SFS Signal of Screams—Campaign Mode (Inactive)

Game Master KingTreyIII

The apparitions scream a final cacophony of shrieks as they all simultaneously vanish into thin air at Jacob’s psychic resonance save your spell, Volcklon.

A search of the area finds old and empty containers, but in one side chamber is a pile of bones.

On the skeleton is a corona laser pistol with three batteries, aura goggles, and an advanced medkit inside of which is three doses of sprayflesh and three mk 2 serums of healing. Inventory Updated

Wherever the source of the signal that Romi was tracking is, it’s close. One more set of navigation checks from everyone!

Medicine: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (4) + 13 = 17
Boron glances at the bones, but sees nothing of interest.
"I swear I saw my mother in law amongst those angry spirits..."

Boron sees that Volcklon is wounded, so he grabs the Advanced Medkit and uses it to to treat his deadly wounds--
Medicine: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (20) + 13 = 33
--very nicely patching him up.
"And take two pills in the morning..."
@Volcklon: +11 HP restored
If others need HP, Boron can attempt more healing (takes 1 minute).

Then Boron sits down on the floor, and rests for a little bit, while the other check the gear and stuff.
10 minute SP rest (-1 RP)

When all are ready to go, Boron types away on his comm', using his rig to help triangulate--
Computers w. rig: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (20) + 18 = 38
(and another nat' 20 when not really needed! Statistically bad for the upcoming final fight?)
--and gets a very clear pinpointing!

Xagyg breathes a sigh of relief when the spirits go quiescent again.

"That... was unpleasant."

He then joins Boron in taking a 10 minute rest, to regain his wind.

Perception - Navigation: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (17) + 18 = 35.

Volcklon finds a spot to rest, though he seems a bit more uneasy. "Hopefully those spirits don't return anytime soon."

10 minutes spending the RP for SP.

MK II Serum of healing: 3d8 ⇒ (2, 2, 1) = 5
MK II Serum of healing: 3d8 ⇒ (5, 2, 1) = 8

As Boron spends a few moments healing him up Volcklon grabs ahold of the pair of serums recently found in the corner of the room and slowly sips on them. As Boron finishes he moves his joints. they hurt a bit but not nearly as bad as before. those serum's seems to have dulled and numbed the pain.

Physical Science: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

Jacob puts the new goggles over his eyes.

In case we run into something like that gloomwing again.

He mutters. And so you don't have to look at what's happening to my eyes. He thinks to himself.

Alright, I got this thundershock pistol, but I can use the Corona if everyone's own weapons are better.

He slides the weapons into his belt and sighs.

I miss "Do no harm."

Perception: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (3) + 15 = 18

Jacob will join the others to rest and regain SP.

Nevermind! Guess my stomach bug went away. Don’t forget to mark it on the Inventory Sheet that you took stuff, Jacob.

Boron is able to triangulate the signal as being only a few hundred feet from the holding facility, but that few hundred feet seems to take nearly an hour to navigate. Closer and closer you all get to the source, and with each step it gets colder and colder and darker and darker. Not even the LEDs of your comm units seem to illuminate the darkness—the only thing that does pierce the shadows is Volcklon’s dancing lights and the darkvision of Xagyg, Boron, and Volcklon, but that doesn’t help Jacob or with reading a comm unit I imagine that they’re like modern smart phones in that they’re just a bunch of LEDs in a screen that combine into images of different things, and considering darkvision can’t distinguish colors… Wait, you’d still see contrast of colors with darkvision, just not the colors themselves, so you could still read a comm unit with darkvision. Nevermind!

Closer and closer. Romi’s comm unit reads 20° F…5° F…-10° F. The air fogs with each breath until the dark air chills to the bone—thankfully the environmental functions of all of your armor prevent the temperature from harming you all.

Just when you think that you’ve gone down another wrong corridor or screwed up the triangulation, you find yourselves in front of a steel bulkhead in the rock. A burned-out control panel in the bulkhead is adjacent to an open doorway, misshapen as if something pulled the door from its frame and into the dark room beyond. Volcklon waves his hand to send the dancing lights inside and you all enter. Volcklon, I need you to place the exact locations of your dancing lights in the room.

This room is a zone of devastation. White polycarbon plating has been twisted from the stone walls underneath, metal support pillars are buckled, and other structural elements are bent completely out of shape.

Everything bends toward a point in the far end of the room. There, amid a blackened, spherical hollow, is an enormous pile of crushed and warped structural material, furniture, machinery, and a security door alongside blackened humanoid bones. Several skulls of various species stare outward, their mouths open as if silently screaming. Frost covers this pile and the concavity around it. Debris made of crumbled material is thick around the heap. Another warped, open doorway leads north to a short hallway that ends in what appears to be an elevator door.

Map Updated

Creeping whispers enter your minds and your ears, reminiscent of the apparitions in the holding facilities before.

Atop the pile, perhaps five feet from the ceiling and clutched in an upraised skeletal hand, is a tiny device like a personal comm unit with a single blinking light.

"Witness͘ ͘X̨ag͏yg̕'s su͡ff͝e̡r̵i̵n͘ģ;͟ ͜u͘n̶a̛ble to̧ sa̡vę ͞in̷no͘ce̷ņt ̀l͘ives."͡

͟"̴S̴ur̡e͠ly Bor̸on will̸ ̷j̸oi̢n ̶u҉s̡; h͝e͘ ̶i̸s҉ ̨quiveri̴n͡g̵ ̀with an̷t̶icip͡atio͡n҉ already.̡"

What do you all do?

Boron is about to toss Toothpick at the comm' unit... but waits to see what the smart ones will say and do.

Mysticism: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (2) + 18 = 20.

Xagyg raises a cautioning hand, when he sees Boron ready to simply destroy it.

"Perhaps disabling it would be safer, yes? We don't know what sort of feedback simply destroying it would cause..."

Mysticism: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (13) + 21 = 34

Like a code he's finally cracked, Jacob stares at the unit.

The planner thinning... it's practically a piece of paper... and it's centered around that pile.

As the thing calls to him, Jacob let's out a series of colorful soldier swears.

"The wedding planner? Not eating enough? What's that starving marriage got to do with this?"
Boron has no idea what Jacob is talking about: "What pile... of dung?"
He just wants to bash the thing.

Okay, gonna be honest, I tried to do the next post but it had a lot of die rolls and I kinda screwed myself over because of this, that, or the other, so I'm using this post to scratch off all of the die rolls that I had already know and rewrite the post with entirely new die rolls. This isn't me fishing for die rolls that benefit the opposition while screwing the party, I just need to do this next post again from scratch, die rolls and all.

Oh…That actually makes my life a lot less complicated. First time around none of you guys actually noticed (well, you did, but then the weird distance-with-perception thing came into play and I didn’t know where to go, but with that 40 there isn’t a lot of gray area).

Okay, you know what, the distance penalties thing is causing me a lot of unhealthy anxiety and grief, so I’m just going to leave it to a die roll to determine whether that “house” rule applies in this post or not.

Distance Penalties apply on a 1: 1d2 ⇒ 2

Dang it! Whatever. Sorry for the weirdness, guys, it’s me being a hot mess again. On with the good stuff:

Jacob and Xagyg both notice a shadow peeking out from behind the pile of wreckage that darts behind cover Black circle with white question mark. Before they have a chance to respond, the voice of a giggling child echoes throughout the chamber.

”Hehehe! Oops! Looks like you found me!”

Round 1 Surprise Round
==================
Boron
Xagyg
Volcklon
???
Jacob
==================

Volcklon hears the childish voice and sends four orbs of light bouncing into the room. "Who is there? Indigo? Is that you?"

Orbs are placed on the map.

Technically you couldn’t move them until it was actually your turn, but I did ask you for their placement before Initiative was rolled, so I’ll let it slide. :)

Xagyg deftly moves around, and takes a shot.

Trick Shot (auto if CR 12 or less).

