<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://img682.imageshack.us/img682/5521/narniagoatman.jpg)</div><strong>Rakanishu of the Dransk Vale</strong><br/><br/><strong>Health:</strong>11 / 12 |<strong>Mana:</strong>15 / 15  |<strong>Virtue:</strong>15 / 15<br/><br/><strong>Inventory</strong><br/><div class="floatright">Leather pouch:<br/>Flint and steel<br/>Dagger<br/>Sling<br/>3x Day's rations<br/></div><div class="floatleft">  Equipped:<br/>  Horns<br/>  Heavy steel gauntlets<br/>  Lamellar cullet, Plate faulds with tassets, Mail Chausses, Iron (Goat) Shoes<br/></div><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Rakanishu gave a nickering bleat - part pain, part victory. As the ooze behind slinked back, it leaked precious fluids from its gelatinous body. Sharp prey always was a problem for an ooze. Yet the distance between the ooze, himself and the front gel was too small still. It had moved on, not sensing prey, so any more time that could be bought was a boon. And with a little luck (fuck that,<em>skill</em>) he could at least not have to worry about this thing slurping at his heels.<br/><br/>Rakanishu waved the dagger in his other hand, clutching his burning fingers of his left hand together for a few times. Still functional. Hurted like hell, though. He'd live.<br/><br/>He could take this ooze. But every moment that passed would give him more distance. Every inch the ooze moved away an inch he gladly took. Soon the distance would be perfect and the oozes would roll on as normal in an endless digestive patrol of this corridor.<br/><br/>Hell, this looked about as win-win as it could ever be.<br/><br/><br/><em>Should the thing attack, Rakanishu gives no quarter. Should the thing linger too long, he'll take his chance and head up ahead again with the increased space between the oozes hopefully giving him some breathing room. Either way, should Rakanishu come across a passage leading away from this hall, he'll bloody well take it.</em>