Neil, only now realizing his peril, reached for the wand at his belt. He brought it up, pointed at the beast and spoke the command word "Drk Nss". A jet of white energy sprung forth from the wand and shot towards the creature with unerring accuracy. It hit dead in the chest and knocks the outsider around.
Tyr grit his teeth and pulled back his arm, throwing most of his strength into the blow; he realized as his arm shot through the haphazard swing, he had left himself wide open again, but surprisingly, the little brute didn't decide to capitalize on his mistake: it darted away from the reckless swing, cackling madly as it did so, waving its arms around and chittering in some sort of language that reminded Tyr instantly of a smelter's forge-flames licking over a sword as he hammered it to sharpness; as the little fiend began to glow, he could see another similar shape coalescing next to it, and thinking quickly, Tyr hoisted a rock into his shield-hand's palm with a swift boot-motion, and hurled the stone; it clocked the little bastard even in the forehead, throwing its concentration wildly off, and the shimmering shape vanished into a smoky mist.
"Shoot the little trigger-flit, Christine!" Tyr was quite fluent in elf-swears.
Christine nodded and moved slightly father into the building, drawing and aiming with her second pistol; it wasn't quite as well made as her first, but it would still do the job just fine. A moment before she pulled the trigger, she couldn't help but cough. The smoke everywhere was starting to get to her, and her aim wavered slightly. A loud bang echoed through the flame-filled library. Christine couldn't quite understand the mephit but was fairly sure it was cackling as it darted out of the way.
"We should get out of here while we can." Christine said, somewhat less enthusiastically than before.
"Lets GO" Lay yelled, ill hold them off, she says as she grasped her whip frimly in her left hand, grabbing her spear and hurling it at the original mephit
Neil steps 5 feet towards the door and draws one of the scrolls from his case. He reads it as the scroll burns up in his hands and a series of lights shoot out in a swirling pattern towards the mephits, but they are unaffected. This is getting bad, kill the first if you can, the second has been summoned!
Neil breathed a sigh of relief as the flaming beast failed to summon a cohort. Its gaze still burned with a fierce intensity, flames licking from between its teeth.
After Arcanis' turn it will use a breath weapon against the nearest target
Tyr gripped his sword tightly, silently praying to the Elf-father for a stroke of damned luck. He moved in, this time making a calculated, measured swing - he was rewarded with a crunch as the sword entered the fire-spirit's body. The thing screeched and then hissed, its cackling brought to an abrupt end by the nasty elf-thing's stab. Its response to Tyr was comically bloating up its stomach like a balloon and then spitting a gout of liquid fire all over him. He quickly raised his shield, and most of the flames harmlessly licked against the burnished steel gryphon which seemed to gleam defiantly as the flames lapped at it with little effect. Tyr was no worse for the wear, really - the cuts on his face were more agitating than the jet of flame he had managed to partly negate.
(My internet was refusing to connect so it accidently triple-rolled on my attack, but the first one was a success; Tyr loses 4 hp, CHRISTINE SHOOT THE DAMN THING ARRGH)
Yelping at the fire daemon's attack on Tyr, Christine moved back to her original position farther away from the dense smoke and pulled another pistol, firing off a third round from her 'exploding wand'. The daemon was still busy dealing with Tyr; it never saw it coming, and exploded in a small burst of flames. A small few fires still flickered where it once stood, gathered all together in one bunch.
"I hope it's alright..." Christine pondered, going back to pick up her dropped pistol.
The elfadin let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.
"Good shooting, Christine; you wear your guns well," he said with a grin before it was swept away by a blazing support beam that decided to fall three inches from his head.
"Oh, right."
He quickly ushered everyone out the hole Laycirra had made, himself going last of course (to make sure there were no surprises of the mephit-y kind lying in wait and also to collect Laycirra's thrown shortspear, which he would hand to her). Once outside, he leaned back and fell to the ground, landing hard on his butt. He didn't even notice; his only words were a rapturous 'ahhhhhh' as he basked in the sweet, cool air.
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INeedNoSaltwith blood on my teethRegistered Userregular
edited October 2007
Laycirra quietly thanked the elf in hushed Halfling. It was embarassing -- she'd never in her right mind leave herself undefended like that. What had she been thinking?
"Don't get comfortable," she said to them. "The fire still burns and the season has been dry. "
Christine grins, going through her bag. "But I got what I needed!" She finally holds up a copy of "The Infamous Artists of the Frontiers", worn and slightly singed but intact.