Called, Holy, Ghost-Killer S-Band Scorchgun: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24, for 1d10 + 4 + 4d8 ⇒ (1) + 4 + (4, 4, 8, 6) = 27 Fire damage.

It is also flat-footed against this attack, and until the start of my next turn.

Surprise Round, Xagyg.

In that case, I do nothing (since I can't see it from where I am). Please move on to the monster's turn.

Sorry, that was just some roleplay for the initial Dancing Lights.

Volcklon: The dancing lights need to stay within 10’ of each other. I moved them appropriately.

A pair of small black lights peek out from behind the wreckage.

”Golly-gee!”

”҉G͟olly͏-ge̕e!̴”̨

The whispers throughout the room repeat the child’s words in hushed voices, punctuating their eerie conversation.

”It’s been so long since I’ve had visitors to my playpen!”

̨“My name’s͡ ̨Te͟o͜dho͝ŕ,͘ a͜n͝d I’v̷e͜ b̶e̵en͢ ͞wat͝ch̴in͏g̵ you̸,̶ mi͞s̶t̷e̸rs̨, an̷d͟ I got̀ta ͏s̸ay—”

Volcklon’s lights briefly illuminate the source of the black lights and show a disturbing-yet-familiar sight: a human child with glowing black eyes, their skin having been completely ripped off, revealing the dull and gray muscles underneath. The child peeks out from behind the wreckage with an innocent grin on his face—the sight is striking against the muscles holding the smile together.

The child’s—Teodhor’s—smile twists into a sinister smirk as—in a literal blink of an eye—his black eyes turn to a bloody red.

”—You all look fun to play with!”

̴”̛—͝Yo̡u͡ all ́lo͠o͏k ͜f͝un҉ ̷to ҉p̴l͠ay̢ ͘with!”̷

Character Profiles Updated

Fun-Time with Teodhor
Round 1/2
==================
Boron
Xagyg
Volcklon
Teodhor
Jacob (Surprise Round)
==================

Boron looks around, and casts a dark eye at his companions, before staring at the red-eyed child: "Pre-teen skin problems kiddo?"
Boron tells Velvet to lock the tracking on to the kid, before activating his Energy Shield.
11 temporary HP - Combat Tracking on

Mysticism: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (4) + 18 = 22.

"YOU!", Xagyg hisses in disgust.

He then moves forward to take a pot-shot...

Trick Shot (auto if CR 12 or less).

Called, Holy, Ghost-Killer S-Band Scorchgun: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26, for 1d10 + 4 + 4d8 ⇒ (4) + 4 + (8, 4, 8, 4) = 32 Fire damage.

It is also flat-footed against this attack, and until the start of my next turn.

Mysticism: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (10) + 21 = 31

Jacob racks his mind through his new found knowledge. He was starting to adjust... and after all, science was magic all it's own right? He just had to learn how to translate the same principals... He coats himself in power Reflecting Armor

It's a Velstrac! Holy damage and silver will keep the thing down! Don't let up on it!

Boron keeps on casting nervous glances at Xagyg and Jacob, obviously feeling crowded by them, and rather shaken, as he mutters: "Quit ganging up on me..."

As Xagyg moves forward, hissing YOU in disgust, Boron flinches and back-hands Xagyg with Toothpick.
Pick vs. EAC: 1d20 + 13 - 2 ⇒ (11) + 13 - 2 = 22
Holy, Magic, Sonic: 1d8 + 14 ⇒ (3) + 14 = 17
As the mining pick hits the shirren, Boron calls out to him: "“Ha! You've been playing us since the beginning! You know him, and now you run to your ally... your secret is out!”
17 damage

Boron stops shaking and glances back at Jacob: "Toothpick is blessed by Angradd the Forge-Fire! I bet you hate that too, huh? You behind me to slit my throat? I'll give you silver, you weasel. Your silver coins..."

11 temporary HP - Combat Tracking on the Velstrac

Waiting on Volcklon.

Volcklon moves through the dark room, spying the shadow creature.

Mysticism: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8

"A velstrac huh? You saying this is what is causing this mess?" Volcklon twists his hand as small motes of energy stream out covering the shadow. "You whisper those same thoughts in my dreams?"

Cast Wisp Ally- Everyone has Harrying fire against it this round.

Xagyg’s shot hits Teodhor right in the forehead, but as it does some of it seems to be absorbed into the Velstrac’s body—not all of Xagyg’s damage went through.

The Velstrac grins wildly, staring Xagyg straight in the eyes.

”Hehehe, that gave me a funny feeling down there, mister. Would you do that again? But first, now that I’ve seen yours—“

”He҉h̀ehe,̨ th̢at ga̵ve ̨me̵ a̛ fu͜n͢ny̴ fe̢eli̴ng ͡dow̴n͜ ̕t͟h̷er̨e͞, ̴mi͘s͜t̀e͠r. ̨Wo̕ul̡d ͢y̶ǫu̵ d̀o ͏t̕h̛at̨ again?̕ B̵u̴t́ fir͢şt,͜ n҉ow ̛th͝at ͢I’ve ͞s͠e̶e͢n̵ yo͝urs—̶“

Teodhor widens his stance as he positions his left and right hands at his right and left temples, forming an X with his arms and covering most of his face.

”—let me show you mine!”

“—le̸ţ ̡m͞e̷ sho͢w ͡y̴ou ͠mi̸n͘e!”

The Velstrac swiftly brings his arms down and outstretched—as if clawing at his face in the shape of an X—and contorts his visage to let out a horrid wail, yet no sound leaves his throat.

