{{I'm going to reinterpret the escape rules so that dealing 1/3 of the pred's max hp to the interior doesn't necessarily tear a hole in the pred. Alternatively it might represent causing so much discomfort that the pred is force to regurgitate the prey. This works exactly the same from a mechanical standpoint; the only difference is aesthetic. My rationale is that it's unlikely that intelligent same-size preds would allow themselves to be disfigured to that extent. And anyway, I'm into<span style="text-decoration: underline">v</span>ore, not<span style="text-decoration: underline">g</span>ore.}}<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">&lt;Nurkisi's Tent&gt;</span></span></span><br/>Blinded and disoriented by the scorching soup, most common prey who take the plunge down the foxtaur's throat are unable to resist their fate in any meaningful way; knives and claws just slide off of her interior without leaving a mark.<br/>Geno is no common prey. Bellowing and foaming with rage (resembling, not coincidentaly, a certain wolverinefolk who attacked Boryg two days ago), he slashes and kicks the churning walls of his prison to bloody effect.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>Meanwhile, Nurkisi is having some bad indigestion.<br/><br/>"Eargh..." she says, looking a little greener in the face than usual. "...aye...He's<span style="font-style: italic">--uhn!</span>-- a stubborn one..."<br/>Having removed the lower plate of her armor to reveal the soft pelt of her underside, she presses back with her foreclaws against the shifting bumps Geno is creating from within. Her stomach works hard to process its dense, acid-resistant meal and complains with groans when the dragon-burger fights back.<br/><br/><br/>"Maybe..." offers her servant softly as he helps massage her taut, restless belly. "...we should have killed him first?"<br/><br/><br/>"What?!" Nurkisi silences him with dangerous glare. "Do I look like an<span style="text-decoration: underline">amateur</span>to you?!? A scavenger?"<br/><br/><br/>Wu shrinks back to his task, not daring to say anything else that might offend his master's predatory pride. He prefers massaging her belly from the<span style="font-style: italic">outside</span>.<br/><br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">*uhn*</span>...He can kick all he wants." says Nurkisi assuredly. She pulls a pillow under her head and then lays back to get comfortable. "It's ov<span style="font-style: italic">*unh*</span>--over...he never stood a chance. I can already feel him fading...<span style="font-style: italic">*urrrp*</span>"<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-size: 80%; line-height: 116%;">[Nurkisi auto digest: 1d8(3)+8=11; <span style="font-weight: bold">5 damage</span>]</span><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">*churn*</span></span><br/>The vulpine's greedy metabolism is starting to take its toll. Geno feels a itchy pain creep across every part of his body, dull at first but quickly becoming unbearable. As if that wasn't enough abuse for his injured body, the thickly banded stomach muscles undulate to crush him like giant rolling pins. He is probably too distracted by this onslaught to notice the slight nudging of hands pressing from outside.<br/><br/><span style="font-size: 80%; line-height: 116%;">[Nurkisi active digest: 1d20(5)+21=26, hit: 1d8(1)+8=9; <span style="font-weight: bold">4 damage</span>]</span><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">*groOAANnn* *gluuurgle*</span> </span><br/>The cramped chamber is now flooded two-thirds of the way with bubbling fluid, leaving Geno only a small pocket of foul air. If this keeps up, he'll be swimming soon. Even with air, breathing is a chore as belly is constantly splashing and upheaving its contents.<br/><br/><span style="font-size: 80%; line-height: 116%;">[Nurkisi active digest: 1d20(19)+16=35, hit: 1d8(4)+8=12; <span style="font-weight: bold">6 damage</span>]</span><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">*squeltch*</span></span><br/><span style="font-size: 80%; line-height: 116%;">[Nurkisi active digest: 1d20(18)+11=29, hit: 1d8(4)+8=12; <span style="font-weight: bold">6 damage</span>]</span><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">*grumbrggrm-gloorp-grrg*</span></span><br/>[Geno HP: 14/84] [Rage HP(7 rounds remaining): 30/100]<br/>Once a foxtaur's lower gut has kicked into high gear, nothing inside stays solid for very long...not even a raging black dragonkin...