Durham carefully removes the girls handclaws, unlocking them from her gauntletlike gloves-after fishing a small key from a hidden pocket on her left pantleg.
He studies them, and conclude they are fairly unwieldly weapons-requiring a great deal of training to use effectively...but, they are highly concealable and quite vicious. Yet, not terribly useful for what they are about to face. He wonders where Thrush got something like this...
But, further questions are saved for later-the girl and her equipment are hustled away on Koniceks order by the Dwarves, and Dwali promises to keep her secured until you're done cleaning up the mess.
....
The plan is simple enough-Morazin and Konicek, in addition to Durham now, will distract the beast while Sabio hits the switch-hopefully denying the beast it's aquatic advantage. Then again, no plan survives first contact with the enemy, right?
...
Morazin is the first down-he steps carefully, not wanting to anger the beast until they've secured the other room. The others follow.
[14]
He immediately hears an ominous hiss, and a lashing of water behind him. Damn. He sees a what can only be a fleshy limb of some sort pop up from the water, covered in a pockmark of angry slitted eyes-they blink in unison, and glare at him angrily for disturbing their rest...
Konicek gives the door a swift boot [6+3=9 vs DC 13] but the damn thing doesn't budge!
[19]
The Thing that begins to rise from the muck behind the group is nothing more or less than a giant mouth on legs. A drift of old bones clatters from it's rest as it emerges...
Green slime runs in rivulets between bony teeth, as it tumbles through the water. A thick tongue, red as blood, lashes the air as if already tasting it's next meal. Two thrashing tentacles on it's sides snake toward the party with uncanny agility, belaying the beasts ponderous size.
Needless to say, Konicek slam the door once more, [19+3=22 vs DC 13] and is rewarded with the splinter of rotten wood as it collapses in on itself.
Morazin and Durham shuffle in behind him, and they take the narrow chokepoint in a rough defensive line.
The creature pauses for a moment, as it fully emerges from the water, stumbling onto the mud on three withered and atrophied stumps of legs. It reeks of death-and desperation. It's a sick, dying beast. The creature has grown large, and has been slowly starving to the death in the tiny hold it's only ever known as a home, and it will no doubt continue to attack until slain. It's eye tentacle scopes around hesitantly, as if looking for something.
The stench only gets worse, naturally.
...
Anciano hears enough to know what's going on...he peers down the stairway carefully.
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Topic: Tempus Fugit: D&D 3.5 PBP-Chapter 1.2: Meanwhile... (Read 11567 times)