*

“̶͗ͪ͆̈́ͣ͢͢҉͖͇̭̫͕̤̘͙̱͖̖̱̬̹͠Ơ̏̆̍͘͢͏̶̜̗̙͉̭̫ḩ̺̲̘̹̹̭͛̽̉̽ͪ̓͐̿̌ͬ͂͞ͅ ́͗ͬͭͦ͒̏͛̓̋̊̓͂̄̏̈́̒ͦ҉̫̱̫̪̗͕̭̯̣̺̘g̘͓̺̺͍͓̥̮̪̭̜̱̩͖̩͉ͪ̌ͯ͌͂ͧ̐͊͟͡ỏ̞̣̲̳̟̞͓̻͔͈͈̼̤̳̎̔ ̑̈͗̾ͥ͋̏͢͞͝d̵̨̖̖̯̯̯̈̓ͪͧ͂ͤ̏̋ͤ̂̓ͭ́́̚ṣ̹̘̫̟͕̫̮̫̤̐ͩ͗́̉ͤ̀͟!̶̻͇̠̭͓̻̩̰̠͚̃̿̏̔́ͬͤ̂ͫͬ̈͐ ͩ̄ͤͯͣ̒ͯ́͟͞ ̡̡̟̞̘̰͙̻̬̱̞̱͕̰̆̌̔͛ͧ́̈́͋̈̽́Y̢̧̻̯̭̹̘̝̮̺̥̖̮̘̣̦̩̓̓̐̏̊̑ͨ͜͝e̵͓̼̘͎͖̗̱͍̤͓͇̩͉̳͐ͮ̿̎̓ͧ ͂ͣ́͌͊͋̄́ͅs̨̧͇̣͈̹̯̥͇̥̞̖̤͍̰̬͉͍͇̬̔ͯ͌̎͗̏͝!̞͖͔̠͓̰̲̬̱̹̪̖̙̫͉̈́ͫ̆͂ͯ̎̄̀͞ ̛̬̜͈̼̭͓͇̺̩̙̤͕̠̰̩͓̹́͑̂͟P̶̴̛͙̱̫͍͓͔͈̤̩̝͓̯͎̭͔͎͕͕͆ͥ͐̓ͭ̓̇͑̍̌̏͠ͅl̨̠̪̺̪̪͚͍͍̺͇̬͈̫̼̥ͧ ͦ͆́͌ͩ̿͂̋̒̋̌̐̓ͮͅe̸͍̫̺̦̭̬̗͉̝͓͙̻̓̊̒̈̃͑͌ͤ͒ā̸̡̧̼͎̱͕̥͍ͬ̈́ͣ̂̔ͥͧͫ́͞ͅs̵̨̰̟͖̤ͩͩͦ͐̾ͮͯ̾ ͛ͬͥ̚̕͠e̴͔̬̯̘ͪͯ̌ͨ͐͑ͯͬ̐̕ͅ!̢̡̢̳͚͔̳̮͍͚̫͎̖͗̋͆̂͒̍ͮͬ̐̒ͪ͐̒͐̐͊ͪ̕͟ͅ”̶̯̞̖͍͉͎͔̗̯̼̥̜͙̣ͮ̑ ͛ͣ͆̉̏ͦ̈͗̄ͧͤ̌̓ͬͧ̍ͧ́
“̶̵̫͉̺̩͉̰͙̩̀̄̽̈̿͛͢F̴̢̖̳̩̠͖̹̬͛ͣ͆̉̍ͫ̍͋́̓́̿͗̚̕͝͞*̸̵̛̯͈̯̟̳̭̫̅̏́̆ͦ̀̋͊̕͢c̷͕̭͖̬̟̙͎ ̬̩͈͙̞̟̖͉̫͖̝̓͊̆ͭ̉̔̽̆̔̾͌͠k̝͇̜̘͙͚͈̘̫̱̗̪͍̱̙̭͓̜̫͛͑ͩ̀̾̍͌͗̈̂͌ͬ̉̀̓͘͝!͕̼̝̱̱̳̣̩̝̬̹͈̻̻ ̳̳̱̇̐̒ͣ́͘͘͟ͅ ̸̭̟̺̝̣͓̦̠̝̼̩̝̟͕̘͈̯̾ͣ̓ͤ̅ͩ̈̌̂́̾̏͘͢͜F̧͚̥̜͔̗̱̱̰̹̟͙̳̲ͫͬͩ͗͗ͪ̑̓ͯ̐́͜͡͡ͅ*̻̞̹̻͎̦̫̮̹̣̳ ̜͎ͩͪ̍ͣ̽͌͒͌̄̐͜c̨̤̳̯̰̒̿̀͌̿̽̄ͫ̐͘k̢̻̮̎̉ͥ́ͫ͛̓̋̒̆̕͟͡ͅ!͈͇̭̱̪̟͚͉̖̖̳̭̻̼́ͦ͊̔̉̌̌͗̐͌̎ͬ͆ ͋͒̈́̀́̕ ̛͕̹͖̤̐̉ͭ͋͒̀ͥͧͬ̌̾ͫ̉̓̀F̢̏̀̅̏̔ͮ̑͌̅ͩ̐͋̅͂́҉͖̘̗̲̼*̸͓͔͉̫̺͎͔̥͚̺̙̻̤̲̤̞͛͊͂̏̂̑ͤ͊̃̒ͅç̡̢ ͚͖̤͔͒ͮͥ̐͌̂̾̍̊k̴͇̥̦͔̺̤̱͎̼̳̞̹̥̩̻̽ͧ͋̎ͮͦͨͮͭ̓̈́̚͝͞!̷͎̹̭͙̪͎̼̠̻͔͍̭̗ͧͩ͗̃́͟͜͞ ̵̎͌ͣͣͤ͐̀͏̦̥̟̦̮̬̗͙̠͞ͅF̨̗͇̬̖̆ͪ͗ͩ̓ͭͯ͗ͧ͐̃ͭ͑͑̀̚*̸̡̢̢̄̅ͬ̅ͯ͒ͧ̃ͬ̑̈́̎͏̝̙̘͉̥̝̙c͕͓̜̜͉͎ ̼͔̘̞̲͇͙͔͛ͯ̏̽̕͡ḵ̶̛̖̬͍̗͔͖̲͓̰̙͇͉̫̞̠̮ͣ̽ͣ̾ͨ̈́͂͊ͭ̽̉̀̿ͪ̐̌͢ͅͅ!̑ͧ̋ͫ͋̍̉͊͊̏͏̫̬̣̟̪͎͍̜̫̟ ̦̖͉ ̬̭̖̜̙̪͇̹͔̟̦̥͇͉̙̭̒̄̑ͦ̑́̚͝͝F͚̮̝͔̈͌̏ͭ̿́̍̓̃ͨͬ̑̃ͩ̒̒ͫ́͡͝*̢̛̝̻̣̦̣̥̳̺̘̏̽̿͒̾ͯ͢ͅͅC̸̝̝ ̦̬͛ͪͫ͊ͤ̎̋̾͗ͬ̄ͩ̈̀́ͦ́̕K̽̊ͮ͋̇̈́̒͆ͦͫ̌̂̑̍͡҉̸̨̬͉̥̝̠͔͔̗̼͇͈̪̠͉̗̤͘ͅ!̡͚̭̙̹̱͈̘͆̏ͥ͛̔̅ͣͧ ̏̽̆̉́̚!̴̴̏͊ͯ̌ͫͫ̏ͣ͑̋̈̂͝͏͇̙̖͕̞̳̗͍̥̯̠͖ͅ!̨̠͙͍͙͇̭̲̜̤͕̘̭̞̖̩͓ͨ̎̿̋ͯ̍ͫ͊̄͢ͅͅ”̎͆ͤ̓̎̓̀͏ ̪̬͓̜̭̥̭͈̞̝̭̰͇̘̤̭̣͟
“̼̗͔̥̭̭̟ͫͦ̀͗͗̊ͪ̃͑͒̊ͭ́ͪ̽́̀̕͟H̜͙̹͔͚͓̜̠͕̫̩͇͔͉̳̱̜̟̺͑̓̒ͩ͒͐̐ͥ̄͛̌ͯ͊ͤ͛̾́̕͜a̶͈̯̪̺̪̹͙ ͎͕̗̒͑̍́̒̑̾̂̆̔̐̆ͯͫ̃ͮͫ́̕͡r̠̲̟̝̟̬̘̲̬̠̯̘͚̼̥̼̣ͥ̍̋̄̎̿͗ͫ͜͞d̵̢̧̬̠͙̗͎͚̫̻̫̼͎̣̩͉͉̬͕̳̈̌ ̆ͪͬ͂̀͛ͥ̌̓̅́̎͢ë̶̡̦̭̩̦̱̖̖̊͌ͤ̉̑̀͠ŗ̲̞̝͕̥͇͕̠̱͂̊̌̽͊̂͛ͭ́ͩͥͨ̊͋̀̚͞ͅ!̴̈͌ͦ̑ͣ͐̌́̋̐ͩ̾ͮ͟҉ ̝͉̩̩̱͍͇ ̶̛͙͖͓̩͉̝̥̞̜̘̣͎̲̻͔͇̟̱ͩ̔̏ͫ̾ͯͮͨ̂ͤ͜͡ͅH̨̓̆̍̈́̑̈͏̸̶̬̱̭̟͡A̷̡̡͙͉̥̼̺͓̥̝ͯͦ̃͌̄̏̀Ŗ̶͔͇̻̬ ̤͎̦̩̮̫̱͉̩̮ͯ̀̏̊̌̈̿̽ͩ̎̐͐ͬ̕̕D̷̶̢͚͖̣̼̥̬̤ͭ̽ͦ͗ͮ͑ͨ͌̋̔̈́ͩͮ̊͋Ê̸̸͗̐̍̔ͥͥ͆̾̾ͯͣ͂͡͏̩̠̳̲͕̙ ̤̜̗̤͢R̨̮̟̼͙̭̯̖̂͒ͨ̅͗̈́ͫ̍̉̇ͬ̊ͧ̈́̾ͩͪ̽!̡̡̹̳̘̳̮̩̪͓͔̜̥̟̯͙̼͉̭̟̹̾̋̓̽̑̊̈͋ͫͨ̐ͨ͊̓̿̾̆”̢ ͎̼̩̺͚̦̦̬̪̖̯̤͖͓ͨ̆ͩ͗͑̾̾̓̃̒͒̋̎̀̀̚͜ͅ
