MalaKi listens to Faindriac in startled bemusement. As Faindriac snatches up the flawed yellow crystal and cuts loose with psionic force MalaKi thinks to himself, “It seems that Cair d’Niaf has been found.”
With Shenker having yanked the sling from his hands only moments earlier, MalaKi finds himself “unarmed”. He grins as the rest of the group begins to kick undead lizard butt. He moves to attack. Before he goes he gives a curt nod and a wry smile to Faindriac. MalaKi considers Faindriac a worthy clutch mate indeed. As he moves he yells at Shenker “Hey! I sure hope you do more than stir the dust with that sling that you found I found I took you took!”
.
Here are my current notes, just to keep everyone up to speed:
KaChik (H13) - Delay after Holdus, fly to K14, claw attack (miss)
Holdrus (F18) - Charge (take hit), attack (miss) - Holdrus now has top of initiative order.
AoO:
11/20, 2:53 G'Mork rolls 1d20+8 to AoO on Holdrus Total: 20 +8 = 28
11/20, 2:57 G'Mork rolls 1d20+8 to Confirm Critical Total: 7 +8 = 15
Zuko (G24) - Move to I22, Hurl Flame (Hit, dmg 9 for total 17 current damage)
Shrenker (H20) - Take weapon, Fire Sling (miss, barely, due to melee penalty)
Aso (K15, possibly K17) - Stand up from Prone, Rage, Total Defense.
Illyen (E17) - (pending)
Radik (F19) - (pending)
Skarsnikt (F12) - power (audible)(claw) - Move to M12 (adjustment due to creature size)
Kirrish-Kreshk-Skiklik (H13) - power (audible)(claw) - Move to K13
Faindrac (E19) - Misc. actions, power (audible)(ray)(fire) - (hit; lower touch ac, for 19 current, 36 total damage)
Issiki (B19) - (pending)
MalaKi (H19) - Charge, miss
Mekillot (L14ish) - (pending)
Once the rest of the turns filter in I'll post a new map (spiffy one from Kruelaid) as well.
Issiki watches as the undead horror smashes his fellow halfling into the ground. How can he be alive? He must have the beast-rage upon him..
He moves as fast as he can to try to get round the mekillot.
Sorry, I posted as myself rather than Issiki. Dur.[/ooc]
The sandy thri-kreen chitters with furious abandon as he lays into the undead Mekillot.
Kirrish-Kreshk-Skiklik furiously scratches at the leathery hide of the Mekillot, his claws barely breaking the surface. At the small opening made from his claws, Kirrish lunges in with his bite to open up the side of the undead behemoth. He tries his best not to swallow any zombie meat.
Those of you with actions left this round, my suggestion would be to aid Holdrus on some way (because a crit from this thing is going to suck).
If he's still standing....
Activate Offensive Prescience for +2 damage..
attack = doesn't friggin' matter when you can't roll higher than a f*ckin' 4! Damage=10 points that won't hit the friggin' thing!
F*ck....
Ummm, I hate to mention this but I didn't see any post ...Can you tell me what the damage is
A quick search of the howdah reveals none of Radik's belongings. Unruffled, the fighter turns, striding purposefully toward the undead monstrosity, picking up speed.
Radik's eyes flash violet once more, as his muscles bulge, and his fists darken to the mottled gray of raw iron. With a roar of fury, he aims a powerful blow at the mekillot's massive, low-slung head.
Holdrus, summoning every ounce of the might bred into his race, charges the beast, newly obtained Falchion held high. Regrettably, the monstrosity beats him to the punch. Maw agape, the beast’s wretched, desiccated tongue pushes his blade aside, simultaneously mauling into the flesh of Holdrus’ arm and peeling back the skin like a glove .
Kha-Chik-Chik-Ka, unwilling to risk being the first to engage the beast, waits until Holdrus’ assault to being an attack of her own. Swooping down upon the Mekillot, she attempts to claw out one of its withered eyes, but loses the strike when it ducks in reaction to Holdrus’ savage swing.
Zuko hurls another ball of searing flame at the undead, blackening the bleached bone around its shoulders.
Shrenker whips a sling stone at the giant, but checks his swing at the last moment, not wishing to knock out one of his companions by mistake.
Aso leaps to his feet, heedless of the crepitus emanating from his chest cavity; lips flecked with foam, he appears to devolve before your eyes. Quivering with rage, the diminutive man dares the beast to strike him a second time!
The kreen slip naturally into a hive mindset, powering up their psychic offensives with a hum audible clear across the battlefield. Moving in on opposite sides of the Mekillot, they prepare for a clean kill.
Recovering the lost shard of his personality, Faindrac slips back into calm self assurance. As he blasts the beast with mental fire, Quasi-real golden flame licks the flank of the Mekillot, with all the crackle and hiss of an actual conflagration.
