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Magnum Innominandum (GFF D&D Adventure 7)
What Has Gone Before
Spoiler:
But stranger still is Lost Carcosa. And so it was that, reveling in their new wealth from the profitable (if embarrassing) Thunderspire job, the G-Unit went in search of the Kafe Ilkin: the only coffeehouse in the city. It's easily distinguished from the clutch of taverns and whorehouses that surround it; patrons wander out chatting excitedly instead of staggering around and scratching themselves. The proprietor of the Kafe, a young fire genasi woman called Arzu, greets the G-Unit excitedly. No one else had come to inquire about the play since it had slipped her mind to offer any form of reward and she'd been far too busy to get a corrected message put up on the chanter's board. She explains her situation in bits and pieces, shouting over the din of customers while darting in and out of the back room. Glock peers through the doors as she passes back and forth, catching a tantalizing glimpse of the vast and complicated device that pressed the imported coffee beans and steamed them into the bitter black beverage. Something about the huge device seemed hauntingly familiar, as though it had been once been meant to build something far less innocuous than hot drinks. "Ah, thank Pelor you've come!", the genasi shouts excitedly, shaking Glock's hand before shrugging apologetically to the others. She was sure they'd understand; most folks would prefer to skip the handshake if they avoided severe burns in the bargain. While Arzu could control her elemental heritage, keeping her hands piping-hot during business hours saved quite a bit in firewood for heating the coffee. "So it's like this. My father built this place with his own hands before I was born, and I waitressed for him as soon as I could carry a tray. It was rough after Mom passed away but we survived — Freeport's never been a big city for drinking anything other than rum, but the handful of upper-crust types tipped well enough to pay the bills. A few weeks ago somebody finally took care of whatever in the hells was fouling up the Fang lighthouse, and a dozen backed-up shipments poured into port all at once. We went from having almost no beans in stock to having more than we could store. Dad and I talked it over and we decided to serve the coffee at double strength to get rid of the overstock without just throwing it out. We underestimated to some degree the effects of concentrated coffee on some of the smaller-statured races, I think." Her eyes roll up toward the ceiling, where a sweaty, twitching gnome clings desperately to a rafter — and then she carefully climbs atop a barstool to take his empty cup away and hand him a fresh one. "We also underestimated the value of such a powerful stimulant to the criminal classes, who derive great value from staying up when sensible people have gone to bed. Once all the hoods were drinking it, the watch decided they needed to be drinking it too, and before we could even talk about hiring more help we had more business than we could handle. Dad's an old man, and unfortunately the strain of the past few weeks have taken their toll on him. He's been too weary to rise from bed. I'm running the place in all but name, and I think it won't be long before I hang up a shingle for the Kafe Arzu. Dad lived in Hallowfeld before pulling up roots and coming to Freeport, and it was a bitter blow to him when the playwright Sophia Lasilaran made the same move in reverse. He's always admired her work, but he's spent his life working too hard to give up an evening for leisure. He's seen all her plays in the theatre of his mind, refusing tickets to the performances and just reading the written plays over and over. But now—" Arzu smiles self-consciously. "I'm babbling, aren't I. I probably shouldn't sample so much of my own brew. Here's the thing. Lasilaran has announced the premier engagement of her newest play — a work she calls The King In Yellow. It will take months, if not longer, for written copies to filter their way out of Hallowfeld... and my father almost certainly doesn't have that long to wait. I certainly can't leave the kafe long enough to fetch it myself... the addicts will rob the place blind once they catch on that nobody's watching them. It shouldn't be a hard job. Just get a copy of the play's script any way you can. If you can get Lasilaran's autograph on it that would be wonderful, but I won't hold my breath for that. I've heard she lives in a big mansion overlooking the rest of the village. I can't offer you much in the way of a reward, but once Kafe Arzu does see its grand re-opening maybe we can talk about cutting you in for a share of the profits — and all the free drinks you want." It