Emergence Game Thread

Therrien has no magic and has figured the machine's weakness after seeing his compatriots do damage. He is furious that he has not been able to hurt the bot. He sees the metal heated from To'ot's attack and aims his longsword swing there.

I think rage gives me advtg on saving throws.

Dex

Dexterity saving

My arm stings after the fiery projectile catches it, but lessens to a dull ache. I cannot hear anything for a ringing in my ear that lasts a few minutes as the dust settles. I close my eyes tight and try to find my center. Moon and Stars help us all But I cannot stand the darkness while the cursed ringing continues in my ears, so I blink my eyes open, and see Harp. He is lying in his own blood, felled by the the metal abomination, and I think the worst. Brother Rhiv stumbles to his friend, though he too is bleeding. The brave dragonborn prays for his comrade and his efforts bring back Hard from the brink. Harper has been on the brink too much recently - how long can one take this punishment? Rhiv's words of prayer strike me - "heal this broken hearted man". He seeks to heal more than the physical pain that seems follows Brother Harper.

I quietly approach Rhiv from behind, and as he is deep in prayer to his higher power, I lay my hands on his back and side, and evoke the cure wounds spell.

I see Harper awaken. As Rhiv stands and moves toward the lever, my attention turns to the smoking metal monstrosity on the ground beside us. I am consumed with fury over the unnatural pile of wires and bolts. I drag it over to the side of the room, throw the heap against a wall, and start bashing at the pile with my quarterstaff. This thing that never lived or breathed the air can do nothing by cause pain and destruction. I only come to my senses when the baby screams his displeasure from my back.

I curse myself for losing my balance. Shifting the baby to the front I sing a song my mother sang to me:
"Who grows the four-leaf clovers in June?
Who dims the daylight? Who lights the moon?
Four little field mice who live in the sky.
Four little field mice....like you and I.
One is the Springmouse who turns on the showers.
Then comes the Summer who paints in the flowers.
The Fallmouse is next with walnuts and wheat.
And Winter is last...with cold little feet.
Aren't we lucky the seasons are four?
Think of a year with one less...or one more!"