Scritch.




Scritch.









SCRIIIIIIIITCH.



Delic was enjoying his nose picking. Maybe a little too much. He was up to the second knuckle on both of his fingers when he finally glanced up at the rest of the people in the room.

Combat had come to a dead halt as everyone watched in amazement at just how far the man could shove his digits into his sinuses.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Right. Uhh. Fighting or something. This dwarf is an asshole. Now I remember. That bell idea was a bad one anyway."

Wiping the snot on the edge of his sword, he used the yellow goop to help drive the dwarf into following him.

Footwork Lure on Rundarr
8 + 12 + 2 = 22 > 19. Hit.
9 + 6 = 15 damage.
Shift to U11, move Rundarr to T10.

Wait a minute.

What the fuck?

There I am.

Though he might not have been able to keep the scout from entering the dining hall, Garrmondo was more than happy to settle for kicking him back out. The duergar staggers backward, his beard seeming to fluff out like a porcupine about to throw its quills.

Awakening as though from a long reverie, Delic finds himself staring at a huge bell for no obvious reason. Grabbing the nearest person in the vicinity, Delic flings them at the thing and wanders off. That's how he rolls.

Taking another hop backwards and then rapidly backpedaling into the next room, the duergar scout fires off his beard spines. None of the poisonous quills get past Garrmondo's shield, but really. Who does that?

Taking a beating, Rundarr gives up the thoroughly-battered bell for lost and decides another hammer to aid him is probably more important. In a feat of incredible strength, he lifts the massive bell off the floor and tosses it aside, freeing the (somewhat rattled) guard underneath. Too busy for a proper attack, he fires off his beard quills — but Delic's shield has no more trouble with them than Garrmondo's had.

:savepoint: Glock, Gordok, Gheth, Duergar Guards, Garrmondo, Delic, Duergar Scouts, Rundarr

"Hmm."

Glock smirks to himself, the other dwarf was not nearly as sneaky as he wanted to be. HIS ROBO EYES CATCH EVERYTHING.

Knowing he can't right well fight the guard by himself without running the risk of damaging his fucking awesome hat, he does the next best thing and decides to lock the guy out.

Move to W13. Close door behind him.

Whipping out the skull on a iron rod he grabbed earlier but for some reason never had appear in his inventory, he jammed it between the doorhandles, effectively locking them.

Glock frowned as he did this. He wanted to save the thing. He could have painted the skull lavender.

He was looking forward to telling women about his 18 inch hard shaft with a big purple head on it.

Oh well, maybe next time.

Improvised door block.

His prisoner has been released! And the bell! Oh the bell!

Move to V7
Warlock's Curse (Guard@T9)
Tundra Wind (Rundarr & Guard@T9)


Rundarr takes 8 ice damage, 2 curse damage, moved to U13, and is knocked prone.
Guard@T9 takes 8 ice damage, 2 curse damage, moved to U12, and is knocked prone.

That ice should hopefully hold those two bushy monsters down - long enough for those surrounding them to get in some nice hits, maybe. Gordok thinks so.

Delic stands still and does nothing.

Because he's just that badass.

Gheth had seen beards like these before, only once.

Long ago, during the Dwarven raids of the province of Antioch. A troupe of hardened mercenaries razed the town, leaving a wake of embedded beard-quills behind them. The screams of the beard-ravaged townspeople came back to Gheth now.

Gheth shook himself out of his memory.
Never again, he vowed. These beards would not harm another soul, by his will!

Daunting Light on U12 (Duergar Guard) Hit! 16 damage.
Sustain Spiritual Weapon and combat advantage on U13 (Rundarr) Miss.

Glock spots the reinforcements careening around the corner. Thinking fast, he slams shut the broad doors of the dining hall and bars them with the iron rod he'd found a little earlier. Wooden doors wouldn't slow down a troupe of angry dwarves for long, though.

Gordok wails despairingly. Not only had his pet dwarf escaped, his brand-new best and favoritest bell was getting terribly abused. It was a day that would live in infamy. Gordok screams such a terrible scream that the sheer wind of it carries the duergar guard flying over the bell and deposits them on the floor in a quivering heap. Rundarr, however, stands his ground in the face of the terrible blast — thought the sheer force of it bends him over backward to the point that he's effectively lying down. He seems to have temporarily affixed the soles of his boots to the floor.

"I'll not let such a tiny man as you push me around, ye shapeshifting miscreant!"

Rundarr triggers Dwarven Greaves as an interrupt, resisting the forced movement but immobilizing him for a turn.

Swearing vengeance against the beards of the world, Gheth mutters a small prayer under his breath. In an instant, the duergar guard's beard had burst into a nimbus of holy flame. The guard wails in terror, slapping his own face desperately.

