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Old 05-26-2020, 12:36 AM
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The Snickering Carrion
Among gnolls it's said that if you meet a wind in still air then you have encountered a Snickering Assassin. By then you are already dead. You'll hear a whisper, the word for murder in gnoll "qatal qasamna", and then the ceremonial blade is already deep in your heart. If the blade doesn't kill you then the poison will as you die laughing.

The tradition of the Snickering Carrion goes back decades from the Wormwood tribe to the north. The Carrion King adopted their assassins to his tribe as a peace offering when he took over the entire region. As one generation turned to the other under his watchful eye, the way of the Snickering was taught to a chosen few every ten years. Up to the day that Lady Almah’s Hires infiltrated Pale Mountain, the assassins have always kept the forgotten tradition of the Wormwood ongoing within Pale Mountain.

The sneakiest and fastest gnolls within the Carrion Tribe were given the choice to join their ranks. On the last day of Summer called Sarenrae's Crumble, on Arodus 31, two dozen of these nimble gnolls are collected at the Upper Temple. Armed with nothing but a knife, each of them must attempt to get to the King's Throne undetected by the other gnolls teaming within the temple. All the gnolls within the House of the Beast have their right or left hand painted red. If one of them lays a hand on the contestant, a hand print apparent on their thick fur, then that gnoll is dragged to Thkot Tal's pit of the dead to be eaten alive. The ones to survive are taught the secrets of the assassins and the ways of the Snickering Carrion.

Their feet are covered in the dried and enchanted hide of hyena liver to keep their footfalls silent. Each of them have a dimming powder mined from the top of Pale Mountain in it’s volcanic vents to hide them in shadow. But their most noted weapon is their knife covered in yellow Snickering poison, harvested from jackal bile and blessed by the Al’Chorhaiv. Once it enters your bloodstream it attacks the nervous system and you die from hacking laughter so intense you can no longer breath.

For years the Snickering assassins hid in the cracks within the temple, listening to what the tribe said about the King. Any gnoll that dares speak out against the Carrion King either dies from a single stab wound or dies with their laughter echoing off the dark walls. If that doesn’t kill the gnoll then the next Snickering Carrion will finish the job, because Snickering Carrions always travel in pairs~ so beware of the second attack if the first fails (Local Knowledge: The Brazen Peaks (DC15) to know this).

When the King was defeated they were elsewhere in the temple, looking for the intruders. Now they must repay a debt that dishonors their secret ways and right years of tradition.

Hellknights Training

Two birds are in a gilded cage at the end of the hall, one feathered animal green and gold while the other is red and black. They dart back and forth, singing to each other as their talons grasp the cage bars. It’s this and the sheen of highly polished black marble is the last Dru sees before the velvet red blindfold is placed over her eyes. Jeering statues of devils watch from high above.

Captain Alexei ties the knot tight and makes sure she can’t see anything. He’s four years younger than Drusilla but he was sharper, more determined, and even more intelligent than even her at that age. During Dru’s Hellsknight training she admired the young man and molded some of her own determination around him.

It was later in the day after hard weapon exercises when she was blindsided by a wood staff after being blinded by blood in her eyes. “Just listen. Concentrate,” whispers the captain over her shoulder. His armored footfalls can be heard. “Don’t listen to my footfalls. Listen to the room. In battle you will sometimes lose one of your senses. Learn how to rely on the others. Don’t listen for my feet or armor, the enemy can hide this. The room will tell you more.” He walks in circles around her, making sure she can’t see and whirling his metal baton. With ceremonies for the Prince of Hell, she is used to being blindfolded but she’s never had to fight blind before.

“I will strike you. Listen for the weapon.” She hears the wind of the weapon but processes it too late. It opens a wound to her head and it bleeds onto her shoulder. “Okay, again.” This happens a dozen times when she hears him move in his armor and the rush of the baton. She gets better and better at dodging it with every try.

Then, suddenly, his footfalls are gone and there is the crash of metal. She can’t hear his heavy breathing or the clink of his armor now. It’s as if he vanished. Her instincts want her to remove the blindfold but she knows better to dare. Instead she calms her breathing and makes sure her own bulky knight armor doesn’t get in the way. She listens to the room and how the air from the other chamber blows in slightly towards the window. The singing birds are colorful and distinct off the walls.