"Why did I think it was a good idea to help you look for that, again?" He was only joking, of course. He saw Christine like an absent-minded little sister who was prone to getting in trouble. Of course, from that last fight he obviously could use a protector himself. Couldn't kick open a door, scratched up by an annoying, gibbering fire-monkey that belched flames like a dragon...
But, no sense dwelling on past mistakes; use them to improve for the future. He looked to Laycirra and extended a hand.
"Thank you for pulling our butts out of the fire, literally. Judging by your friend over there," his gold eyes drifted to the wolf Lidalla, "I'd say you're a member of the Woodstriders. Am I correct? Oh, and my name is Tyranithilamatar, Tyr for short."
He was genial to the extreme. After Laycirra accepted his handshake (he was sure she would) he pulled his waterskin from his pack and took a giant gulp. He offered everyone else a drink, too.
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INeedNoSaltwith blood on my teethRegistered Userregular
edited October 2007
"Laycirra," she muttered in return, "and I'm not with the woodstriders. They wouldn't have me, anyway," she added. She tugged her hand out of the elf's grasp.
"I'm not fooling around. That fire's going to get worse before it gets better, I think, if we don't do something."
"Ah, well, even if you're not with the 'Striders, your help is appreciated all the same."
He frowned as their concerns were turned toward the great conflagration behind them. His first concern was safety, but she made a point: they couldn't just let the forest burn up because of their carelessness.
"Ah, Christine, why did you have to knock that candelabra over..." he mused aloud. He wasn't exasperated, he liked to deal with problems, but... he didn't know exactly how to prevent forest fires, especially when they had already started.
Tyr caught himself as he mused aloud... an upset candle was one thing... but impish creatures hopping out of a fire? A magically locked door? It seemed a bit... more than ordinary.
He wiped the soot from his face and gazed around. The whole of the compound within the walls burned, all of its buildings buckling as the flames that engulfed them ruined their structures... all the doors closed, the woods outside untouched. And none on the streets but the occasional elfin soldier, all like himself, detailed to the "Land Corps" as they had taken to deriding such a low-level duty. It was bad enough to have one's feet on land... but to lie dead there as well... it was ghastly.
"It wasn't my fault! It fell over on its own!" Christine said, embarrassed, as she paged through the newly acquired tome, mumbling to herself every now and then. "Kursch, I can use that...hrm...Olbrich...Noldor..."
After a little bit, she claps the book shut once more, turning her attention to the growing fire. "Oh...I guess we should put that out, right? Does anyone have any ideas?"
"Can't you magick up some water, Neil?" Tyr asked. When it came to the arcane arts, Tyr was nigh-clueless; he had seen many wonders (usually of the mechanical or divine variety), but arcanum was an unknown. And plus, he had seen clerics of Fasandin conjure food and water, so...
But his thoughts kept drifting back to the little fire-brute that had decided to torment them (until they killed it). What was it doing here?
"Christine, Neil, do either of you know what exactly that little thing was, and why it was there? Seems a bit odd that something like that would pop up for no reason in a Danalorian library, even if we did sort of start a big fire. Could that have brought them in?"
After the first question, his voice dropped to a quiet, and it was obvious Tyr was thinking aloud; it was a habit he had, whether he was doing drills, in the kitchen, or tinkering with a whizbang - if there was thinking involved, Tyr couldn't help but vocalize his thoughts.
"We didn't start the fire, and no, I cant create any water". Neil pauses and brushes himself off. "Is the book the right one? The original? Otherwise we are never going to find this temple"
Christine flipped through the book... and her hands stopped as she reached a section of pages where something was different. The letters were more heavily filigreed, and the language was strange and archaic.
Knowledge (Arcana) will tell you what language it is, and a Decipher Script check can be made to read it. If you'd like you can post checks in the OOC if you don't want to accompany looking at the book with any IC actions. The result of the Knowledge check you can decide - so long as it is a language you do not speak - and I'll fill in the details on a successful Decipher Script, as there may be a plot element there.
"Strange, I recognize that, its Humpratic, though i dont know what an Ogre or Grimlock would have been doing with this book. Unfortunatly this means we are going to have to find out, I cant read it"
INeedNoSaltwith blood on my teethRegistered Userregular
edited October 2007
"Look," the tiny priestess said, and pointed at a gout of fire erupting over the burning ... building? Buildings? She hadn't had a good look around in there. "Look, that's not normal fire."