“̗͉͖̹̭̮̲̘̟̠̽ͧ̈́̚͜͞F̴̴̌͑ͬ̏ͩ͐ͥ͒͞҉̠̟̟̺̻̞̹̝̻͙̱̪̠̰̺̮͕̕ĩ̵̳̲͉̤̮ͩ̾ͥ̾͐ͨ͢͝͡ľ̛̥̗͉͙̇̋̆͑ ͭ͞ͅl̸̡͚̻͓̻̻̣͇̖̰̦̓͆̑̈̿̋͌ͣͮ̾͗ͮ̑͋͗̎͆̄͋͜ ̨̧̧̤͔̳͍̬̳͔͈̐͒̀ͪ̏̾͂̄̂͟͡m̄͗ͦ͌ͮͧ̂ͫͥͫ͋͋̔̃ͨ̽͏̧̛̯͈̪͕̪̟͓̻͇̘͕̥̩͜͡e̵̶̦̦̯͖̲̟̱̩̙̺̳̬̹̭͍ ̘̮̮̥ͪͨͥͣ̃̈́̽̿͌̐̌̏̀̚͞!̨̽͛̓ͤ̃̿̽ͣ҉̵̵͎̬͕̬̳̥͍̙̼͡ ̢̆ͣ͒͗͋ͮ͂̋̊͌̕͏̨̯̰͈̝̬̫̙̦̥̗̬̖͖Sͤ̀̂̽ͨ͋́̑̂̿͐̏̌ͯ̚̕͏̰̬̫͚̣͖̩̣̱̣̼̳̖͇̩͕̤͘ͅͅt͛̍̄ͫ͂̐̿̀̌ ̃̓̀͛̂̍͊ͥ͊̚͢͡͝͏͈͈͖̱͈̭̺̜̖̟̟̯u̷̮̖̪̰ͩͩͣ̉̈́̌͆̊͑̏͗̈̚͜͟͝͝f̡̪̘̞̺̝ͭ̓̎̈̆̿͐̕͜f̵̻̤͙̟̟͎̞ ͖̳̝̖̱̻̰̥̣̭̱͂ͬ̉̅̂̈ͬͣ͠͝ ̶̸̩̹̜̲̖͍͈͔͓̫̙̦̹̈́ͮ̇̿̀̋̽ͧ̿̎ͧͣ̓̇ͫͭe̵̩̹̣̫̣̟̘͉͇͔̩̼̞͖̔̅̏̏̄̈̅ͬ̌̔͂͆̓ͯ̋̃̄̕͢͡͝v̢̹̱̪̑ ̓͂̌͌͑̑͗̊̆̅̃̒͟êͩ̂̆̆ͥͥ̀͟͞͏̳̳͕͕̦̤̦͓̕ṟ̴̡̢̨̠͔̲̟͉͇̞͎͉͉̩̲̱̘͑ͧ̂͒̂ͥ̌ͣ̄̽͂̈̎̅̓̽̎̎͠y̒̍ͧ ͬ̿̑ͤ̆̆̂̈̚͢͏̹̗̭̺̟̫͎̮ ̧̟͍̲̘̮͇̥̞̻̗̳͍̯̜́̽ͩ̒ͤ͊͋ͫ́͐͛̑ͥ̐̉ͪ̆̒̀͢͝h̲̯͓͖̩̖͎̖̣̭̻ͨͦ̋ͭ̒ͤ̿͆̍̆̕͟͜o̶̸̵̵̘͍̮̝̥̣̱͓̹ ͗̓ͮ͐̓̀̔ͥl̂̂͑͆̐̐͂ͥ̒ͪ̅̓ͭ҉̶̟̲̗͙̩͖̳̞̣͚͈̮eͣ̾ͫ̓ͨͭ̈́̓ͧ̓͏̬͓̯̝̜̹̪̳̝̩͢͞!̴̨̡̰̮̻̼̹̲̠̱̯͙ ͙̻͍ͯ̑ͦ̋̒ͫ̂ͣ̽͋̐ͣ̓ͥ͒ͩ͡”̡͚̣̟͈̯̳̥͍͖̲͖̻̞͔͑ͯ͗͒ͭ͋͐͗̑ͮ͊ͨ̆̀̏̒̂̚
̸̓͌̔̔ͫͧ̋ͯ̐̍ͭ̚̚҉̨̞̩̦͉̲̜͠“̶̨̲͓̻̻̪̫̠̾͛ͮ́̇̅͒̂ͧ̚͢͠T̛ͭ̌ͮ̈́̈́͒̿ͣ҉͉͖̦̙̘͕̲̖̹̭̞͓̤̥̗ͅḁ ̞̪̙̳͕̟̳̖͙̣̳̐̑̉͛̈́ͮ̕̕͜͠k̷̛̗̺͙̘͙̼̙͂͐̉̌e̴̮̫̪͇̤̥̹̬͔ͩ̾ͧ̐ͬ̂̐̋̐ͅ ̴̷̡̼̰̭͉̠͇̮̙͚̪̤͙͖̯ͤ͛ͪͯ̉̈́̆̊̋͛̈ͨ͗ͪ́͘m̸̴̘̘͖͖̭͕̪̝͍̗͙̖̲̪͎͆̋̉̏̆ͫ̑ͩͭ̓̓͗̾ͧ̓̀̚͢e̛͈̗̺ ̋͛ͭͫͭ̉͐ͧ͋͂̆̌́̕͝͞ ̢̠̜̳̣͈̺̺̥͇̹̹̹̠͍̩̜͖̉ͬ̎̂͑̓̚͟͡͞ͅà̸̰̤͍͙̮̬̼̭̼̻̪̖̮̯̈ͭ̐̌ͬ̋͜ͅl̴̸̷̡̘̬͙͚͈̤͇̾̈́̔̂ͭͪ̋̄̓ ̾ͦ̋ͭ̌̀͝ļ̷̢̡̗͓̞̲̩̗͕̝̺͓̪͓̣̘͕͂ͤͤͣ̉̽̀ͯͯͪ̋͊ͥ ͧ͊̈́̊̑͐̎͋̌̃̽̇͒ͧ̄̄̓̀͘͟͏̫̮̱̗̯͎͝a̢̱̣͚̞̝̰͎͖̹̹̦̺̬̪ͤͨ͌ͮ̀͝ͅt̻̱̜̗͚͚̬̹̗̟̪̃͌̃̃̂̾̾̓͛̑́ ͌ͬ̏̀̚ ̴̶͉̯̭͎̰̠̞͔͙͍̗̦̦̭̤̂̌ͫ̐̄̓͌̾̊̓̄ͦ͐͌͌̃́͢͠ͅȍ̸̷̧̝̙̫̗̪͈ͧ͆̾̍ͯ̄ͪ̓ͬ̀͞n̴̜̳͔̙̎̒ͥ̓̿ͨ͒ͫͨ̂ͬ ̅̋̚͢͟͠͡c̶̢̬͕͚̯͔͍̳ͭ̐̉̓̂ͥ̒͟͡ȩ̛̫̰̟̼̪̲̟̠̟͛̄̎ͦ̅͑͒͛͞!͎̯̲͎̝̗̳̥̞̮̣̮̼ͭ̓̍̿ͧ́́̄́̀̚”̰̯̮ ͙͔̼̹̹͎̙͖̹̙̍͒̿ͦ͋ͨͬ̚̚͘͘͟ͅ
̏̽̈ͬ̂̓͌ͤ̆҉̵̸̨͙̦̹̮̜̤͠“ͯ̓̑̊̂̈́͊̇̍͂͠҉̸̭̙̖̦͍̥̼̥̝͎̯̞̭́͡ͅS͔̦̙̳̤̗̗̮͖ͮͪͭ̔́ͪ̃ͨ̌̏͂͛̉ͭ ̔͘͝͡͠͠ļ̾ͤ͛͌ͮ̏̏̃ͤ̉́͟͏̠̙̳͕͉͍̲̳̖ȋ̴̤̤̯̟̘͎͍͙̞̖̥̩͉̹̖̙͍͙ͣ̾̉ͣ̊̒͐ͩ̃͘͡ţ̵̤̫̲̝̫͕̬̺̦̩̰̫͍ ̟͎͋ͨ͒ͣ̏ͮ̿ͧͥ͛ͦ̊ͥ́ͤͯ̋́ͅ ̶̧̯̼̖͍̳̼̘͍̹̻̰͓́͗̂̇̃͊ͯͯ́̓̐ͯ͑ͤͯͯ̀͋͟͡m̡̔ͭ̋ͭ̓̓͑ͬ͛͆ͪ͜͏̯̬͕̘͎̣̗̝ŷ̴̰̩̻̲̻͕͖͓̤͎̜̹̭͔̲̤ ̈́͗̚͡ ̴̹͚̖̙̻͐̋̓ͤ̔ͯͦ͐ͩ͊͛̏̈́͒̕t̡̢̜̺̱͙̻̰͖ͬ̀͒̾͒ͮ̔ͪ̿̉͒͋̏ͥ͠h̨̧͔̣̞̩͈̩̮̰̹̫̻̲͖̥̦͙̱̓̎͑͒͋͋̆ͫ ͪ̽͊̍̊̏̌̈́͗͜ṛ̷̝͙̩͉̝̺͍̬̮̙̺̠͙̲̭͚̀̇ͪ̋́͌͌ͫ̉ͮ̽̋͑́o̷͔̼̮͍͓̪̗̮̹͕͔̣͍͕̹̯͙͕͓̅̉ͥ̋̿̍̒ͨ́ͩͭ ͆͒ͣ͌ͨ́̐́͜͝͝ą̅͛ͦ̔ͥ̑͑̀҉̵͈̗̫̭̻͉͇̥͉̩͈͙̭t̳̞̘̟̘͍ͨͤͬ̃̌̏͂̅̽̐̽̾ͦ̐̓̓̀͒͟͠ͅ!̵̜̘̮̗̟̞̦̣̺̰ ̲̻̳̣͈͔̟ͥ̽͐̅ͦͤ̃͊̈́͒ͦ̄̆͂͒͟ͅ”̴̴̴̘͈̳͈̭͈̝͚͓̉ͮͪ̎̇͌ͤ͒͆̑̓ͣͯ́̇̀͟
