Rolled 3, 6, 3, 15, 1, 10 = 38 (6d20)
>>5675901>>5675911>>5675929>>5675975>>5676007>>5676009You look down at your new khopesh, curious as to what the weapon can do… But no. Now is not the time. You know what your FOE can do, and you have no desire to experience it again. If it could best and batter you at your peak, you are in no shape to take it on now—and certainly not in its own element.
“The Fleshweaver is right,” you say. “We leave, now.”
As you depart this strange realm, you instruct the Archer to scoop up Ivno’s corpse. Unflinchingly, he does so; none among your kind are squeamish in the face of death, for you cannot afford to be. You usher your allies ahead of you, bringing up the rear yourself… And as you do so, the swirling sand which was once stone parts like a curtain, and from its depths emerges your foe.
It stands taller than two of you, and broader than four, even in your <Dragonshape IV>. Like its kin—or offspring? Minions?—it is a great mass of stone. This one, however, is articulated, made of many smaller chunks of rock bound by a strange sinew which binds the misshapen hunks together into something almost approximating the shape of a bipedal being like yourself. The lumpy, boulder-like beinsg which earlier attacked you scurry and roll about its trunk-like legs as it surveys the scene with empty eyes.
It spots you.
With a wordless, soundless roar, the stone sovereign of this place stretches out an arm to grasp at you—to prevent your escape with fingers like tombstone slabs. You respond not with your sword or your khopesh, but with a casting of <Dazzle> and of <Shadow>-—to blind you foe with flashing lights, and to cover you with a cloak of impenetrable black as you join in your allies’ escape.
[2d20 Illusion (DC 15), 4d20 Athleticism (DC 17, reduced by 2 if you succeed on Illusion.]
