...I'll be your eyes."
"Ahhhh! Sonofab&%+$! Nice one Krieger!"
Why don't you bring your happy ass over here so I can wring your neck!
"Well here I am I should be blind as a bat right!? Come at me bro! I'm right over here helpless as a babe---just the way you like it. By the way you should see what we did to your house, especially your painting. Who was that again? Your mom? Heh heh heh!"
Status
HP:25/30
Condition: 1 Bleed
Round 4
He opens his vision, if this was to be the end he would like to know in advance.
He sees the worst possible course but continues onward with his plans.
Dramin hears a spell being cast and sees the gestures...
Dammit Marsh.
"Dio, be careful with the bugs!"
He drops the stick in his hand, knowing full well it has become next to useless and draws the bow. Damn that wind and that protection...
His shot rings out to attack the spider assaulting the Desnan.
Death was calling in the fields this day. Those cultists who hadn't run were testing the truth of their twisted religion. Would they be rewarded for their devotion in the afterlife?
I didn't care. There were still too many variables on the field of battle. Mosquito swarms. Giant spiders. And the head of the serpent.
The elvish spirit that had bonded with my body boiled my blood. I could taste my hatred for this killer. How many had died at his hands? All so he could spread a twisted disease of a religion.
No more.
I stepped forward and attacked. If I couldn't end his life, at least I could distract him so the others could.
Voyla advances to pick up her starknife.
She smiles at Kriegler.
"You are done. You will never know Desna freedom among the stars. I pity you."
.
.
.
Having dealt with the spider, Duroj sets his eyes on bigger prey. Pushing through the foilage he aims a rising backhand at Kriegler...
Power Attack Claw: for
Niklos merely silently paces forward at his bear's shoulder.
- - - -
Will Saves! (DC 15 for half)
fail
fail
pass
fail
pass
fail
fail
pass
pass
- - - -
In spite of the blood oozing from dozens of wounds, Bacarov sends forth a strange power from beyond the veil, an eerie coldness striking right at the core of Kriegler's being. The leader of the cult struggles through the agony even as frost begins to crystallize on his skin, but does not fall.
As Marsh attempts bravely but vainly to draw Kriegler's ire and attention, Dramin fires a shot at the last remaining demonic spider, striking it dead-on, but failing to finish it off; meanwhile, Voyla slips past it, retrieving her starknife and approaching Kriegler, positioning herself for an attack.
Warshawski attempts to strike Kriegler with her bladed scarf, but the magic that protects him is too powerful, and rebuffs the spiritualist's attack. The great bear Duroj, however, surges forward through the brush and, with Niklos at his side and a swipe of one of its overlong arms, manages to rake its claws along Kriegler's side, drawing a gasp of pain and a gout of blood from the dark priest, who has begun to visibly weaken.
With a gust of wind, Dio the river drake takes to the air, and its throat swells up suddenly. Taking aim at the swarm of mosquitoes that continues to harass Bacarov, Dio launches a ball of gooey mucus from its mouth- which, upon reaching the swarm, bursts. The swarm is devastated by the ensuing waves of caustic acid, which rain down around Bacarov but manage to avoid singing him. The few mosquitoes not slain outright by the burst quickly disperse, flitting back into the field as Dio shrieks in triumph.
- - - -
Kriegler sags backwards away from Duroj, the cloud of wind holding him upright, but his breaths are ragged and blood stains his white robes. "I never wanted it to come to this..." he whispers hoarsely. "Why couldn't you have just left us alone...?" But then, he straightens- as if his god has willed the fight back into him. He hefts his spear once again, a frenzied look in his eyes.
"Enemies of Ghlaunder! I sentence you all to death for interfering with his chosen! His seed is within me, and it hungers! There is still a mouth that needs feeding this night! Now die, all of you!" He slams the butt of his spear down upon the stone tablet, and as he does, a bolt of what looks like solid moonlight streaks down to meet him- and then explodes outward from Kriegler in a burst, briefly alighting the field. Pure negative energy sweeps out, seeping into every living thing within thirty feet of Kriegler, including the entire party- with only Dio and the unconscious Marleyna being too far out of range.
Dramin, Marsh, and Niklos are buffeted by the energy, and take the brunt of it. Bacarov, Duroj, Voyla, and Warshawski, however, somehow manage to resist the wave of evil power, overcoming it through sheer force of will- though certainly worse for wear for it.
As the wave of energy subsides, Kriegler clutches painfully at his midsection. He looks up to find Duroj looming over him and most of the party still standing, and a weary look crosses his face. "So be it," he whispers hoarsely. "Kill me if you can. But you are not ready for what is coming..." And with that, he clutches at his stomach again, howling in pain...