“̝͈̺̺̘͔̹̘͓̭ͮ̆͗̈́̉͐͒ͨ̈́́̿͊͞ͅͅC̈́̉̉̉͆ͫ͐͛ͥ̏͊҉̛̣͓͔h̴̯̱̤̮͕̳͉̗̙͕̞̪̺͆̾̽ͭͣͮ͆̃ͬ̿̔ͯ̾́ ȏ̧͙̣̪̝͓̮̟͈̞͔͐̀̐̎ͣ̕k̰̲͚̲̙̣̙͚̣̙̼̯̝͕̈́̽̃́̅͂ͬ͋ͦ̿͢͢ͅe̹̯͍̞̪̝̩̯̯̓̀̈́ͩ͛͂̆̓͝͝ ̘̣̼̜̥͈̟̥̗̩̮̥͎͍ͧ́ͩ͑ͭ͌̍̈̑̎͋̉ͥͨͧ̈̕͜͠ͅm̹̬̱͇͇̰̞̺͕̻͙̖͈̝ͯ̑̇̓͊̍͢͢e̷̢̒̄̿͑̍̏̂͏̛̠̝̖͉̤̗ ̥̹͔̞,̸̞̯̗͔̥̝̬̞̗̹͕̳͚̬̰̬̦ͩ̈́̓ͮ͂͋͌̕ ̥̣͈̦͎̹̠̻̯̳̹͎͇͔̹̹̬̀ͪ̊͗̓́̇͗̓͆̀̚͝ͅd̶͎̙̘̠̞̝͖̠͎̞̠̳͎̤̮̠͚͂̽̅ͩ̒̇̉̚͠a̶̷͕̘̥̩̹ͭ̏̽̅ͯ̽̒̾ ́͠d̛͔̲̪͉̪̮̫͚͍̭ͭͭ͌͗͊̋ͤ̾͆ͭ͗ͬ̔̊ͣ͋ͣd̴̵̡̡̯͇͖̻̱͇̱͓͉̺̋̆͋̏͋͂ͥͬ͟y̢̗̱͈̪̰̭͚̬͎͇͉͓̭̖͊̇ͥͨ ̎̀̑͆̄ͧ̀͗̈͂ͪ͗ͧͧ͞!̵̡̙͉̺̃̉͊ͫ̀̽̓̆̈́̔͛̒̔͢”̸̧̜̠͓͙̻̍̐̍́̊̋̌͑͋ͯ͌ͯ̌͐̚͟͝
“̸̧̙̲̜̪̫̙͓̱̑ͩ͋̓ͣͮͯ̓͋̿͒ͪ̍̑͛ͬ̄ͩͭ́͞ͅÅ͛͋ͭͫ̋̔̉ͩͬ̂ͭ̍ͪ͆ͯ̋͐҉̶̛̤̦͕̫̼̹̘͓̻͓͖̰̻̮̩̕ͅͅḅ̴̻ ͙̱͓̣̗̜̺̮̻͖͕͂͛͌̽̽̐͛͗̿̚͘͢͡͡ǘ̃ͣ͂̀̄̎̽ͨͬͦ̋͋ͨͥ̈́҉̮̦͈̹͎͚̱̗͉̠̣̱͓̻̮̫͇̪͘͢͟s̨̛̬̟̥̗̠̼̟͇ ̗̿̒̎̍̂ͩ͂ͧ̃̌͊͂̂̀͂̿͋͢͠e̸̴̢̎ͯ̿͌̈ͥͧ̊͌ͭ̉̌͢͏̬̺͔̭̬̫̗̜ ͖̹͎͔͍̩̠͚̲̖͚̪̙̳̟̎ͯͥ̇ͤͤ̅̓ͫ̍͠ͅṃ̷̳͕͇̙͇̯͍̺̮̪̮̣̼̤͈͈̖̐̌ͮͤͨ̎͆̆̑ͣ̽̎ͦͮͥ̀̚͜e͈̮̹̻͍̠̝̮̼̳ ͉̟̦̻̎͗̓̇ͫ͆ͮ̋̈́ͦ͑́̄̊̉ͤ͐ͨ͆̕͘͟͠!̸̰̟̰̪̞̱̣͍̣͊̍̍͗̔̈̓̄͛̒̀͗͐͘͜͞͠ ͤ̈͊͋̓ͥ̄̎̓ͦ͆̎ͤ͊ͦ̀͏͇̰͚̝̤͇͝P̡̛̠̠̣̤̱̱̘̜͕̣̰͎̙̈ͧ̔͂̚u͙͓̺̖̙͎͓ͯ̾ͩ̀ͣ́̊̐ͩ̓̾ͦ̉̉́̚͟n̨ͨ̒̏ ͛ͦͦ̍́̌͒͆̾̏̀ͮ͢҉̨̢̣̟͍̦̞̼̥͖̫͇̦i̷̴̧̧̜͙͖̮͒ͨͥ̆̎̌̆̆̅̊̈͋͒̏͌ͧ̽̋͘ş͇͕̙͇̝͎̰͇̟̜͖̰̜̅̈́́̅̊ ̊̀̎ͮͪ͒̾ͅḧ̸̢͖̪͕̫͇̫̼͇̮̦̞͉͔͇́̑ͮ͛ͬ͊̀̿̂͆ͩ̀ͤ̇͒͐̚͘͝ͅͅ ̅ͭͯ͒͡͏̟͚͈͔͖̙̥͇̬̠̰̰͈̺̙̟̠̣m̬̰̭͎̦͔̙̬͎͍̦͍̐̆ͩ̎ͬͥͣͧͪ͂͒͐̉̈́̚͞͞͠ėͮͭ̃͆͗̚҉̣̙̖̫̗͇̪̦̦͎̗ ̬͔̟͔̥̀́͡!̶̧̲͖̦̳̙̯͙͉̬̘̦̻̘̤̠̪̹͌ͥ̏̓̈́̽ͭͪ̎̄ͩͮͥͧ̀͘”̷̬̫̺̬̑̈́̊͛͌ͭ̓͑ͦ͝
“̞̮̝̠͕̗̯͓̠̫͕̺͛̌̇̈͞M̛͚̙̭̖̳̦̙̹̝̤̱͇̪̜͉̤͈̹̹̀ͣ̓ͤ̇͑̇ͤ̊̍̓̎̾̀̕͝͝a̴̡̟̞͍͙̱̲͕͚̮̤̝̞̱͈͎̭ ̺̿ͭͥ͒̽̄̏͊̊ͬ͗͋̇̚͢ͅͅkͩ̋ͭ̽ͩ̋̃̐̾̓ͪ̀ͨ̆͗̉̉҉̜̗̪͚͕͉̠͉̟͈̣̲̫̰̯͜͝ę̶͇͇̠̣̳̥̻̝͖͚̹͉͛̂͛̈́̓̈ ́̋ͤͬ͆ͭ̅ ̿̈̂͌̍͛ͪͣͥ͆̈́͂ͩ̄́͒̾͏͕̜͇̗̙̳̰̪̠̳̰͘͠m̛̦̙̜̫͈̫̱͓̦̟̮͇͉̫̾̇̊̀͞ẽ͖͎͕̤̘͖̺̮̯͇̯̬̳͓̥͓̒͂́̓̑ ̒͒̀̈̊͗͟͟ ̵̷̻͖̤̬̥̰͙͇̭͎̙̥̜̥̫͕̖̅̌ͤ́̃͛̇ͫ̐̓̒̌̊́̕͟c̬̯̲̳͓̖̹͖̹͔̯̠̜̰̟͖̅ͯ̈́̌̂͊̆ͯ́͘͞ͅṵ̵̵̵̩͈̻͉̪̰ ̼ͩͥ̒͌̓̐͗ͩ̐̍̚̕—͌̓̆̏̀̄͊̾̒̋̅͂̽ͥ̿͛̎͒͘͝͏̧̧̳̭̹͇̺!ͨ͒ͤͨ̽̾̽ͧ̂͌ͤ͌́͢҉͕̮̭̪”ͬ̉̎͌̎͏̵̯͈̰͍̳ ͙̫̗̞̥
̴ͭ̓̑̀̀ͣ͗͆ͣ̊ͥ̂̈́̂͋ͭ́͏̞̫̻̜̹̬͖̫̖̙͈̘͟“̸̢̱̙̬͇̪̬̣̪͓͔̤̝̭̳͉͎̼̞̻͌ͩ̎̀͂ͨ̓̇̍͆̇̚̚͜͞͞I̸̻̲ ̞͚̖͉̘̬̙ͮͤͮ͊̌̽͊͋͒͊́͒ͣ̓͞—̶̛̝͕̙̦̰͚̮͇̲̍͗̿̈ͨ͗ͨ̈̈̃͐ͬͨͫ̀̓̚̕͟!̢̛̱͙̖̜̳͇̲̪̥̖̰̪̤̻ͦ̔ͥͬͬ ͩͫͮ͛̋̈ͣ͛̓̚”̷̵͈̟̗̟̙͍͖̂ͯ̎ͫ̂ͧ̎ͤͬ̅̆̕
“̢̬̤̤̹͙̣̞̖̲̙̙͕̯̭̎̂͊́̚̕I̴͈͖̖͕̥̺̗̱̼ͭͩ̀̏͐̎ͨ̆͒͑͐͛ͪͪ̑ͦ́́̚͟ͅ’̸̝̹̤͚̗̘͎̯̗̟̦ͧ̈́̃̀̋ͧ̓ ̎ͤ̌̀̄ͦ̇̓ͤ͒́́̕m̢̜͇̠̫̞̠̲̜̞͖͈̻̈ͤͬ̑̃ͯ͛̕̕—ͨͩ͆̅ͤͭ̏ͮ̓ͩ̽̃ͪ̈̍ͭ̈́͘҉̴̛͇̱̲̘̺̦̥̰!̷̨̞͔̘͔̦ ͚̦̰̤͑̋͒̉̍͝”̶͔͎͓͍̙̝̔ͨͣͪ̎ͯ͂ͣ̆͊̓̏ͣ͑̔͛͘͡
“̨̧̧͇̥̯̪̺͉͈͕̦̲̲̲͓̌͐̑̏͋͘͡I͕͉͕̞̺̙͔͖͙ͪͮͩͨ̀̀͘ͅ’̵̛̺̬͕̬̹͓͙͕̬̦̹̼̪̞̺ͬ͛ͨ͊̾́̇̐ͭ̅̏̿̇̽ͪ ̍͊̿́͟Ṁ̢̢̫̜̯̬̦̼̲̰̰̤̟̻̞͎̾̅̆ͪ̆̃̓́ͯͯͩ̑̕ͅ ͖̰̫̰͕̿̑̾̀̀͟C̡̈̋̌̉͆̊ͩ̅̌̂ͪ̇ͯͦͤ҉̯͙͔̗͖̀͜͢U͍̫͔̮̘̣̰̫̦ͫͯ́ͧͧ̿ͯ̔͌͌ͫ͌̍̐̄ͩ̚͟M̴̮̻̜̬̠̩̻͕ ͔̞͔̗̝͖̤̹̱̉̍ͭ́̉͂͟͡I̸͖̭̣̜͇͔̯̰̙͕͔ͭ͐̈́̾ͨ̌ͭͬ͢—̇ͭ̈̊͋̒͊̉͒͂̅͌͘͢͏͍̟̣̟̬͈̥̻̻̭̖͖̝͍̗!̺̖͈ ͙̰̯̜̲̥̩̻̖ͫ͌ͨ̿ͤ̈́̃ͬ̇̑̕!̵̴̭̝͕̫͈̼̝̩͔͚͉̜̩̙̩̞ͯ͌̅ͬ̒ͤ̔̅!̸̛̝̪̥̬̦̥͙̣̣̫̬̟̯̻͔̻͕̻͓̓̋̈͋͘ ͞”̨̘̜̰͍̝̗̤͚̜͒̔͒̄̊ͪ̚͜

