Rackhir said:
4 encounters per session x 4 sessions = 16 encounters. I believe is the source of the figure.
Okay. The DMG never said anything about 4 encounters per session. It did say that a normal 4 person PC group will likely need to rest after 4 challenging encounters, but that's where it's defining challenging encounters, not saying how often they should occur in a session. All it does is recommend that 50% of encounters in an entire adventure should be challenging.
Interestingly, that section also says 15% should be very difficult (EL 1-4 higher than party level), where a PC may very well die, and 5% should be overpowering (EL 5+ higher than party level), where the party will almost certainly be TPKed if they don't flee. The DMG is more hardcore than many people recall!
You've also said you were advancing us at a faster rate for those sessions.
I was, but it actually works out the same as our average. Our average with all sessions included is 10 levels in 55 sessions, and without the last three levels, it's 7 levels in 37, so actually quicker (since the earlier levels went very quick).
We might not be capable of surviving that number of the kind of encounters you throw at us. But doesn't that kind of reinforce my point about your creatures? Wait a minute aren't you always going on about how "over powered" and more powerful than standard we are?
You are, not just in comparison to core levels but also what most people are playing out there. But I can deal
In fact didn't you have a thread devoted to the idea that we were more powerful than the standard party? How does that jive with us being unable to survive a standard number of encounters at a standard CR? Haven't we also suffered what would have been a character death every other session?
Like I said, it's all because I can deal with the higher power level.
Surviving the suggested standard encounters (presumably what modules are built around), would seem to be possible to me otherwise everyone else's campaigns would feature everyone being wiped out and that doesn't seem to be the case.
Most DMs are kinder than me
You guys could definitely survive the suggested standard, but then I'd have to be toning things down and running NPCs less effectively, and what's the fun in that?
The four Werewolf-Barbarian-Ogres should have been roughly a CR 10 a pop (assuming they were based on the Barb-4 Ogres), 4 of them translates out to a CR14 encounter. That fight we only had the 4 of us. To get the XP you came up with you would have had to be speccing us at above CR12. Though it sounds like you were calculating it as if we were all there, even though Six was uninvolved with the fight.
Actually, they were Dire Werewolf Ogre Bbn2s, so CR 9. Though I did horribly underequip them. Each had a masterwork greatsword and that was it. I did forget that there were 4 of you, but that would only pop the XP up to 1200.
We're not leveling faster than "core". We might be leveling faster than we would for the strict CR of the creatures we're fighting, but according to you we couldn't survive fighting stuff that should be an even challenge. Challenges that we should be able to beat 4 encounters worth a session of. Again doesn't that kind of suggest there's something seriously off about the supposed CR of what you're throwing at us?
Your second sentence above is what I meant. And yes, the critters are tough for their CR, but like I said, it's all part of the adapting to your PCs.
We do have more stuff than normal yes, but a lot of that comes down to handwaving stuff. We're not loaded down with an excess of standard magic items.
Once you include the permanent stuff, au contraire. A few people on the thread about PC power levels told me I should be changing my name to Monty Haul
SeekerofSkill said:
1. If we were to do a heavy dungeon crawl with off the shelf monsters we would be about 16 lvl by now. It's pretty clear Shilsen won't and psychologically can't run off the shelf mobs. He does things to balance out this personality quirk but there it is.
True. I'm just really disinterested in dungeon crawls, as both player and DM. Though I might run one in a while if it weren't for the fact that we aren't playing that often anyway. So I really don't want to take time off to go through something like that.
However I would like to see a Shilsen dungeon lay out.
But I have run a couple of dungeon crawls for you guys, just not in the Eberron game. Remember the one-off goblin warren, which was the first time I DMed for the group? And, come to think of it, Yarkuun Draal was essentially a dungeon crawl, which we played for nearly two sessions I think.
2. To our dear readers: Stop with the helping and suggesting and prodding, suffering has us on speed dial frustration and extra key.
But they make such
nice suggestions!