And: bloodied. You didn't specify who gains advantage from the Daunting Light, so the dice say it's Garrmondo

The Flaming Beard, distracted by his terrible plight, crawls away toward a corner and unsteadily gets back on his feet. The very indignation of having his beard befouled seems to have him trembling with rage. Pointing an accusing finger at Gheth, the guard's hands burst into an unholy flame (which burns, but does not consume).

"You're makin' me very cross", he hisses.

Guard enables Infernal Anger

The other guard nearly runs headlong into the doors of the hall as Glock hurriedly slams them shut. Putting his weight behind his shoulder, the guard does his best to smash the door down. But the bar on the other side stymies his efforts, and the doors remain a solid barrier.

"Very well, ye mewling wenches! We'll take the damned thing apart timber by timber if we must!"

:savepoint: Garrmondo, Delic, Duergar Scouts, Rundarr, Glock, Gordok, Gheth, Duergar Guards

Knowing a good idea when he sees it, Garrmondo follows Glock's lead and just slams the door shut rather than pursue the scout any further. With his back to the door, the scout should have plenty of trouble getting back in since the door completely opens into the room and all that.

Opportunity spotted, he launches a vial of oil at the guard with the flaming beard. The bluish-white fire engulfing the duergar's jaw clearly wasn't an ordinary flame, but Garrmondo never was really up-to-date on the study of theological chemistry. It seems to work well enough; when the oil smashes into the side of the guard's head, the holy fire begins to spread wildly all over the duergar's upper body.

"Well", says the guard, completely wreathed in flame from the waist up. "I've had better days, I tell you what."

Um, 3 damage to the guard. It sounded real cool when you proposed it though. =(

Delic passively observes the majestic flight of the rare Bakersfield Oil Jar. He turns to the left to watch Garrmondo fire the vial, then he turns to the right to watch it connect. He smiles an enigmatic smile. Such is Delic. Do not presume to know him.

Another duergar reaches the opposite side of the east doors, and begins to bash them down with his warhammer.

7 damage to door.

The scout Garrmondo had just shut the door on immediately attempts to charge through and smash it down, but fails completely, running into the undamaged door with an audible splat.

Waving his arms desperately, Rundarr finally pulls himself upright. Sadly, his boots are still securely affixed to the floor and try as he might he can't reach anyone in order to batter them. He thrashes his hammer in Delic's general direction; the fighter merely arches an eyebrow.

:savepoint: Glock, Gordok, Gheth, Duergar Guards, Garrmondo, Delic, Duergar Scouts, Rundarr

Glock glances at the door. "My friend the skull rod, I shall call you MURRAY. Please hold on for as long as you can! I will save you!"

He could have sworn he saw the skull's jaw open and close as if to say "HURRY UP YOU FUCKER" but it could have just been the slowly moulding cheese in his acidless stomach cavity speaking.

Frightened and confused by this hallucination, Glock moves away from the door.

Move to Y10

Looking up towards the boss dwarf, Glock readies something awesome to say.

Opening his mouth proves a bad idea, though. All he gets out is "Your g-" before a massive cheese belch follows through. So massive, and so fragrant, that it flies like an arrow right into Rundarr's face.

Luckily for Glock, this particular Dragonborn has no issue with this sort of thing, and is not phased in the least by by what is essentially one step away from projectile robovomit flying right past him.

Vicious Mockery on Rundarr
12 + 7 + 2 = 21 > 18.
1(:() + 5 = 6 damage.
Rundarr takes -2 penalty to hit.

The dwarf gets a whiff of it and makes a pretty disgusted face. Even compared to dwarf gastronomical events, this was pretty potent.

Rundarr was still in place. And well in range. Yeah...

Eldritch Blast @ Rundarr

Rundarr takes 14 damage from the crackling blast shot across the room and then a further 6 curse damage.

Excerpt from Gheth McGarnigal's adventuring notes: pg 148






Lance of Faith on T13 (Guard) 6 damage
Sustain Spiritual Weapon on S10 (Rundarr) 15 damage

Sorry for the holdup, some behind-the-scenes stuff causing a delay of game. We'll skip the extra flavor this time since things are about to get real goofy anyway.

The endless harassment of Gheth's ethereal dagger darting about him frays Rundarr's last nerve.

"You're... you're makin' me angry. Y'won't like me when I'm angry."

A bulging vein in the duergar's forehead begins to throb, and before the Horde's astonished eyes Rundarr begins to expand. The iron links of his chainmail pop apart and fly off like kettle corn until the armor is little more than a poncho draped over his massive shoulders, and the "dwarf" towers over everyone else in the room. Ten feet tall, mad as a wet ogre, and twice as ugly, Rundarr stares down at the puny dragonborn. Pointing his now-comparatively-small warhammer in the cleric's direction, the duergar warlord keeps it simple.