Concentrating, she senses the shift to her left. The soft ambiance is altered by a body she can’t see. With a reflexive move she brings up her arm right in time to block the next attack. Wrist ringing, the blindfold is yanked off her head and she sees Captain Alexei with his boots and breastplate off. A curt and cold nod from the man is her only reward. “Good. You listened to the room. Even the most adept rogue can’t change the fact that they are a solid being and not a phantom. They reflect sound like dull metal reflects the dimmest light. Slight, but there. Now go. Doff your armor and wash up. Tomorrow before sunrise you are back in the courtyards.”

Beasts of Brazen Peaks

The Priestess of the Kulldis Tribe gathers her litter close to the fire and tells them to sniff out their new home of the Kelmarane, the abandoned pafe town. “Learn every smell and scent in a new home.” The fire reflects off her greedy black eyes as she focuses on her favorite, Grak’ark. “This place stinks of pafe lives and of their past rituals. Their bread and their perfumes. Learn them so you can discard them. Smell for the enemy. Smell the insects, the Pale River, the dung that floats in the river. That way when you smell the enemy, a non-Kulldis, you will know there is danger near and not be distracted by sights or smells that should be obviously common to you.”

It’s ironic that ten years later it's actually the Kulldis tribe that kills his mother to favor the Carrion King, Grak nailing his eye to the Battlemarket door to show his promise of vengeance.

Now the King is dead and the lesson from his mother, one of her many in his life, still remains strong with the druid of Lamashtu.

Start Ro6

Carrion Tribe (1)14xo-
Carrion Tribe (2)05xo-
Al’Chorhaiv Tribe02xo-
o = open to post
- = don't post yet
x = posted already

DM Summary
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House of the Beast: Day 3d
Gozran 13 4710 – Moonday

Sunrise 6:30AM | 8:00PM Sunset

Light Bearers
Drusilla, ioun torch (20' normal / 40' shadows)
Hector, ioun torch (20' normal / 40' shadows)
Fandrik's, Light Spell- Feather (20' normal / 40' shadows)

Grak'ark (60')
Hector (60')


The Dwarven Mines

4: The Control Room

Drusilla shades her eyes and sees the creeping Al’Chorhaiv gnolls to her right. Fandrik whispers in her ear magically as she starts to move backwards, ignoring the threat. "Drusilla, my dear, there seems to be a sneaky dog coming your way. Hah! At least one up here."

But Grak’ark already smells it. In the shape of a small beast, he thinks he knows exactly what this trickster is up to. The gnoll druid races to the back of the room, whooshing past one of the elf’s legs and darting between two others as they try to keep out of his way as the machinery hums all around. He loses scent of this mysterious gnoll and halts at the skull marked lever he believed to be the target of this ploy. Nothing happens. No. The enemy is up to something else.

The clever druid snaps growls to the natural world to bring others to his command. Rock ground splits and births four hyenas with spotted coats. They howl their existence into the world and listen to Grak’ark as he growls primitive commands that their brains would understand. “Use your noses. Find the invisible gnoll. Kill it.”

In unison the hyenas sniff the air. None of them are within range except for the western most hyena (a). It yipes a call to the others. Strategic by nature, the summoned hyenas move together with muscled legs enhanced by Grak’s rise in power. They quickly find and surround the gnoll against the wall, yapping to Grak’ark that they have the gnoll pinpointed.

Meanwhile Dru is already busy keeping the machine cool and directing the elves. She speaks their elegant language curtly and without proper use, like how a barbarian might wield a delicate rapier to cut down his foes. As long as the job is done, that’s all that matters. The escaped maidens of Pale Mountain pull the proper levers and Drusilla pulls an arrow tight as she spies a vulnerable gnoll back to the right. He thinks he’s fully hidden but he is not. She lets loose the arrow and rolls back into the Control Room without watching where it lands. The arrow thunks into the gnoll’s back (#09) THUNK! and he falls forward with a gasp. The gnoll dies instantly and tumbles down the stairs, dead, past the four other gnolls.

Drusilla commands for the Observation Window close as she slides over the low wall with magical ease, calling each elf by name to run the carts and crane outside. Pasil pulls the lever too hard and the observation window only shuts a quarter way behind the fighter.