The burst she'd identified had briefly been almost violet in color. She'd recognized it earlier but hadn't really acknowledged it. "Perhaps there are more of the fire-beasties in there," she suggested. "The fire isn't moving past the walls, but it should be." She rubbed her chin, and then whispered for Lidalla. "We're going to go have a look."
Under her breath, and with an accusatory glance at the gnome, she muttered (and in Gnomish, which was much better than her Common), "Even if we didn't start it."
Tyr coughed as the awkward silence fell on the group like a blanket. He clapped his hands. "Well, then, should I accompany you, Laycirra? Not that I think you and your friend can't handle yourself, but..." Ah, Tyr, always wanting to protect. Protect the Arks, protect everyone who needed it.
"But, ow." He reached into his backpack and pulled a potion out, quickly pulling the cork out with an accompanying ploomp; he tipped it back and let the clear, reinvigorating liquid (it reminded him of a spring rain) run down his throat. He realized the potion didn't taste as fresh as it should have, but his innate divine connection seemed to boost its potency; the wounds on his face closed up completely with no scar, and he used the waterskin to wash away the blood. He felt much better afterwards.
He of course placed the decanter back into his backpack - who knows when you might need an extra container? (And he was sure Laycirra, if his notions were correct, would frown upon littering)
Tyr is at 15/24, and during the quaff he will use Lay on Hands on himself for the entire 9, bringing him back to full 24/24
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INeedNoSaltwith blood on my teethRegistered Userregular
edited October 2007
"If you wish," she mumbled in her ill-rounded common. She frowned inwardly when the elf slammed down the potion. She was certain he'd really needed that, and she was certain somewhere out there had just collected his pain. She said nothing of the matter, however.
"Be wary. There may be more of the beasties, and we would not want anyone to get hurt." She unhitched her spear, and patted the massive wolf that stood beside her. "We go in. Follow if you will; we won't turn down your help."
"It looks like someone added these pages later...I don't know why an ogre would need a book on artists." Christine tilted her head, reading it carefully but unable to come up with an answer. "I'll look over it later, I guess."
She shut the book once more and placed it in her bag, taking the opportunity to reload.
"Artists of the Frontier" The Gnome said "Thousands of years ago when Gnomes were just finding themselves, and Eleves were living off the Sea instead of on it, the five great races sent a party of explorers east accross the mountains past the desert. A number of artists came with them to record what was seen, and this is the book. The reprints didnt have the records from the races that were brought back.
Lets just hope that this was an Ogre and not a Grimlock who wrote this, for he may be still alive"
"We found a few scrolls already, we might fine more inside, but how will we put the flames out? As far as i know they wont leave with the outsiders"
"What do you mean, were? We still do live on the seas," said the Elf, while looking at the corpses of the Elf Land Corps, "well, er, mostly."
Tyr could think of at least five Arks; Gan, Bur, Pux, Drin, and Wec. He knew there were more, but he had family on those Arks (Members of clan Amatar; Tyr's name was of course, in 'proper' elfin, Tyranith'il'Amatar; but Tyr didn't like the haughty tone one must use to speak proper elfin, so he just slurred it all together).
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INeedNoSaltwith blood on my teethRegistered Userregular
edited October 2007
Laycirra tossed that around in her mind as she made her way back through the hole in the wall. She wasn't sure it sounded quite right, but then, she couldn't remember the last time she'd made it to a history class. Or the last time she'd seen a gnome, for that matter. Didn't they worship dead people or something weird like that?
She kept low, and kept a hand on Lidalla's side as the duo made their way back. It seemed pretty clear that the fire had originated in the library (the fire had spread to the other stonework buildings, by now, but the library was the worst), and that's where she headed in, cautiously, to make sure she wasn't crushed and melted away by any falling rubble.
Tyr looked around and realized the little priestess was gone. He quickly darted into the structure, catching up with Laycirra fairly quickly.
"You disappeared for a moment there. Have you found anything?"
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INeedNoSaltwith blood on my teethRegistered Userregular
edited October 2007
"Shut up," she said, in her polite own way. "Listen."
Lidalla had gone from relaxed and cautious to sharp and alert, her ears pointed up and her tail held still. Laycirra wasn't sure what the wolf had seen, but thought it must be important. She was having trouble making anything out under the fire and smoke, unfortunately.
As Lacirra crept forward into the library, taking care to avoid the flames around her, she was suddenly jerked backward. Several beams collapsed from the high ceiling with a groan, smashing into the ground where she had just stood, stirring a cloud of ash and fire in front of them. Tyr's elfin senses, well trained in percieving hidden mishaps, had heard and seen the failure before it had happened.