*

T̘͈̰̪̩̩h͓̗̰̬e̤̰̦ͅ ̭͍̞ͅw͖͚̣̲h̤͖̫̙̯̮ͅi͖̠̯s̙͉͙pe͙̗͕ṟs ̝̲̦͇͎̯̺g̺̙̝r̲̼̣̟͙o̮̞̩̩̝̳w̮̠̱̤͕̝ ̘̣lo͍͍͙̜u͓̟͕d̜̻̗̪͓ͅe͎̱͚̜r̭͈̖͓̬ ̜a̝̜̗n̫̣̱̖̪͓͙d ̭̗̟̝̳l͍̠̺͔̮o̦̪u̜̗̳d̠̹̖̠̘̱͎e̙̼͇̲r͙͈̫̗̤͈̜,̻ ̱̖̯̙̮̗͔s̺̫̬̜̪̘ͅc̤̻r̠e̗̹̯̜͕̬̠a̹̥m̮̠̺̤i͔̤͓͔̬n͚͙̯̻ͅg͓̥̯̮ ̪̮̱ͅi͚̖̱̹̠̫͉n̥̹̥͈ͅ p̩̼̖͎̫͙l̮͍̞̗a͙͎̜̼̪c̗͈̱̠̪e̤̭ ͖͚͎͙̥o̥̝̹̣̼̲f̩̪ ̯̳̯̗͕̱͈Te̜̹͕͉̥̺o̪̰͇͓̬̬d̮̤̙̤̣̗h̳͖̻̞o̦̲̜̲ṛ—̖̟̭s̫̰͇̦͎e͙̖̯͖̺̟̳n̫͖͔̪̰d̻̲͚̻̲i̜͖͓̜ ̬͉̬ng̣͈̬͙̥̱̩ ḁ͓̗̹̼ ̺̤̰̮̼͓ͅs̝͎̠̭̪ͅp̺̟͖̩̝͍͓l̫it̖͇t̝̻̪͙i̳͇̩͙n͉̲͓̹ͅg̺̹ ̫͔̰͔͖̩ͅa̠̘̭nd̤̣̹ ̫̗̖̯̠̩a̩̭̞͙g̤̮̮͈̯o̻ṋ͎̪̣̜i͉͉̪̬z̩i͕͔n̜̱g͚ h̠͙͚̣̲ead͉͚̳ͅac̞̭̙ͅhe̦ ͉̼̘̭ṯ̺͎̤̳̲h̠̫͖̪̹̫r̗̝̬̘̹̰ͅo͓ṷ̲̯͓ͅͅg̩h̩ ̳͚̟yo͓̹u̥̰ ̬̜̲̫͎̗ͅạl̬͚̮̖͇l͖͇̝!͉͖̼͍