Dru is about to scold her when something feels out of place upon her return. The yipping hyenas. A slight muting of sound right behind her. Instinctively she reaches out and feels an arm coming down hard towards her chest. In the tenth of a second she slides her hand up and catches a wrist as a gnoll in dark studded leather is right before her, invisibility banished, knife an inch from her heart. “Qatal qasamna!” His stinking breath smells rotten in her face as the gnoll tries to poke her flesh with the poisoned knife. She puts her back to the wall, puts a knee firmly on his chest, and pushes the larger humanoid away. He falls away, dragging her back with him, knife still poised over her as she keeps his wrist in her vice grip. "Qatal qasamna!” The two wrestle for control over the knife as the dwarven machines pump all around, a bit of poison dripping on the hollow of Dru’s neck but unable to penetrate her unbroken skin.

The hyenas catch sight of their hunt and dart across the machinery to join the fray yacking calls.

Northern Receptional

"Look what the dogs dragged in! What? Ha-HA!" Fandrik called out from the doorway. Invisible though he was, his voice would carry clearly, and he so hoped to gather the attention of the slinking gnolls.

"Go for the female giving orders, Mr Grimm. She holds rank!" warns the halfling. Fan intends to be a distraction and makes use of the time. He thinks back to who this commander might be. It seemed ages ago. Had they also seen her in the room where they had met Dullen and killed the giant demon gnoll? Thinking back, Fandrik realizes he does indeed remember seeing the witch for a few seconds. But the witch had fled underground as a fight broke out and Drusilla was freed. He doesn’t know it but they never saw her again as she backed out of the fight against the King and abandoned her loyalty for self gain.

Speaking of the King, mirth feels his lungs and he calls out gleefully. "Ha-HA! Your king has fallen and YOU aim to avenge him?! The imitation Rokova has tricked you as well, it seems. HA! Come and get some, cowards! Ha-Ha!"

The Carrion and Al’Chorhaiv gnolls are surprised by this small voice. The Initiates of Rovagug grip their greataxes and the witch holds up her claws hands, ready to hex the unseen foe. An Al’Chorhaiv gnoll (#13) runs to swing at him, spear dripping with green poison, but just stabs air.

Fandrik’s laughter rolls through the room at the gnoll as he swings again and yet again at nothing.

That’s when Captain Grimm attacks without mercy. It is numb and cold, he feels only hate as he descends upon the witch, grabbing her robes and mashing her long teeth through her thick fur and skin into muscle. He bites and she screams. Her cry bubbles as her throat collapses but then grows high as his connection to Hell funnels into the witch’s neck. One might think Hell is hot and filled with brimstone but it actually has many different levels. The Hell Hector knows is filled with coldness, darkness, and loneliness and Rraelliarh feels it as freezing void feels her body. She clutches at her throat as the invisible Synthesist withdraws his teeth, spitting out fur and goo. Frozen blood covers Rraelliarh’s as she realizes that she is still alive despite the intense pain.

Two Carrion Initiates race forward to help, one with a rotted bear mask and the other with large hyena mask with cut-out eyes. The witch shoves their hands away. “Cure me fools! I can get up by myself!” Her voice is high pitched and wrong and it snaps them out of it. They each shift their large axe to one hand and bring out a piece of black lava rock from the Pale Mountain lava vents (many magical items like this are crafted from this secret spot for their divine Rovagug properties). They pray to the Beast and the stone blaze hot, shrinking and healing the witch as the frost fades away. A third Carrion Initiate (#16) separates from this and guards the door from letting invisible foes from escaping. He calls over his shoulder to signal to the gnoll across the canyon that they have faced an encounter. “Yeh! Hehehe-Ha!”

Another gnoll (#14) speeds forth to help the other gnolls swiping at air to win some respect. He dosen’t get far as Hector next lashes out and rips his head off in one swoop. It bounces back three times as the body withers to the ground in violent seizures. It’s death snores through the open throat valve as the witch finds her feet, breathing hard.

Rraelliarh scans the room. She doesn’t see anything she can either hex or cast a spell on. She needs to see her target in order to cast her dark magic. So she instead backs off and draws protection from Pale Mountain, even from here. A dark force wraps around like a bubble of dark and murky water. She snarls at her invisible adversary. “You think you have the tricks? I’m shutting all of this down. It’s any second now…” The witch has a score to settle with the pafe bitch. She slipped away from her grasp but it won’t happen again. The witch made sure that the first target will be the female warrior by their secret assassins. She wants to hear the woman laugh in pain in her final throes.