Her wolf companion began barking, as Tyr had her tucked under one of his arms... a bit disconcerting, but better than being underneath flaming rubble.
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INeedNoSaltwith blood on my teethRegistered Userregular
edited October 2007
The halfling kicked and struggled out of the elf's grip reflexively, and then quietly apologized for the bruise that would soon be forming on his side. She considered the fallen beams thoughtfully. "Was there another way around ... ?"
She seemed pretty nonchalant about the near-death experience, and eager to get back to discovering the origin of the fire. "We'll have to find one, at least."
Tyr grimaced as she forced herself out of his grip before he could put her down himself. His reaction had been simply reflexive; but, it was worth the bruise to see that no one was hurt (relatively).
He rubbed his side as he examined the blazing surroundings. Perhaps a second door...
Christine followed closely behind Tyr, humming quietly and not paying a great deal of attention to the still fiery surroundings, as hot as it might have been. Her mind was clearly elsewhere...
Four years already? It was kind of hard to believe that she had been traveling with Tyr for that long...of course, it wouldn't seem like any time at all to him. She hadn't even reached twenty years old and he had already been alive for well over a century when they first met, after all.
Her education in Amya was what originally convinced her to see the world, and so she set out. Though she might have studied hard in school, she wasn't quite as ready as she thought she was...after all, why would a group like the Shadowy Sigil be angry with her? She didn't do anything, right?
But Tyr was always there. Her Skyknight; her guardian angel.
Her attention finally turned back to the situation at hand. Did she hear something...?
INeedNoSaltwith blood on my teethRegistered Userregular
edited November 2007
Laycirra hissed at the elf. "What are you doing?"
This wasn't working. It was a long shot, but something lit the fires, and she had an idea she knew just what they were by now; she crouched down a bit and took a look around. ...
She was so out of her element, here. Still, was she pretty certain she could tell just where that mephit may've come from; if you looked closely enough, you could see the ash and heat marks that the ground still carried.
Laycirra padded through the burning building, following the tracks of the mephit... it's little feet and claws did leave distinct marks, though they were faint amidst all the ash that rained down from above. Tyr moved along beside her, looking out for hazards or clues of any kind, but also looking over her shoulder a bit. Suddenly the halfling stopped.
"The tracks... stopped?" she said, not realizing she was talking aloud, "impossible, they were just..."
Tyr leaned over to look at where she was gesturing, and as he shifted his weight he heard a loud cracking sound beneath them.
"Uh... oh..." the paladin managed to mouth before the floor fell out underneath both of them. Though the elf's longer arms were sufficient to grab the nearby ledge, Laycirra fell head over heels, crashing to the ground below amidst a flurry of broken rock and timber... and apparently eggshells.
Eggshells? What were eggshells doing in a library?
She picked herself up quickly, glaring at the elf for being so... so damned heavy! She was about to let him know her displeasure when she heard a hissing sound from inside the pit... she looked and turned and realized that the room she had fallen into was not a pit, but actually quite large... and she hoped that the pair of glowing red eyes staring at her were a good distance away as well!
Salt, roll your own damage. 2d6... 1d6 if you can make a DC 15 Tumble.
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INeedNoSaltwith blood on my teethRegistered Userregular
edited November 2007
"Oh ..." She stared at the eyes in the dark, and fell into a crouch.
Tyr was gripping onto the edge of the pit, sweat beading on his brow. He was pretty sturdy for an elf, but his armor made him heavy and his muscles were starting to protest.
"Laycirra, are you alright?"
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INeedNoSaltwith blood on my teethRegistered Userregular
edited November 2007
"Th..." Laycirra is boggled, because now, she can see more than just the red eyes. "Dragon ..." she mutters out, first in halfling, then in common (although her translation is off; it comes out 'Drakeling.')
She turns her head at an awkward angle to look at Tyr -- and Lidalla. "Nah frith," she whispers.
Tyr heard Lay's quiet voice respond an affirmative, and he picked up the ominous words. He looked over his shoulder, and his sharp elf eyes immediately picked up the ruby-scaled beast at the far end of the under-room.
"Shit!" was Tyr's unceremonious proclamation as he tried to hoist himself up. His muscles decided to ignore him, and his struggles were in vain.
"Christine! Help me up, or reach into my pack and get the rope for Laycirra!"
[Tyr is withholding initiative til after Christine]
Posts
"Kill it, quick"
"Shoot the little trigger-flit, Christine!" Tyr was quite fluent in elf-swears.
