<span style="font-weight: bold">&lt;Geno&gt;</span><br/>The wolverinefolk feels his face press up against a slimy flap, and realizes that this is his last chance. He cannot see what is in front of him, but he can<span style="font-style: italic">hear</span>it groaning impatiently. Contorting his arms as best as he can in the darkness, he tries to hook his long claws into the walls of the tube to stop his descent.<br/><br/>[wolverinefolk resist: 1d20(15)+12=27; DC=35; fail]<br/><br/>He is able to hold off gravity for a few seconds, his claws giving him just enough traction to support his weight. But when the dragon sends down another wave of rib-splintering pressure, the wall slips from his grip and he is effortlessly pushed into the digestive sac. Geno's draconian hunger has been fully roused for about a minute now, and gastric juices have already started dripping from the wrinkled walls. The wolverine lands face-first in a pool of what feels like boiling water, which, despite his best efforts to twist away, soon fills his mouth, nose, ears and eyes. His chest, waist, and legs follow, and at last his feet splurt out into the chamber. It's over. From the outside, the change of shape of Geno's abdomen is relatively minor considering a 250 pound weight was just dropped into it; bands of dense abdominal muscle cradle and compact their prize, forcing it into the smallest possible space.<br/><br/>The wolverinefolk's rage has become desperation. The walls are pressing against him with such force that he can barely inhale; and what he can draw in was stale and putrid with vomit-stench. He twists, claws, shoves--<span style="font-style: italic">anything</span>to get back to cold, fresh air.<br/><br/>[wolverinefolk escape attempt: 1d20(2)+7=9; DC=35; fail]<br/><br/>{{You can deal digestion damage now, if you want >:3 }}<br/><br/>There's a sound of small footsteps behind Geno; Pip has climbed down from the roof and is now hiding in a snow trench. When the dragonfolk turns to look, the mousefolk eeps and ducks down into the trench.<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">&lt;Sashi&gt;</span><br/>{{If you take a -4 on your attack (which is still a hit), you can smack her with the blunt side of the scythe and deal 15 non-lethal damage, enough to knock her out cold for an hour}}<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">&lt;Lilandra &amp; Grai&gt;</span><br/>Cecil sees at the Kalishtar fondly laying his hand on the Centitaur, and immediately understands. "Sorry, we thought you were about to...nevermind." He turns to his entourage and starts issuing quick orders, sending them off to secure different parts of the border against a mob resurgence. Each of the chainmailed subcommanders recruits a few mice and heads off, leaving only Cecil standing by Sashi, Lilandra, Grai, and the taur. He glares up at the Efreeti, who has landed on the highest spire of the highest building in the square. He clicks another clip into his bow and draws back the lever, small sparks arcing across the rune-etched weapon. "By the gods...what<span style="font-style: italic">is</span>she?"<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">&lt;Takal&gt;</span><br/>{{Scorching ray is a 2nd level spell that efreet can use at will. It deals 4d6 fire damage to a single target at close range. The ray can be dodged, but if it hits you it deals damage without a saving throw (it doesn't affect an area so evasion doesn't help)}}<br/><br/>Takal recalls many rumors of Efreet manipulating events from behind the scenes with illusions and trickery. They take a perverse pleasure in granting wishes to mortals, only to twist the request into something serving their own interests. As far as fighting Efreet, he remembers that creatures from the Elemental Plane of Fire are vulnerable to cold damage. This Efreeti has been floating continuously, her feet never touching the snow.