sounds like easy work, and the vague promise of future profit is more than enough reward for a simple fetch job. After asking around for directions to Hallowfeld (Arzu can barely remember the place, having left as a child), G-Unit is on their way. ————— When the party arrives at the empty-looking village that a sign on the town outskirts assures them is Hallowfeld, they're a little confused: a makeshift wooden stage has been assembled in the town square and a handful of props are still scattered atop it. It seems they've already missed the premier performance of the play, but why haven't the locals disassembled the set? In fact, where are all the locals? It's nearly high noon when G-Unit rolls into town aboard their one-pony wagon, and it seems that everyone else is still laying in bed. It's a tiny little town by any measure; 3 or 4 storefronts and perhaps three dozen residences all told. On a hill just south of the village proper, a tall manor house looks down upon the party — casting a long black shadow in the noonday sun. It's Gordok who first notices signs that there may have been some kind of accident; several of the buildings nearest the square bear faint scorch marks, as though they'd weathered a small explosion. Worse, the rough-cobbled road leading through the center of town is splattered here and there with dried bloodstains. Cal, one-time woodsman that he is, immediately takes an interest in the dozens of faint foot tracks in the muddy ground on either side of the cobblestone road. Some of them strike him as out-of-place, and he can't quite determine their species of origin. Cal was the last person to make negative assumptions about someone based on the shape of their feet, but you don't usually see anything but humans in middle-of-nowhere burgs like this. Still, maybe the play had attracted some strange patrons. Four sets of tracks, all clearly human, diverge from the muddle and lead directly out of town. A strange symbol has been painted in bright yellow across the purple curtain that hangs behind the stage as a backdrop. It strikes Gheth as almost religious in nature; since the drawing doesn't seem to represent any physical object he can recognize, perhaps it's some kind of icon. But it's not the symbol of any god he's ever heard of, and he finds that he feels more and more uneasy the longer he studies it. Glancing around at his companions, he notices that they, too, are studiously looking at absolutely anything other than the yellow paint. Garrmondo in particular has found his bootlaces absolutely fascinating. For Garrmondo's part, he is actually less worried about the painted curtain than he is about the sounds he hears coming from the butcher shop to his left. Judging from the hissing, the sloshing, and the noisy labored breathing, a half-dozen fat bastards are coming his way with a bucket full of wet snakes. Even as he reports these sounds to the group, Glock begins to hear similar noises coming from the general store on the opposite side of the road. Jam it back in, in the dark. |
Fear washes over the minotaur and he instinctively commands the horse to move back - away from the noises. Ride on dat horse and move back. Keep 16 squares away from the town square and buildings. Can we has map? Ready Twin Strike against any creature that's clearly hostile. Nature Check: Rack brains for monster trivia. Fat overweight snake men. Anything comes to mind? 6 + 10 = 16. Perception Check 15 + 10 = 25: Are snake-like hissing approaching from directions other than the left and the right? How far away is the source, judging by the sound and the volume? How many distinct hissing/shuffling sounds can Cal hear, in addition to the half-dozen heard by Garrmondo? Most amazing jew boots
Last edited by Zergrinch; Feb 4, 2010 at 06:06 AM.
Reason: Evidently almost all the active GFF members disapprove of cowering behind a robot, so eh...
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Arcana on interesting signage. 31 But snakes! Why did it have to be snakes? Glock shoves the coward to the ground. "Hide behind me again and you're a dead man." Looking out towards the noise, the robot starts hissing back. "Sssssss~" "Sssss?" "Ssss-sss!" Most amazing jew boots |