<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">&lt;Armel Town Square&gt;</span></span></span><br/>"...!?!?" Lin is horrified by the fact that Chrrou just exploded and some kind of huge lizard came out of him. Yet before she has a chance to ponder what in the gods' names just happened--or who this "dragon-guy" is that people are talking about--she is snatched up by the kitsune and placed on his back. Then Kahmori starts to sprint, a rather alarming experience for the short-legged rodentfolk (whose run speed is only 80'). Her climbing instincts kick in and she latches tightly onto Kahmori's head, gripping his ears with her claws as though they were reins.<br/><br/>"@___@;;;" she whimpers.<span style="font-style: italic">How did I get into this mess...</span><br/><br/><br/><br/>(I'll assume that no one rides Chrrou--as epicly awesome as riding a megaraptor would be, it's not practical with no saddle and the extra 20' of movement doesn't make a huge difference)<br/>Raptor-Chrrou surges northward, snout low and tail held straight out for balance. Close behind follows the spectacled elf, her feet curiously absent from the ground. Behind Mindy follows Sashi, able to keep a good pace despite the burden of her platemail, and Kahmori with four white tails and one bushy brown tail streaming out from behind him.<br/><br/>They get a few agitated looks from encamped mercenaries (who still have their weapons at hand from when they heard Rihyan soar overhead), and they nearly run over a group of lizardfolk heading south along the path towards the Inn (they quickly get out of the way when they recognize Chrrou as a superior reptile not to be trifled with). The party makes it to the town square without incident.<br/><br/>Once there, things get a little more complicated. The square is a large, busy place. And the PCs (other than Mindy) cannot simply fly over the crowd's heads. With considerable effort, Chrrou and Kahmori are able to sort through the chaotic olfactory landscape and determine the direction Geno traveled in. However, the milling bystanders form a barrier the prevents them from moving as quickly as they'd like.<br/><span style="font-size: 80%; line-height: 116%;">[three options: 1) physically force people out of the way: quickest, riskiest. 2) clear a path with Intimidate: moderate speed, moderate risk. 3) move at walking pace or go around the crowd: slow, but no risk of trouble.]</span><br/><br/><br/><br/>Rihyan spots a familiar scythe-wielder who is wearing a rune-embroidered green cloak enter the town square from the south, and a moment later he also recognizes the rest of the group she is traveling with (and they spot him). By now he has circled the square twice and seen a number of strange sights and notable creatures (including another black dragonfolk, a female), but has not yet spotted any sign of his missing ally.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-size: 120%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">&lt;Jolly Barbazu suite&gt;</span></span></span><br/>Jess sits near Auralia and makes small talk--mostly as an excuse to keep staring at her.<br/>"How're ya doing, hun? She given ya any trouble in there? Ya need anything, like a drink? Or...:3 a belly rub?"<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>Soma plops down in an overstuffed chair near the entrance to Takal's room. The tiefling sighs loudly with approval, then looks through the open doorway to address him--either oblivious to his desire to meditate or just not caring.<br/>"Now<span style="font-style: italic">this</span>is living! Eh, man?" When he doesn't respond right away, she swivels to sit sideways in the chair so that her feet are draped over one armrest and her back arched over the other, with her head suspended upside down and her long violet hair pooling on the marble floor. She eyes the plainly-dressed human with a coy smile.<br/>"Or...what...are you monks, like, not supposed to enjoy anything? Hahah..." her spade-tail flicks to and fro with amusement. "Can't you drop the stoic act and have a little fun, even for one night? Your brothers in the cloth aren't here...nobody has to know..."<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>As she is undressing and running the water (it flows from the mouth of a pegasus statue into a large basin lined with dark mosaic tiles), Alyssa is startled by a soft, androgynous voice behind her. "M'lady?"<br/>Turning to look, she sees that the speaker is a ghostly shape, nearly invisible in the steam. It has no face or features of any kind; it's merely an outline of a generic humanoid.<br/>"Would m'lady enjoy some refreshment?" it asks. "Scented oils? Some music?"