She waits… but the dwarven machine is still going. The Snickering Carrion should have struck by now. ‘Something went wrong’ realizes Rraelliarh.

Gear Room

It hums as the wheels turn. There are screeches as certain levels don’t work, specifically the carts, but it keeps rumbling dangerously in dark corners.

The Crane

The short elf, Aerve Soherrir, sees Drusilla struggle with the knife wielding gnoll, appearing from nowhere, but she knows that the job has to be done. The elf hops with both hands to loop her fingers around the lever and pull down with all her weight for machinery created for heavy dwarves. CLU-CLANK The lever works and the Release opens around the boulder across the canyon.

The Feed is then pulled and it finally works. Metal cords pull and the cranes lifts the 1000 pound boulder from the earth, pebbles raining down. The giant crane moves back and forth as it swings with heavy weight.

The Carts

Then the two elves in the back pull the four levers for the carts. One, the older Elder, pulls with her arms riddled with veins and they unlock. Oca, a younger elf, pulls and they also move into third position yet lock once the two move.

Drusilla glances out the Observation Window as the gnoll knife hovers near her face. The one care (#03) doesn’t move. It just rocks back and forth as if it was unlocked. A little 'busy', she pulls the gnoll in the other direction as she pulls her attention to more important matters at the moment and attempts not to die by knife.

Across the Canyon
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The Carrion Guards keep back and aren’t seen just yet. They are certain to come back out once the signal is given.

Boulders Pushed to the Edge
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There were two boulders. Now one is caught by the crane and it swings to and fro like a swing. Pebbles rain down as a ton is effortly carried 40’ up into the air by dwarven ingenuity.

Then a counter against the PCs is driven. “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” A yell is made across the canyon and the other boulder is being shoved forward by some unseen force. Drusilla tries to see what it is but she can’t pay attention as she fights this near-assassin at her throat.

The boulder is pushed off and topples over the edge, spinning. It slams into Level 3 some 10 feet below and nearly splits. It rolls, wobbling, until it slowly drifts down another 10 feet below and splits in two with a loud crack! Both pieces wobble and tumble the full length of the canyon to the depths below.

This deep canyon, an unnatural split of a single mountain, was not made but some ancient river but by the earthquakes drifting from Pale Mountain over centuries. It is a deep and unforgiving drop. The boulder tumbles directly downward and nothing can stop it’s descent now.

Al’Chorhaiv Gnolls
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Dru’s arrow hits home, hard. The gnoll (#09) falls dead as his heart is pierced and the body tumbles down the dwarven stairs. The other four gnolls step aside as he keeps falling, head over arms over legs to the bottom. Finally he falls still on the ground, limbs sprawled, and the other four gnolls no longer wait. They do what the Mentor of the King, Rokova, commands so they follow the witch's lead. Their tribal chief wants to be in the good grace of the new leader after the death of the King so they must appease Rokova, next in line to the Carrion.

So the four move forward, moving south and toward the crane, when they all the Observation Window partially open and Dru holding a knife inches from her chest. The Snickering Carrion! They know the legend and think her probably dead in a moment. They all race forward now that there is no arrow pointed at their hearts.

A lot is happening on the battlefield. What do our heroes do next?

right-aligned image
Each lever is in a specific gear position. Usually in 1 or 2 if there are only two gears. Sometimes there are three gears or it's a socket gear (like a joy stick).

- Someone has to pass the DC14 Engineering check to make the WHOLE ROOM function
- No taking 10 during combat rounds for this action
- The check can be made by multiple characters, only one has to pass the DC
- It is a free action, apart of the move to pull levers
- The check is made every round
- Each lever has a 30% chance of rusting over but can be retried the next round

To move from one row to another: full action
To move from one gear to another: move action
To work a gear: move action
To work the gear beside where you stand: 5-foot step (just one per round).

