Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

[wolff96]

Great update. You have a real gift for ratcheting up the tension in fights -- even though I know you're telling a story and don't even have any players, I still find myself caught up in it. I guess that's a round-about way of saying: Damn good writing.

Other than the adventure itself, is that Harpoon Spider detailed anywhere, LB? That's just a COOL monster.

 

[Lazybones]

Other than the adventure itself, is that Harpoon Spider detailed anywhere, LB? That's just a COOL monster.

Not that I'm aware of; I've only seen it in the mag but I wouldn't be surprised if it made its way into a later supplement. It's a nasty critter.

And thanks for the kudos.

Friday cliffhanger time!

* * * * *

Chapter 79

Mole closed her eyes, resigning herself to her fate. Her last thought was, “What a way to go... crushed by an oversized bug!”

But that inglorious outcome never came. She felt rather than saw the hulking presence moving toward her, and heard the heavy sound of something heavy and solid slamming against metal, then crashing a heartbeat later into the ground a pace where she’d been standing. She opened her eyes to see first the dead spider, with Dannel grinning—grinning!—as he extricated himself from its still smoldering corpse, then up to see the still quite sizeable Arun standing over her, his now-massive shield raised protectively above them.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” the dwarf rumbled.

Mole nodded, slashing the last strands of webbing free from her boots. It was easier, now, without the distraction of a spider the size of a warhorse about to fall on you...

Though she was loath to reject the dwarf’s helpful protection from the spreading flames, she knew that others needed help as well. “Help Illewyn!” she urged, catching sight of the cleric lying in a nest of webs a few paces away.

The dwarf had seen her as well, and was already moving. Slinging his hammer across his back, his bent and gingerly picked up the priestess’s limp form in a massive hand. Shafts of golden light shone from his hand as he poured healing power into the stricken priestess, easing her injuries and drawing her back from the brink of death. She remained unconscious, however, so the dwarf carried her carefully in the crook of his arm and turned back to Mole and Dannel.

The gnome had freed herself already, and she and Dannel were already making their way back to the exit. Zenna still stood there, a stricken look on her face, but she seemed otherwise unhurt as the five of them withdrew, coughing, from the smoke-filled chamber.

They made their way all the way back to the first large cavern. Smoke continued to hang in the air, but most of it seemed to be escaping through vents in the cavern complex. Dannel looked back down the corridor, wary of the flames pursuing them.

“She needs more healing,” Arun said, laying the cleric down gently on the floor.

“I... I cannot,” Zenna said. Mole looked at her in surprise—it looked like her friend, normally collected, was close to tears.

“Here, I’ve got a few extra potions, the good ones,” Mole said. She took one and carefully poured one into the cleric’s mouth, helping her as she coughed and recovered consciousness. Within moments, she was strong enough to rise, although her movements remained uncoordinated and awkward.

“The spider poison,” Illewyn told them. “It will take time... aaah.” She shifted, leaning into Mole as her legs threatened to give out under her.

“Did anyone see what happened to the wizard?” Dannel asked, returning to the center of the room.

“He got away,” Zenna said, her voice flat.

“We’re seriously weakened,” the elf went on. “We have to consider retreat.” The companions shared a look, and even Arun, himself still suffering from the effects of several poisonous bites, did not complain.

“Come on,” the dwarf said. He turned to Illewyn, and again lifted the cleric, holding her against him in his still-massive arms.

“That draught... cough... will not last much longer,” Zenna said. And in fact, even as she finished speaking, Arun began to shrink back to his normal size. He put Illewyn down, and the cleric stood, leaning against his shoulder.

“It’s all right... I can walk.”

“Come,” Dannel said, leading them toward the exit. He’d recovered his bow, at least, and drew out another arrow as he directed them back the way they had come. He’d also found the cleric’s mace, and handed it back to her as they continued out of the smoke-filled cavern.

“Are you all right, Zenna?” Mole asked, worried at the listless look about her friend.

“I will be... at least, I hope so,” the tiefling replied. “Come, let’s get out of this place.”

They navigated the passage without difficulty, bruised and battered from their struggle against the harpoon spider and its allies. As they neared the door to the main corridor, however, Dannel held up his hand, bringing them to a halt.

“What is it, elf?” Arun asked.

“That door... didn’t we close it behind us?” Indeed, the heavy stone slab was now open.

