Wow, Glass, you're seriously humor impaired
Addendum: Deikos also feels pity for the snow thing for lacking a sense of humor
He's allowed to be. These non-human races don't share our storied traditional values, like humor and alcoholism.
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T U R N 6
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I've decided that rolling initiative makes less sense than just taking whoever replied first, with slight alterations for movement and Dexterity. Let's see how this goes, maybe one will clearly be funner than the other.
...that wasn't quite what I meant to do, but yeah, I guess that's what happens when you put out the fire that is the light source in a room. 
Anyway, continue protecting Fath. Also, get him to tell me where everything is so that I'm not quite as disabled by the darkness.
...that wasn't quite what I meant to do, but yeah, I guess that's what happens when you put out the fire that is the light source in a room.
Anyway, continue protecting Fath. Also, get him to tell me where everything is so that I'm not quite as disabled by the darkness.
Tell the elf which way the nearest protohuman is, and ready a javelin in case one of them charges us.
Jacob holds his hook sword at the ready to intercept any incoming blows as the wounded dwarf does his best to describe the tactical situation. He hurriedly points out the closest protohuman, the one locked in a grapple with Lootington and Deikos, and [6] manages to draw and chalk a javelin. Where he expected fumbling and difficulty, he finds his combat reflexes just as sharp as ever, and it steels his confidence. +1 HP! Fath is winded and badly injured, but back above 0 due to excellent rolls.
Sir Lootington sighs, and sais, in a surprisingly calm voice, "God fucking *cough* damn it you stupid, *cough* stupid thing. You're lucky I can't feel emotions very well anymore."
Sir Lootington swings his cane in the general direction of his opponents, hopefully not hitting any teammates. Except the snow thing. It's perfectly fine if he hits him. Infact Sir Lootington would consider it a bonus if he hit the opponents and the snow thing! But yeah, mostly just aim for his enemies.
[1] Just as Jacob and Fath feel an inkling of hope, a stout cudgel flies toward them from the darkness! [6 vs 6 AC] -5 HP!
Jacob's world dissolves into fuzzy light as the stout cane cracks his skull and bends his neck at an unnatural angle. He crumples to the ground, lifeless.[Except not really, because thieves get a single reroll per delve and I assume he'd want to use it to not suddenly get brained right here over a joke. Feel free to tell me if you'd prefer to actually die. If Lootington has an issue with it, he'll just have to wack the snow elf again and finish the job.]
Things seem to move backwards for a moment. There is a flash of gray around Jacob and Fath, and a stout cudgel flies toward them from the darkness! [2 vs 6 AC] Jacob's parrying dagger stops the cane inches away from his head, and his hook sword sweeps out with a swish, [5+1 vs 1+1, Dex vs Dex] leveraging Sir Lootington's cane out of his hands! The stout cane flies off into the darkness, clattering loudly against the floor!
"YES! YES! THIS IS THE GREATEST FEELING, THIS ALL-CONSUMING RAGE! I AM POWER ITSELF!"
Akashir foams at the mouth under his mask like a rabid wolf.
WHIRL HYSTERICALLY
Akashir is pretty much completely berserk at this point. There are literally no enemies that he could possibly hit by whirling around without hitting his comrades, and he isn't aiming anyway.
Lootington, Deikos, and the Protohuman: 2
Jacob: 2
Quack Quack: 2
Nobody rolled a 1, so nobody gets hit. It probably would've killed them. Fath and the other subhuman are too low to the ground to catch a whirling saber to the neck. Akashir's display is intimidating, but thankfully not fratricidal. He feels himself start to get a little winded.
Oof. Humans have weird castle designs. Time to meet some new people.
Walk towards the party
Theta pads merrily down the hall, drooling a little with anticipation. The food smells delicious, the revelers sound energetic! Wood clatters loudly on the stone floor, are they playing skittles in there? How fun.
She crosses over and peers into the room. Oh god. This isn't a party at all.
A multitude of twisted, strange looking creatures lie mangled and decapitated on the uneven cobblestone, virtually the entire floor wet with dark blood. A motley bunch of what look like highway men tangle viciously with weapons, armed to the teeth in their bronze warmasks, dark robes, and plumed helmets. A man in platemail and one of the twisted beings are wrapped around an unarmed robed figure, grappling and wrenching at him with their weapons. There's an ape-like thing in the corner sobbing and screaming. A brigand with a twisted sword and a crow mask looms over an injured warrior. There's a spear stuck in the wall. A fat duck sits closest to the wolf, clucking and hunched over a lantern. It's chaos. It's like Picasso's
Guernica. What kind of castle is this!?
*In Quack* "THAT DAMNED FOOL JUST PUT OUT MY LAMP AND NOW WE'RE UP SHIT CREEK WITHOUT A PADDLE!"
*In Common* "DAT DARMED FOOL 'F A FROST-BITTEN ELF JUS' PUT OUT OL' QUACK-QUACK'S LAMP N' NOW DA LOTTA US 'RE UP SHIT CREEK WIFFOUT A PADDLE!"
Quack-Quack steps back and attempts to relight his Lamp. If he has any time left, he bludgeons the nearest Simian with his mace.
[4] Quack Quack shuffles down to a feathery duck sitting position and quickly draws flint and steel, striking showers of sparks frantically into his lantern. It takes a while, but suddenly a faded light bathes the room. Fath is on the ground but alive, with Jacob standing over him. The subhumans are all but routed; one crouches in a corner terrified and screaming, another is firmly grappled by Deikos. Akashir is screaming and spinning wildly, swords outstretched. Lootington, unarmed and bloody, looks badly hurt.
And worse of all, a huge dark shadow looms in the doorway. A slavering wolf, all ivory-fang and hoary fur, watches the scene hungrily. An icy chill shoots up Quack Quack's spine.
Deikos growls. Fighting off troglodytes is hard enough without a soul-crushing hangover.
KILL IT KILL FUCKER RAARGH CUT OFF EARS AND FORCE FEED THEM TO CHILDREN AAAARGH
The room is suddenly bathed in a warm light, just in time for [2 vs 4 AC] [2 vs 6 AC] Deikos and the grappled subhuman to bellow at each other's faces and lock weapons, chipped femur to orichalcum blade. They writhe in mutual frenzy, attempting to stab at each other while seemingly ignoring the injured wizard between them.
The terrified underhuman skulks to the side of the room, but recoils at the sight of the humongous wolf.
It's like Picasso's Guernica.
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Topic: ROGUELIKE 2: Sword of Azirkan Turn 8: Our Heroes Beat-Down One of Their Own, heh (Read 20391 times)