THREE HUNDRED SEVEN
(I/C)
Brendon took a half step back, hoping to get a good shot it. “After this excursion, I can use a vacation,” he lamented.
Watching the fight unfold, Lannis frowned, “I think a vacation now would be ill advised. I’d wait until after.”
Wyn leaned to Lyra and hissed, ‘Did you see what it did wit de tappin of de head? I tink we need to take out de Guardian as soon as dis snake be done. Can you tell it to drop its sword after it attacks de snake? Don’t want it to be able to use it on us.”
“I’ll try Wyn, no promises though. I don’t think it’s going to put that sword down.” She frowned. “Maybe if I make him think it’s part of the strategy and not a trick.” She raised her voice. “Chuckles! Drop the weapon! Grapple and beat the snake!”
Hearing Lannis muttering a spell behind him, Wyn loaded up an arrow and offered, “Monsieur Offop, ye may want to hold dat dart incantation fer de G zombie. Not sure how much we gonna need to hit it after dis.”
“If you insist Mister Wyn!”
And with that, seeing an opening in the melee between Abraxas, Kovid, and the Guardian versus the undead serpent, the elf let his arrow fly (>+5 to hit, Orange 16). It streaked out and hit (1d6 Damage, Orange 6 and killed!!), punching through the skull and hitting the snake’s rotting brain…dropping it immediately.
Still ready to attack, Abraxas called out, "Serpente down! Serpente down! Tabajo bueno amigos! So.... que ahora?"
And the Guardian seemed to smirk, glance around, and bent down to pick up the axe again, giving Kovid the opening he needed. "Only true love can break your curse,” he addressed the zombie, “My love hammer!" and swung, making the Guardian stagger from the blow and roll to the side, battle drawn. Lyra was gritting her teeth, hoping to keep control, feeling the connection with the zombie flutter.
(Initiative Party Steel 5 vs Guardian Red/Black 4)
As soon as it stood up and faced the dwarf, balefire running down its cheeks as it reached for Kovid with one clawed hand, he was met with the crushing impact of the silvered warhammer (<+5 to hit, Yellow 2). But he leaned back, unnaturally far, and the hammer spun through the air missing the zombie by at least a foot and a half. Abraxas took advantage of the sudden combat to swing his scythe (>+6 to hit, -4 dam defl, Blue 17), hitting the Guardian with a devastating slash through the blackened energy around its midsection (1d8+3 Damage, Blue 6+3=9 Damage!), and sending it to crash back 2 steps. It snarled, spat out the word, “Corfard!” and lunged forward again where the Fighter struck a second time (<+6 to hit, Blue 1 – Fumble!! 1-2 lose wpn, 3-4 1 pt dam, 5-6 stunned 1 rnd. White 5 – stunned). And was met with the Guardian’s first straight in the center of his forehead, staggering Abraxas back a step and making the fighter see stars, struggling to clear his vision.
“Fuck this,” Brendon said, reaching into his quiver. “Silver or magic, silver or magic, silver or magic.” He pulled out one of his +2 arrows from the Ispan’s stores, loaded it up and pulled back. The runes in the head and shaft all flared to bright silvery and gold light and the entire arrow seemed to hum just before he fired (=+6 to hit, +2 Magic, Red 8). It slammed into the Guardian hard (1d6+2 Damage: Red 3+2 =5 Damage!), making it howl in pain and whirl around. “Thief! Stealer of Corfard! I will swallow your soul!”
“Don’t call me a fucking thief!” Brendon shouted back.
Seeing the axe too close to the Guardian, Lyra scooted forward and gave it a kick, sending it spinning across the chamber and making the Guardian glower at the Cleric. She stood back and tried to exert her will on the fragmenting control, hands gripping the Flail tightly. “Can’t swing, or its all over,” she muttered.
Lannis though was finishing up his spell, quickly aiming for the Guardian’s eyes. “Hey! Look at this! IN BET GRAV!” (<Int check, BX Baby, directed target with Dart spell -2, Pink 13 – yes!). The pink dart slashed across the room and drove into the Guardian’s right eye socket (1d4 Damage, Pink 1), sending balefire to burst out and negative energy to leak across the zombie’s face, as it leaned back and chittered aloud in pain. “With Corfard’s will,” it moaned, “You’ll pay for that!”
But the Guardian whirled and smashed its fists and fury on the stunned Abraxas (>+8 to hit, +1 stunned, Black 10), its necromantic anger driving the fighter to his knees, his armor making horrible ringing sounds as he was impacted (1d8+4 Damage: Red/Black 4+4=8. Damage Deflection <Str, White 7 – yes. Half Damage 8/2=4 – Take 4 Damage!), but he rolled with the blows and turned as he was struck, forcing the hits to glance off where able to. (Save vs Petrification: <White 7 – no) But he felt his limbs seize up, his muscles grow taut, and his body shuddered as it stopped moving; the Fighter Paralyzed (2d6 rounds: 5+6=11 rounds).
It then turned back around as Lyra shouted out, “STOP!! I command you to STOP!!!” The potion roiled and frothed within her, her will streaking out, the Guardian rocking from the command (>Cha check, White 16 – failed).
And then it was over. With an audible popping sound.
“Aine…fuck,” Lyra cursed.
(Initiative: Steel Party 1 vs Red/Black Guardian 4)
“May Corfard fuck you!” The Guardian sneered and turned on the Cleric (=+8 to hit, Black 9) hitting her in the shield with its leading hand, shoving it aside, and then following up with its other, closing in to striking range as it hit Lyra again and again (1d8+4 Damage: Purple 6+4=10 Damage!). The Cleric gasped as she was hit, the chainmail flattening in places, her body rocking back, blood frothing on her lips as she was hit with deadly punishing force. (Save vs Petrification: <White 8 – no) But she found herself slowing down and then freezing in place crouched over, hurting, her limbs refusing to obey…paralyzed (2d6 rounds: 4+6=10 rounds).
And the Guardian lifted its gaze to Brendon. “That statue belongs to Corfard!”
“It belongs in a museum!” the Scout fired back.
Time is now Day 8, 7:28 AM
(OOC)
56 Mins Det Invis. Control Undead potion over.
Abraxas and Lyra both paralyzed for 10 rounds. Can still breathe, see, and even squeak out and mutter things to say – just can’t move.
Guardian looks hurt. And there are 4 of you left. Your turn.
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