“Maybe the halfling came back this way, left it open,” Mole suggested.

But that theory was dispelled a moment later, when they heard a mocking, feminine laughter come from just outside the door. A tall female figure stepped into the opening, her hair a blazing red like the flames in the spider’s lair. She was clad head to toe in spiked steel platemail, and she carried a heavy silver flail that likewise culminated in wicked spikes. A black hand was emblazoned prominently across her breastplate; the symbol of the dread god Bane.

“Well,” she said. “It would seem that you meddlers have gotten yourself into quite an unfortunate position. Now, it is time to grant you the reward that you have earned for interfering in my plans at the Lucky Monkey.”

Dannel lifted his bow, but the woman—the fell cleric Triel Eldurast, obviously—stepped smoothly to the side, out of their line of sight. They could all hear the sounds of metal on metal that betrayed the presence of others waiting in the hall outside, flanking the door.

“Uh oh,” Mole said.

 

[Broccli_Head]

Dannel lifted his bow, but the woman—the fell cleric Triel Eldurast, obviously—stepped smoothly to the side, out of their line of sight. They could all hear the sounds of metal on metal that betrayed the presence of others waiting in the hall outside, flanking the door.

.

That's when you wish they still had that 2nd edition archer ability to launch a quick shot before initiative began

 

[Brogarn]

Ooo... nice cliff hanger! Now I must shake my fist at you for leaving me hanging like that. Hope you understand. *shakes fist*

 

[Lazybones]

That's when you wish they still had that 2nd edition archer ability to launch a quick shot before initiative began

Trust me, against her, it wouldn't have mattered.

A short week, but enough time for the climax of "Flood Season":

* * * * *

Chapter 80

The companions choked as the smoke continued to thicken in the web-choked confines of the narrow corridor, a reminder that they were rapidly running out of choices.

“What do we do now?” Illewyn asked, her eyes wide with the hints of a growing panic.

“Bah, we can handle this wench and her lackeys,” Arun said, hefting his hammer.

Mole, meanwhile, crept forward, moving like a shadow until she neared the doorway. The corridor beyond was well-lit, and she gave the threshold a wide berth as she crouched low, and listened.

“There’s that other side passage,” Zenna suggested.

“I suspect that just connects to the other door we passed in the main corridor,” Dannel replied. “I don’t imagine that Triel would have been so audacious to appear to us, if she didn’t know that we were well and truly trapped.”

“Let’s get this over with, then,” Arun said, adjusting his helmet. “We remain here, with all this smoke, and those bandits won’t have to bother with killing us.”

“I agree,” Zenna said, a hint of her former fire returning as they confronted the hard reality of their situation. “But we need a plan.”

Mole had crept back to join them. “There’s a bunch of them on either side of the door,” she reported. “Most of them sound like they’re armored.”

“Waiting for us to come out,” Illewyn said grimly, her hands trembling from the tension, or from the lingering effects of the spider venom.

“Well then, let us give them what they want,” Dannel said.

* * * * *

On the far side of the doorway, flanked by her warriors, Triel Eldurast felt a conflict of emotions. On the one hand, fury at the damage already wrought to her plans caused her jaw to tighten almost painfully, her eyes burning like pits of coals lying in braziers. Her soldiers, mercenaries though they were, knew her moods and tried not to draw her attention, focusing on the dark opening where smoke continued to issue out in a soft haze. Triel had ordered the doors between here and the main cavern wedged open, and the resulting breeze kept the smoke from gathering too heavily, interfering with their effectiveness.

Her anger was complemented, however, with a fierce anticipation, an eagerness for the fray that would commence shortly. The smoke would drive the enemy out, and this corridor would turn into a storm of noise and pain and blood. She bit her lip, savoring the taste of her own blood in her mouth. Her lean, muscular body felt alive under the steel shell of her armor, and the haft of her flail felt as light as a wooden switch in her gauntleted hand.

Bane was with her; she could feel the dark power of her bond floating within her mind, awaiting only her call. Her soldiers were competent enough, if lazy and indulgent fools for the most part. She’d ordered contingents to guard both the entrance to the treasure vault and the main cavern, in case this intrusion was part of a larger assault. But thus far the reports were all negative. Skaven hadn’t reported; no doubt the intruders had chased him into the lair of his beloved spiders, and perhaps they’d finished him there. Triel wasted little concern on the diminutive mage, either way. He’d been useful enough, but of course she hadn’t been foolish enough to invest him with her full trust. No one had been worthy of that gift for years... perhaps, given what she had become, never would anyone again.