Portals Local LV1

Door 1 - Gear 2 of 2
Door 2 - Gear 2 of 2

Portals Local LV2

Door 1 - Gear 2 of 2
Door 2 - Gear 2 of 2
Door 3 - Gear 2 of 2
Door 4 - Gear 2 of 2
Door 5 - Gear 2 of 2
Observation 6 - Gear 2 of 2

Portals Across LV1

Door 1 - Gear 1 of 2
Door 2 - Gear 1 of 2

Portals Across LV2

Door 1 - Gear 2 of 2
Door 2 - Gear 1 of 2


Spin/Extend- Socket Gear
Feed - Gear 2 of 2
Release - Gear 2 of 2
Empty- Gear 1 of 2


Cart 1- Gear 3 of 3
Cart 2- Gear 3 of 3
Cart 3- Gear 3 of 3
CHARGE - Gear 1 of 2 (skull warning, in engineering this means that danger of mortality is involved)
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DM Notes
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  • Doors:
    Gear 1 : Open Door : White
    Gear 2 : Closed Door : Black

  • Shadow:
    In an area of dim light, a character can see somewhat. Creatures within this area have concealment (20% miss chance in combat) from those without darkvision or the ability to see in darkness. A creature within an area of dim light can make a Stealth check to conceal itself. Areas of dim light include outside at night with a moon in the sky, bright starlight, and the area between 20 and 40 feet from a torch.

Last edited by PIG; 05-26-2020 at 01:06 PM.
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Old 05-26-2020, 04:52 PM
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Round 6

Drusilla Vanadici
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Tipped off by Grak’s reply and Fandrik’s warning, not to mention the hyenas’ sudden appearance, Drusilla realizes there must be an unseen foe in their midst—why else would the druid call upon one of his more powerful spells, to summon creatures capable of tracking by scent? In the nick of time she senses the attack, halting the knife with her left hand. As she and the assassin struggle for control of his dagger, time seems to slow. Out of the corner of her eye she can see the hyenas chasing in pursuit. “Hold them!” she barks at the druid. She doesn’t need long—a few seconds will do. Already she is planning how to use the dogs to their best advantage, for now that her attacker is visible, the tables have turned. The would-be assassin doesn’t stand a chance.

With the knife wavering back and forth in a desperate struggle, Drusilla raises the longbow in her other hand up high, as if preparing to smash it over her enemy’s head. Instead, she lets go. One one thousand. Her right hand tilts back over her shoulder, plucking an arrow from her quiver as the bow drops past. With her opponent distracted by the falling weapon and by the continuing battle over the poisoned blade, she tilts her head and plunges the arrow right into the gnoll’s eye. Two one thousand. Now she releases the assassin’s hand, dropping low and spinning out of the way as the knife flies harmlessly past in a blind attack. With the reflexes of a cat she catches her longbow just before it hits the ground. Three one thousand. Capitalizing on her momentum, the warrior continues to whirl around. With her weapon now firmly held in both hands she cracks it across the back of the enemy’s knees as he flails and tumbles backwards to the ground. Four one thousand. Pushing off against the ground she rises, gliding her bow up against her opponent’s legs. With a final deft twist she tangles the gnoll’s feet in her bowstring. And just like that, the snickering carrion is blind, prone, and entangled.

“Qatal qasamna.” The warrior throws the words back at the assassin in a flat, disinterested voice as she steps away, turning her back on a gnoll who is no longer worthy of her attention. She nods to Grak, letting him know that the dogs can finish him off now. “Any more?”

~ ~ ~

With the most immediate threat neutralized, Drusilla returns her attention to the canyon. She sees one boulder is missing, and though she didn’t see what happened, she can easily guess, given that a massive gnoll, the size of the Carrion King, now stands in its place. With a word and a gesture to Aerve and Edlen, she directs them to shift the crane over, and then to release the other boulder.

Next? The warrior eyes the cart which remains in place, filing away that piece of information for future reference before assessing the al’Chorhaiv gnolls. One of them died from just a single arrow—no need to close the window against such a feeble threat. Nodding to herself, she calls to Pasil and Phandralhnih. “Bows.” Once they are ready she points at the gnoll on the left. “Fire.”


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Old 05-27-2020, 09:09 PM
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During his time in gnoll captivity, Fandrik had heard scary tales of the deadly gnoll assassins. Particularly after a good bout of toss-the-halfling, when the drunk oafs had let their guard down a bit and their language unknowingly began making sense to him. He had even noticed a creeper in the dark shadows a time or two as they moved about the tunnels during forays as miners. When Lazrul had tried to maintain his own part of the tunnels, Fandrik had done his best to lay traps and be wary of such rogue gnolls.

The sneaking figure by the last doorway. It all seemed to slide into place between the halfling's adorned feathers on his head: these were assassins, snickering carrion.

