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Message: <blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 1363977" data-attributes="member: 2292">Yip is moving before Blarth has slid off the elementals blade, tumbling beneath the second flailing sword-limb and hammering the stony hide with a flurry of blows.  Pain darts through his paws as he makes contact with the granite surface, but he’s rewarded with a few flaking chips of stone flying free.  The creature swings wildly at Yip, catching the kobold with a glancing blow.  The other arm pulls itself free from Blarth's innards and swings high, the sharp edge whistling towards Blarth's head. The half-orc stumbles backwards, sword-hand clutching at his stomach, but his shield arm still moves with a swiftness born of instinct and keeps the elementals blade-limb at bay.  Blarth can hear Geoffrey chanting, and then feels someone catching him as he stumbles backwards.  A warm glow fills his body, and the rasping pain in his guts starts to fade a little.“Amarin, Yip, it’s all yours,” Geoffrey orders.  “I’m trying to keep Blarth alive.”It proves a pointless request.  Blarth is partially healed, and that’s all the half-orc needs to return to the fray.  “Blarth not happy,” the half-orc announces.  He draws Luckringer and steps back towards the elemental.  Drops of blood drain out of the wound in his stomach, but at least they're not being followed by intestines.“Puny rock.”His overhand strike shatters a large portion of the stone creatures chest and shoulder.  “Or we can just hit it,” Geoffrey shrugs, his voice laden with resignation.  Blarth and Yip both circle the creature, looking for a place to strike.  Yip finds one quickly, his paws beating against the stone but doing little damage.  The stone-blades lash out once more, sending Yip reeling and slicing open Blarth’s freshly healed wounds.  Beside him, Geoffrey notices Amarin is concentrating and forming some kind of ectoplasmic construct, but it’s still half-formed and unlikely to ready in time to save Yip or Blarth.  Geoffrey readies his mace and recites the litany of duty and law, his holy symbol starting to glow blue against his breast.  He steps forward as the chant reaches its crescendo, the blow glow creeping along his arm and surrounding his weapon.“In the name of St Cuthbert, prepare to be destroyed!” Geoffrey shouts as he lashes out.  His mace catches the elemental creature solidly, the blue destructive energy he’s channelling from his god slowly infusing the elementals body.  Everyone one watches the blue lines forming through the body, hairline cracks that spread within the space of a few seconds, and then the creature crumbles into a pile of rubble.  Geoffrey slumps slightly, sluggishly stumbling over to Blarth to administer more healing magic.  Yip makes do with a potion and some long swigs from his hip flask.“Yip not like forge,” he mutters.  “Stupid rock.  Silly weapons.  Bad smith.”“W-w-w-what are y-y-y-you doing here,” a nervous voice demands.  Everyone turns towards the doorway, where a young man stands with a look of absolute terror on his face.  He wears a scorched leather apron, and his skin is a patchwork of light burns and bruises.“Who are you?” Geoffrey demands.  He pulls himself to his full height, the subtle menace of his spiked armour and military bearing all it takes to terrify the intruder even more.“I-I-I-I’m M-m-m-m-malden,” the stranger announces.  “I’m the w-w-w-w-weaponsmith.”“Evil more nervous than Yip remember,” Yip mutters.</blockquote>

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