A noise drew her attention to the dark tunnel, and her soldiers tensed, hefting sword or drawing bow. They would have to depart, now that the secret of this lair was compromised, and her forces already dealt heavy losses by the intruders. The fury returned, and this time Triel let it surge through her like a tidal wave, exulting in the rush of battle.

The clank of metal announced the arrival of the dwarf a moment before he burst into the passage.

Chaos ensued.

* * * * *

Tomorrow: BLOOD!

 

[Elemental]

I was a lurker for the last part of Travels, and I can't believe I missed the sequel for so long! I'm glad I found it--and just before the big battle, too. This'll be fun.

 

[Lazybones]

Welcome back, Elemental!

* * * * *

Chapter 81

Arun burst into the corridor, his shield raised high before him. Arrows shot out from the corridor to either side, propelled from the bows of the Alleybashers who stood behind the shields of Triel’s armored warriors. There was a pair of fighters to each side, with another pair of rogues behind; eight mercenaries in all. Triel stood to the right, flanked by her two toughs, clad in her spiked platemail with her silver flail held aloft in both hands, dark syllables issuing from her mouth as she called upon the power of her terrible patron.

Arun, of course, headed immediately in that direction. Arrows glanced off of his shield or the heavy plates that covered his back, but the dwarf’s luck held and none of the initial attacks penetrated.

The armored thugs flanking Triel rushed to block the dwarf, while the two behind him down the left branch of the passageway moved forward to assault him from behind. Before they could reach him, however, the dwarf’s allies burst into the fray. A tiny form shot out of the doorway like a stone rolling down a steep hill, still trailing cobwebs behind her. As Mole came out of her roll she twisted and hurled a ceramic flask into the oncoming fighters, catching one in the chest. The alchemist’s fire exploded, covering the hapless thug in a cloak of fire. His companion, a hungry-faced woman, dodged to the side as hot splashes of the burning mixture splattered on her armor. Even as the burning warrior’s screams filled the corridor, the woman raised her sword and rushed at Mole. She’d barely covered two paces, however, when a long shaft slammed into her side and tore through her armor, biting deep. Dannel stepped forward out of the tunnel into the corridor, already reaching for another arrow.

Behind him came Illewyn and Zenna. The two women had already taken a beating in earlier battles, but the companions knew that none of them could afford to hang back in this struggle. Zenna saw Arun facing off against five foes to the right, including the evil priestess of Bane. Triel was invoking her patron, clearly content to let her allies withstand the initial rush from the adventurers who had invaded her lair. Behind her stood two rogues who had already reloaded their bows, and were seeking new targets. One saw her and shouted something lost in the chaos of the battle, and without hesitation drew and fired. The long shaft sliced narrowly through the melee between Arun and the two warriors facing him, and shot straight toward Zenna’s face... only to be turned at the last instant by the magical shield she’d just invoked.

Releasing the breath that had frozen in her lungs, she lifted her new wand and invoked its power.

Hot flames exploded from the wand, blasting down the corridor in a bright orange cone. The burning hands engulfed Arun, but the dwarf, protected by Illewyn’s resist energy spell, paid them no heed. The two warriors, not favored with such protection, cried out as the hot fire swept over them, and Triel, just behind them, let out a nasty curse as the flames reached their furthest extent, licking at her steel armor with their fading tongues.

Illewyn was the last to emerge from the tunnel. Her heart was pounding in her chest, seemingly loud enough to drown out the surrounding sounds of the fray. Despite her training in the arts of war as part of the instruction that all initiates into the church of Helm received, she felt completely overwhelmed at the chaos that swirled around her. To her left a man who’d been transformed into a pyre continued to scream as he tried in vain to pat out the flames covering his upper body, while right in front of her, a woman with an arrow jutting from her side tried to stab at Mole, who leapt nimbly back out of the way. To her right, the dwarf paladin exchanged blows with a pair of warriors, and behind him, the evil woman in spiked plate lifted her flail and called again on her dark god’s intervention. The air was filled with smoke, and Illewyn felt as though her head was going to explode as everything swam in and out of focus.

