THREE HUNDRED NINE
(I/C)
The group could make out Abraxas cheering through clenched teeth, paralyzed on one side of the battle, and Lyra humming the Cleric frozen as well. “Damn it!” Brendon cursed, giving up on the Scythe. “Doc ain’t letting go and pulling on it is hurting my back something fierce!”
“At least no one got paralyzed a few moments ago!” Wyn offered.
"What the fuck was that Bubba Gump? Gator wrasslin skills don't translate?” Lannis cursed, holding his head with one hand and leaning back against the wall.
“Oh buon, I fixed de Big Brain,” Wyn said.
Slapping the Ishtari rod in Wyn’s hand, he growled, “Hold this for me huh, po boy? I’m sure you’ve knocked a few heads while gigging for frogs or whatever the fuck you do when the welfare dole runs out.”
“Merci for de rod.”
“Whatever,” Lannis groused.
“Ok, Theystra,” Kovid wound his hammer back, closing again with the Guardian, “Let’s do this again!” He swung and the undead dodged to the left, ducked to the right, and blocked the dwarf’s blows where he could (<+5 to hit, Yellow 9), getting scratched and buffeted, but avoiding most of Kovid’s main hits. “Oh, by Thor’s Burning Sensation, come the Hel on!”
“Your doom is at hand,” the Guardian intoned, holding the dwarf at bay while Wyn closed in on the other side.
Seeing Brendon draw the Corfard statue free, Lannis started stomping his feet and attracting the zombie’s attention. "Hey, Hey, Hey evil dead, what the fuck do you think you're doing with my horse and my flash cards? Need me to put this how you might understand, eh fuck nuts?"
Watching the interplay between the dwarf and the undead, the elf wiped some grit from his armor’s sleeve and said, “Tu veux baiser avec moi? H’ok... you wanna play rough? H’ok... say hello to my little friend!” He leapt in, swinging the Ishtari Rod with a practiced ease, working the silvered weapon like a truncheon as he hit again and again (=+4 to hit, Orange 12). Stray smoke and battered necro-flesh flew about from the impacts (1d4+1+1 Damage: Orange 4 = 6 Damage! 1 hp left!!), rocking the undead on its feet and making it emit a high pitched whining squeal.
“Someone is gonna hear this,” Brendon muttered. He gripped the statue hard, feeling the warm silver in his hand, noting the same black smoking energy running off it. “Ok, here we go.” He timed the fight for the right moment and jumped it, smashing the statuette down. “Welcome to Who’s idol is it anyway? Where everything is here to help Corfard and in the end it doesn’t matter!” (<+3 to hit, Red 5) It rang with a hollow clank against the Guardian and then again with a second and third strike, but the Scout was not able to get a solid blow in, even though the zombie seemed to be on its last ergs.
The Magic User had finally gotten himself to his feet, fixed his hat, and deepened his voice, speaking to the rest of the group in some growling deep and harsh language. However, the wizard was hoping to get a reaction as he addressed the Guardian in Draconic: "Is it too late to parley? My mission goes well, I have led these people here, culled the weak from blessed Corfard’s throng, collected the four weapons, lowered the rainbow barrier, and collected the crystals in preparation for his moment of exaltation"
(Initiative: Party Steel 3 vs Guardian Red/Black 1)
(WMC: Red/Black 4 – no)
“Your words are useless and mean nothing,” the Guardian replied in common.
“Fuck it, it was worth a shot,” Lannis said. “Let’s Racoon City rumble this fucking flesh sack people.”
Time now is Day 8, 7:30 AM
(OOC)
OMG – 1 hp left. You guys go, top of the round. Abraxas and Lyra – 8 minutes left.
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