Yep. Just waiting my turn...
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Mool climbs the walls, attempting to get a flanking position on the demons, trying to keep in the shadows as he goes. He will use his immovable rods to assist as needed. Climb Speed 20 Stealth
Initiative
Mool who had been busy overturning objects, and smelling beneath them, jumps into the air, at Mertens warning. "Bugs"! "Where"!. "I hate bugs"!.
Mool looks up from smelling the construct and the mention of bees. "Bees where"? Then follows behind the rest of the group.
Seeing that it's not a bee, Mool quickly looses interest.
Mool takes the end of his sword, and begins to move the papers aside looking for the source of the buzzing.
Mool puts away his rods, and focuses on what is happening in front of him. He sees the dead bodies, and strains to "Detect Evil" with his usual results. (NOTE: He always claims to have known Evil from his powers). He wrinkles his nose at the corpses, and follows the others into the building. Perception
"What"! "Where"! "I hate bee's where is there a buzzing"?
Mool hesitates at the warning. "Wait"? "Wait for what". "Demons don't turn good".
Still hanging out.
Mool had already taken out his immovable rods and began to use them like ladder rungs climbing towards the top of the tower, when the conversation started. He quickly deactivated them and dropped to the ground on hearing the possessed one speak. "Evil"! "He is evil, and nothing he says can be trusted". "Kill him"! He then draws his sword, and begins to run towards the man/demon.
Mool raises his hands in the air and screams a cry of pure victory. "By the grace of Zarongel and his holy might, I have vanquished the evil that stalks the world once again". He then prances around a bit, before collapsing to the ground in exhaustion as his battle fever leaves him. His sword as well seems to grow limp for a moment. "Just let me catch my breath for a moment". "I'll be fine after a rest for a bit".
Keeping his flanking position, Mool moves in foaming at the mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head, and his bloody blade dripping with gore. Raging, Ferocious weapon, flanking
Damage
His strikes beginning to go a bit wide in his hunger for combat, Mool continues his assault.
His rage continuing Mool lashes out again. Raging, ferocious weapon (+2 more if flanking)
Damage
Mool howls in triumph, and heads at a full run towards the next availabe enemy.
Current Conditions:
Spoiler:
Rage 1/21 HP - 92/105 AC - 26 Mool keeps his flanking bonus, and his face turns red. How dare his enemy not fall to his blow. Even his sword seems to pulsate with his rage. Flanking, Raging, Ferocious Weapon
Damage
Confirming: Flanking, Raging, Ferocious Weapon
Damage
So 72 total damage if everything confirms ! Whoops. I forgot. Minus 2 to all above for sickness.
Will Save (+3 if you raged last round)
Perception "Yes, something is not right about them". "They are too clean for war, and they talk funny". "Let's go kill them". Mool begins to run forward.
Mool partakes of the Hero's feast, though he can't believe how bad the food selection is. Nothing is moving, or crawling, and everything lacks the smell he so craves...of rot. Finally he finds a bowl of Pickled Lamprey being passed around, and eats several of the creatures, moving them around with his hands, and pretending that they're still moving. After saying his prayers, and asking the blessings of his god, he joins the group, jostling towards the front as well. Temporary HP.
Mool gleefully goes into town, and buys the first cool things he sees. shopping: (2) Immovable Rods
Mool ceases his posturing and practicing his sword flourishes, while the others finsh talking. He then drops to one knee..."Oh mighty and wise Zarongel, give us your blessings on this dangerous, and necessary journey". He then jumps to his feet. "OK". "I'm ready now". "Everyone stand behind me, I'll go first". [
"No Demon Lord dare stand against the might of Mool the Brilliant". "I hope there is one there who tries".
Knowledge: Local Mool eats a lot during his wait, and even takes part in some of the sparring, surprising some with his skill. He stays away from the library...it was sad...so many with their words stolen from them. Finally it was time for some action. He listens as the others ask their questions. Nodding his head as though he really cared about what they were saying. He knew his faith, and need for coin for his grandson to inherit were all that was important. Once the questions were answered, he raised his tiny hand for his question. "Can we leave now"? He asks trying to sound like the deep voiced Dwarves, but coming out as a harsh screech.
Mool gave the messenger his widest smile of welcoming (Well most considered it a constipated grimace), and took the letter in his hand. He glanced back at his females, and saw them nursing and tending to his multiple female children. He was comfortable now. Had he not done enough for the world? Then he saw his newest daughter lying on her pile of hides. The words of the gut readers and bone tossers came back to him. Knowledge: Local what does Mool know about this priestess. This one shall finally provide you with the male heir you so desire. And with firm conviction he turned and faced the messenger. "Mool will come". Then turning back over his shoulder he screams at the females. "Bring me my helm and weapons". "Mool will venture forth once again to stem the tide of evil, and bring pride once again to the tribe of the Radiant Grovelers"..."Not to mention many shiny pieces of gold".
The mosquito flies in close to the sleeping Goblin. Landing quietly upon his bulbous nose the mosquito latches on with hungry vigor. Coming to his feet instantly Mool rages, and taking one gauntleted open hand slaps himself in the nose so hard he breaks it again. Then jumping to his feet he begins his victory dance...only to hear the pesky beast buzzing near the ear flap of his great helm. |