She felt a sharp pain blaze across her temple, and staggered. Reaching up, she felt the hot blood pouring down her face from the gash a scant inch above her left eye. Turning, she saw the archer—who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, if that—grin evilly at the results of his shot. His companion, a near giant of a woman missing most of her teeth, was already fitting an arrow to her bow as well, and took aim at Dannel.

Indecision flooded away, replaced by the cold calm of certainty as Illewyn felt the power of her god enter her. She called upon the potency of a spell, targeting the woman archer even as she drew the fletchings of her arrow back to her cheek.

The arrow remained there, frozen, as the woman stiffened, held by the power of Illewyn’s spell.

Dannel fired his second arrow of the battle into the back of the woman threatening Mole, driving her forward to collapse against the wall. Without hesitating he drew and aimed again in a blur, shifting to target the Alleybasher aiming at him. He didn’t know that the woman was no longer a threat, and with her frozen in place she could not avoid the shaft that sank deeply into her shoulder, knocking her back to fall hard to the ground, paralyzed and bleeding.

The remaining young archer, his allies stripped away in a matter of moments, didn’t look quite so cocky all of a sudden.

On the far side of the battle, barely ten paces away from where these events transpired, Arun exchanged blows with a pair of armored men who loomed over him like giants. The dwarf fought with a fury as if possessed by a vengeful spirit, crashing powerful blows from his hammer into his foes’ shields and armored forms. One already favored his side where an impact from that sledge had already gotten through his defenses. In turn, their blows seemed to glance off of the dwarf’s armor like a dull chisel on solid marble. Despite the lingering effects of the spider and ettercap poison in his veins, he fought with tenacious determination, filled with the divine favor of his patron deity, the hard and grim dwarf god Moradin.

Zenna fired a second spread of burning hands into the melee. The hot flames roared over the combatants, cooking them just a bit more in their metal armor. The already-injured one drew back, raising his arm to shield his face from the flames. That gave Arun the opening he needed to pulverize him with an upward blow that hit him in the gut. The metal bands protecting him buckled, and the fighter collapsed, trying in vain to suck in breath with his shattered diaphragm. The other fighter, his armor lined with char from the two blasts of fire, sliced at Arun with his sword, but once more caught only the dwarf’s shield.

But even as the first soldier fell, Triel stepped over him and joined the fray. Bolstered by the dread power of Bane, she swung her massive flail in a powerful two-handed swing that crushed into the shoulder of Arun’s weapon-arm. The dwarf, solid as he was, grunted as pain shot through his body, and it was clear that only through a considerable effort was he able to keep his grip on his hammer.

Zenna raised her wand again, but cried out as an arrow shot through her shield and sank several inches into her shoulder. Sagging against the wall, she fought to retain consciousness, holding her hand against the bloody wound.

Dannel, meanwhile, continued his exchange of fire with the Alleybasher archers. The young man who was the only one left standing on their left flank lifted an arrow and took aim at the elf, but his hands trembled and the shot sliced the air two inches from the elf’s ear.

“Your mistake, to engage in an archery duel with an elf,” Dannel said, calmly drawing his own bow and firing. The longbow propelled the missile in a streak that sank into the youth’s body. His armor slowed its progress, but not by much. The youth sagged against the wall, but remained standing, and reached for the small sword at his belt.

“Second mistake,” Dannel added, as his second shot buried to the feathers in the man’s throat a few seconds later. All too aware of the desperate sounds of metal striking metal behind him, he turned just in time to see one of the archers standing behind the enemy line shoot Zenna.

Illewyn fought through the red and gray haze of blood and smoke and focused her will once more upon their enemies. Wiping blood from her eyes, she pointed at the madwoman who was pounding at Arun with her flail, and issued a command backed by the power of divine Helm.

“Flee!”

Triel merely laughed. “Your little mind tricks will not work on me, Helmite!”

Mole had not been idle during those few moments since she’d tumbled into the corridor. Her sword was already bloody, used to end the struggles of the scorched warrior as the alchemist’s fire burned out. Seeing Arun and Zenna hard-pressed, she spun and sprang back across the battlefield. The corridor was cramped and crowded with armored bodies and deadly weapons sweeping in wide arcs, but she didn’t hesitate, hurling herself forward and tumbling into another roll propelled by the magical properties of her new boots. She caromed off the wall like a cannonball, coming up behind the toasted warrior assaulting Arun. The soldier, no novice, realized that he’d been flanked, but considering the dwarf the greater foe, did not adjust his stance. That choice cost him, as Mole slipped the length of her sword through a gap in his armor and into his back.

