As her ectoplasmic slime coated the altar's surface, Brady watched and waited, her hands clenching in anticipation of her trick's impending punchline. A mischeivous child, she'd had pranking rather in mind when she first experimented with ectoplasm, and her grease trick had been tailored accordingly: slippery enough to rob her mark of its footing, but stable enough that they'd slip, slide and struggle for a few entertaining moments before the inevitable fall. Combat application had come later, but she'd kept the formula largely the same - while more experienced foes could occasionally foil her prankster's gambit, the mad scramble for footing was an effective morale buster for an overconfident opponent - not to mention, it was so much more satisfying to watch.<br/><br/><blockquote><div><cite>Tilisian wrote:</cite>*ka-butt*</div></blockquote><br/>"Yesss," Brady hissed triumphantly, giving her fist a small pump as Tilisian wobbled, then pitched forward into the ectoplasmic goo with a satisfying plop. That Klein had escaped her trap did little to dampen her spirits, nor did it change her plans - as the foxman vacated the altar to deal with her other companions, the coast was finally clear to make her grab at the shining gem that seemed to be the focus of the demons' ritual.<br/><br/>As she studied her prize, however, Brady found that her attention refused to stay on the gem, drifting instead to admire Tilisian as she struggled to regain her footing with the help of the pedestal. Even the simple act of standing caused the demon's curves to flex and bounce in interesting ways, and Brady found herself wondering how many young women like herself had gone into sculpting that delicious perfect figure... and how would those curves change if they were fed the flesh of a tender young lizardgirl? As Tilisian's gaze roamed across her position, it was tempting to step forward and reveal herself so that she might find out...<br/><br/>Fortunately for Brady, the urge passed as quickly as it came. Tilisian's eyes shifted elsewhere in the room, and with them went the burning desire that had crept unnoticed into the lizardgirl's mind. Shaking her head clear of preyish thoughts, Brady returned her attention to the glowing gem atop the pedestal, reassessing her plan. The clean grab she'd been hoping for was out of the question - with Tilisian scanning the room, she'd be spotted and entranced again if she left cover. She'd have to disable the gem from her current position - maybe a bolt or two would be enough to knock it away from the altar? It was worth a shot, at least.<br/><br/><div style="padding: 3px; background-color: #FFFFFF; border: 1px solid #d8d8d8; font-size: 1em;"><div style="text-transform: uppercase; border-bottom: 1px solid #CCCCCC; margin-bottom: 3px; font-size: 0.8em; font-weight: bold; display: block;"><span onclick="if (this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display != '') {  this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = ''; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;hide&lt;/a&gt;'; } else { this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = 'none'; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;show&lt;/a&gt;'; }"><b>Spoiler: </b><a href="#" onclick="return false;">show</a></span></div><div class="quotecontent"><div style="display: none;">Crossbow attack: 1d20 (6) + 4 = 10<br/>Damage: 1d8 (3) = 3</div></div></div><br/>Unslinging her crossbow, Brady planted the stock firmly against her shoulder and centered the glowing gemstone in her sights. She'd have one shot at this, maybe two if she was quick. After that, Tilisian's attention would be intently on her - and she wasn't confident she could resist the demon's gaze a second time.<br/><br/>Taking a deep breath, Brady checked her aim one last time, then slowly squeezed the trigger. Against the clamor of battle, the sharp twang of her bowstring loosing was mere background noise; the whistle of her bolt through the air barely a whisper. The impact, though, was unmistakeable: as steel met stone, the altar echoed with a resounding crack of what Brady hoped was crystal beginning to shatter. One thing was for certain: she'd definitely gotten the room's attention.<br/><br/><br/>Brady HP: 20/20<br/>AC: 17, touch 12, flat-footed 15