{{If you think you should have a different HP than what is listed next to your name, it's probably my error, not the result of a confusing rule that you aren't aware of. Just mention your actual hp in your post and I'll fix it.}}<br/><br/>{{It was pointed out to me by a spectator that a failed concentration check to cast defensively causes the spell to be lost; one cannot fail the check and then decide to cast undefensively. We'll let this one spell go under the grandfather clause because it was my mistake, but from now on you must chose to either provoke an AoO or gamble it on a concentration roll to cast defensively.}}<br/><br/>The searing pain has spread to every square inch of the wolverine's body; his breathing has become ragged panting mixed with whimpers. Scalding liquid now fills half of the chamber, and is constantly being stirred and churned by rythmic kneading of the stomach muscles. He pushes and twists, futily trying to find the entrance and return the way he came--he doesn't want to leave through the other opening.<br/><br/>[wolverinefolk escape attempt: 1d20(14)+12=26; DC=35; fail]<br/>[wolverinefolk escape attempt: 1d20(10)+7=17; DC=35; fail]<br/><br/>Geno feels a wonderful feeling of fullness spread through him, his gnawing hunger sated for now. His meal's struggles are fading quickly.<br/><br/>The top of Pip's tiny head slowly rises over the edge of the snow trench, his ears flat and his eyes wide. "Pl-please...don't kill me Mr Geno...."<br/><br/><br/>As Mowler focuses on recalling the incantation and bringing the mystical energies of the words to the surface, his movements slow for a moment. The weaselfolk, however, does not slow down, and brings his blade through a wide, upward arc.<br/><br/>[weaselfolk punching dagger (AoO): 1d20(4)+9=13; AC=17; miss]<br/><br/>The blade glides across Mowler's side, cutting a ribbon from his wrappings, but does not penetrate his scales.<br/><br/>The hyenafolk pulls himself to his feet on the roof and lets out a barking laugh upon realizing that this was going to be more of a beating than a fight. His arm goes for a handaxe on his belt and his eyes divide the lizardfolk into prime cuts: the loin and flank would be tender and juicy, he would have to be sure to claim them before his partner did.<br/><br/>[hyenafolk will save: 1d20(7)+3+5(currently in combat)=15; DC=16; fail]<br/><br/>Wait...what was he doing? This lizardfolk wasn't prey. Clearly, in the darkness, the predators had become confused and were wasting time fighting each other when succulent mice were waiting just below.<br/><br/>"Ral! What're you doing! He's on our side!"<br/><br/>The hyenafolk lets his hand fall from the axe handle and steps around Mowler (provoking an AoO, though taking it would end the charm). The weasel is angry and obviously filled with bloodlust, but for a moment he stops. "What? Did you hit your head when you fell? This is the guy that just kicked you!"<br/><br/>"An accident, right?" the hyena looks back and forth between the two, then moves towards the edge facing the square. "Come on, let's bag us some dinner before the others get it all!"<br/><br/><br/><br/>Takal doesn't see anything of immediate use in bringing the Efreeti to where he is, though he does see a number of handholds and footholds that would take him to where she is. [Climb DC=15 +5 slippery = 20; You have a speed of 60, so reaching the top requires 2 move actions, or 1 if you accept a -5 penalty for accelerated climbing]<br/><br/><br/><br/>The Efreeti laughs at Sashi's words. "I've lost? Lost what? A slum full of rats? Psh, they're probably diseased anyway. And this doesn't change anything...it's only delayed the inevitable. It might be a week, it might be a month, but sooner or later you will all be devoured, and this pathetic pact nation of yours will be a memory. By Lord Gyriax's decree, the Winter Feast will last<span style="font-style: italic">forever</span>. If you--"<br/><br/>Suddenly she is interrupted as an arrow buries itself in her leg. "!!! (curses in Ignan). You insolen--" Another arrow glances her elbow, staining her fur with black, ash-like blood. (Ignan)<span style="font-style: italic">"I've had enough of this stupidity"</span>. A pillar of smoke and flames engulfs her, and when it clears she is nowhere to be seen.