(Pretty damned safe to say that's a crit.)<br/><br/>The vrock only has time to look up, and give a confused squawk, before her blade lays it open, a spurt of vile, black ichor spraying from its ferocious wound. The creature staggers back a step, clearly stunned that such a small foe could possibly do that much damage. "Very well, elf," the vrock hisses. "Let me show you why you mortals are mere slaves, for us!" It steps in to engage in melee with her, a filthy cloud of spores emerging from its body, as unleashes a full attack, screeching as it does so.<br/><br/>(Spores are no-save, so unless immune to disease, take 4 damage, and an additional 1d4 each round for the next 10, as tiny vines begin to grow into your skin. Only two attacks hit, so take 13 and 11.)