Glock studies the weird symbol on the curtain, but can't make any sense of it. To the contrary, it almost seems to make less and less sense the longer he stares. There's no wind and the curtain itself is absolutely motionless, but the yellow symbol almost seems to be undulating... turning... its horrid appendages reaching out from the curtain and seeking to grasp him in their slimy— Glock breaks from this reverie with a start, banging the heel of his hand against his temples to knock the glitches out of his visual apparatus. It's just paint. That's all it is. Still, Glock finds himself strangely reluctant to look directly at the yellow paint again. Utterly unconcerned with the signs of slimy doom scattered about the village square, Gordok whiles away a few minutes with his wonderful new hand. The noisy locals didn't seem to be in any hurry to come greet them. They kept coming closer but nobody had come out to say hi. Maybe they had broken legs! Just a whole bunch of broken-legged guys. A really short guy with a stick had rolled into town and he just went crazy, that was the trouble here. It explained the blood AND the weird footprints! People with broken legs walked funny, after all. Gordy had the mystery all figured out. Little Dexter kept skittering around in a panic, but what did he know? He didn't even have a brain, technically. Garrmondo and Gheth stand by stoically, for they are men of action. After many long moments, the residents of Hallowfeld at long last stagger out of their homes to meet the new arrivals. A dozen horrid things pour out of the surrounding homes and storefronts, their individual human features mostly obscured by clusters of writhing feelers and scattered clumps of iridescent scales. Only the occasional shredded tunic provides any indication that these things were ever really human to begin with, and their bodies dangle limply in midair — suspended by thick, rubbery tentacles erupting from their backs. There's no sign that the villagers are aware of their horrid transformation, or for that matter aware of anything: they stare dully ahead as their tentacles drive them forward, less looking at the G-Unit then past them. A horrid susurrus pours from their slack jaws; the raspy, desperate wheeze of a drowning man. Among these pitiable forms one stands alone. A man in priest's robes stands nearly unchanged among the hideous horde, with only his translucent skin and his long, sinuous arms to mark him as the horror that he is. He smiles, and as he speaks his jaw slowly unhinges from his skull and transforms into a long, pale needle like that of a mosquito — or a stirge. These were the last words he would ever speak. "Tell me, have you seen the Yellow Sign?" His neck bloats as strange new organs erupt inside him, and a broken chain bearing Avandra's symbol falls forgotten into the mud. The amassed abominations issue a horrible groan, and the G-Unit prepares to defend itself. Expecting trouble, Cal looses his readied arrow at the nearest creature — but his shot goes wild, lodging between the planks of a humble woodshed. Defenses: Transformed Villagers AC 18 Fort 14 Ref 17 Will 15 Transformed Priest AC 22 Fort 20 Ref 21 Will 20 Cal 22, Gheth 21, Priest 20, Glock 20, Villagers 16, Gordok 9, Garrmondo 7 I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body? |
It's time for battle, and Moo gets into combat-ready mood by humming a heroic song in his head. Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: Drawing a bead on the nearest monsters, Moo lets loose his patented Twin Strike barrageTM. The nearest villagers at I-2, I4, and G3 evaporate as each arrow finds its mark. Buoyed by his success, the changeling nudges his precious mount forward, but only by a little bit. As confirmed by Pangalin, transformed villagers are minions. AC18 vs. 11 to hit = 7+ attack rolls to hit. Villager at I-2 takes 3 damage, Villager at I4 takes 12 damage, Villager at G3 takes 4 damage. Move to center of P4-Q5 I was speaking idiomatically. |
Gheth heard the rattling gasp of the priest, saw the symbol of Avandra fall to the mud, and steeled his jaw for what was to come. This place had been ravaged, body and soul, but he'd be damned if he'd permit himself the same. Gheth approached a small group of the creatures, and with a frozen bellow, put voice to his rage...and his fear. "BACK WITH YOU, ABOMINATIONS!" Move to -B-1 Dragon's Breath so as to hit all three northern minions Crit on -C-3; miss -E-2; hit -C-1 (3 damage) What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?
Last edited by Skexis; Feb 15, 2010 at 01:38 AM.
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Tentacle: Reach 2, +13 vs AC, 2d6+5 damage; 9 damage to Glock, grabbed and immobilized Inexorable Drag: +12 vs Fortitude, targets grabbed creatures; Glock slid to -A4 Start of Glock's turn: Vitality Leech effects grabbed creatures; Glock takes 10 necrotic damage, Priest gains 10 temporary HP Glock 20, Villagers 16, Gordok 9, Garrmondo 7, Cal 22, Gheth 21, Priest 20 FELIPE NO |
Asshole may have him by the throat but tha...*BAM* ROBO HEADBUTT. Warsong Strike on priest, let's just run with the flavour text alright 14+11 = 25 > 22. Hit. 6+5 = 11 damage. Glock's forceful impact of his forehead upon soft flesh brings squishy bits and mucus all over his frontal bits. That's no good. It doesn't help him when he tries to wiggle his delicious booty free either. Alas. Escape! Fail. Shaking his head a bit makes the goggles slide down amongst the flesh gunk, though. Oh yes. GOGGLE TIME GO. Gogglin' dat priest What, you don't want my bikini-clad body? |