"KILL HIM!"

Delic stares up at Rundarr with a look of bemused detachment, as though the situation had nothing to do with him whatsoever.

Now he's really getting huge

The guards move quickly to follow Rundarr's order to the best of their (limited) ability, with the unfortunate fellow with the now-smoldering beard rushing forward to smash in Gheth's jaw with his hammer. The crunching sound is deeply satisfying on a primal level.

Gheth is warhammer'd for 17 damage

The hammering apart of the eastern doors accelerates, and Murray is beginning to visibly bend around the middle of his bar. The hinges aren't going to take much more punishment.

Outside-the-room guard trigs Infernal Anger; Door is warhammer'd for 11 damage

:savepoint: Garrmondo, Delic A SURPRISE!, Duergar Scouts, Rundarr, Glock, Gordok, Gheth, Duergar Guards

With Dwarfzilla getting ready to eat the entire prom, Garrmondo had no more time to waste on small fry. Not that the scout seemed to be making much headway against the door anyway, Garrmondo jams a chair under the door handle.

Delic continues to stare apathetically at the mayhem all around him. Then, abruptly, he shrugs off his scale armor and tosses to the floor, disgust written on his face. He's wearing leathers underneath — why would anyone do that? No wonder he always moved around so slowly. Then he drops his sword as well, the blade simply slipping from his limp hand. He raises his hands to his face, cupping his forehead as though suffering a terrible headache.

"Everybody just... just be quiet for a minute, I—"

Delic begins to shake uncontrollably.

"The shouting and the bells and the ridiculous giant dwarf and the halfling who eats people and the singing robot and the... the..."

He starts hypenventilating. At this point he's the center of attention; even the hammering on the doors seems to have petered out.

"Too much. Too much! Can't concentrate. Can't. No. Stop. Can't focus. Can't focus!"

Delic falls to his knees, and a terrible metamorphosis overcomes him. At first it seems a trick of the light — his hairline shifting around, little ripples going over his flesh. But it's hard to deny that something surreal is going on when his skin starts cycling through every color of the rainbow.

Soon, "Delic's" appearance is shifting around so quickly it's almost hard to look at. He continues covering his face, but his body goes through dozens of different shapes — one moment there's a grey-bearded dwarf sitting on the floor, then a raven-haired elf girl, a burly tiefling, a one-armed orc, an emaciated drow... for a strange instant he even seems to have the iron skin of a warforged.

Then, at long last, the wheel of identities clicks to a halt.

Blinking and rubbing his eyes groggily as though he had just woken from a long nap, a young man staggers to his feet in the spot where Delic had stood less than a minute before. He seems superficially human in most of the important ways — but there's something off about him. His ears a little too big, his mouth a little too wide, and his eyes — a strange yellow color that almost seems to glow in the firelight.

Looking around the room, the "newcomer's" expression gets gloomier and gloomier as he awkwardly fumbles out a longbow he had strapped to his back under the scale mail. No wonder Delic had always been so stiff.

"Okay, clearly a little bit of a tussle here. Let's just save the introductions for later. Raise your hand if you're not trying to kill me."

Now that the horrifying noise of the shapeshifter's flesh sliding around had finally come to a merciful halt, the scouts resume trying to smash their way into the room. The eastern doors give way under a final vicious blow from the scout's warhammer, and the splintered ruins collapse messily to the floor. Murray's probably still okay under there. The scout cautiously makes his way into the room.

Not discouraged in the least by Garrmondo's progressively elaborate barricade, the scout at the north door proceeds to hammer away at it.

7 damage to north door

Rundarr turns on Gheth, his massive bulk trembling with rage. He trundles toward the dragonborn, smashing the table beneath his weight. Gheth ducks under the gigantic duergar's wild swings easily.

:savepoint: Glock, Gordok, Gheth, Duergar Guards, Garrmondo, Cal Amah, Duergar Scouts, Rundarr

It didn't look like it was too difficult for the scaley one to dodge the giant hammer of doom, but Glock was somewhat amused by how the wake generated by the big slab of iron flying through the air was enough to move the guy by a good five feet.

Virtue of Cunning
Shift Gheth to W9.

The new fellow that just appeared didn't have a G in his name. Glock could tell because this Cal fellow had written his name on the tags of his skintight leather pants, as if someone would steal THAT fashion accessory.

Instantly distrusting this new fellow because he's not part of the G-unit Gangstas, it was decided upon that he could, at least, make a good door, even if Murray failed him.

The speaker in his head extended outward, and Glock played the best song he knew that had anything to do with blustery stuff and bein' a tad chilly.

