<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">[FYI: I consider the previous actions a "Surprise" Round.  The actions described below are the first "response" round, and Nephele and Mina still have some options to add actions in this round.  If they post pretty quickly, I'll get those actions resolved with the enemies' actions.  If not-- I'll try to fairly work them in ASAP)</div></div><br/>When Ox lunges forth, the guards to the stage's right whip their masks in surprise to face him-- the twisted visages and semblances thereof making a gang of monsters of the leather-clad soldiers.  The nearest of those masks is suddenly supplanted by Ox's fist, which lashes out and down at the shorter human like a striking cobra-- a calculated strike from the fighter to take the man's eyesocket to the place where his lower jaw should be.  The impact splits the surface skin of Ox's calloused knuckles, which are hardened so thickly as to not even bleed at such meager damage.  The ringing thud is like an old broken clock's strike, srawling the soldier from his feet to a stumble as his helmet and mask twist painfully around his face, rending his nose as the metal is wrenched across his skin.  The shock if the impact, at the very least, causes enough impact to rattle his brains a bit in the bucket over his skull, causing him to stumble to all fours as his hooked pike clatters to the ground.<br/><br/>Backing his compatriot, a second solder draws his elbow back sharply to level his blade and point the path to Ox's heart, his other hand extending and forming a tight fist of its round-studded leather gauntlet.  With a hissing exhale, he swings a supple-wristed arc at Ox to drive him back or hack at him, then launches back up a riposte to follow.<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Attacks</div><div class="spoiler_body">3+3=6, 1+3=4 (that's a natural 1), testing for critical failure <br/>(10+1=11.  Still a miss, so he fumbles.  Ox gets a free Attack of Opportunity, which if it connects gets a free disarm condition... 1d20a5=16)  Damage 3+4=7) </div></div><br/>Ox manages easily dodge the desperate swing of the short blade, and his experience fighting with retired-- or fired-- soldiers in the Chelaxian empire and neighbors has readied him for this exact maneuver... even executed well, it's one he would have been ready for, but this soldier still smells fresh-cut, and needs some fire to cure him out.  Ox is glad to offer as much. As the blade-arm swings its overly-wide arc towards him, he twists to counter-attack with his left hand, ramming the young soldier's own elbow into his jaw with a clang and punctuating it with a blow to the exposed rib-tips.  The short-sword falls to the ground with a clatter as the guard groans at the impact after an audible crack of bone.<br/><br/><br/>... A few steps away, pinned at the point of a dagger and the straddling press of a soldier over her naked, cold back and buttocks, Mina fights back the cold terror of waiting death.  Breathing in her panicked state under the press of this weight, the few uncontrollable words spilling rapidly from her lips-- agitated by terror and pain, as she pleads for mercy.  Malia's fight for her life seems to amplify that struggle, searing into her the helplessness of every motion, emphasizing that every tensing muscle forces a new negotiation between wrenched bone and desperately-needed air--<br/><br/>Then the outcry of the girl-- only moments before a broken doll before this mad audience of braying hounds, her voice spinning and spiraling the full dive from the cliff's edge of surrender into the full fray of battle.  She will not go gently... and her bare footfalls are a flashing prelude to a rocking force that suddenly fills Mina's lungs with air as the weight is lifted from her back, and she hears the blade clatter off to her right as cool air washes over her back.  The slight girl, fiery-haired and enraged, fierce with the determination of the abused, has launched a hammering blow at the exposed side of the guard atop Mina and delivered a sure, swift, and painful blow that sends him sprawling with a surprised exhale of pain.  This leaves Mina catching her breath in a swift gasp, and Cris standing beside her, a dagger on the ground to their right, and the guard sprawled to his back in surprised pain, clutching at his belly with his once-armed hand as he stares up through the slits in his iron mask.<br/><br/>The elven woman in the gray cloak, watching as her ward joins the fray, gives a soft smirk, and with a gestures of disengagement, she lifts her hands to the sides, showing them empty.<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">[slight of hand check 12+9=21]</div></div>Her scarred face remains downcast in her shadowy hood, but her piercing eyes dart back and forth from the guards to the Dark Walker to Ox and his quarry, keeping close appraisal of any potential threats, though a faint whistle through her teeth pierces the air...<br/><br/>...and Malia hears the resonant thud of metal against wood yet another dagger, seemingly from nowhere, embeds itself in the stage.  Finely made, and as long as her forearm, its slightly-curved blade quivers with the impact as it stands straight into the wooden where she regains her footing on the warped wood.  By the heat and glow of the fire, she can see its dark steel blade glint amber and green, reflecting her own wild eyes back at her.<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Anarchic Dagger (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/Magic-items/magic-weapons/magic-weapon-special-abilities/anarchic)... as an aligned weapon, no activation is required.</div></div><br/><br/>On the stage, the smoldering-cloaked Walker turns to face Malia.  "INSOLENT LITTLE BITCH--" It raises its black, whipping hands into fists, and smoke begins to roll from the snake-tree bundles of black stems and tendrils.<br/><br/>"ITHKE ZODIK'LAK DIABOLICOS--"... and reaches for her, trying to seize her with its hands about the neck in a strangling lunge.  It grips her hair and its first hand seizes her throat, but with a desperate twist-- painful as its fingers tear through her hair, and where it touches her its fingers seem to leave a defiling trail upon her neck-- she wrenches her way free, too fast for the beast to assume a firm grasp.<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Touch of Combusion. 11+2=13.  Miss.</div></div><br/><br/>The brazier-bearer, furious, rises and charges her superior, lifting the scrolled contract and screaming despite the violence like some mad, drink-addled bar wench between two knife wielding beaus.  "This is NOT a contract with the<i>STATE</i>, MATRON!"