Speaking of which, here's the next update. Where the PCs get lots and lots of cool stuff and are made very happy
* * * * * * * * * *
Gareth Byron Deneith - Human Paladin3/Clr2/Exorcist of the Silver Flame8
Korm’akhan - Orc Drd7/Hexer6
Luna - Shifter Drd13
Mithral 6 of 6 - Warforged Ftr4/Scout8/Swordsage1
Nameless - Human Wiz6/Alienist6
The Angels open their eyes, feeling the coldness of stone under themselves. Sitting up, they find themselves in the chamber where Mordain had first
teleported them into his home. The room now contains five large stone tables, each of which supports the naked form of one of the Angels, with their clothes and equipment piled beside them. As they sit up, the Angels find Mordain standing on one side of the room, expressionless visage and cold gray eyes, limned with the blue glow of his
arcane sight, fixed on them. Immediately, they feel a warm glow of appreciation, knowing the difficult and tiring work that he has been carrying out on their behalf. The feeling is accompanied by their usual pleasure at each other’s presence and customary relief at finding their companions safe, especially Nameless.
“Rise and dress yourselves, please,” says Mordain, stepping forward. As the Angels hurry to comply, they all notice a feeling of weakness*, followed by the discovery of other, more obvious changes. A minor one is that none of the non-warforged in the group possesses a navel any more. All of their bodies – including Six’s – have had a large, roughly oval patch of green skin grafted into the center of their chests, with tiny tendrils of green extending out into the surrounding skin (or, in Six’s case, metal) till they fade away. The skin resembles that intermingled with the silver scales on Mordain’s larger left arm. All of the five also have various small bumps here and there on their bodies, which have some resemblance to the greenish-yellow protuberances that Nameless’ chest has borne since his return from Xoriat, but smaller. Each of their bodies also has thin white scars all over, as if they had been cut open in various places and healed non-magically.
A couple of them have more significant changes. Six realizes that his vision is slightly different, causing him to have some difficulty focusing, and that he can see into the limited shadows in the room. As he raises a hand to his face, the others see that he has a third eye now, implanted into his forehead above and between his normal two eyes, which is quickly identified as the symbiont, now a permanent part of him. Luna, checking for her two symbionts in turn, finds them missing, but then remembers Mordain telling her that he has plans to improve their influence on her. She is also surprised and pleased to find herself much slimmer, having lost all of the weight she has accrued since finding and donning the band-symbiont in Yarkuun Draal, and perhaps more. Gareth has a smaller, but more noteworthy change. Naked as the others are, he finds himself wearing a steel gauntlet, but checking shows that it is a replacement for his right hand, which has been removed. Instead, he has a metal hand, which resembles Six’s hands but is slightly smaller. The fingers move and he can grasp things, though with slight difficulty.
Slightly confused, but still feeling a sense of strong gratitude at the changes, the Angels quickly dress themselves. They find a number of their magical items gone, but that is quite understandable, since they had discussed it with Mordain and agreed that he should use them. Nameless too is unsurprised at the lack of his permanent
arcane sight, which Mordain had told him would probably end up
dispelled over the course of the various spells he had to cast.
I can always cast it again later, he thinks**, realizing that he will have to re-prepare his spells to do so, since all the ones that he had have been wiped from his memory, except for one
teleport. The same is true for his companions.
Once they are all dressed, Mordain addresses the group. “Thank you for your patience and your aid. I’m pleased to see that you’ve all survived the various modifications I have made. I’m also happy to say that I’ve managed to make all the changes you asked for. It was very complicated and you should be quite pleased, because this is some of my finest work.” Nodding at Gareth, he says, “It helps that you had already been augmented slightly by the Flame during the battle against the rakshasas, as you told me, since I was able to draw on some of that energy remaining in your systems and also build substantially on those modifications, besides adding my own. You shall find yourself much more difficult to hit and damage with weapons and more resistant to magic, as if you were protected with strong magic equipment, and will find your abilities enhanced in all areas. The troll-flesh I grafted onto you will allow you to heal all wounds in the matter of minutes, though it will take a little time after you are hurt to activate.”***
The Angels listen with interest, with numerous questions coming to mind for each of them. However, natural politeness and respect for Mordain makes all of them remain silent and wait until he speaks to them individually. This is what he now begins to do.
Mordain first walks up to Gareth. “I know you’ve been concerned about the loss of what you thought was your paladinhood ever since that situation with Kizmet, but you don’t have to worry any more. I have made you a paladin.” Utterly surprised, Gareth now realizes that it is true, feeling the full favor of his deity enveloping him. A tiny voice buried deep in his mind wants to shout, “What? What did you do to me?” but it is buried under an irresistible tide of gratitude. “It was a very interesting task but not that difficult, since you were mostly there anyway. More or less. I’ve also strengthened your ability to
detect the presence of evil in one’s spiritual alignment and thoughts. Try the first.”
