Motsognir steps to the icy undead, swinging his axe as always. He misses, as usual.

Missing his first strike completely, Delic notices the frustration on Motsognir's face as well.

"Hey, we're learning as we go here, okay?"

Strike against enemy at P4

Having removed the immediate threat of the ghoul, my eyes alighted on the next obvious target, the highly flammable flying thing. I lashed out with a fireball, hoping to catch one of the frozen zombies in the blast and thaw it out a bit. As the flames burst close to both dwarves, it occured to me that we had never tested their combustibility properly since I resurrected them all those weeks ago and I half held my breath, hoping that the pretty one at least would not burst into flames. The ugly one I was not so worried about if I was honest. Sure, he was a plucky little chap and useful for distracting the larger of our enemies, apparently able to be punched in the face all day without going down but whilst he swung his axe with great enthusiasm, he never actually seemed to hit anything. Plus he was very ugly and smelled faintly of rust.

Seeing the fireball largely miss it's target (And appreciative of the irony of having just dissed the dwarf for never hitting anything), I quaffed back my Elixir of Accuracy, certain that the next shot would be more decisive.

Flame burst above and behind the two zombies attacking Gabe so as to hit them both without hitting him or Soggy. M5 in fact.

Not sure if you have to beat of equal their relfex to hit them. If it's beat, Elven accuracy on the Rotwing shot, if it's equal, I hit the Rotwing already and I'll Elven accuracy the other shot.

Drink Elixir of Accuracy

*twitch* *twitch*

As his left eye started blinking and his head started shaking, Gabe had just enough time to realize that one again he was being possessed by another being. "Not agaaaa.....", he managed to mutter.

After closing his eyes briefly, he felt a new surge of power in his veins. Magically, like some higher being willed it, he could move again! And move fast.

Immobilization GONE, hah!

Unfortunately, not fast enough with all this shit he's got on.

Thinking nothing of modesty, he stripped down to his disgusting birthday suit, which fortunately was less offensive to the eyes than one might imagine. The sheer quantity of body hair present hid all of his relatively tiny unmentionables in a forest of curly black short hairs and pubic lice.

Drop all his shit on the ground. GET NAK'D

Grabbing only the rope from his pack, and booking it into the opening between the monster and the cliffside, he moved next to good old Soggy.

Move to M8

After winking suggestively at his comrade, he got to work. With lightning speed, he wrapped the rope around some of the planks of wood at his feet. And before long, had a small platform three planks wide. Just enough to sit on.

Use up some of that wood

"Hey guys", he said to the rest of the hoard, "a bit chilly, eh? These monsters reminded me that I just love snow. And you know what's fun? TOBOGGANS!"

Moving the platform and himself up to the cliff edge, sitting on it, and then pushing both it and his naked ass over the edge with his feet, the last thing anyone else could hear was a high pitched, extremely feminine wail of "WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE".

Followed shortly by a crunch, a splat, and some other sound effect that couldn't be descriped in just one word.

Keepin' this brief tonight.

Start of Delic's turn: 5 cold damage from Chillborn aura
Roll D20 to see if you hit; THEN roll the damage
Start of Garrmondo's turn: 5 cold damage from Chillborn aura
Scorching Burst: 7 damage to Rotwing
Elixir drunk: don't forget to actually use the ability
Gabe dumps all his stuff on the ground at O5 and goes off to seek his destiny. A+++ would contract to murder my players again.
Of course now you guys have to win this fight with only four guys, have fun with that. Don't forget your Action Points!
Rotwing Slam: 9 damage to Delic
Chillborn Slam: 7 damage to Bob; immobilized, ongoing 5 cold damage (save ends)
Chillborn Slam: 9 damage to Motsognir; bloodied, immobilized, ongoing 5 cold damage (save ends)

:savepoint: Motsognir, Delic, Garrmondo, Bob, Gabe, Rotwing Zombie, Chllborn Zombies

Motsognir again takes a wide swing at the chillborn. His axe sinks in to the zombie's side, flinging it over the edge of the cliff. The dwarf takes a deep breath, relieved that he's safe in the short-term. Too distracted earlier to notice his companion's madness, Soggy sees Gabe's belongings scattered in the road. Just like that crazy bastard to drop his equipment in the middle of a fight he thought. Motsognir never was much for fair fights.

