Though Johan was not exactly able to SEE what was happening outside the confines of his dark, hot, fleshy prison, it was quite easily to tell that Drodjee was in some manner of distress. While clearly not being attacked (he was not being jostled around enough to account for her dodging and parrying and returning swings of her own), she was nonetheless on the move, and with abysmal levels of coordination. Even surrounded by the dripping, acid-soaked walls of the powerful green-skinned predatoress' stomach, Johan can FEEL the orcish woman who'd eaten him staggering around, each stumble or shift of her body pressing his face against the slick, slimy walls of his fleshy, digestive prison, or squishing his back against the same. Not that it was much of a change - the orcgirl's stomach clung tightly to every inch of his body, covering his balled-up form like an exceptionally wet, gurgly blanket. There was really no way he could turn his head to AVOID feeling the slimy walls of her stomach brushing against his cheeks, forehead, or neck, and even attempts to push the eager, squeezing walls of her stomach away from him were met with only moderate success - each inch he gained was summarily lost a few seconds later by a ripple of Drodjee's stomach muscles, or simply the shifting of her body making him slide into another position.<br/><br/><br/>A few moments prior, though Johan could feel the warmth and faint tingling of digestive acids, they were not especially uncomfortable, nor in any great supply. Now, though, with her belly filled with something delicious and squirmy to digest, Johan feels the orc woman's stomach start to ripple and squeeze a little more earnestly, and sure enough, he can feel the subtle increase in the flow of digestive acids that began to trickle downwards across the back of his neck, along his chest and arms, and eventually pool beneath his rear and thighs, now bare to the digestive assault of her stomach.<br/><br/>It wasn't that her digestive acids were powerful enough to strip him of flesh in a matter of moments (It was a process that would likely take at least an hour or more), but even now he could feel the faint tingling of those digestive enzymes running in thick, gooey rivulets across his body starting to tingle unpleasantly, a mild irritant for now, but it was not hard to imagine how unpleasant it might in an hour's time. Worse, Johan could feel those acids sapping at his strength, could feel them further weighing him down as they coated his skin, soaked into his armor and clothing, and matted his hair against his head. Mingled with the excited rolling and squeezing of the stomach walls around him, perfectly determined to digest him despite how distressed his orcish predator was, the effect was startling - if her stomach ever squeezed him sideways, or he simply slipped and lost the strength to fight it, there was a very real possibility that he'd be sitting in the smug orc's stomach for the next few hours, a ball of meat she could casually converse with (or taunt) until he was digested.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"> Grrrrggggleeeee.....</span><br/><br/>The eager gurgles and growls of the stomach around him, mixing with the slick, fleshy sound of her saliva-and-acid coated stomach walls sliding against his bare skin and the upbeat tempo of her heart was a rather strange symphony, and not one that was entirely unpleasant. Of course, listening to it too long likely meant it'd be the last thing he heard, well on his way to adding another little layer of padding to the breasts or waistline of the green-skinned predator who'd so eagerly (and almost lustily) eaten him.<br/><br/><br/>((<a class="postlink" href="http://orokos.com/roll/384141">Gurgle! Churn!</a>:<span style="text-decoration: underline">2d6+5</span><span style="font-weight: bold">13</span><br/><br/>Drodjee does 13 digestion damage to Johan! Again, this counts as 'stamina', more or less, and whilst it does affect his max HP, hitting -10 does not mean he's dead yet! Just helpless and digesting! ))<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">' Gros bash na! Olf graal nu ramo kotash!' </span>Drodjee curses aloud in orcish, rubbing frantically at her eyes to free herself from the effect of the blinding spell the spider-woman had so boldly cast upon her. Gah, she's heard another gunshot too - was the fairy still shooting people?! They'd already lost one, could hardly afford to lose another, especially if she couldn't see to help! Blinking her eyes in an effort to clear them, Drodjee growls out in common, her voice bristling with anger "Can't a girl just eat in peace?! Geh, settle in human. We'll be done soon, an I'll be in a chair in the tavern, enjoying a nice drink while you digest. MAKISA?! Where the bloody hells are you, HELP ME! Gots some kinda color in me eyes, graaah!' Of course, Makisa - well on her way to being food - gives no direct response to the orcish woman's cries for aid.<br/><br/>Naji, though...<br/><br/>...was no fighter. She was a little frail on the constitution side of things, and she'd not particularly engaged in enough physical activity to strengthen her muscles up enough to content toe-to-toe with most people who wielded a sword. Even her miniscule magical abilities were no match for anyone who'd studied any significant amount of time. Still, the sight of the bulge Johan made in Drodjee's green-skinned midsection sent a little trickle of anger throughout the dark elf. It wasn't that she particularly CARED, surely...<br/><br/>...It was just that she already had a claim on that fool of a man. A claim some half-blooded, tusked thug of a woman was not going to be laying a hand on. Pulling her little billyclub from her side (she regretted stowing away the shortswords and daggers in her pack, now), the drow woman entered the fray, darting around Meera and Alura as they grapple with Lilan, and making a beeline towards the staggering, stunned orc.<br/><br/>Most of the time, she was no so foolish as to engage someone who was no doubt stronger than she, ESPECIALLY one who was capable of getting their jaws around her. Cyria's spell, though, had been the tide turner - she could intervene in at least a somewhat safe capacity now, and maybe drag that silly man out of her before he became orc pudge. Especially when, clearly, he'd be far better off as drow pudge, when it came to that particular fate.<br/><br/>Charging right up to the greenskinned woman, Naji takes her club and brings it across the orcish girl's cheek, earning a grunt of pain from the orc girl. Squinting against the setting sun, Naji growled under her breath, swinging her club around for another smack against the befuddled half-orc "Spit him out, you frog-skinned hussie! He isn't yours to eat!"<br/><br/><br/>(With a delightfully pathetic little swing, Naji just BARELY manages to make solid connection with Drodjee, dealing a grand total of 5 subdual damage with her club!)