Jun 4, 2019 12:40 am
Zenithral emerges from the pit to find one of the giants buried under a pile of orcs. The townsfolk have backed, up wary of these howling new arrivals. When they see dozens more orcs swarming onto the road to attack the other two giants, the villagers turn back to their wagons and try desperately to work them free of the mud.
Off to one side is a large charred area, blackened no doubt by one of Nurval’s fireballs. There are perhaps a dozen orc corpses smoldering there.
Nurval’s chuckle at the destruction sticks in its throat as Zenithral’s first arrow pierces deeply into its back. It wheels in the air and glares down at the archer, and Zenithral suddenly finds himself confused. That glorious being up there cannot possibly be his enemy... His second arrow finds Ilmadia instead, just as she reaches the top of the pit herself.
"What has Belhifet done to you, Swan?" The fiend chortles as it unstoppers a potion. "Plenty, if the rumors are true. But this... I’m not sure if even he can claim original credit for this, though he is certainly reaping the situation for all it is worth now."
Meanwhile, the remaining two giants pull themselves free of their holes and swat away the nearest orcs with their axes, then begin moving carefully in the direction of Easthaven and Cryshal-Tirith.
Nurval empties the contents of the potion with one moist slurp, then drops the glass bottle to the ground below. The devil grins with its entire considerable mouth as its wounds begin to close (Nurval heals 46 points). "And now to make sure you rats stay dead!" It begins chanting another spell.
Off to one side is a large charred area, blackened no doubt by one of Nurval’s fireballs. There are perhaps a dozen orc corpses smoldering there.
Nurval’s chuckle at the destruction sticks in its throat as Zenithral’s first arrow pierces deeply into its back. It wheels in the air and glares down at the archer, and Zenithral suddenly finds himself confused. That glorious being up there cannot possibly be his enemy... His second arrow finds Ilmadia instead, just as she reaches the top of the pit herself.
"What has Belhifet done to you, Swan?" The fiend chortles as it unstoppers a potion. "Plenty, if the rumors are true. But this... I’m not sure if even he can claim original credit for this, though he is certainly reaping the situation for all it is worth now."
Meanwhile, the remaining two giants pull themselves free of their holes and swat away the nearest orcs with their axes, then begin moving carefully in the direction of Easthaven and Cryshal-Tirith.
Nurval empties the contents of the potion with one moist slurp, then drops the glass bottle to the ground below. The devil grins with its entire considerable mouth as its wounds begin to close (Nurval heals 46 points). "And now to make sure you rats stay dead!" It begins chanting another spell.
Rolls
Potion of Supreme Healing - (10d4+20)
(2444233112) + 20 = 46