Gareth complies, and realizes immediately that his ability works significantly faster than earlier. Instead of having to focus for nearly twenty seconds on the same area to pinpoint different auras, he instead receives the information in a couple of seconds. Naturally, nothing and nobody in the room is evil, other than the aura in Nameless’ chest. Seeing the others staring at him, Gareth then realizes that there is a soft glow in front of his face. Lifting a hand toward his face, he finds a soft silver gleam illuminating it. “A byproduct of the process,” Mordain explains, “Is that your eyes now emit a silver glow when you use the abilities. Quite fitting with the Silver Flame, wouldn’t you say? Your ability to
detect thoughts will not work faster, but it will be more difficult to resist.”
The Fleshweaver then points at Gareth’s metal hand. “You’ve already noticed that, of course. I know you’re very attached to your valuables and equipment, especially your sword, so I ensured you’ll never lose it. Click your fingers.” Gareth obeys, and the Endless Blade instantly appears in his hand, its hilt fused into the palm of the metal hand. “It’s my personal modification on a
glove of storing,” says Mordain. “It only holds your Blade, but you can make it appear and disappear with a click of your fingers, and you can’t ever be disarmed of it. Unless someone removes your entire hand, of course. By the way, the Blade is a little weak after the treatment, which is why it isn’t speaking now, but it’ll recover soon. But don’t put it away. I have one special surprise for you. Watch this. And don’t resist.”
Mordain reaches up to touch Gareth, casting a
Hold Person. The paladin immediately goes rigid for a moment. And then, he moves, looks down at himself with a confused expression, and says, “What the F*CK?!” The others, watching, instantly recognize the voice as that of the Endless Blade. Gareth, meanwhile, feels himself paralyzed and then everything goes black. He remains conscious, but is unable to feel his physical body. And then suddenly he is back in his body again, as Mordain ends the spell, and asks dazedly, “What happened?” The Fleshweaver explains, in a pleased tone, “I know you have fears about being mind-controlled by some entity. So now, when you have your Blade in hand, if you are affected by many forms of mind-affecting magic, your psyche will pass into the Blade and the Blade’s will pass into your body. Naturally it will lack your unique powers, but it can try to get you away from danger before your body is slain. The two consciousnesses will return to their normal positions when the controlling magic ends. It’s quite a brilliant concept.”
While Gareth is still staring at his hand and trying to completely comprehend all the changes, Mordain steps away, now coming up to Six. He indicates the warforged’s third eye. “As you’ve already noted, I have implanted the symbiont into you for convenience, since the previous method of activating and deactivating it was so ineffective. Since it’s now linked to you, the eye uses significantly less energy and can be awake all day, just as you can. It will provide you with the ability to see in the dark, as usual, but its visual acuity is better now.”
Mordain points at Six’s harness, which seems set a little deeper in his chest, and continues, “I’ve also modified the harness significantly so that it will better help you in battle and otherwise. It adapts to the wearer quite slowly, but I significantly sped up the process, as well as making it much more adaptive. Since you prefer subtlety and movement in combat, focusing on moving in, attacking and moving out before your foe can hit, the harness will provide you with some options to that end. Since it’s linked to you, it activates when you find yourself in a dangerous situation, as part of your response mechanism. So you won’t have to choose to activate it, but will have to know you’re being attacked.” He pauses and says, “Let me give you a demonstration. Pick up your chain.”