The entire melee had lasted perhaps fifteen seconds, and already several enemies were down, and most of the companions had not even been hurt. The enemy leader, however, now fully immersed in the raging tide of battle, did not relent. Uttering a fierce cry of exultation, the priestess of the Black Hand swept her flail down in another punishing blow that glanced painfully off the paladin’s helmet, denting the rigid metal. Arun staggered, dazed by the assault, but managed to bring his shield up enough to meet the cleric’s backswing. The woman’s blows were backed by an almost inhuman strength, and there was no denying her skill at arms.

But the paladin too was driven, no stranger to the fray. Calling upon the name of the Soul Forger, he unleashed an all-out strike that pounded into the evil cleric’s breastplate. Triel was driven back a step, but only that, and she was quick to come forward again.

“A fine strike, paladin... but not quite good enough!”

Flames washed over them as Zenna unleashed her third spray of burning hands, targeted on the cleric. Triel stood within the flames without flinching, looking like nothing less than a terrible demon from the Abyss as the orange tongues licked around the spiked flanges of her armor. If she was discomfited by the spell, she gave no indication, continuing her efforts to destroy the dwarf paladin through brute strength.

Mole, dodging back to avoid the edges of Zenna’s spell, recognized as well that the evil priestess was the greatest threat. One of the rogues had dropped his bow and came at her with his shortsword, but she ignored him to move into flanking position against the cleric. She paid for that maneuver with a shallow but painful gash along her arm from the Alleybasher, but managed a weak blow against the cleric’s hip that glanced off of her armor. Enough to get her attention, certainly.

“I’ll get to you in a moment, you little creepling,” the cleric’s voice hissed from within the spiked helm.

Zenna lifted the wand again, determined to unleash all of its stored spells if necessary to bring this almost inhuman adversary down. But before she could call upon its power, a second arrow sliced through the crowded melee and through her defenses, glancing off of her skull just above her right ear. The tiefling fell against the wall, clinging to the cold stone, just barely hanging on to consciousness.

Dannel cursed as he missed the remaining archer, allowing the shot that crippled Zenna a heartbeat later. The elf took a step forward toward the injured woman, indecision gripping his gut like an iron fist. He reached for his wand of healing, but Illewyn was already moving, crossing to where Zenna hovered on the edges of the melee.

But then, the tide turned.

Arun growled out another challenge and swung his hammer low, crashing the heavy iron head into the evil cleric’s hip. The impact had to hurt, but Triel only laughed, a manic laugh followed by action as she smashed her silver flail into the dwarf’s body once, then again. The first hit knocked his shield aside and smashed his arm, while the second came down heavily onto the dwarf’s chest with the force of a giant’s club.

Arun was blasted back, knocked off his feet to land on his back. He struggled once, faintly, then lost consciousness.

 

[wolff96]

Now *this* is a fight.

Although I'm sad to see Arun and Zenna go down, I am loving this battle.

This proves what I always tell my fellow party members, though: NEVER give an evil cleric time to buff!

 

[Lazybones]

Now *this* is a fight.

Although I'm sad to see Arun and Zenna go down, I am loving this battle.

This proves what I always tell my fellow party members, though: NEVER give an evil cleric time to buff!

Yeah, with Bull's Strength up and running, Triel's truly frightening with that flail. As we shall see...

* * * * *

Chapter 82

With their toughest combatant down, defeated by the insane, powerful Triel Eldurast, the already grim situation took a turn for the worse for the embattled companions.

As the woman stepped forward to stand over the body of the fallen paladin, Dannel fired another arrow at point-blank range. At that distance he could hardly miss, but the arrow turned even before it hit her heavy armor, deflected by the shield of faith that she had invoked at the start of the battle.

“My faith is strong, elf,” she hissed. “Is yours?”