Hit chillborn
Activate Staggering Greataxe, pushing it off the cliff
damage irrelevant
Speak Inspiring Words to self

saving throw failed

Frustrated with this turn of events, Delic swings wildly.

Moves to P2
Strikes at creature at O2

The sudden departure of the ugly dwarf had left a gaping hole in our defensive line which the freezing zombie was quick to exploit. I found myself rooted to the spot with cold and not for the first time, cursed whichever gods had decided that magic items would somehow know when you'd used another magic item already that day and decide to stop working, thereby preventing me from using my robe's flame powers which frankly, I hadn't been expecting to need until the dwarf buggered off.

With the zombie so close and unable to run because of the cold in my legs, I did what any sensible mage would do in the situation and cowered in terror, hoping my legs would thaw out and I could run away.

Total defense

The third monster went over the precipice, giving Soggy a chance to catch his breath — and rationalize away Gabe's apparent suicidal madness. Sure, any clan-brother got a little wiggly in the brainpan if he spent too much time under the open sun, but this kind of abrupt abandonment of one's responsibilities in the middle of battle was a little over the top. It's a good thing I have something to live for, he muses, gazing over at his beautiful, beautiful elf.

Start of Soggy's turn: 5 aura cold damage
Inspiring Words: Soggy's HP +14

Delic couldn't quite understand it. Armed with the best sword his career of boldness and derring-do could buy him, he still couldn't seem to hit even the most clumsy targets. There was really no sense in it. He'd just have to redouble his efforts. Foul sorcery was clearly afoot; his many enemies had obviously tracked him down and cursed his enchanted blade.

The zombie charges him again, and Garrmondo shoves the frozen beast back toward the cliffs again. It all reminded him of a game he'd once played in the guard barracks. The lads had compressed the sap of a tropical tree into a little ball, and it would bounce off most anything you threw it at. They spent many hours idly bouncing that ball during the graveyard shifts. What had they called it? Ah, yes. Twing-twang. "Alkatraz", they'd say. "The company twing-twang team is a man short. We may need you to play twing-twang."

Start of Garrmondo's turn: 5 cold aura damage
You used that AP up a month ago, sorry mang

Garrmondo has helpfully already shoved the chillborn zombie away from him, but the trauma of actually being hit by something is, as usual, a bit much for Bob to cope with immediately. He just stares out over the sea, a single tear forming in the corner of his eye.

Start of Bob's turn: ongoing 5 cold damage
Save versus cold damage failed

The rotwing zombie darts out in the open air, hovering there and beating its leathery wings as though preparing for a wicked dive at its prey. Swagger slashes out viciously as the zombie retreats from him, but with no luck.

The chillborn, slowly beginning to understand the threat the cliff represents, wanders away from the edge to harass the easy prey that the cowering elf presents. Bob cowers behind his staff and manages to fend the zombie off.

:savepoint: Motsognir, Delic, Garrmondo, Bob, Rotwing Zombie, Chllborn Zombie

Start of Motsognir's turn: Immobility expires, 5 ongoing cold damage
Bob's immobility will also expire when his turn starts

The feeling came back into my legs and I wasted no time in ducking away from the undead monstrosity in front of me. With the Horde pressing the creature on all sides, there was no doubt the creature would soon be dead, well, more dead so with the Elixir of accuracy burning in my stomach, I blasted a fireball at the flying nasty.

Shift to Q5, use Elixir of accuracy power, Fireblast the Rotwing

Though slightly pleased by the creature's willingness to be afraid of his blade, Delic still bites off a curse - "Damn your ancestors, knave!"

Warry of the creature thats moved out, Delic picks up a rock and hurls it.

Rock attack at O6

Spinning his axe about him in a wide arc, Soggy's momentum carries him a full 360 degrees for a second cut. The zombie staggers backward toward Garrmondo's waiting blade, and Motsognir gives the human a curt nod.