- - - -
Voyla, now holding her magical Starknife, rolls back again (5' step) and throws it against Kriegler.
"Desna will punish you for your blasphemy!"
.
.
.
"Behind a smoke colored curtain,
the man disappeared, they found out
his soul was a fake.
Like a tree born crooked
Will never grow straight
He sunk like a hammer into the lake...
A long lost letter and
An old leaky boat,
Promises are never meant
To keep..."
"And I want to know
The same thing
Everyone wants to know
How’s it going to end?"
Bacarov feels it now, the ebbing of his life. His feet are soaking in the waters of Lake Encarthan once more. There's a hand on his shoulder again...and he knows that if he looks back it will be his friend's face, blood pouring from his mouth, still speaking his warnings...
"Don't let me come back, Vin..." Bacarov mutters to his blinded friend. "...not like Phedron...I had to put him down...all the blood, he wasn't him...he was something...else..." He looks over and his clouded vision is filled with the fog on the Lake. "...it won't be me...that comes back..."
The wave of energy bursts outward from Kreigler, and despite his ability to instinctively turn the force aside, Bacarov collapses.
- 0/22 HP | Top of Round
- 6 pts Bleed Damage
- Current HP: -6/22
Marsh feels Bacarov's hand fall off his shoulder after making his speech.
"A!%+$$%!"
Marsh grabs his CMW potion and gropes around until he finds Sebastian's mouth to dump it in.
"Get up pal, I can't see shit so you're gonna have to carry this one."
Status
HP: 12/30 (24/30 Burst Dependent)
Condition: 1 Bleed
Round 5
Dramin watches the young girl run by the spider before he sees a dark energy sweep over it.
What was that? Did his dark god grant him the power of the negative energy planes? The negative force awakens his sight and he uses it.
He knows full well that rushing out to help Bacarov would be fatal so he moves out of the way and decides on a new course. He didn't have much time to think and moves out to finally see Kriegler and fire a shot in.
"Marsh, don't go bleeding out now! We'll deal with him, get Bacarov out if you must!"
.
Bacarov struggles to his feet, a chill causing his bones to tremble. He half expects to see Phedron there to get him, but only sees Vinnie. The acrid taste of a Healing potion is still on his lips.
"Still keeping me alive, mate?" Bacarov grabs hold of Marsh's forearm, avoiding his cestus, placing it on his belt. "Hold fast. Let's go finish this bastard..."
And so the nearly dead Inspector leads his blind friend into the fray. As he goes, he seeks to give the group ad much advantage as possible.
There was something in the air. Worse, there was something inside Kriegler. I could see it, wriggling to get out. My own gut shifted. Now I understood the sacrifice.
If these a+&!*+@s had kept me, I would be giving "birth" to something horrible. Instead, Kriegler was doing it himself as a last resort. I had no doubt he'd die when that thing ripped its way out of him.
I saw Voyla across the altar from me. I didn't know her but right now, we were sisters in purpose.
"We can't let the ritual finish!" I shouted to Voyla. "We can't let him give birth to that thing!"
I swing my scarf. I needed to do as much damage as I could. As fast as I could.
fail
fail
pass
fail
pass
irrelevant, Critical Hit
The battle in the Chenowitz fields reaches its critical moment.
Voyla lashes at Kriegler with her Starknife, but the magic protecting Kriegler turns her blade aside, and for a moment Kriegler almost laughs in disbelief- it looks as if he really expected that blow to be his last.
Bacarov collapses, the negative energy wave combining with the lingering wounds from the mosquito swarm finally overwhelming him. Death seems imminent... and the cold comes to embrace him. But then Marsh, groping about blindly, finds him and forces a healing potion down his throat. The magic washes through Bacarov, stitching up wounds and catching the last of his life just as it ebbs from him, pulling it back into his ailing body. Marsh helps his old friend back to his feet just in time for Bacarov to, in a moment of clarity, cast a bless spell, invigorating his comrades.
Dramin raises his bow and takes aim. The arrow shoots over Voyla's head and cuts straight through the magic providing Kriegler sanctuary- and indeed is too heavy to be caught up in the current of winds. Kriegler rocks back as the arrow pierces his chest, staggering him. He wavers on his feet and clutches at the arrow, as if to yank it free, but it is clear that his wounds have caught up with him.