The priest issues a low, wet gurgle from deep in his throat, and the rest of the villagers abruptly turn and beeline directly for the entangled warforged. Dinner is served, it seems. Garrmondo tries to stop them as they go rushing past, but their undulating forms make it hard to judge where to aim his blade. Within an instant, Glock is completely surrounded by the shapeless horrors. Try as he might, their sheer numbers make it impossible to stop them from pummeling him with their flailing limbs. Metal joints or no, the bard isn't really designed to stand up to this kind of punishment and he struggles to stay on his feet. Villager 5 Claw: +14 vs AC; 7 damage to Glock (bloodied) Villager 9 Claw: 7 damage to Glock Villager 6 Claw: 7 damage to Glock Villager 4 Claw: 7 damage to Glock Gordok prepares to spring into action to save his metal buddy when he spots something else entering the fray. Crawling (although the things did not walk so much as pour over the ground like an animate fluid) out of the houses on either side of the stage were horrible bundles of undifferentiated flesh, roiling bundles of gore studded with eyes and teeth. Gordok could hear the things babbling away in some incomprehensible tongue. Even the earth itself seemed to recoil from the touch of the abominations; little clods of dirt and rock shifted around in their wake, making everything around them into a tiny earthquake. Special considerations: Gibbering Mouthers have All-Around Vision: they cannot be flanked Gibbering Mouthers have a 3-square Warped Ground aura; squares within the aura are Difficult Terrain. Mouther Defenses: AC 20, Fort 21, Ref 14, Will 17 Gordok 9, Garrmondo 7, Cal 22, Gheth 21, Priest 20, Gibbering Mouthers 20, Glock 20, Villagers 16 Jam it back in, in the dark. |
Surrounded by assclowns, Glock fears a beating. HOW UNFORTUNATE.
Although he's being throttled a bit, he can st...*BAM* ROBO DODGE Immediate Interrupt: Skald's Armour. Villager 9's claw bounces off and impacts the face of one of the other villagers attacking. 6, I guess. Why not. Damage saved from Villager 9. Villager 6 disintegrated before he can do damage. 14 HP saved! Bullet time does have it's uses. There's nowhere I can't reach. |
"How did you do that?" "Do what?" "You move like they do. I've never seen anyone move that fast." Still showing some signs of wear, the robot frowned. "Not fast enough." Glancing around, he adds "Can you help me?" "Not yet." The hand on Gordy's shoulder approaches his face and curls all fingers except his thumb and pinky. "Dexter G, I need a magic program for a V-212 wind spell. Hurry." Not a moment later, Gordok smirked. "Let's go." Move to B2 I know tundrawind-fu entire 3x3 square group Tundra Wind deals 11 damage to the priest and four villagers and misses Glock and 2 villagers. The priest is pushed 3 spaces and knocked prone freeing Glock from the priest's grasp. Villagers at A4, A3, -A3, -B3 turn into dust and muck. Priest is pushed north into villager at -B5 killing that minion. Then the priest is shoved east into the building at -B6 for 5 damage. Bouncing off the building he reaches his destination at -C5 knocked prone. This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it. |
Whatever. The ranger, ever irreverent, ignores the omen and starts dreaming up ways to harvest the abominations for useful body parts. It's a shame the fighter was too busy making jokes to concentrate on the task at hand! Moo lets himself a small chuckle as he prepares another barrage. A poorly-stifled giggle sends the first shot flying into the sky; the ranger recovers in time to let off a subsequent shot. The second arrow swiftly changes the first one's direction, repositioning it to slam deeply inside the hapless Wallace. Now that has got to hurt. Two-Fanged Strike against Priest: First attack fails miserably. Second attack is a crit. Priest takes max damage for 1d10 + 7 (17 HP) and 5 poison damage, for a total of 22. 1 temp HP gained (lulz) due to Glock's Warsong Strike. Hooray! My first critical! Enemy Stats Priest [AC 22 Fort 20 Ref 21 Will 20] - 39 dmg [19/58] (bloodied at 29) - currently prone: +2 to melee rolls, -2 to ranged rolls Mouther A [AC 20 Fort 21 Ref 14 Will 17] - 0 dmg [xx/xx] Mouther B [AC 20 Fort 21 Ref 14 Will 17] - 0 dmg [xx/xx] Minion [AC 18 Fort 14 Ref 17 Will 15] x1 I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body? |
Move to -C4 Healing Strike on Priest with bonus to Glock (20 damage) Hasta la priesta, baby I was speaking idiomatically.