Flanking adds 2 to your attack roll! That's why it's USEFUL, people
15 damage to Chillborn. We'll give the +5 bonus to Garrmondo since you didn't specify

Oblivious to the beating going on behind him, Delic continues his blood feud with the rotwing. His throwing arm was ready. It wasn't for nothing that he'd been voted MVP 3 years running on the staffball team at Pelor's Grace Private School For Troublesome Boys. Scooping up a nice fist-sized rock, he casually wings it into the flying monster's jaw. The sound of shattering bone is a fair reward for his trouble.

But it wasn't a rock! It was a 6 damage.

Garrmondo smirked. There was no way he could miss this time. The zombie was paying no attention to him, with the dwarf carving it up like a St. Cuthbert's Day chicken. But then, mid-swing, he gets a massive cramp in his sword-arm. Once again, glory eludes him.

A PLUS NINETEEN BONUS and this guy still misses

With the elixir bubbling warmly in his guys, Bob feels pretty confident about his aim. That is, until he stumbles over a rock. Flailing his arms for balance and unable to interrupt the casting process, Bob accidentally shoots his fireburst almost directly upward. A passing albatross is burned to a cinder, dropping out of the sky and landing on Bob's shoulders (which, luckily, are not nearly broad enough to support your large sea birds for more than a moment or two).

Beginning of Bob's turn: 5 cold damage

The rotwing darts in back toward the cliff, trying to use momentum to smash into Delic with tremendous speed. Sadly, the rock had badly damaged the decayed remains of the zombie's inner ear, and it goes into a tailspin before awkwardly staggering to a halt upon the cliff.

Disinclined to be pushed over the cliff, the chillborn zombie starts pushing back. Sadly, being covered in ice doesn't give one much in the way of traction and the zombie's attempt to push Garrmondo back toward the wall come off as faintly pathetic. Growling, the chillborn circles around behind Garrmondo as a defense against being smashed on the rocks below.

:savepoint: Motsognir, Delic, Garrmondo, Bob, Rotwing Zombie, Chllborn Zombie

Hoping that nobody had noticed my slightly wayward shot, I ducked back again, keeping pirate between myself and the chilly zombie. Taking aim at the flying beast again, I let rip with another fireball, keeping a nervous eye out for any more seabirds.

Shift to P6, Fireburst at N3

You know, conventional cartesian coordinate notation would suggest that those spaces are 6P and 3N actually

Slipping past his lady to jam himself between the ice beast and the cliffside, Motsognir sees the chillborn turning to look at the new human hungrily. "Behind you, you moustachioed bastard!" he shouts.

move to R5
Commander's Strike - Delic to Chillborn

Satisfied with the result of the previous strike, Delic takes up another stone and hurls it with a strong satisfaction of similar results to follow.

...Just hoping he hits the enemy and not, you know, the other people.

No comment, just a slow sad shrug

Delic, Bob, Garrmondo each take 5 damage from the cold aura at the start of their turns. All three are bloodied.

Chillborn Zombie bloodied by Crushing Surge, Garrmondo gains +2 temp. HP

Rock in the face: 5 damage to Rotwing
Rotwing's attack of opportunity: 7 damage to Delic. Don't use ranged attacks at melee distance, kids!


Chillborn Slam: 7 damage to Delic; immobilized w/5 ongoing cold damage (save ends)

:savepoint: Motsognir, Delic, Garrmondo, Bob, Rotwing Zombie, Chllborn Zombie

(Delic lays on his back, limbs in the air, looking quite like a turtle flipped over onto its shell and unable to do a damn thing about it.)

(Not unlike his last date.)

(Which was five years ago.)

My dwarf cunningly stepped in behind the zombie, flanking the beast and hopefully leading us to a swift victory. Sadly however, this left no room for any fireballs, at least not without hitting my companions and losing one buddy per fight was pretty much my limit.