As Niklos and Duroj hesitate a moment, Warshawski takes advantage of the hole in Kriegler's defense. Her scarf whips out, a crimson blur, and slashes across Kriegler's throat as he turns. He lets out a long, wheezing gasp, and the spear tumbles from his grip, clattering off of the stone altar and rolling into the mud. Blood drenches the front of his white robes, and Andretti Kriegler finally falls, collapsing face-down atop the very altar he would have, left uninterrupted, sacrificed Marleyna Bartley upon.
- - - -
Silence.
The buzzing of the mosquitoes grows quiet as the last of the swarm disperses, fading away into the fields. In the distance, the surviving cultists seem to have vanished in much the same way. All that remains now are the investigators and their comrades, standing quietly atop the gore-soaked mound, watching as Kriegler's blood drips down the side of the stolen troll-stone and into the earth. The moon still hovers in the center of the swirling clouds, its beams focused on Kriegler's dying form like a spotlight.
And then the body begins to twitch.
A sound, a low drone, fills the ears of everyone present. This sound is familiar to everyone save Warshawski and Niklos- back at the Chenowitz farm, when the lone pig in the barn underwent its horrific change, there was a sound like this.
There is a sound like cloth tearing, and a horrible squelching sound. Kriegler jerks, as if coming back to life. His mouth hangs open wide, and something protrudes out from it- forcing his jaws apart as it emerges, a thing like a stirge's proboscis, but segmented and moving, writhing like a tendril. It feels about almost curiously, touching and scraping the altar. Kriegler jerks again, and something seems to expand within his body.
And then he bursts, a horrid red cloud filling the space previously occupied by a man. Gore soaks everyone near the altar, dyeing Warshawski, Voyla, Niklos, and Duroj red, blinding them for a moment to the horror that rises then atop the stone tablet.
It unfurls, stretching its many limbs, joints clicking loudly as they extend to their full length. Its armored carapace glistens slick with blood against the moonlight as multifaceted eyes stare almost curiously at its surroundings. It is in almost every way like a giant, heavily-armored stirge, though with some horrid eldritch traits- its proboscis moves fluidly, its legs end in long, grasping fingers, and somehow there seems to be something of Kriegler within the creature.
The droning sound grows ever louder.
The air surrounding the creature seems distorted and oddly colorless, as if drained of all life. As the creature begins to spread its two sets of wings, still drenched in Kriegler's blood, its aura extends outward some twenty feet, catching everyone save Bacarov in its grasp. Some of them are able to resist the effects- others are not so lucky.
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"Whatever the f~!& is happening can't be good. Here drink this buddy, it's my last one."
Marsh hands Sebastian his CLW potion.
The acrid taste of the healing draught still thick in his voice, he calls over his shoulder. "Kreigler..dead...but he coughed up a baby, mate. Bouncing, giant stirge..."
"...big ugly stirge. Let's see if I can slow it down..." He pulls a canvas pouch, darkened along the bottom with alchemical oils to keep it from exposure to the air. Bacarov steps into the throw, arching it upwards.
A creature that is glued to the floor (or unable to fly) can break free by making a DC 17 Strength check or by dealing 15 points of damage to the goo with a slashing weapon. A creature trying to scrape goo off itself, or another creature assisting, does not need to make an attack roll; hitting the goo is automatic, after which the creature that hit makes a damage roll to see how much of the goo was scraped off. Once free, the creature can move (including flying) at half speed. If the entangled creature attempts to cast a spell, it must make a concentration check with a DC of 15 + the spell's level or be unable to cast the spell. The goo becomes brittle and fragile after 2d4 rounds, cracking apart and losing its effectiveness. An application of universal solvent to a stuck creature dissolves the alchemical goo immediately
"I'm beginnin to develop a real dislike for stirges."
I could taste it in my mouth. It was a taste beyond vile. It wasn't just the warmed over vomit mixed with shit and blood flavor. No, it was worse. There was pure corruption. I spit it all out, hoping I could rinse out my mouth before I accidentally swallowed any. I did not want that disgusting, evil mess inside my body.
I needed to dwell on the present, though. Not the future, with bathing in hot springs and the brushing of teeth. Not the past, before I had come to the horror that was this village. But now.
This, whatever it was, needed to go down. Quickly. Before it could escape us and start things anew someplace new.
Status
HP: 23/30
Condition: 1 Bleed
Condition: Slow (X Rounds)
Buffs: Gravity Bow, Shield - 4 rounds
Round 6
Dramin felt the world around him collapse and bend. What was once a disgusting field soon turned into a twisted world, not disgusting but simply alien.
He looked at the creature and saw its movements, saw the way it groaned, the way the energy moved and closed his eyes for a moment. He knew that a lesser man would be unable to open their eyes again, but he was prepared to delve on down to what would be there.