Amid the screams and pain you watch in horror as Teodhor’s visible muscles ripple and expand to insane proportions! The Velstrac “screams” through it all, his expanding pectorals and trapezius smother his head and limbs! Out of the muscled mass grows his biceps and triceps, then his quadriceps and hamstrings. Finally, the Velstrac’s head emerges from the rest of his massive rippling body, his face static in its screaming form!

At last, Teodhor reaches to a size twice his own—but just as it seems to be over his muscles shake and quiver rapidly. With an unholy RIIIIIP of sinew and tissue echoing in the chamber, every individual one of Teodhor’s muscles tear and spew forth blood as the Velstrac swiftly grows to four times his original size in a bloody, misshapen mess of torn, disconnected, and disproportional muscles! Teodhor’s growing body knocks over the pile of wreckage, sending the device on top of it sliding across the floor, the it’s light continuing to blink Device’s location marked by red circle

The whispers’ screams subside as Teodhor’s face twists from a scream to laughter as sound finally exits his throat in a booming cackle!

”The size! The girth! Now bend over and take it like the b*tches you are!”

”͟͝T̵h͏͟e͟͜ ͜s̨̡͠i͡z̢̀̕e҉!͘ ̡͞T̶h͘e̡͝ g̀̕̕i̕͞r͘t̀͟h! ̵́N͘͡ó͝͝w ̡͟͜b̷è͘͢ńd ̡͡ov̸́͝e͞r̵̡ ́a̕n͜͝d͢͜ ̵̡̛t̀a̷͠k͡e ̨it͢ ҉l͏͢͏i͞ke̸̛ ̷̧͞th̷̀e͘͢ ̧b͝*tc̨h̶̵͜e̕s̡ ̡͘y͝͠o͠u͢͝ ̵́a͏̡r̶͜e̴͜͟!͝”̵̡͜

Don't forget that velstracs have a gaze attack; I'll need a Will save from anyone within 30' of Teodhor at the start of their turn. You can get a +4 bonus on that save if you avert your gaze and give Teodhor concealment against your attacks for that round. (The gaze is also a mind-affecting fear effect.)

Fun-Time with Teodhor
Round 2/3
==================
Boron
Xagyg
Volcklon
Teodhor
Jacob
==================

Will: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 10 + 2 = 30.

Xagyg wriggles his antennae in distaste.

"Such language!"

He then flips the over-sized kyton the bird.

"Someone is over-compensating for something... or are you an attis...? Given the stripping-down of your form, I wouldn't be surprised..."

He then moves away, and fires another shot.

Trick Shot (auto if CR 12 or less).

Called, Holy, Ghost-Killer S-Band Scorchgun: 1d20 + 12 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 12 + 2 = 17, for 1d10 + 4 + 4d8 ⇒ (10) + 4 + (6, 7, 7, 3) = 37 Fire damage.

It is also flat-footed against this attack, and until the start of my next turn.

Xagyg's shot goes wide as it narrowly misses the massive outsider!

Jacob gawks as Boron attacks everyone. He shakes his head.

Thing clearly has Boron! Take the thing out, we'll fix him after...I hope..

He steps out in front of Boron, putting his back to him and spreading his arms wide to protect against the thing.

Boron, I know your an honorable dwarf... I'd prefer you not stab me in the back... but do what you must!

He turns and opens his mind up to the cosmic forces that now claw through his head.

I'm going to regret this... EAT THIS YOU PIECE OF )(*@#$%!

Mind Thrust 3: 7d10 ⇒ (9, 10, 10, 9, 9, 10, 8) = 65Will 20 Half

I’m sorry, who was that mind thrust directed at?

Will save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

The wisp continues to distract the velstrac. Harrying Fire
Averting his eyes Volcklon bends reality to his will as a small tear in the fabric happens below the shadowed beast. Nanites all around it begin to burn like acid.

Caustic Conversion vs EAC; Harrying Fire: 1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 9 + 2 = 27
Damage (Acid): 4d4 ⇒ (3, 3, 1, 3) = 10

Big bad. And yes, I'm totally expecting for it to go horribly. I'm protecting Boron, hoping that might get through to him... and if not, it's at least a cinimatic way to eat the AOO i'm gonna take to get up to range of blasting the big bad either way.

As Jacob steps out in front of Boron, and spreads his arms wide to protect the thing from Boron,
the Dwarf curses:
"@#$%! Protecting your master, huh? No wonder you've always hated me!"

Boron moves around Jacob, itching to smash him on the head, and carefully waiting to be hit in return--
1/2 speed move for Tumble to avoid AoO
Pointless Acrobatics: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (9) - 2 = 7
--he looks at the oversized gory "kid"--
Will: 1d20 + 4 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 4 + 1 + 2 = 20
(counted mind affecting @ fear) it is not a spell of SLA, right?
(since Boron does not know about the gaze attack he will not avert this 1st round)
--and hurls an Overcharged Toothpick at the throbbing bloody kid that Velvet is tracking.
Pick vs. EAC w. Combat Tracking: 1d20 + 15 - 1 ⇒ (7) + 15 - 1 = 21
Holy, Magic, Sonic (Overcharged): 1d8 + 2d6 + 14 ⇒ (8) + (3, 2) + 14 = 27
@ 25 ft. w. 20 ft. range so 1 range over, but only -1 per extra range increment from Far Shot
Then Boron extends his hand and Toothpick magically returns to him.
swift action w. Returning

Jacob vs SR: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13

Unfortunately for Jacob, he cannot seem to make mental contact with the velstrac, so his spell goes to waste. And those were some REALLY good rolls!

Volcklon vs SR: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28

Going to assume that when Volcklon said “averting his gaze” he actually meant to avert his gaze, which grants him a +4 bonus on that save, but gives Teodhor concealment against that attack:

Miss Chance (miss on a 1): 1d5 ⇒ 5

The nanites surround the velstrac, causing the blood covering the outsider to sizzle and boil, followed by Toothpick’s flight, missing Teodhor by mere inches! Unfortunately, the velstrac’s wounds all close at a rapid rate, sealing all of the tears in his various muscles.

Athletics: 1d20 + 25 ⇒ (5) + 25 = 30

Teodhor moves like a bullet, leap-frogging over the wreckage and landing by Xagyg, towering over the little shirren.

”Now you’re just being a tease!”

”̵Now͢ ỳǫu’̨rè ju͠s͟t b͝ȩin͝g͟ a͞ ͟t͝e̸as͡e͝!̧”̷

Teodhor Claw vs Xagyg: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (13) + 20 = 33
S Damage: 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (4, 5) + 9 = 18
Xagyg Will: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14

On Xagyg’s turn: The pain of the velstrac’s claws seem to throb in Xagyg’s mind!