Zenna, still barely hanging on to consciousness, looked up at the domineering form of the enemy cleric. She had no spells left that could hurt this adversary, even if she could manage a casting in her condition. But she did not withdraw—what hope was there, to expect mercy from one such as this? She lifted the wand for one last blast of flame, but Triel saw her, and she knew that there was no chance of beating the blow from that flail that would end it. Even as the heavy weapon came up, Zenna knew that it meant her death.

But a sound drew her attention away from that grim specter, a sound both familiar and strange. The noise was Illewyn’s cry as she hurled herself at the evil priestess. The lightly armored servant of Helm looked thin and fragile in contrast to her hulking, spiked foe, but as she lashed out with her mace she’d clearly caught Triel off-guard, managing a glancing blow that caromed off of her steel helm.

“Bravely done, Helmite,” the evil cleric laughed. “But now it is time to die.”

Triel lashed out with her flail, catching Illewyn with a merciless blow that savaged her side. The priestess cried out and staggered, but did not go down. The Banite priestess did not relent, hitting her again with a powerful overhand blow that might have taken her head off, had it connected squarely. As it was, even the glancing hit off of her metal-rimmed skullcap spun her around, blood spraying into the air as one of the flail’s wicked edges tore flesh.

Zenna looked up, and saw for a single stark instant the deep brown eyes of Illewyn meeting hers as the cleric whipped around. The priestess’s face was a mask of blood, but determination shone in her eyes, a commitment that Zenna remembered seeing before. The tiefling willed herself to speak, but nothing came from her lips as time seemed to slow around her.

Run... Zenna wanted to say. No, not again... She was aware of Dannel charging, dropping his bow as his sword sliced out of its scabbard, too late...

Illewyn smiled at Zenna, and stumbled back to face the cleric, invoking the power of Helm once more. His name was on her lips as the flail crashed into her face, crushing her skull.

Zenna looked up at the dark pit beyond the eyeslit of Triel’s helm. “Two down,” the priestess said. The cleric had taken a beating, however, and even as she turned to face Dannel’s charge, she took one hand off her flail and reached into her belt pouch, withdrawing a slender wooden wand covered in magical symbols. Zenna tried to rouse herself for one last attack, but she’d lost too much blood. She found herself slipping, sliding down the wall to what would apparently be her final resting place.

Mole found herself hard-pressed indeed, unable to stop this foe that was wreaking disaster upon them. The second archer had drawn his sword and joined his companion, and now it was Mole that was flanked, caught between a wall of spiked metal in the form of Triel, and two agile rogues who knew how to take advantage. She could tumble free, she knew, and with her magical boots outdistance these foes, maybe even escape.

But she could not leave her companions behind.

Even as another sword struck home, tearing through her armor and gashing her right shoulder, she sprung clear, tumbling out of the immediate path of the darting swords. But rather than continue out of the melee, she turned and darted back in. She still held her sword, but her other hand had dug into her pouch, recovering the item she’d left there.

The gnome sprang into the air, her boots giving her enough of a boost that she easily cleared five feet above the ground. The two rogues looked up at her as she arced past them, past Triel...

And as she flew past, she slammed the flask of alchemist’s fire squarely into the back of the cleric’s neck.

Flames exploded in a hungry, surging blast. Mole was knocked roughly backward, her arms smoldering with fire, landing awkwardly a few feet down the passage. Fortunately for her, the two rogues were caught equally off guard, dodging back as wisps of liquid fire splashed onto their garments. Triel, however, found herself in a far more unpleasant situation.

The alchemical substance poured through the crevices in her armor, searing the evil woman’s flesh mercilessly. Triel screamed, twisting her body in a vain attempt to avoid the clinging flames. She dropped her flail, but clutched onto the wand in her hand like a lifeline. The wooden shaft began to glow with a soft blue light, offering the reassuring power of healing energy.

“No, I don’t think so,” Dannel said, ramming his sword into her body.

Triel stiffened. The wand and its promise of life fell from her hand. She reached up and managed to pull her helmet from her head; the heavy metal fell to the ground with a clatter, revealing her once-beautiful features scorched and ruined by the flames. With her other hand she reached out and clasped the elf on the shoulder, using him to hold her standing even as blood poured out over the elf’s blade embedded in her gut.

“Go... to... hell...” she muttered, and fell, lifeless, to the ground.

 

[Broccli_Head]

Ouch!

Now that the bodies have all hit the floor, I gotta know who's still alive....