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The Ecology of the Elven Cat (unpublished AD&D 2E version)
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<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 2539951" data-attributes="member: 508"><p>Shaellin approached a stout tree growing near the stream. He had run swiftly and silently through the forest's edge, paralleling the swift water, and knew the orcs were only minutes behind him. Still, there would be plenty of time.</p><p></p><p>Touching a fallen branch near the tree's trunk, Shaellin silently activated a <em>trip</em> spell.<strong>[11]</strong> Then he scampered up the trunk, positioned himself to best advantage, and took on the appearance of a tree limb hanging out over the stream.<strong>[12]</strong></p><p></p><p>He didn't have long to wait. The orcs trudged up the stream bank until reaching the tree in which Shaellin had disguised himself. As the lead orc stepped over the fallen branch it caught his foot and sent him tumbling to the ground. The second orc followed almost immediately, landing atop the first in a confusion of tangled limbs and shouted curses.</p><p></p><p>The third orc stopped and stared where he was, immediately below the false tree limb that was Shaellin. The elven cat dropped the illusion at the same time he himself dropped from the tree.</p><p></p><p>Eighteen unsheathed claws buried themselves deep into orc flesh.<strong>[13]</strong> As Shaellin raked his hind claws down the orc's naked back, he reached across the orc's head with his forelegs and scratched two bloody furrows across the brute's eyes.</p><p></p><p>The attack lasted only a second or two. In the time it took the orc to register the pain, Shaellin had dropped from the creature's back and resumed his impersonation of a branch, lying on the ground a few feet away. The other two orcs hadn't even seen the brief assault: one second they were falling to the ground; the next, their comrade was shrieking in pain and clawing at the place where his eyes used to be.</p><p></p><p>Skunge jumped up and glanced in all directions, spear at the ready. Grool just stood there stupidly, looking at Brokko with a dumb look on his face. "What the hells happened?" he wondered aloud.</p><p></p><p>Skunge didn't like it, not one bit. He had no idea what had just occurred, but he was the leader of this little troop and wasn't about to admit to ignorance. "Elf trap," he explained. "Stinkin' elf magic." He continued looking all around, hoping to spot some elven wizard in the woods to validate his theory and give him a target on which to vent his anger.</p><p></p><p>Brokko's shrieks subsided. He had dropped to his knees, hands to his wounded eyes. Blood still spilled down his face, and it was obvious that he'd never see again. "So whaddawe do 'bout Brokko?" Grool wanted to know.</p><p></p><p>Brokko apparently knew the answer to that question. He blindly raised his hands out in front of him, and whimpered "No," in a small voice, but it was too late. Skunge plunged his spear through Brokko's chest. It protruded out his back about six inches before being pulled back out. Brokko's lifeless corpse fell face-first onto the dirt. "Get his axe," commanded Skunge. Grool stooped to obey as Skunge grabbed up Brokko's dropped spear.</p><p></p><p>"Now we only got two elves to find for the ritual," said Skunge. Grool just chuckled. Such was the way of the orcs.</p><p></p><p>Shaellin waited until they were both out of sight before reverting back to cat form and scampering off into the forest. <em>One down, two to go</em>, he thought to himself.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 2539951, member: 508"] Shaellin approached a stout tree growing near the stream. He had run swiftly and silently through the forest's edge, paralleling the swift water, and knew the orcs were only minutes behind him. Still, there would be plenty of time. Touching a fallen branch near the tree's trunk, Shaellin silently activated a [i]trip[/i] spell.[b][11][/b] Then he scampered up the trunk, positioned himself to best advantage, and took on the appearance of a tree limb hanging out over the stream.[b][12][/b] He didn't have long to wait. The orcs trudged up the stream bank until reaching the tree in which Shaellin had disguised himself. As the lead orc stepped over the fallen branch it caught his foot and sent him tumbling to the ground. The second orc followed almost immediately, landing atop the first in a confusion of tangled limbs and shouted curses. The third orc stopped and stared where he was, immediately below the false tree limb that was Shaellin. The elven cat dropped the illusion at the same time he himself dropped from the tree. Eighteen unsheathed claws buried themselves deep into orc flesh.[b][13][/b] As Shaellin raked his hind claws down the orc's naked back, he reached across the orc's head with his forelegs and scratched two bloody furrows across the brute's eyes. The attack lasted only a second or two. In the time it took the orc to register the pain, Shaellin had dropped from the creature's back and resumed his impersonation of a branch, lying on the ground a few feet away. The other two orcs hadn't even seen the brief assault: one second they were falling to the ground; the next, their comrade was shrieking in pain and clawing at the place where his eyes used to be. Skunge jumped up and glanced in all directions, spear at the ready. Grool just stood there stupidly, looking at Brokko with a dumb look on his face. "What the hells happened?" he wondered aloud. Skunge didn't like it, not one bit. He had no idea what had just occurred, but he was the leader of this little troop and wasn't about to admit to ignorance. "Elf trap," he explained. "Stinkin' elf magic." He continued looking all around, hoping to spot some elven wizard in the woods to validate his theory and give him a target on which to vent his anger. Brokko's shrieks subsided. He had dropped to his knees, hands to his wounded eyes. Blood still spilled down his face, and it was obvious that he'd never see again. "So whaddawe do 'bout Brokko?" Grool wanted to know. Brokko apparently knew the answer to that question. He blindly raised his hands out in front of him, and whimpered "No," in a small voice, but it was too late. Skunge plunged his spear through Brokko's chest. It protruded out his back about six inches before being pulled back out. Brokko's lifeless corpse fell face-first onto the dirt. "Get his axe," commanded Skunge. Grool stooped to obey as Skunge grabbed up Brokko's dropped spear. "Now we only got two elves to find for the ritual," said Skunge. Grool just chuckled. Such was the way of the orcs. Shaellin waited until they were both out of sight before reverting back to cat form and scampering off into the forest. [i]One down, two to go[/i], he thought to himself. [/QUOTE]
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