Garrett rubbed his face with a gloved palm, and stirred.  His ears were just regaining their capability to listen, and the blur of near-death dissipitated.  He sat up, groaning, and rose to one knee. Where was he?  What hit him?  He looked around and groaned.  Garrett had half-hoped that he had been dreaming of this gruesome nightmare.  What would his friends say if they knew he was hanging out with a monk, a changeling, a robot and a drow?<br/><br/>He got up slowly, and then muttered something as he alighted towards one spell turret, his eye gleaming like the cat that has spotted the canary.<br/><br/>"Showtime!" he cried as he leapt towards it, engulfed it with his body, and worked feverishly to disable it.<br/><br/><strong>OOC:</strong><br/><br/>Garrett rolls a 38 for disable device.