Untyped Damage to Xagyg: 1d4 ⇒ 2

Xagyg, I need a Will save at the end of your turns until I tell you I don't need them anymore.

Fun-Time with Teodhor
Round 3/4
==================
Boron
Xagyg
Volcklon
Teodhor
Jacob
==================

Will: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 10 + 2 = 17.

Xagyg shrugs.

"Frankly, I don't care how you feel about it..."

He then dances around the over-sized halfling.

Trick Shot (auto if CR 12 or less).

Called, Holy, Ghost-Killer S-Band Scorchgun: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (16) + 12 = 28, for 1d10 + 4 + 4d8 ⇒ (2) + 4 + (4, 3, 2, 7) = 22 Fire damage.

It is also flat-footed against this attack, and until the start of my next turn.

Will: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30.

Do not forget the Harrying Fire for first attack each round after Wisp?
(Not Boron though)
Will: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11
Boron takes a careful guarded step back to his left—
on phone @ airport, cannot move mini
—and hurls Toothpick at the giant evil kid—
Pick vs. EAC w. Combat Tracking: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (2) + 15 = 17
Holy, Magic, Sonic (Overcharged): 1d8 + 2d6 + 14 ⇒ (5) + (1, 3) + 14 = 23
—before Calling Toothpick back into hand.

Xagyg, I am aware of your character choices and how they function mechanically, but just accept that this is what happens and move on; I’ll explain later.

Teodhor giggles wildly as he swipes at the moving Xagyg, narrowly missing the shirren.

”You’re in my world now, Xaggy!”

”̛́͡͞Y̸͢o̢͜͡u͏̢͝҉͝’̡҉͘͏ŕ̷è́҉̷ ̷̡̧̕i̷҉ņ̸ ̵͠m͠͠͏y̕҉̕͝ ̶̷͜ẃ̧͡͡ó̧̀͘͡ŗ̵̕͡͡l̢͜͞d̸́ ̴̕n͟͞͏o̸͘͞w͡҉,̸͘͜ ̷̷͡͡X͢͝à̧g̡҉̵̨͢g͟͞͞y̷̵̴͝!̢̕̕”̕͝͞

Suddenly, Teodhor’s claw rips off of his body at the wrist, flying away from him and right at Xagyg!

Teodhor AoO: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (18) + 20 = 38
S Damage: 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (3, 4) + 9 = 16

Xagyg then shoots and hits the velstrac right in his malicious grin, blowing off half his face—but the skinless child continues to stare at the inspector with his sinister literal-half-smile.

The disembodied hand then flies over and catches Toothpick in midair and throws it right back at the dwarf, narrowly avoiding his head by mere inches as the pick embeds itself into the wall behind him! Flavor; Boron’s attack didn’t hit. The disembodied hand flies back to Teodhor, floating right above the velstrac’s shoulder.

Jacob grunts as he tries to grab onto the thing's slippery mind.

Come... On!
SR: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
Mind Thrust 3: 7d10 ⇒ (9, 7, 6, 1, 3, 7, 9) = 42Will 20 Half

Teodhor stares relatively unharmed at Jacob with his smirk—the blown-off half of his face oozes blood from the wounds that weren’t cauterized.

”I’ll give you a good thrusting once I’ve finished playing with Xaggy!”

”I’͝ll̡ ̴g̛iv͢e͝ y̨o̡u a g͢ood ͢th҉ru̡st͜in̶g͜ ̴o̵n҉c͡e I’͟v͏e̢ finishe̶d̷ pl͝aying w͜it͜h͡ X͞agģy͘!́”

Will save: 1d20 + 3 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 3 + 4 = 17

Volcklon vs SR: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12
Explosive Blast Fire Damage (20 foot burst): 9d6 ⇒ (5, 1, 2, 3, 5, 2, 5, 2, 5) = 30 DC 20 reflex for half

Not able to see exactly what is going on Volcklon tosses one of the used batteries into the back of the room. The battery overloads and explodes all over the malicious velstrac.

Volcklon, I’d like to know the exact point of origin for that fireball explosive blast.

Teodhor completely ignores the exploding battery behind him as his face completely reforms and strands of sinew extend from his amputated wrist to his floating hand and reconnect the two.

”All four of you at once?! A reverse gangbang it is! But I can only take one of you at a time, so you’ll have to wait your turns!”

”͡A̧ll̸ fo͝ur̛ ́o͜f yo̧u at̛ ͞o͠nce̸?! ͟A r͟ever̴s҉e ҉g͡angb͝a͢n͠g ̸i̕t is!҉ ̡Bu͟t̶ I ̀ca̡n ͡o͏n͞ly ͘ta̢ke̵ o̢n͞e of̛ y̷ou͡ ͡at҉ ̢a ti̷me, ͏sò you’̴ll h̡a͏v̡e҉ to ̴w̛a̷it yơur͞ tu͢r̡n̕s̀!”̶

Teodhor advances once more at Xagyg and swipes at the shirren.

Teodhor Claw vs Xagyg: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (17) + 20 = 37
S Damage: 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (6, 6) + 9 = 21
Xagyg Will: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12

Xagyg’s turn: The pain of the Claw returns once more!

Untyped Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 1

Fun-Time with Teodhor
Round 4/5
==================
Boron
Xagyg
Volcklon
Teodhor
Jacob
==================

Will: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 10 + 2 = 15.

Since (apparently) he can't dodge, Xagyg stands his ground, and simply shoots.

Since this way, I force him to take a -4 penalty if he wants to 'full attack' me, rather then giving it to him freely when he takes an AoO...

Trick Shot (auto if CR 12 or less).

Called, Holy, Ghost-Killer S-Band Scorchgun: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (18) + 12 = 30, for 1d10 + 4 + 4d8 ⇒ (7) + 4 + (4, 7, 6, 5) = 33 Fire damage.

It is also flat-footed against this attack, and until the start of my next turn.

NOTE: Thanks to Uncanny Shooter, this does not provoke.

Will: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19.

Boron grumbles and shrugs, "I don't like waiting...", and he trudges off towards Teodhor.
40 ft. move so should be okay @30 ft. w. last sq. diff' terrain?
Standing over the blinking apparatus, Boron swings the overcharged Toothpick, into the kid: "Listen to this!"
Pick vs. EAC w. Combat Tracking: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (4) + 15 = 19
Holy, Magic, Sonic (Overcharged): 1d8 + 2d6 + 14 ⇒ (2) + (4, 5) + 14 = 25
_________
Will: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

Jacob grits his teeth and holds out his hand. He can feel the power waning from him. He couldn't keep this up forever.

SR: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26 I hope beyond hope that hits, otherwise we're more screwed than I thought!

MIND TRHUST!: 7d10 ⇒ (10, 4, 8, 5, 8, 8, 2) = 45Will 20 Half

Feeling a chink in the armor, a piece to bite into, Jacob let's a small grin slip.

Alright you shit, I hope you can take as good as you can give!

Sorry, Boron, Weird stuff happened when I tried to update the token positions on my phone. It tends to not save for some reason. Teodhor's position is correct now.

no problem, I still haven't figured out how to move tokens on my phone (not often on the phone, so...

Boron moves up to and around the bone pile, stepping onto it at the end.
40 ft. of move, should be 35 ft. to get there, counting double for last square as diff' terrain?

Actually, the blast zone is just a crater; it's not difficult terrain.

The far back wall where I just placed the red triangle is the origin. trying to keep it clear from exploding and hurting allies.

Will save: 1d20 + 3 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 3 + 4 = 21
Volcklon vs SR: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20
Caustic Conversion vs EAC; Harrying Fire: 1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 9 + 2 = 12
Damage (Acid): 4d4 ⇒ (1, 3, 3, 3) = 10
Miss Chance: 1d5 ⇒ 1

The wisp follows the shadowed creature and sticks right over it as Volcklon attempts to navigate the acidic nanites back over it's body and fails.