Midnight flaps from his soldier...
Dohrlok looks over his shoulder toward the desk when he hears that it attacked Corvin first. Satisfied that it had what was coming to it, he shrugs and returns to his activities, rapping on the back wall of the bookshelves occasionally, on the off-chance that there's a secret passage.
Anarath is fairly badly wounded, being on 5 of 12 hit points.
Not sure about Corvin, but I think he’d be pretty badly hit too.
Arodwumm reaches out to Anarath as he is looking at the various parchments. His eyes briefly close and he whispers, "Do you wish for me to heal you, mastar?"
He will do the same thing to Corvin.
DM/Corvin spoiler
Arodwumm
Arodwumm looks at Colvin.
"Your wrist is poisoned master. I can help? Do you have a knife and I will draw the poison out."
Arodwumm looks at Colvin.
"Your wrist is poisoned master. I can help? Do you have a knife and I will draw the poison out."
'Just hit me with a goddamn spell. I'll be fine."
If Anarath agrees then Arodwumm casts a healing spell on her.
Afterwards Arodwumm does the same spell on Colvin.
"Fritar Ogar Mytar!" His hand crackles with blue energy which jolts into each injury with a touch.
"Master the poison could weaken you for days if I don't act now? Of course you are all-seeing in this but...." cringes the dwarf priest.
"Master the poison could weaken you for days if I don't act now? Of course you are all-seeing in this but...." cringes the dwarf priest.
"If I'm all-seein', then why the f++& have I never seen you before? As for the poison... there was poison?"
"Yes, mastar."
Dohrok finishes searching the bookshelves, turns to face Corvin, and folds his arms across his chest. "If you're finished beating the desk, I'm going up."
Assuming no-one stops him, he climbs up the ladder to the next level.
Dohrlok, you find many tomes and scrolls, all scribed in strange spiky characters from an alphabet you don't recognize. Many of the books have diagrams of strange devices and a few are diagrams of dissections of various races.
"Yes, mastar."
"Stop callin' me master, ya dumb dwarf. What was the poison from? D'ya mean to tell me that the desk bit me?"
"Desks do not bite mast-, sir. You is poisoned now and soon it will hurt you bad."
Dohrlok
"Desks do not bite mast-, sir. You is poisoned now and soon it will hurt you bad."
"Fine. What can you do?"
Dohrlok lets go of the ladder and looks down at the blood on his foot, frowning.
Either way, he'll bark out, "Beware, there is a small enemy present."
P.S. - If I'm saving vs. poison, 17+5+dwarf stuff? I don't have the numbers handy. I can work it out if need be.
P.S.S. - Thank you wizards.com dice roller.
"Beware, there is a small enemy present."
"Aw... F%&*in' bloody shite..."
Anarath, watches rather suspiciously as the strange dwarf magically heals Corvin, before submitting himself for the same treatment. He sighs in relief as the healing energy knits his torn skin together.
“Hold on Dohrlok,” he says, stuffing the book and scrolls into his pack as he sees the dwarf heading towards the rope ladder. “It may be best to stay together in this place…”
EDIT: “So there is something…” Anarath hikes up his robes and looks suspiciously around his feet for any sign of the elusive enemy.
"What the f&@@?"
Corvin pivots, crouching, with his forearms crossed in a defensive stance.
Dohrlok frowns, uninterested in small opponents, but readies himself nonetheless, assuming his "Crouching Spider" stance.
Dohrlok lunges for whatever dimuative foe struck him but misses the fast little creature by a hair as it retreats under a book shelf behind the smashed desk.
As the tiny creature zips past, Corvin dives on it.
Dohrlok stares at the spot under the bookshelf where the little creature disappeared, breathing heavily in pent-up aggression. He slows his breathing, and stands prepared for it to re-emerge.
Anarath kneels down beside the bookshelf, inserts his longsword into the opening that the creature disapeared into, and sweeps it across the gap, hoping to hit the wee beastie.
Corvin, was that a total of 22 or 17?
Corvin, was that a total of 22 or 17?
Corvin barely manages to catch the fleeing spider-like thing, slamming his fist into the creature. It hisses and darts under a books shelf where Anarath tentatively pokes at it with his longsword.
Still poised for the return of the creature, Dohrlok comments, "This situation calls for fire." He makes no move to generate any, however. He stares at the spot where the spider-thing disappeared, ready for action.
Anarath's sword provokes an enraged hiss from the creature but comes away unblemished by blood or ichor.
The dwarf curls up in a tight ball in the furthest corner as violence erupts.
Tsillmas darts forward and jabs his longsword ineffectually into the crevice under the book shelf.
A moment later he jumps back with an exclamation of pain and a little blood welling from his hand as the thing darts out, stings him and then returns to its hiding place faster than would seem possible. Indeed, fast enough to avoid Dohrlok's stomping foot.
Dohrlok frowns and says, "This enemy is not worthy of the Stone Fist." He trudges over to the bookshelf and begins to destroy it, lower shelf first, by smashing the shelving with his fists. If possible, he'll pull the whole thing down off the wall.
Corvin lunges again, attempting to throw himself on top of the scuttling menace.
“Be careful the books Dohrlok!” hisses Anarath. “They may be the only worthwhile treasure we take from this place!”
The small thing barely avoids being smashed under Corvin's armored bulk but it still nimble enough to escape into its refuge, which Dohrlok begins to ineffectually batter with his fists.
Arodwumm clutches at the manacles and prepares to hit out if it comes near him.
"Mastar, your poison will be worst if you exert. Mastar be still," adds the inept healer.
Arodwumm clutches at the manacles and prepares to hit out if it comes near him.
"Mastar, your poison will be worst if you exert. Mastar be still," adds the inept healer.
"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Corvin bellows, angered by the fact that he hasn't been able to squash the skulking little creature. And that bug-thing isn't helping, either.
Tsillmas again strikesat the thing, jabbing into the dark crevice in which it hides but his blade again misses the diminuative thing.
A moment later the thing darts out and scuttles towards Arodwumm. The torchlight flickers of its shiny black carapace and its glittering eyes as it strikes, barely missing the dwarf as he swings his manacles at it.
As the scuttling thing reappears, Anarath slashes his readied blade down at it.
For a moment Arodwumm is confused at the darknight's order.
Then he swings at the insect, the manacle flailing left and right as it descends out of control.