<div class="floatright">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v181/Kittenpeeler/Pathfinder%20Characters/orc_by_yy6242-d7sdciz.jpg)</div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Corrag</div><div class="spoiler_body">Corrag, Half-Orc barbarian (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=995773)<br/><strong>HP</strong> 14   <strong>Init</strong> +2<br/><strong>AC</strong> 15 - <strong>touch</strong> 12 - <strong>FF</strong> 13 - <strong>CMD</strong> 17<br/><strong>Fort</strong> +5 <strong>Ref</strong> +3 <strong> Will</strong> +2<br/><strong>Perception</strong> +5<br/><strong>Rage:</strong> 6/6</div></div><hr/><br/>"You're talking too -<em>MWAAAARGH!</em>" Corrag's jaw snapped shut involuntarily as electricity arced through muscle and bone, sending spasms through his body. in another circumstance, maybe he would be seeing red now, and laying about like a war-minded madman. But no, right now all he can perceive are bright flashes of impossible colors and the taste of zinc and smoke. With another squeal of metal on metal, his axe is freed as he stumbles backwards - more due to his hands being unable ro release the handle, than to any real effort. A stink of seared skin and singed hair fills the air around him, and for a moment, the world exists in triplets, before he shakes it off... and begins...<em>laughing</em>?<br/><br/>"I thought th-this th-thi-thing wasn't-t going to f-fight b-back," he manages to get out around the quivering of his jaw muscles and the numbness in his tongue, even as he chuckles.