Issiki, exhausted, still manages to drag himself closer to the fray, while MalaKi attempts to emulate Holdrus’ charge, but is simply too weary to do anything except lurch into the vicinity of the melee.
The immense creature, bursting with the hatred of life only the dead can muster, rears up, preparing to crush the impudent creatures that dare to challenge its supremacy.
A shudder runs the entire length of the beast, and with a terrible noise like the shattering of ten thousand clay vessels on a stone floor, crashes back to the desert floor, never to rise again. The Mekillot coughs a final sigh of release; the scarlet radiance in its remaining eye flickers, then dies.
Sand and bone fragments fly everywhere, pelting the nearby combatants with a bombardment of debris.
Holdrus continues to bleed profusely.
As the undead monster collapses and disintegrates, Skarsnikt leaps high into the air, twisting to avoid the flying shards of calcified flesh. He lands softly, waving his limbs and antenna around. He looks rather psyched.
So... it is truly dead then? Thank the Spirits...
Issiki watches the collapse of the beast with caution and amazement. Truly his fellow prisoners are a powerful band. He must be careful.
He looks around for any supplies to grab before the drylanders can get their greedy soul-less paws on them.
roll 14 +6-6+3=17 to escape bone fragments. Spells cast; one level 1; spells left 0-2 1-2 no heals though...
<clutcks> will that wound stop bleeding on its own?
Shenkar searches the dead zombie, first for anything that shouldn't belong there...any devices or weapons. Take 20+9=29.
Also searching for anything interesting like a good sized splintered bone or two to tie skin strips or ligaments around the base for a hasty prison shank or two. Also gonna examine the long bones of the limbs for: 2 humerii (possible clubs) 2 radi/ulni(clubs), 2 femurs(really big clubs) 2 tibii(guess what? clubs) and possibly 2 fibuli
(puny and useless on humans, but on a mekillot, maybe a club.)
Then, let's examine the teeth for....more prison shanks. And claws for shanks.
Can the plates on the back be used for anything? Parasols? Shields?
Also....finally....looking for a shattered rib or (again) long bone which might have edible marrow in it if this thing hasn't been dead for weeks.
Aso goes to Holdrus, calming himself with each staggering step.
Vision of roasted humanoid are dancing in his head, but Aso is distracted from the potential meal by worries that there may be elf survivors.
Skarsnikt skitters over to Holdrus' bleeding body. "Big softskin shell leak. Must plug holes."
14+1+2[Sk's AID]=17 Heal on Holdrus
Aso and Skarsnikt try to stop the bleeding with compression. Aso cuts off a few flea ridden dreadlocks with the stone dagger and implements them as bandages.
Seeing the undead beast collapse, Zuko heaves a sigh of relief. He then proceeds to where the injured are.
Fu*kin' figures, 23 reflex to avoid the extra damage!
Thank you for the help in closing my wound, Thri-Kreen warrior and little fighter, and thank you cleric? if such you be, for mending it. I could not have taken much more injury and the beast really opened me up.
I seem to have some trouble with this weapon, I hope we find some weapons or I can fashion some blades from the Mekillot bones if time permits.
We don't know if time is free or if we live with little, but we need to move fast in stripping the dead of supplies and moving! Whatever happened to the caravan to unleash this destruction may be here soon.
"Hrmmmm....it's whats wrong then, with that sijian snickersnipper?"
"hrrmmm...."
As the beast collapses, Faindriac also sags visibly, though with a glance at his damaged crystal, he straightens back up. He addresses Holdrus,
"While I concur with your proposal in general, If my drug-muddled memories are even remotely accurate, it was a Tyr-storm that caused the original devastation. So we should be fairly safe if we use the de-animated shell as a temporary shelter, At least long enough to regain our strength."
He looks around at the flurry of activity, noting those who are helping the wounded, and also noting those who begin to rapidly collect anything remotely resembling supplies. He also looks for footprints in the sand to try and locate the still-invisible elf. Since he was naked and treated like the rest of them, it was unlikely that he was working with their former captors, but he would not take that for granted.
"Might I also suggest that those who feel up to the task check over the dune the mekillot appeared from? It seems that the surviving elves were battling the beast there, and their remains may also provide us with much needed gear."
With that he strides, slowly but purposefully, towards the carcass and joins the others in searching it.
'While I normally disdain the use of weapons, perhaps in my current predicament I should be more,... Open-minded? A souvineer perhaps? Yes, after all it is not everyone who can claim to have helped bring down a melikott,... again. One of the smaller ribs perhaps. And if it happens to be slender and long enough to use as a proper staff, that is merely a convenient coincidence.'
I seem to have some trouble with this weapon, I hope we find some weapons or I can fashion some blades from the Mekillot bones if time permits.
Aso gives Holdrus the bone dagger then goes searching for a small blood obsidian greatsword, which I doubt he will find. He will swing anything that can roughly substitute for a small sized greatclub in the meantime. He snacks on his fleas and lice and finally speaks to the group, but especially Holdrus, pointing to the dune where the Mekillot came from.