Well, it was these days anyway. As a youth I had hung out with a rather rough bunch of kids. Not through choice of course, it was simply a case of geography. Living as we did on the plantation, the only kids even vaguely my age around were the children of the workers, a mixture for the most part of half-orcs and humans. Oh yes and a single minotaur family. Their son, we called him Steak, I never did find out his real name, was the de facto leader of our group on account of being 15 stone of pure muscle and having sharp horns on his head at the age of eleven. As the only elf of the group, I was subjected to endless friendly ribbing and games like "How long can the elf hold his breath underwater", "Pin the tail to the elf" and everyone's favourite "Elf-hunt" were common. Still, I was one of them and as Steak always told me, "AAAARGHFFRF RRAAARGHFFMMGF MMMRAAFGHFGH MMMOOOOOOOOOOOO!". The combination of a hair lip and a massive brass ring through his nose did make him rather difficult to understand certainly but luckily, one of the scrawniest half-orc kids, one many suggested was in fact a half-goblin, was able to understand Steak perfectly and conveyed his meaning and wishes to the rest of us. Apparently Steak had been saying that should I ever get in trouble then to come to him because if anyone was going to hurt our elf it was going to be him.

One day, I had accompanied my father to visit the nearby village to collect supplies. Father said we'd work quicker if we split up so sent me off to the general store to pick up 25 shovels and a new millstone while he went to source something or other in the tavern. It was several hours later that I, having managed finally to get the millstone onto the cart and spent a good while waiting for my father, was accosted by a gang of youths, local village kids for the most part and all elves. We exchanged pleasantries, me asking how did they do and them asking if I was the "Funny looking queermo from the forest who hangs out with orcs" and questioning my parentage. The first question was perhaps an understandable one but as soon as one of them mentioned my beloved mother, I flew into a fit of rage and launched myself at him, fist flailing, looking to dish out some rough justice to these base-born curs.

My father eventually found me half submerged in the village's communal latrine and took me home and sent me to bed with a good thrashing to think about what I'd done. The next day, after relaying my tale to the group, Steak decided that retribution was in order and a plan was hatched. The half-goblin kid suggested that we arrange to meet these village kids somewhere quiet, away from prying adult eyes and give them a good beating. The decided location for the rumble was Hellspawn Cave, my objections being quickly put down both by sound reasoning from the half-goblin (There wasn't really any dark underworld creatures living there, the adults just called it that to keep kids away because they liked hanging out without kids from time to time, you know, those meetings where they all wear red robes do that funny chanting stuff) and a heavy punch to the temple from Steak.

A messenger was despatched to the village kids and we headed out to the cave to wait for the appointed time, sunset. The group took up positions inside the cave entrance, whilst I waited outside alone, the plan being to ambush the village kids when they arrived. The evening grew colder, unseasonably so as I recall and as the sun set, shadow filled the cave mouth and I felt strangely alone until finally, I saw the gang from the village marching up the path towards me.

I remember little of what happened after that. There were some insults exhanged of course and I remember shouting a rallying cry to the boys I knew were hidden in the cave but after that the evening becomes fuzzy. To this day I have dreams about the wet, ripping noises from behind me, the looks of abject terror on the faces of the village kids, the odd bellow of pain (which I knew couldn't possibly be coming from Steak as it sounded almost like a young minotaur having his limbs ripped off one by one by some demonic monstrosity and I had been assured there were no demons in the cave) and the sight of several bodies, well bits of bodies anyway, strewn around the cave entrance and the path.

I was later told that the fight had got out of hand and a few kids had been badly hurt and that Steak and the goblin kid had both been killed, with all the other kids having to move away, although I could never understand why their families never went with them, especially as they all looked so sad afterwards. Still, I never had any trouble with the village kids again, in fact I never saw any of them again, they must have been avoiding me, like everyone else in the village seemed to after that day. From that day forth though, every time I drank any milk I'd pour some on the kerb for Steak and remember the good old days of the West Plantation Crew.

I sighed at the memory of my childhood chums, wondering if I'd ever see any of them again. Almost as an afterthought I sent another gout of flame towards the flying zombie, hoping to actually hit the fucker this time.

Flameburst at Rotwing