Last edited by Skexis; Feb 19, 2010 at 01:43 AM.
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The gibbering monstrosities begin to lurch toward G-Unit, the earth boiling in their wake. One of them lunges at Gordok, seeing the little warlock as an easy target, but the halfling nimbly dodges the horrible psuedopods that come lashing out at him. He'd never had anyone try to throw their mouth at him before, if you don't count the incident with old Widow Greybucket. It took the hobgoblin shamans three weeks to dislodge the wooden dentures from their... unfortunate target. He still had the scars. Bite: +13 vs AC, Miss. Mouther A grants combat advantage for a round due to "running". The second flesh-heap issues a terrible wail, ululating with its dozens of toothy mouths. Both Gheth and Garrmondo were close enough for the horrible noise to overwhelm their senses, but the cleric swiftly throws his hands over his ears. The fighter is not so quick, and the noise starts to reverberate inside his head until he can scarcely concentrate. The sheer vibration of the sound seems to tear the last of the standing villagers apart, and it collapses into a slimy puddle like the rest of them. As soon as the wail returns to its ordinary background babbling, Gheth turns to see the mouther hurtling at him with its many awful maws poised for a bite. His shield holds back the bulk of the monster, but several pseudopods whip past his defenses, ripping little chunks out of his vulnerable head and neck. Worse, the freakish thing's saliva burned away at the open wounds. Gibbering: +10 vs Will, Garr is dazed for 1 round Bite: 10 damage to Gheth, ongoing 10 acid damage (save ends) Glock 20, Gordok 9, Garrmondo 7, Cal 22, Gheth 21, Gibbering Mouthers 20, What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now? |
Look at all those mouthes, Glock thought. Man, if he knew a woman like that, well... Snapping out of his little fantasy and wiping the grin off his face, He loo...*BAM* ROBO INSULT Move to D5. Vicious Mockery at Mouther A 9 Damage. -2 to-hit penalty. FELIPE NO |
"Garr, give this thing something to chew on." Suddenly Gordok with Dexter G in tow and Garrmondo are momentarily whisked away. When they reemerge Gordy now has the range he seeks and Garr is next to an easy target ready for smashing. Dexter G exchanges the rod of reaving for the wand of hellish rebuke. Oh mouther, your hunger has led to great misfortune. Dark energy lights up beginning this monstrosity's doom. FREE ACTION: Dexter G gives Gordok Rod of Reaving MINOR ACTION: Warlock's Curse on Mouther A. Mouther A takes 1 HP damage MOVE ACTION: Feyswitch with Garr FREE ACTION: Dexter G swaps Rod of Reaving for Wand of Hellish Rebuke STANDARD ACTION: Eldritch Blast Mouther A. Mouther A takes 13 damage from Eldritch Blast and 2 curse damage. 15 damage total. What, you don't want my bikini-clad body? |
Unable to clearly see the enemy from his vantage point (as the wooden wagon is blocking his view), Moo nudges Denny to the northwest, stopping far short of the monster of course. It wouldn't do well for the changeling to lose his faithful and loyal steed on the first outing. Curiously, the steed is even more squishy than he is. Plus, horses aren't cheap, costing a staggering 9 months of a common laborer's wages. Fishing out a Kruthik Tooth arrow, Moo takes aim at the closest thing that he can see, marking him as his quarry. Maybe this will dissuade the overgrown amoeba thing from eating poor dazed Carr! Move horse 9 squares to I-5 / J-4 block. I am located at, and am shooting from I-4. Mouther A is my quarry. Twin Strike with Kruthik Tooth Arrows on Mouther A. Need AC20 - combat advantage (2) - 11 = 7 to hit. Second arrow misses. Mouther A takes 14 HP damage (6 + 6 + 2). Jam it back in, in the dark. |
Move to -C2 Daunting Light on Mouther B with CA to Garr (20 damage) Divine Fortune for save roll Saved vs. acid There's nowhere I can't reach.
Last edited by Skexis; Feb 24, 2010 at 04:41 PM.