Kill the fucking mephit, MEGAFAIL goddamn these dice (1d20+7=8, 1d8+2=7)
Mephit makes another mephit, fail (1d100=85)
"We should get out of here while we can." Christine said, somewhat less enthusiastically than before.
Attack roll (1d20+4=7)
Hits for 0 damage
Neil steps 5 feet towards the door and draws one of the scrolls from his case. He reads it as the scroll burns up in his hands and a series of lights shoot out in a swirling pattern towards the mephits, but they are unaffected. This is getting bad, kill the first if you can, the second has been summoned!
Hypnotic Lights or whatever, for 9 hit die total and an attack of 10
Spellcraft to determine summon (1d20+7=16)
Tyr trying to avoid more burning, waste of a twenty rassum frassum nipjack grr (1d20+7=27)
Flame damage why oh why can't Tyr get this sort of damage (1d8=8)
(My internet was refusing to connect so it accidently triple-rolled on my attack, but the first one was a success; Tyr loses 4 hp, CHRISTINE SHOOT THE DAMN THING ARRGH)
"I hope it's alright..." Christine pondered, going back to pick up her dropped pistol.
Damage roll (with PBS) (1d10+1=7)
"Good shooting, Christine; you wear your guns well," he said with a grin before it was swept away by a blazing support beam that decided to fall three inches from his head.
"Oh, right."
He quickly ushered everyone out the hole Laycirra had made, himself going last of course (to make sure there were no surprises of the mephit-y kind lying in wait and also to collect Laycirra's thrown shortspear, which he would hand to her). Once outside, he leaned back and fell to the ground, landing hard on his butt. He didn't even notice; his only words were a rapturous 'ahhhhhh' as he basked in the sweet, cool air.
"Don't get comfortable," she said to them. "The fire still burns and the season has been dry. "
But, no sense dwelling on past mistakes; use them to improve for the future. He looked to Laycirra and extended a hand.
"Thank you for pulling our butts out of the fire, literally. Judging by your friend over there," his gold eyes drifted to the wolf Lidalla, "I'd say you're a member of the Woodstriders. Am I correct? Oh, and my name is Tyranithilamatar, Tyr for short."
He was genial to the extreme. After Laycirra accepted his handshake (he was sure she would) he pulled his waterskin from his pack and took a giant gulp. He offered everyone else a drink, too.
"I'm not fooling around. That fire's going to get worse before it gets better, I think, if we don't do something."
He frowned as their concerns were turned toward the great conflagration behind them. His first concern was safety, but she made a point: they couldn't just let the forest burn up because of their carelessness.
"Ah, Christine, why did you have to knock that candelabra over..." he mused aloud. He wasn't exasperated, he liked to deal with problems, but... he didn't know exactly how to prevent forest fires, especially when they had already started.
He wiped the soot from his face and gazed around. The whole of the compound within the walls burned, all of its buildings buckling as the flames that engulfed them ruined their structures... all the doors closed, the woods outside untouched. And none on the streets but the occasional elfin soldier, all like himself, detailed to the "Land Corps" as they had taken to deriding such a low-level duty. It was bad enough to have one's feet on land... but to lie dead there as well... it was ghastly.
After a little bit, she claps the book shut once more, turning her attention to the growing fire. "Oh...I guess we should put that out, right? Does anyone have any ideas?"
But his thoughts kept drifting back to the little fire-brute that had decided to torment them (until they killed it). What was it doing here?
"Christine, Neil, do either of you know what exactly that little thing was, and why it was there? Seems a bit odd that something like that would pop up for no reason in a Danalorian library, even if we did sort of start a big fire. Could that have brought them in?"
After the first question, his voice dropped to a quiet, and it was obvious Tyr was thinking aloud; it was a habit he had, whether he was doing drills, in the kitchen, or tinkering with a whizbang - if there was thinking involved, Tyr couldn't help but vocalize his thoughts.
The burst she'd identified had briefly been almost violet in color. She'd recognized it earlier but hadn't really acknowledged it. "Perhaps there are more of the fire-beasties in there," she suggested. "The fire isn't moving past the walls, but it should be." She rubbed her chin, and then whispered for Lidalla. "We're going to go have a look."
Under her breath, and with an accusatory glance at the gnome, she muttered (and in Gnomish, which was much better than her Common), "Even if we didn't start it."
