[DnD] Welcome to the Dungeon of Doom!

Motsognir went over, picked up his shield and put it in his pack, in case he found some kind of magical one-handed weapon later. Then he collapsed in a pile and went to sleep.

Most amazing jew boots

It was clear to Motsognir that no one else wanted to go to bed. Reluctantly, he got up and trotted after Argumentus.

How ya doing, buddy?

Motsognir stayed where he was and sulked. He wasn't very helpful in ranged fights.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Motsognir continued to be absolutely useless.

do nothing

I'm pretty well out of health surges. I'm not going to go charging into death-from-above, thank you.

How ya doing, buddy?

Motsognir stumbled into the room. His silly little legs were too short for him to swing at the skull-heads yet, so he nonchalantly tossed his throwing hammer at the injured archer above the woman, hoping it was already-pretty-much-dead.

move to left of Brigid
throwing hammer at archer

Most amazing jew boots

Move to square north of Brigid
Help Gabe SHAKE IT OFF (I finally use this damn thing)
Warlord's Favor on Skullcleaver

Jam it back in, in the dark.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Motsognir was all hopped up on self-confidence. He jumped at the skull-cleaver, swinging his axe in the fashion of the day.

move to Skullcleaver
Viper's Strike

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Motsognir couldn't see anything. "My eyes!" he welped. Ah, but that was of little use. "Get that sunnuvabitch!" he yelped, which was a bit more effective.

Speak Inspiring Words To Myself
Gabe makes a Commander's Strike on Hoggle (I assume my blindness won't effect my ability to tell other people to do things?)

Most amazing jew boots

Apparently, Motsognir's ability to yell at things was less effective than he had thought. He decided to wipe the goo off his face instead.

Saving Throw!

I was speaking idiomatically.

Motsognir could see, but his tiny little legs wouldn't let him attack anyone just yet.

Run towards Goblin Hexer

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Motsognir looked at each member of the party, one at a time, in what was clearly some form of irritation. "I am going to sleep now," he said. "You can keep going if you want, but I'll be right here, sleeping peacefully. You can sleep too, if you're into sleeping, but that's what I'm doing, so there."

He sat down, crossed his arms, frowned severely, and closed his eyes.

FELIPE NO

Motsognir woke up and climbed up the ledge, as it seemed like the thing to do. Everyone else was doing it.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

Motsognir was sick of nothing happening, so he picked up his throwing hammer, stood as far away from the half-assed mortar wall as he could, and then threw the hammer at it, hoping he could knock it down from a safe distance. Anything will be better than all this pussyfooting, he thought.

How ya doing, buddy?

Motsognir stays the fuck out of the dangerous trap room. He waits patiently at the door for everything to resolve itself.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Motsognir was very happy not to have to be around the trap room anymore. He set off towards the southleading stairwell, because really, what else was going to happen?

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Motsognir taps his foot impatiently, waiting at the stairwell.

"Ahem."

How ya doing, buddy?

"Yeah, Ulvig. Do it."

I was speaking idiomatically.

Motsognir stayed behind Argumentus, but he was there, nonetheless. Damn thing was already injured. How hard could it be?

Additional Spam:
Motsognir thought while he inched towards Argumentus. The thought of his heretofore battle-ready party members, well not so much the two women but at least Gabe, turning into quivering pansies had stirred up The Fear in him, and he sprinted after them, leaving the human to die by himself.

Most amazing jew boots

move to square south of Goblin Soldiers
Warlord's favor, benefit to Gabe

FELIPE NO

Seeing as opening, Motsognir left the guards and attacked the big man hisself.

Walk over to Warcaster
Viper's Strike on that there Warcaster

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

Motsognir heals a little, than keeps a-hackin' away.

Second Wind
Viper's Strike, again

Jam it back in, in the dark.

"Why mess with a proven plan?" thinks Motsognir.

Viper's Strike again

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Motsognir SHIFTED AWAY from the soldier and swung what he hoped was a killing blow to the Warcaster.

Viper's Strike again, why not?

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Motsognir ran across the room once again and made a swing at the last soldier.

Viper's Strike, again

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?