Through his eyelids he saw images of the creature dancing, stories and words flying in front of him and he did what he could to piece it together.
But to his amazement there was nothing.
What... Then this must be a new discovery... I have never in my days...
He said a small prayer to Nethys for the gift of the new knowledge placed before him and smiled and he moved on back.
He recalled the beast from earlier and got another Cold Iron arrow ready.
He saw the arrow and knew that needed to get out of this warping aura.
It was nothing but bad news.
hits
Con
Uh... pretty sure Voyla's dead.
fail for Wis
Players (bots)
(miss)
(miss) and (miss)
(miss)
- - - -
As the droning intensifies, the party realizes that this is, without a doubt, the most important fight of their lives.
Marsh, robbed of his ability to see and eager to protect his friend, lends Bacarov another healing potion. The Inspector, for his part, retrieves and hurls a tanglefoot bag, hoping to stifle the newborn monster's movements. The bag strikes the creature, and spreads its sticky filling all over the altar... but somehow, the creature seems completely unperturbed. The gooey substance fails to stick to the creature, instead pooling beneath its feet as it continues to attempt to find its footing and adjust to this new plane of existence.
Warshawski, meanwhile, swipes at the monster with her scarf, hoping to repeat her success in felling Kriegler. However, the tiny blades fail to pierce the creature's strangely tough hide. Dramin, too, attempts a direct approach, but his arrow misses the beast by mere inches, perhaps due to the effect of the monster's aura.
Voyla, seeing the image of Ghlaunder before her, hurls her Starknife, the symbol of her patron goddess, at her enemy. There can be no more fitting assault against the beast, the chosen weapon of Desna against the spitting image of the Gossamer King... however, with the aura of torpor affecting her, the weapon is deflected by the creature's armored plates. Niklos, also finding his movements stifled, can only step forward as he urges Duroj, who is unburdened, to attack... but the nimble, insect-like monster avoids the giant bear's claws and bite alike.
The monster, the Blightspawn, seems to be shaken from its stupor by the wave of attacks that come at it from all directions. However, as each attack fails to harm it, it finds its bearings and focuses on a target. Before it stands Voyla, in this moment almost the spitting image of the Starsong herself. It seems its first target has been chosen for it.
The creature's flexible, tendril-like proboscis raises like a scorpion's tail, and then the Blightspawn rushes forward. With a horrific squelching sound, the stinger tears into Voyla's chest, drawing a shriek of pain from the young priestess. The creature's weight slams against Voyla, forcing her to the ground. The proboscis tears deeper, and the entire group can hear the sound of ribs breaking as it nears her heart. Voyla spasms in pain as the Blightspawn begins to drink.
Voyla falls down to the ground, still clutching her starknife.
[ooc]So she is at -9 HP? Then she is 1 hp before being done for good...[/dice]
♤
♤
♤
"Voyla's down, mate. I have to get in close...I'll walk us in, just hold onto my belt..." He makes sure Marsh has a grip on his belt as he steps forward. "Magic weapons only!" He calls to the group.
He raised his hands and calls out to the monster, switching into the horrid tongue. "Elnézést kérek, gyermeke Ghlaunder, de a bejáratnál, hogy ez a világ hagyott Önnek hiányos. Megengedte alsóbbrendű fogadó irányítani utad. Milyen kiábrándító, hogy eddig eljutott, ... csak nem!"
As he shoutsb in the vile tongue, his hands glow with unnatural light, and he plunges forward to rest a hand upon the beast!
- AC 21 | Cloak of Darkness
- Bless +1 Att/Saves vs Fear
- speech/glowing hands
- aura
- cast inflict moderate
- Will Svan DC 15 for half
"Now, Vinnie, right in front of me, strike!"
Status
HP: 22/30
Condition: 1 Bleed - X Rounds
Condition: Staggered - X Rounds
Buffs: Gravity Bow, Shield - 3 rounds
Round Seven
Dramin sees his friends falling. He sees the Desnan collapse to the blood draining of the creature; and there was nothing he could do. You're letting them fall one by one. You truly are useless my sweet.
The young girl was going to die. He consigned himself to a short life of guilt at that moment. This field was going to be his end and it seemed every moment, every precognition led to this point.
And it was hopeless. He looked at her torn body and the virulent poison running into her.
He mentally rifled through his head and looked for something. There is always an answer. Every puzzle has a solution, even the answers to life itself. He drew his bow and did the only thing he knew to do.
There will be time to examine this thing piece by piece when its dead.