"They always travel in pairs," he quoted in a whisper through the spell that bound him to Drusilla and Grak. There was no time to say more as Fandrik had to keep the gnolls from ganging up on Hector.

And what better way to split them up than with a trick on their beady little eyes! Watch this, Njetinger! While gliding silently towards the witch and her entourage, and still invisible, Fandrik grinned mightily. An idea had hatched. And while he wanted to dash in with his rapier blazing, making the fools run errands would be just as amusing in a story of his own for later.

Dancing on the balls of his feet, the halfling spun to look back from where he had come. At the gnoll with his spear and back towards the rest of them. The grinding machine around them and screams from the witch being set upon would cover any concerns of sound.

What would the lonely gnoll's fellow zealots do if Fandrik were to suddenly appear behind this gnoll, dancing behind his shoulders so the lone gnoll would never see him and looking for a place to stab? If they rushed in to attack, would they strike their fellow as Fandrik leaped to the gnolls back and shoulders?

Those that cared less for this lone gnoll, would they move to strike the others in his merry band? Would the witch direct them to Drusilla, were she to enter? Or try to use her powers on the warrior? Let's find out! Ha-HA!

Wiggling that beautiful mustache, Fandrik guided the magic he was granted by Lady Luck and his thoughts became reality.

Fandrik materialized behind # 13. Start in a51 with the intent to have him dart side to side so the gnoll won't see him (just his comrades). If any of them rush close, he will have the image of himself leap into a52 with #13 intending to get them to strike their ally, if at all possible.the gnoll. figment in c56Drusilla stepped into the room from the doorway, followed quickly by b56Grak'Ark and two female Pasil at a57 and Aerve Soherrir at b57elves with bows. The elves looked angry and afraid with a light sheen of sweat, yet resolved in posture. Their clothes were just as ragged as when they were in the observation room but perhaps a bit tighter fitting. Grak'Ark was in gnoll form, ugly as ever with additional warts and zits that someone like the Mother of Monsters might find befitting. He was snarling and eyeing the gnolls while muttering and moving his arms as he does when using magic. Drusilla looked like herself, stoic and calculating, though blinking to see through the shadows towards the light from the door. She seemed to be Intending to position them as a threat with a weakness in order to goad the gnolls into attacking them.having trouble seeing through the dark.

Unseen, the real Fandrik turned and tensed in excitement to see how the gnolls would react.



Last edited by Jarl11; 06-02-2020 at 09:18 AM. Reason: updated image Grak action
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Old 05-28-2020, 04:03 PM
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It was a beautiful sight. Drusilla had not only foiled the attack, but managed to blind the assassin and knock it to it's knees. Then his hyenas moved in to take advantage of the helpless prey.

The hyenas tentatively snap at the prone gnoll's fur as they try to get a measure of the downed gnoll before going in for the kill. To of them manage to take small bites out of the beasts hide, but the others were a bit too timid in their efforts to finish off the helpless assassin.

He opened his mouth to berate the lazy hyenas when Fandrick whispered message reaches his ears. "They always travel in pairs."

Pairs? Then where is the other one? he thinks, as he ponders the thought. It is not right here right now, or I would have smelled it. But where... he wonders, his eye widening as he realizes one place the other assassin could be. Threatening the rest of his pack.

Grak'Ark needed to be in two places at once. Fortunately for him, that was something he could do.

With a quick growl and a few cackles, he directs his summoned minions, knowing they would be able to give Drusilla a few precious seconds of defense against any invisible attackers. "When that gnoll is dead, guard the human bitch and kill what she points at. But be on the lookout for another invisible gnoll." he laughs at the hyenas, making it clear that Drusilla was their new master.

"Drusilla, the hyenas are your to command, use them as you see fit. Finish your task quickly and do not waste time on the lowly murrin. Join us, quickly, and bring your slaves" he growls as he turns on his hind legs and races through the tunnels before the warrior woman can respond..

The cooshie streaks through the hallway at an astounding rate, highlighting the incredibly gifts granted by the beast's mutated form as he leaves one battle and joins another. But when he gets to the entryway, he sees himself.. and Drusilla.

Another bit of trickery by the little one, no doubt. I can play along. For now. he says to himself as he stops at the door and watches for things to play out.



Last edited by Squeak; 05-31-2020 at 02:23 PM.
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