Nearer than I thought. No sooner had I come to this conclusion did I hear a rough bellowing, an ogre building itself into a chaotic frenzy, and Balderk shouting warnings and battle cries. The noise reverberates through the tunnels and chambers, telling me the other passageway also connects to this room. Chath drops back behind the pile of rock, heading back to the party, and I nock and arrow and dash around to the other tunnel, hoping to pin the beast between Balderk and myself.
I scramble over the pile of rock, easily spotting the great, hairy beast as it raises a massive club to smash down at Balderk. I loose an arrow at its head and move toward the melee. Over the din of war cries and shrieking metal I can hear Theros shouting in his guttural spell language and I see flashes of green and purple light. The ogre swings its mammoth club again and Balderk drops like a puppet with its strings cut. A stone caroms of the ogre’s head and I know Chath has made it through the other side to join the fight. I rush to the top of the pile and fire point blank at the ogre’s head, screaming at it to distract the monster from smashing the inert Balderk to paste.
I drop my bow and whip out my scimitar, intending to cleave the thing’s head from its shoulders. I swing wildly and the blow glances off the ogre’s shoulder armor. It spins around to face me, backhanding me with its huge club. I feel ribs crack and I fly back against the wall, my head slamming against the rock. My vision spins and ears ring as the beast roars, its victory cry echoing loudly through the chambers.
In my dizzying vision I see Cyridon scoop up Balderk’s guisarme and threaten the ogre with it. Jabbing at its side, Cyridon tries to draw its attention away from the crumpled Balderk. Brave, but perhaps foolish, as the roaring ogre turns to regard him. Screaming in its bloodlust, it raises the greatclub high over its head for a two-handed smash that would surely slay the death-cleric. Foul bits of spit and slime spray the priest as the ogre roars gruesome death at him, and if he could go any paler I’d be surprised.
Just as the ogre pauses in the apex of its swing Theros musters enough power to shout out one more spell, sending a green gob of acidic plasma streaking from his fingers toward the ogre and catching it square in the throat. The goo sizzles and hisses, and the sharp tang of chlorine mixes with the foul stench of the ogre. It drops the club to clutch at its dissolving throat, its roars of anger and hatred turning to bubbling gurgles of red and green bubbles. The beast drops to its knees as the glowing green jelly eats away at its neck. Finally it goes silent, vocal chords liquefied by the acidic paste, and it falls to the floor to choke on the blood and gunk that used to be its gullet.
I scramble over the pile of rock, easily spotting the great, hairy beast as it raises a massive club to smash down at Balderk. I loose an arrow at its head and move toward the melee. Over the din of war cries and shrieking metal I can hear Theros shouting in his guttural spell language and I see flashes of green and purple light. The ogre swings its mammoth club again and Balderk drops like a puppet with its strings cut. A stone caroms of the ogre’s head and I know Chath has made it through the other side to join the fight. I rush to the top of the pile and fire point blank at the ogre’s head, screaming at it to distract the monster from smashing the inert Balderk to paste.
I drop my bow and whip out my scimitar, intending to cleave the thing’s head from its shoulders. I swing wildly and the blow glances off the ogre’s shoulder armor. It spins around to face me, backhanding me with its huge club. I feel ribs crack and I fly back against the wall, my head slamming against the rock. My vision spins and ears ring as the beast roars, its victory cry echoing loudly through the chambers.
In my dizzying vision I see Cyridon scoop up Balderk’s guisarme and threaten the ogre with it. Jabbing at its side, Cyridon tries to draw its attention away from the crumpled Balderk. Brave, but perhaps foolish, as the roaring ogre turns to regard him. Screaming in its bloodlust, it raises the greatclub high over its head for a two-handed smash that would surely slay the death-cleric. Foul bits of spit and slime spray the priest as the ogre roars gruesome death at him, and if he could go any paler I’d be surprised.
Just as the ogre pauses in the apex of its swing Theros musters enough power to shout out one more spell, sending a green gob of acidic plasma streaking from his fingers toward the ogre and catching it square in the throat. The goo sizzles and hisses, and the sharp tang of chlorine mixes with the foul stench of the ogre. It drops the club to clutch at its dissolving throat, its roars of anger and hatred turning to bubbling gurgles of red and green bubbles. The beast drops to its knees as the glowing green jelly eats away at its neck. Finally it goes silent, vocal chords liquefied by the acidic paste, and it falls to the floor to choke on the blood and gunk that used to be its gullet.