Sorry, yes it did hit but he's still up.
Gawlak's animate corpse struggles against you but its now dead muscles are no match for yours, Dohrlok.
Corvin, seeing that Dohrlok isn't having much trouble with the reanimated Greis, Corvin, due to his warped sense of logic, decides to take action anyway.
He brings his fist straight down on the back of Greis' head, the blow landing with a sickening sound, much like a rotten pumpkin being hit with a rock. Now even more blood-covered than before, Corvin glares angrily at the dwarven monk.
"Tweakin' kill-stealer. He was MINE."
The bones of Greis' head shatter in what would seem to be a lethal blow and blood covers your armored fists, but still the animated flesh of your former companion struggles against Dohrlok's firm grasp.
Dohrlok, silently mourning the death of his already-fallen brethren, begins to squeeze Gries's undead body.
Although you squeeze as hard as you can and you inflict seemingly greivous wounds, Greis still struggles. He tries desperately to twist out of your grasp, squirming and flailing his broken arms until he breaks your grip.
He falls to the floor and begins to pick himself up.
He stumbles back a step, but continues to rise. His form is now even more grotesque, with many fatal wounds dripping blood on the already bloody floor and his face mangled from Dohrlok's powerful blows.
Corvin growls, then aims a savage kick at the reanimated sorcerer's chest.
"BASTARD! WHY WON'T YOU JUST F*&+ING DIE ALREADY!"
Your kick connects solidly with Greis's bloodied chest and he stumbles back, almost falling again. He rises from his crouch without any visible harm done and lets out a feral, unearthly howl that chills your soul and conjures images of marching legions of risen dead, with your limp corpse staggering forward in the front lines.
Corvin reels backwards, clutching his head.
"TURN IT OFF!"
Skilled Necromancy indeed the elf thinks, clinical detachment at the Art demonstrated keeping him from being overwhelmed with fear.
Fortunately, Anarath has a few tricks to deal with undead. He points a finger at Gawlak, whispers a word, and a glowing ray bursts forth from his finger. Unfortunately, Anarath is perhaps a bit more unsettled than he is ready to admit to himself, and his aim is off, the ray clearly missing it’s target.
Tsiilmas executes a skilled jumping-flippy thing and slashes his sword down with the accumulated force of his jump.
Tsillmas feels icy fear fill him, almost overcoming him, but barely manages to shake off the terror wrought by the zombie's howl.
Tsillmas
Anarath, your ray of magical energy goes wide of its target, indeed almost striking nearby Corvin as Gawlak steps towards him.
Gawlak takes another step towards Corvin and swings his morningstar at the frightened fighter's head. The blow is a powerful one and smashes into Corvin's side, just below his left shoulder. There's a sickening cracking sound as a few ribs give way under the force of the blow.
Corvin
"SHUT THE F#*& UP!" shouts Corvin as he begins to flail wildly about him, as if swatting at a swarm of insects. "SHUT UP! SHUT! UP!"
He turns to Corvin with a maniac look in his eyes. "You, I have been deceived for the last time. He begins advancing on Corvin slowly raising his sword.
He turns to Corvin with a maniac look in his eyes. "You, I have been deceived for the last time. He begins advancing on Corvin slowly raising his sword.
Corvin's mailed fist slams into Tsiilmas' jaw, .
"SHUT THE F*&@ UP! IT WAS YOU ALL ALONG, YOU LOUSY PUNTER! GET F#!!ED!"
Corvin, your fist slams into Gawlak's jaw, thrusting his head back with a sickening pop. The momentum of your blow sends the corpse back several feet where he falls lifeless to the cold stone floor.
“Focus Corvin,” calls Anarath, keeping a wary eye on events. “There’s the walking dead to deal with first. Focus on what is real, not what the voices tell you.”
I continue to advance on Corvin. As I get withing striking distance, I shout "You have two seconds to explain your self, of I make pudding out of you. You dare leave that poor girl in the tower, and you dare to plot and plan against me." My voice rising into a hysterical, sobbing shout,"My whole life I have been plotted against, I was tricked into coming to this hell forsaken manor." withing striking distance now, Tsiilmas now a very mad elf, his voice a piercing shriek. "I will make an example of you! I...Will...Not...Be...Trifled...With!!!!"
“Tsilmaas!” Anarath yells.
“You shame your people! Siding with the dead over the living! Desist, or you choose a battle you will not win.”
Dohrlok stands confused, then quickly releases Greis.
Corvin, your fist slams into Gawlak's jaw, thrusting his head back with a sickening pop. The momentum of your blow sends the corpse back several feet where he falls lifeless to the cold stone floor.
As soon as Dohrlok lets go of the struggling corpse-Greis, the corpses spins around and slams his fist into the dwarven monk's jaw with a agonized moan.
Spot 20
Corvin flails wildly, missing Tsiilmas by a mile. However, the fighter's elbow cracks into Gawlak's face on the backswing.
“Children! Stop fighting NOW!” the enraged necromancer yells in the direction of Corvin and Tsiilmas. “You can hack each other apart all you like once we’ve dealt with THE DEAD PEOPLE TRYING TO KILL US!”
“Hmmm, hack…” Anarath draws his longsword and moves to assist the dwarven monk, striking at the corpse-Greis. “Zombie? Hack ‘em apart,” he mutters.
Anarath's sword slices into the undead flesh of your former companion, seeming to truly hurt it for the first time in this battle.
"You! Stay out of this!!!" Tsiilmas shouts, pointing tward Anarath with a shaking finger. "Your next!!!"
With that insult in the air Tsiilmas strikes at Corvin again.
Tsillmas' finds a chink in Corvin's armor, piercing deep into his shoulder.
One of the kobolds assigned to you, who has up until now been cowering in the doorway, darts forward and mutters something in his language as he presses his holy symbol against Corvin's hand a little more forcefully than necassary. As he does so a golden glow shot with crimson flows over Corvin's wounds, which rapidly heal with an unpleasant tingling.
Corpse-Greis again strikes at Dohrlok, his single-minded assualt on the dwarf paying off as his fist slams into the dwarf's chest and a few ribs give under the force of the blow.
Dohrlok, lashes out, but his blow misses.
As it is, Corvin is standing more or less in the middle of the floor. 5ft to the left stands corpse-Greis. Anarath stands in front of Greis. Tsillmas stands in front of Corvin and is still attacking him. 10ft behind Greis is Dohrlok, who's standing over the corpse of Gawlak.
Corvin shakes his head like a dog as he suddenly stops flailing about. He stands in place, looking from Tsiilmas to Greis, and back.
"My 'pologies, boss," he mumbles, whirling around and diving towards the undead arcanist.
The fighter slams bodily into the mage, pinning him to the ground with the bladed scales of his armor and driving one spiked elbow directly into Greis' brainpan.
It seems that your assault is more than corpse-Greis can withstand; he falls to the floor, twitching and writhing as the foul energies that animated him leave the battered remains of his body.