While Six does so, the Fleshweaver walks to the door and opens it. Outside stands another of the four-armed flesh golems, standing motionless, like a giant, horribly ugly statue. Mordain indicates Six and says, “Kill him,” causing it to lumber into motion. As it advances, in the blink of an eye, what seem to be tiny black roots seep out of Six’s harness and cover him in an instant, some of it streaming up his spiked chain as well. The ‘roots’ are insubstantial and seemingly made of shadow, making Six seem as if he were cloaked from head to foot in darkness, only his three eyes shining through the gloom. “Six! Move in, think of burning it with a blow from the chain, and move out,” orders Mordain. Not sure what that means, Six does so, tumbling under the golem’s swinging arm and lashing out, focusing on the thought of flames on his blade. As he moves, the shadows stream behind him in foot-long tendrils, making his outline blurry. The chain lashes out, and just before it strikes the golem, the shadows on it leap up in black flames, which seem to scorch his target’s flesh when they hit. “Now hurl some shadow at it!” orders Mordain again, and Six complies, throwing a fistful of shadow that strikes the golem and bruises its shoulder. It wordlessly turns and advances, arms outstretched. With the tables in the room, Six has limited room to maneuver, and the golem backs him up in a corner. As it pulls back two fists, Mordain points at the opposite side of the room and orders him, “Focus on moving to that shadow!” “What?” asks Six confusedly, barely dodging a heavy blow that cracks the wall behind him. “Just focus on appearing there!” Knowing that Mordain wouldn’t tell him to do something that would harm him, Six tries to follow the order. As he concentrates, the shadows around him puff up in a small cloud and then disappear, along with Six. A second later, they – and Six – reappear, in the area that Mordain pointed to. Mordain nods in satisfaction and then calls off the golem, ordering it to go back outside. As it does so, the shadows seep back into the harness, leaving Six as he had been just before they appeared. “See?” he says to Six. “Brilliant!”
Walking up to Six again, he says, “Each of those particular maneuvers can be used once, but the harness recovers them fairly quickly. Anyway, you’ll learn more with practice. But there’s one more thing. I’ve also made it easier for you to disguise yourself without having to use magic. Visualize a humanoid about the same size of you. Maybe a big human or a bugbear or something of the kind. Focus on the image and think of looking like it. Concentrate!” Curious to see what happens now, Six does so. Immediately, his harness begins to grow spongy and soft, and, over the course of a minute, takes on the consistency of flesh. Then more roots, his time looking and feeling like little tendrils of flesh, shoot out from the harness. They spread across his body, linking and growing, developing skin and hair on their surface. In about a minute, Six is covered in flesh (which also covers his third eye) and looks like a very good facsimile of what he visualized. “It can do that daily,” says Mordain, “Lasting an hour at a time. It will not
detect as an illusion, so it helps significantly as a disguise. The one negative is that the harness’ protective functions are weakened during this time. Again, you will get more control over time. Now concentrate on ending it.” When Six does so, the layer of flesh swells slightly and quickly begins to darken. In seconds, it turns a nauseating shade of brownish-green, and over the course of a minute, the entire thing putrefies and falls off in foul-smelling lumps. To the amusement of the Angels, Nameless’ stomach promptly growls at the disgusting aroma.
Mordain, naturally, does not smile, but simply moves over to Korm now. “In your case, Korm’akhan,” he says, “I have made only one really significant change, since it was very complicated. But it is the one that you wanted.” Korm nods eagerly, recalling their discussion when he explained to Mordain that the primary ability he wishes to develop is to call upon more than one of his Aspects of Nature at once. While his unique training and abilities allow Korm to draw upon the qualities of different animals, he does so without actually taking on their forms as Luna does, and can only take on a single attribute at a time. As Korm considers both this restriction on his ability and the benefit of being able to retain his equipment and natural form while using it, Mordain says, “Focus on increasing your agility and reflexes.” Korm hesitates for a moment, knowing that while he can achieve increased strength and resilience, none of his aspects can increase his dexterity. But then, as he concentrates, he realizes that he now can take on such an aspect. The Gatekeeper focuses and calls his aspect to the surface.
Immediately, he feels his muscles lengthen, increasing slightly in strength but becoming more suited for speed and agility, and his hide hardens, becoming slightly rubbery and a strange greenish-mauve in shade. More surprisingly, he feels his face begin to shift and change, though there is no attendant pain. Hurriedly lifting his hands, Korm feels his skull and face elongate beneath his fingers, and then two foot-long tentacles erupt from around his mouth, which slides underneath them and towards the bottom of his chin. The watching Angels realize immediately what Korm now partly resembles, as Mordain says with satisfaction, “See – aspect of the illithid! Perfect!”