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Mouther A bloodied by Cal's Kruthik Arrow, exposed to Filth Fever. If it contracts the disease it may lose a healing surge! The nearest sludgelump to the wagon issues its terrible howl again. Gheth is too busy dealing with its companion to cover his ears in time, and Glock (truly a sensitive musician at heart) finds the dissonant noise too appalling to ignore. Gibbering: Gheth and Glock dazed for a round As the party reels back from the noisy horror, it lashes out with its pseudopods in all directions before reeling them back in — with chunks of bloody flesh in tow. Gibbering Feast: Close Burst 5, +13 vs AC, 8 damage to Gheth and Garr, 10 ongoing acid damage (save ends) The second mouther emits a similar screech (dazing Gordok in the process), and lumbers closer to the wagon. Gibbering: Gord & Gheth dazed for a round With Gordok too dizzy to stop the creature as it flows right past him, the mouther settles into a position closer to its companion — and closer to the center of G-Unit's party formation. Gibbering Feast:11 damage to Gordok and Glock (Glock bloodied), and ongoing 10 acid damage (save ends). Garrmondo recovers from being Dazed. Start of Glock's turn: 10 acid damage. Glock 20, Gordok 9, Garrmondo 7, Cal 22, Gheth 21, Gibbering Mouthers 20 This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.
Last edited by The unmovable stubborn; Feb 25, 2010 at 02:33 PM.
Reason: ffffft
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Garr to A2 Glock shakes his robo-head. Wait a minute, what the fuck is go...*BAM* ROBO RESOLVE Warforged Resolve 6 Real HP. 11 Temp HP. Acid gone. I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body? |
(Acer, Garr, and Cal delay until after my turn) The chunks taken out of his shoulder had the secondary effect of waking Gheth the hell up as he snarled in pain. Nothing like a gouge through one's shoulder meat to put a shine on the rest of the day. Gheth reacted, firing off another holy bolt at one of the weakening creatures, and hoping his legs would be able to keep him upright for the duration. Lance of Faith on Mouther A with bonus to Garrmondo (6 damage) I was speaking idiomatically. |
Oh my! Hmmm... well this isn't too bad. Gordok desperately needs a bath anyway. Writhing in agony as the acid tears away layers of collected filth and grime Gordok crooks his hand and concentrates on the terrible glob of itsmommadon'tevenlovethisface. He would make it feel bad. Gordy does not enjoy forced bathing. He has the right to his dirty. Unfortunately the acid doesn't seem to care and continues removing his caked buildup. Gordok's turn is after Gheth and Garrmondo. Diabolic Grasp Mouther B Mouther B is pushed into Mouther A and bounces back into square -A2. Total Damage: Mouther B (33 damage), Mouther A (2) What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now? |
Enough marveling, and back to business. The bullying warforged has mandated the gibbering twit's execution, and the ranger is only happy to oblige. Drawing a bead on his quarry, Moo lets loose an impossibly quick attack as fast as a shadow wasp. It's super effective! Moo only hopes that a few mouths and teeth, or perhaps even some vocal cords, can be salvaged from the monster's corpse, when all is said and done. Shadow Wasp Strike on Mouther A. It takes max damage of 27+8+6 = 41, of which 6 is poison. Designate Mouther B as quarry. It's got 21 HP left, I don't think I need to do this, but with Garr's dice, who knows? Battle Stats [AC 20 Fort 21 Ref 14 Will 17] Mouther A : 87 dmg [xx/56~76] [AC 20 Fort 21 Ref 14 Will 17] Mouther B : 55 dmg [xx/56~76] [AC 22 Fort 17 Ref 21 Will 18] Cal: 49(1)/49 [AC 23 Fort 22 Ref 17 Will 17] Garr: 39/57 | ongoing 10 acid [AC 23 Fort 18 Ref 16 Will 21] Gheth: 19/56 | dazed / ongoing 10 acid [AC 22 Fort 15 Ref 18 Will 20] Glock: 14(11)/50 | dazed [AC 19 Fort 17 Ref 16 Will 18] Gordok: 34/54 | dazed / ongoing 10 acid FELIPE NO |
Fuckin' things never come through in the clinch Gheth and Glock dazed again Glock 20, Gheth 19, Garrmondo 7, Gordok 6, Cal 5, Gibbering Mouthers 20 What, you don't want my bikini-clad body? |
"Oh yeah baby, you and me. Mmhmm. Ohhhh yeahhhhh". *wink* Vicious ::Furious Porno Noises:: 15 + 8 > 17. Hit. 6 + 5 = 11 damage. Jam it back in, in the dark. |
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