Get the Flash Player to play this audio file:
Tune of Ice and Wind at U11
Shift Cal to V14. (U12 --> V13-->V14)
Don't hit a god damn THING
8 + 5 = 13 / 2 = 6. Six fucking damage. Bulllllllshit. And slowed until next turn. Go to hell RNG.

Being the intelligent robot he is, he also recognized that shit might get pretty fucking real right quick, and thus backed off slightly.

Move to Y7

Between the giant dwarf and possible sharpshooters Gordok figured it was high time to find some furniture to become familiar with. They'd understand. They always did.

Move to X8
Eldritch Blast @ Rundarr
Converse with the table about feelings and dinnerware

Another spit in Rundarr's direction causes 13 damage and 5 curse damage. Every bit counts.

"So as I was saying I never really knew my father..."

Gheth could see this whole thing taking a turn for the bone-crunchy, so he did what any good doctor would do, and with a gesture, let out a shimmering wave of reinforcing energy. He was filled with renewed determination. He'd not suffer this bearded abomination to live, so help him! He let out a fearsome battlecry, and in the heat of the moment, it manifested as a piercing frosted wind, cracking the skin of the two enemies in front of him.

That done, he figured it might not be untoward of him to start calling in the reinforcements of his own.

"Hey, puffy sleeves! A little help? The chair can wait!"

Shield of Faith on all party members: +2 AC
Dragon Breath so as to hit U10 and V11. Hits! 7 damage Rundarr, 8 damage Guard
Sustain Spiritual Weapon and combat advantage on T9 (Rundarr) Hit! 13 damage

The door is breached, but it seems too late for the guards and scouts to save Rundarr — the monstrous dwarf is wavering on his feet, bleeding from a dozen serious wounds.

The guard from beneath the bell rushes Gheth desperately, hoping to at least wound the cleric before the end. Battered and bleeding, his feeble swing doesn't even jostle Gheth's shield arm.

The second guard is rushing into the room onto to nearly collide with the shapeshifter going in the other direction.

"Ho ho, trying to escape, are you?"

The guard's warhammer swiftly arcs into Cal's jaw with a meaty crunch. That jaw was new, gods damn it all. This is why we can't have nice things.

12 damage to Cal

:savepoint: Garrmondo, Cal Amah, Duergar Scouts, Rundarr, Glock, Gordok, Gheth, Duergar Guards

Did that overgrown toy just micturate over the place? Whatever it was, Cal was slipping headfirst towards the heathens that just smacked down the door. Fortunately, his feet caught on a curious skull-tipped rod which halted his momentum, but snapped in half during the process.

He was always fascinated by these mechanical golems. Always wanted one of them when he was a kid - and make every human child very jeal--

The hammer blow rudely interrupted Cal's reverie. Going limp, his body follows the full arc of the warhammer's trajectory, sending him sprawling into the opposite direction.

"Gag hurt, you mean gwarf! You'll pay for ghag!"

Activate "Yield Ground", shift two squares to X12.

Deciding that discretion is the better part of valor, Cal decides to take cover behind the robot.

Move to Y8 and designate Rundarr as quarry.

"I hag enough out of gis. And especially you, giant gwaf!"

Cal takes careful aim at Rundarr and lets loose with his patented Shadow Wasp Strike (TM), barely killing him.

Roll: 8 + 10 = 18, vs. Reflex 16: HIT.
Damage: 12 + 7 + 7 = 26 damage.

"WHO ELSE WANGS SOME?!"

Spend an Action point to ready an action: Two-Fanged Strike on any duergar that moves closer.

"YOUR LEADER IS DEAD. LOWER YOUR WEAPONS, AND WE'LL LET YOU LIVE. MAYGE."

http://thumb1.visualizeus.com/thumbs...cf90e9ae_m.jpg

"Aw, hell naw nigga. He does NOT talk like that".

http://upload.jetsam.org/images//10147818.jpg
It's all your gault, rogog! I galks like gis begauss of my gusted jaw!

Darting across the room, Garrmondo swiftly draws his blade across two duergar throats — and even as the guard falls gurgling to the floor, an arrow sprouts from Rundarr's eyesocket. The giant-sized dwarf-thing tumbles face-first to the floor with a mighty thud, driving the arrow into his brain.

This is somewhat bad for duergar morale.

"By Asmodeus and all the lesser devils! They've slain Rundarr! Quickly men, retreat! Fall back to the barracks, we'll hit 'em with the artillery!"

The remaining three duergar flee out the corridors, the sound of their boots fading as they retreat to the north. G-Unit is left alone in the dining hall with the rapidly-deflating corpse of Rundarr.

Victory! 675 XP (135 each) Action point for everyone but Glock (since he took a nap)