Korm feels a strong surge of pleasure and satisfaction at the change, drowning out the infinitesimally small scream of horror that begins to erupt deep within his mind before it is stilled and silenced. “Thank you,” he says in a muffled voice, his malformed mouth making speech a little difficult. “You are welcome. And you can turn back now,” says Mordain, and Korm obeys. While he returns to his normal orcish form for the most part, the tentacles remain, only shrinking slightly. “They’ll be gone soon,” reassures the Fleshweaver. “I have provided you with a few different aspects that I had at hand, but you should be able to add a few later. All you will need to do is eat a sufficiently large part of an aberration and your body will assimilate it and its qualities.”
Mordain then turns to her. “I’ve had a simpler time with you, actually, because of the presence of your symbionts. As you’ve noticed, they’re not present here,” Mordain says, his right hand and surrounding tentacles pointing at her torso, “But that’s because I implanted them inside you. You see, the symbionts weren’t affecting you as well as they could, due to your constant movement from shifter form to some animal form and back again, which would disrupt their growing connection with you each time. To avoid that problem, I’ve transplanted them directly into you, as I said, and modified them so that they will only affect your wildshape form, since you spend so much time in it.”
Luna nods eagerly, realizing that everything he says is true. Mordain continues, “The effects should be evident already, and is precisely what you have wanted to achieve for a while.” He takes a few steps backwards and says, “Turn into a bear.” Luna does so, taking on her favorite shape, but it is significantly different. Mainly in that there is so much more to her. While her form as a bear was always very large, more recently weighing in at over 8,000 lbs, it is incredibly huge right now, actually shoving the others out of the way and almost overturning one of the heavy stone tables. More precisely, she is both huge and incredibly fat, with gigantic rolls of flesh hanging off her form, so that she actually drags her belly along the round. Luna immediately realizes that she’s significantly stronger than she used to be as a bear, with her already monumental resistance to injury enhanced, aside from her now thicker hide. At the same time, she feels thick and bloated and slow, but that realization is just a minor consideration in her pleasure at the increased size that she had desired.
Mordain steps closer, explaining, “In this form, if you are affected by anything that drains your strength or similarly affects you, the implanted symbiont will quickly absorb it. As you have noticed, you are also able to see perfectly in the dark, much like a dwarf, just as you had requested. But there is more. Try to say something.” Luna thinks for a second and then asks, “Can you hear me now?” Unsurprisingly, the words emanate as a growl, but a second later, Luna feels her tongue move of its own accord and begin to push its way out of her mouth. Too surprised to resist, she allows it to do so, and it extends a good couple of feet, and she and the others realize that it is a large, flat green tentacle rather than a tongue. As it emerges, a slit in the top opens, and a tinny voice repeats in perfect, if slightly accented, Common, “Can you hear me now?”
“That’s my modification to your tongue-symbiont,” says Mordain. “It will translate anything you say to the Common tongue. You will no longer be able to use it to store spells, which it was quite inefficient at, anyway. Instead, you can use it to deliver any spells you cast that you otherwise would have by touching someone. Not only is it, being somewhat sentient, good at darting past an enemy’s defenses, but it is also much longer than it appears.” He looks around and then gestures at Gareth. “Try to lick him.” Luna looks her surprise but is about to step forward to reach the new paladin, when the Fleshweaver adds, “Don’t move. Just try it.” With a huge ursine shrug that sends waves of flesh jiggling around her form, Luna complies. Her tongue promptly shoots out, stretching incredibly to strike Gareth’s chest where he stands, a full dozen feet away from Luna’s snout. “See?” says Mordain. “Now turn back.”
While Luna does so, regaining her now slim and svelte figure, Mordain turns finally to Nameless. “Now you,” he says to the alienist, “For fairly different reasons to Korm, are difficult to modify much. Your experiences on Xoriat have significantly modified you already, and those additions to you resist further change. So what I have done is slightly augmented them, as well as providing a method for you to overcome the weakness caused by the trauma of your physical death.” Mordain’s tentacles all turn to point at Nameless’ single, larger version, as he continues, “Since you’ve had a few disagreeable experiences with enemies grabbing and wrestling you, I’ve empowered your tentacle a bit. You will be able to use it as a weapon, which should come in helpful to surprise those who attack you physically, thinking you will be helpless if they nullify your spells.” Nameless looks down, noting that the surface of his tentacle does seem a little harder, and that he has more precise control over it.