"Bigjob right. G... g... g... go look!"
He looks around for any supplies to grab before the drylanders can get their greedy soul-less paws on them.
Beneath a mass of blanched jawbone, wedged between the teeth of the great beast, Issiki locates a tortoise blade with a recently separated elven arm and left hand still strapped into the webbing .
"Sa Bisa ng Kapangyarihan ng Apoy, Paghilumin ang kanilang Sugat!" Zuko's hands are suffused by a blue-white aura as he blesses his wounded comrades.
MalaKi points to the dead elf still strapped into the howdah and says, “Somebody may want to check that guy.” He then lopes (OK, lurches) toward the top of the dune that the mekillot came over. As he nears the top he stops a moment and listens.
Listen check: 1d20+7=19
<clutcks> will that wound stop bleeding on its own?
The way he is hemorrhaging, it does not appear so.
Shenkar searches the dead zombie, first for anything that shouldn't belong there...any devices or weapons.
Your more thorough search of the beast does not locate any crafted items beyond the one discovered by Issiki. Many of the Mekillot’s bones are too broken, chipped, or cracked to serve your purpose, but the beast is huge, and likely you will be able to fashion some equipment given time and the combined raw materials from the Howdah (stone, leather drapes, rope, and wood).
which might have edible marrow in it if this thing hasn't been dead for weeks.
It’s been dead for quite some time. The sand of ages fill its bones.
And that he has wasted his 1 Rage/day![/ooc]
Aso and Skarsnikt try to stop the bleeding with compression. Aso cuts off a few flea ridden dreadlocks with the stone dagger and implements them as bandages.
The horrid wound looks improved, but refuses to clot. Blood flows freely from Holdrus, and his skin takes on a deathly pallor ().
The way he is hemorrhaging, it does not appear so.
Also....finally....looking for a shattered rib or (again) long bone which might have edible marrow in it if this thing hasn't been dead for weeks.
MalaKi will eat. If you don’t eat you get weak. If you get weak you die. If you die you get eaten. And so it goes…
After healing Holdrus and Aso, Zuko casts Endure Elements on himself. Thereafter, Zuko will search for some material he can use as a cloak.
He also looks for footprints in the sand to try and locate the still-invisible elf.
Distracted by the clamor surrounding Holdrus, Faindrac is unable to discern where the elf might have traveled.
" Zuko's hands are suffused by a blue-white aura as he blesses his wounded comrades.
The healing from Zuko burns worse than any mere combat injury, flames cauterizing your wounds. The inferno inside the men burns out quickly, leaving behind temporarily deadened nerves as Aso’s ribs knit and Holdrus’ skin grows anew ().
as he nears the top he stops a moment and listens. Listen check=19
You hear nothing but the commotion below, the ubiquitous howl of the desert wind, and the scouring of sand on sand.
Below you, on the other side of the dune, lay perhaps six elves, half buried in blood-soaked sand. A lone Kank stands nearby, wandering about as if lost.
Just fyi, water spells from non water clerics tend to provide about half the effect of normal, especially coming from someone of the opposed element.
Aso is going to choose a bone to make into a greatclub. He will also try to make an elf-skin parasol if he has time.
MalaKi will eat. If you don’t eat you get weak. If you get weak you die.
If MalaKi doesn’t hear anything coming from the other side of the hill he will sneak up to the top and peer over. If there is anything to be seen he will relay what he sees to the rest of the group. If there is nothing to see he will rejoin the group and start making himself some clothing/covering. He will lend his survival skills to any who ask. MalaKi is open to the idea of using the dead mekillot and the howdah to construct some kind of temporary shelter in case we decide to camp for the night (which, barring any unforeseen contingencies, sounds like a good idea to me).
The blistering heat of the daytime sun fades into twilight, with the temperature easing into a more comfortable range, making for an all too short respite before the frigid winds of night commence.
Annihilated by the unnatural lightning, the woman’s remaining equipment is useless. Full body thickness burns sear through her flesh. The elf, however, almost appears to be resting peacefully, were it not for the odd angle of his neck and the rictus of pure dread he bears.
When you pull him down from the Howdah, you notice his prior seat contains a hollow cavity. It is unclear what was in it, or where the storm might have flung the contents.
Your stomach, long forgotten in that hellhole of a transport, begins to protest loudly at your recent exertion. Your parched lips (those of you who have lips) crack in the dry air, and you can’t remember the last time you rested.
Still, leaving the bodies where they lay might not be the wisest idea. There are worse things in the desert night than Mekillots. Things that can scent blood from afar.
Holding up the tortoise blade, Issiki asks "Can someone use this?"
Uneasy at eating the flesh of one he has not faced in combat, Issiki still decides that as the elves died bravely then it would be fitting to honour them with the ritual.