My deah sir, I wouldn't miss this foah the world.
Search Posts
Faenor brushes off his somewhat messy duster "Well, I am no further in my explorations than I was when I came here this evening. I expect I shall wait until Professor Laveness has recovered sufficiently to speak with me. " He looks to Sylvia "Perhaps you would like to tell me a bit more about your adventures before you arrived? They DO sound quite fascinating.."
I am in love with things that go BOOOOOM! Really? I hadn't noticed....
Faenor quirks an eyebrow "We'll that explains some things." he turns to the facilities manager "Mistah...Brose is it? Would you perhaps know where a man could find a shower?"
Faenor nods "I am not sure what sort of learning facility y'all are ahttemptin' To run heah," The anger in his tone deepening his Elvish drawl "But I did not set foot on y'all's campus today expectin' to be cut to within an inch of mah life and then almost driven mad in the bargain" He looks down on his soiled clothing "And I would like to know who sanctioned such a risky summonin' so I can forward them my cleaning bill"
"Professor Hinzackle has been struck by a malady! We are trying to get things under control! There has been some sort of conjuring gone wrong! I will see if I can get the door open! We NEED that department chair! We have wounded!" Faenor will attempt to unlock the door and let the person(s) in
Faenor gives Sylvia a hand, grasping the desk and heaving as best he can
Feanor's wounds fade to pink scars after Caladriel heals him. He sits up and smiles "Mah thanks, sir"
Faenor breathes in convulsively as Trina heals him He aims his pistols at the diminutive crazy gnome "You just worked my last good nerve, sir" He says in an icy tone His pistols bark, firing at Hinzackle with cold lead rather than spells
The electricity of the gnome shocks Faenor. He stiffens and slumps to the floor.
Faenor leaps after the gnome, arms wide
Faenir shakes the slithering voices from his skull, anger making his eyes flash green fire "Back to whatever foul pit spawned you, abberation!"
Faenor flips his gun up, temporarily in control of his faculties. he screams LARCÀLA!! He fires a bolt of lightning at the babbling aberration
Faenor cannot place the horror, save that it needs to die
Faenor feels strange as the maddening voices reach his pointed ears
While Sylvia is talking Feanor racks his brain for any mention of this Speaker he has heard of
Faenor aims his gun at the professor again Elianu!!
[dice=Fort save]1d20+6
Faenor aims his gun at the nutty professor. This time a black ray spears out of the muzzle
I no, rite?
Faenor whips his gun around and points it at the swarming ooze. a ray of blinding light springs forth
"Ugh! It's like someone lit a sick child's soiled swaddling on fire and tossed it into an orc troop's latrine!" Faenor retches a bit more
Feanor retches, a squirt of yellow bile hitting the floor. He raises Telperion and gasps a word Tiquile! Teiperion fires what looks to be its own stream of bile, but much more concentrated into a globular bullet shape that arcs towards the stinking horror
Faenor's eyes widen "I recognize this heah dark sorcery! Use cold and fire! No electricity, for that'll heal it! Try not to touch it, it carries disease!"
The stench hits Feanor like a wave of evil "Gods below that is foul!"
"Folks we have a situation evolvin' heah" Faenor drawls in his laconic Elvish accent, pointing at the suddenly ambulatory corpse
Faenor grimaces "these constructs were not meant to be guards or fighters. Someone suddenly felt the need to arm them
Seeing Caladriel pause, Feanor chides himself for not examining the constructs. He turns to examine the fallen machines
Faenor spins his pistols and holsters them. Taking a quick inventory of the char marks on his trench coat, he sighs and follows Sylvia
Faenor attempts to remove the last sooty bits from his clothing "Well, this augurs well" He drawls wryly
Faenor winces as the sticky strands burn off him He aims his weapons and fires, the pistols jumping in his hands
Feanor realizes the struggle against the bonds is futile. He brings one of his guns up slightly to touch the sticky net
A fan of fire spreads from the muzzle of his pistol, sheeting over the sticky webbing
Faenor makes a grimace of disgust as the entangling fibers stick to him
Faenor fires again, aiming for the clockwork contraption that struck him
Faenor grunts, the metallic arm wounding him deeply
Faenor quick draws Laurelin and fires at the clockwork he struck before. A mundane shot fires out at the foe
Faenor sounds out in a voice calculated to carry, yet no farther than his group "These are constructs. Magic that affects life or mind will ill work. Electricity is the best path" Thus saying he swiftly draws Telperion, and fires a sizzling bolt towards the clockwork foe
Initiative Faenor looks over the approaching constructs with a keen appraisal, trying to spot their weaknesses
Faenor watches the strange woman picking the lock, hands resting lightly on his pistols
Perception: Faenor spots a stain on the wall that reminds him of a map of his home town. It totally fascinates him for a minute
|