“More importantly,” the Fleshweaver continues, “You have been weakened by the sojourn to Xoriat. So, to aid you until you recover fully, I’ve found you a little friend to help with things. You will recognize him easily.” Mordain taps a pouch on his belt, which flies open, and something walks out. It is propelled by a set of what look like thick spider legs, and is topped with a six inch tentacle topped with a purple eye, but there is no mistaking what makes up the bulk of the creature. All of the Angels chorus, “Edgar!”
“Yes,” says Mordain, a tinge of amusement in his voice. “I simply woke Edgar up. Now he will accompany you. Being in physical contact with Edgar while preparing and casting spells will allow you to expand your repertoire and even access those of the seventh valence, until you are recovered fully and able to do so on your own. He should be able to provide other benefits and guidance when fully active. Since I just awoke him, and he is a rock, after all, he’ll need time to acclimatize to his new state and will be resting a lot.” While Mordain is speaking, Edgar climbs down his leg, scurries across to Nameless, and climbs up his shoulder. There, he – or it – settles down, somehow managing to give an impression akin to a cat curling up on a favorite seat.
As Mordain finishes speaking, there is a knock on the door. The Fleshweaver turns and glances at it, his lips twitching slightly, and though he cannot physically form facial expressions, he gives the impression of first frowning and then smiling. He waves the Angels to wait and walks to the door, muttering something under his breath, which a number of them realize is, “Done already? Much faster that I’d expected. Excellent!”
Mordain opens the door slightly, revealing the shadow of a figure standing to the side, though the Angels cannot see who it is. He nods at it, says, “Wait!” and closes the door. Looking around at the Angels, he says, “I have to go now. It has been a distinct pleasure meeting and working on you. Please take your things and leave. Do not return here. If I need to see you at some time or check on you, I will.” He then shakes a finger – and a number of tentacles – at Nameless. “Be safe.”
Then he opens the door, steps through partly, and stops as if he had remembered something. Looking back at Luna, he says, “I almost forgot – congratulations! I’m sure you will make a great parent.” Turning slightly, he adds, “You too,” but it is difficult to say whether he is addressing Six or Korm, who happen to be standing next to each other. Or, for that matter, if he said, “You two.” Before anyone can think of saying or asking something, he steps through the door. And then Korm and he step away as the door shuts. Or what looks like Korm, since the Angels have only a quick glimpse of the figure who steps forward to join Mordain, but it is enough for all of them to think that it looks like a twin brother to Korm.
Not that they stop to discuss it in detail. As Mordain leaves, the Angels feel an overwhelming urge to follow his commands and leave immediately. They quickly grab up their remaining items, while exchanging a couple of comments on what has happened. While doing so, they find a small sack that has been left for them. It is full of coins, all of them either golden or platinum. Most are centuries old. Gareth picks up the sack and weighs it in his hand, saying, “There’s got to be thousands of coins in there. Mordain really is amazingly generous!”
“Yes,” agrees Nameless. “I’m so glad we came here. But now we really need to leave.” The others gather around and he
teleports them all away.
At the end of the corridor outside, Mordain realizes that they are gone, his wards informing him of their passage.
At least they shall not bother me for a while. I hope they are able to keep Nameless alive. His death would be a real inconvenience. For a moment, Mordain wonders if he should have kept Nameless – and the others – after all, and tried to move him around on a regular basis. But the Fleshweaver knows his own limitations. With his focus on his work, Nameless would sooner or later remain forgotten somewhere, until Xoriat erupted into the world once more through him.
It was the most optimal choice. Mordain is no longer capable of emotions such as regret, fear, or worry, and the possibility that things might go wrong due to Nameless’ departure is one he doesn’t bother to consider.
One emotion that Mordain is quite capable of, however, is that of satisfaction. And as he gazes at the figures standing around him, he feels a surge of pleasure. He was not lying when he told the Angels that he had done some of his finest work on them. But this, he knows for a fact, is undisputedly even finer. “Come,” he says, turning away, “I need to speak to you.” Silently, the Angels follow him.
* Permanent loss of 2 points of Con
** I house-ruled that if permanencied spells are dispelled, they can be made permanent again later without extra use of XP.
*** The PCs have permanent +4 enhancement bonuses to every stat, a +4 resistance bonus to saves, a +3 deflection bonus to AC, and a +4 enhancement bonus to natural armor. The troll-flesh provides them with fast healing 1 and will eventually heal them completely, but only kicks in 1 minute after they have been wounded with lethal damage.
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