"But, ow." He reached into his backpack and pulled a potion out, quickly pulling the cork out with an accompanying ploomp; he tipped it back and let the clear, reinvigorating liquid (it reminded him of a spring rain) run down his throat. He realized the potion didn't taste as fresh as it should have, but his innate divine connection seemed to boost its potency; the wounds on his face closed up completely with no scar, and he used the waterskin to wash away the blood. He felt much better afterwards.
He of course placed the decanter back into his backpack - who knows when you might need an extra container? (And he was sure Laycirra, if his notions were correct, would frown upon littering)
Tyr is at 15/24, and during the quaff he will use Lay on Hands on himself for the entire 9, bringing him back to full 24/24
"Be wary. There may be more of the beasties, and we would not want anyone to get hurt." She unhitched her spear, and patted the massive wolf that stood beside her. "We go in. Follow if you will; we won't turn down your help."
She shut the book once more and placed it in her bag, taking the opportunity to reload.
"I'll go, too!"
Decipher Script (1d20+3=9)
Lets just hope that this was an Ogre and not a Grimlock who wrote this, for he may be still alive"
"We found a few scrolls already, we might fine more inside, but how will we put the flames out? As far as i know they wont leave with the outsiders"
Tyr could think of at least five Arks; Gan, Bur, Pux, Drin, and Wec. He knew there were more, but he had family on those Arks (Members of clan Amatar; Tyr's name was of course, in 'proper' elfin, Tyranith'il'Amatar; but Tyr didn't like the haughty tone one must use to speak proper elfin, so he just slurred it all together).
She kept low, and kept a hand on Lidalla's side as the duo made their way back. It seemed pretty clear that the fire had originated in the library (the fire had spread to the other stonework buildings, by now, but the library was the worst), and that's where she headed in, cautiously, to make sure she wasn't crushed and melted away by any falling rubble.
"You disappeared for a moment there. Have you found anything?"
Lidalla had gone from relaxed and cautious to sharp and alert, her ears pointed up and her tail held still. Laycirra wasn't sure what the wolf had seen, but thought it must be important. She was having trouble making anything out under the fire and smoke, unfortunately.
Lidalla: Spot, Listen (1d20+4=17, 1d20+3=18)
Her wolf companion began barking, as Tyr had her tucked under one of his arms... a bit disconcerting, but better than being underneath flaming rubble.
She seemed pretty nonchalant about the near-death experience, and eager to get back to discovering the origin of the fire. "We'll have to find one, at least."
He rubbed his side as he examined the blazing surroundings. Perhaps a second door...
Four years already? It was kind of hard to believe that she had been traveling with Tyr for that long...of course, it wouldn't seem like any time at all to him. She hadn't even reached twenty years old and he had already been alive for well over a century when they first met, after all.
Her education in Amya was what originally convinced her to see the world, and so she set out. Though she might have studied hard in school, she wasn't quite as ready as she thought she was...after all, why would a group like the Shadowy Sigil be angry with her? She didn't do anything, right?
But Tyr was always there. Her Skyknight; her guardian angel.
Her attention finally turned back to the situation at hand. Did she hear something...?
Listen check (1d20+4=20)
This wasn't working. It was a long shot, but something lit the fires, and she had an idea she knew just what they were by now; she crouched down a bit and took a look around. ...
She was so out of her element, here. Still, was she pretty certain she could tell just where that mephit may've come from; if you looked closely enough, you could see the ash and heat marks that the ground still carried.
"The tracks... stopped?" she said, not realizing she was talking aloud, "impossible, they were just..."
Tyr leaned over to look at where she was gesturing, and as he shifted his weight he heard a loud cracking sound beneath them.
"Uh... oh..." the paladin managed to mouth before the floor fell out underneath both of them. Though the elf's longer arms were sufficient to grab the nearby ledge, Laycirra fell head over heels, crashing to the ground below amidst a flurry of broken rock and timber... and apparently eggshells.
Eggshells? What were eggshells doing in a library?
She picked herself up quickly, glaring at the elf for being so... so damned heavy! She was about to let him know her displeasure when she heard a hissing sound from inside the pit... she looked and turned and realized that the room she had fallen into was not a pit, but actually quite large... and she hoped that the pair of glowing red eyes staring at her were a good distance away as well!
Laycirra: 17/20
"Laycirra, are you alright?"
She turns her head at an awkward angle to look at Tyr -- and Lidalla. "Nah frith," she whispers.
"Shit!" was Tyr's unceremonious proclamation as he tried to hoist himself up. His muscles decided to ignore him, and his struggles were in vain.
"Christine! Help me up, or reach into my pack and get the rope for Laycirra!"
[Tyr is withholding initiative til after Christine]