Rolled 80, 8, 53 = 141 (3d100)
>>5518016>>5518074>>5518385You're not leaving until you damn hell have to. And on the way out... well, suffice to say that you're giving that thing a surprise. Win or lose, you don't back down without a fight.
You return back to bed, staring at the device tick down. 56 minutes, 55, 54...
...30 minutes. 29 minutes, 59 seconds. The sounds are much closer now. You wouldn't be surprised if it's at the top of the stairs by now. Guess you'll head out. You take a deep breath and then prepare yourself for what's to come. Make sure Madness and Folly are both safe and secured in the bathroom, that your giant wooden pool cue isn't in your belt lest it catch on fire, and that your sweatshirt is off and your t-shirt sleeves rolled up. You will not foist yourself by your own petard here. Not now.
<span class="mu-r">16 minutes and 28 seconds remain.</span> Your guest stares at you through the last of the sea of furniture, almost all of it having been forcibly cut apart in its wake. Only one last layer separates the two of you now, and soon, it will be hacked through as well.
But not before it is set ablaze.
It swings at the furniture. You douse everything in front of you in gasoline. Momentary confusion, and then a flicker of recognition. A moment too late though- the flame of the barbecue lighter connects with a green, gasoline covered chair, setting the fabric ablaze. Everything around it catches fire in an instant- you're lucky not to be burnt yourself.
As you step back from the inferno, you see something that makes you involuntarily smile. The thing, on fire, a second layer of burns added onto the long-healed first. Inhuman, indiscernible screeching, interrupts your celebration. Your eyes almost feel as if they'll bleed if you stay here, not to mention the rapidly spreading fire. Time to go.
You return to the bedroom, lock the door behind you, and grab your backpack, ensuring that your guinea pigs are inside. Then you open up the window, throw out the rope, and prepare to exit the home. As you do, you hear banging behind you, but it stops after a moment. A desperate last effort?
The fire above you is worrying, but you take the climb at a moderate pace anyways. If fire spreads to the rope, then... you fall. If you go too fast and slip then... you fall. The consequence is the same, so you may as well take it safely. Eventually, you make it to the bottom and land on the garage. A light splash echoes out as you do so. You'd forgotten about that puddle you saw. You wonder what it is- you don't think it's water. It has an odd smell to it.
Wait...
Relief transforms into anxiety in an instant. You're standing in a puddle of gasoline. Was it planning to stop you from exiting via the window by torching where you'd land?
Just as that thought comes to you, the lighting changes. You glance towards the front door. That thing is visible, flesh running down its face like wax as it burns. Oh fuck. NO. <span class="mu-s">RUN. NOW.</span>
25 to beat. 