NEIN!

No wonder you couldn't read the screen.

Kith will just applaud the kitty and then scold him for bringing more dead animals in the house

*blasts Andrew WK's PARTY PARTY PARTY*

OH BTW: For combat times, do we make posts in the main thread, or do we say what our reactions are here and then Olan rolls for us and narrates?

OOOOOOGAD, slaughters for all the baddies! Slaughters all around! You get a slaughter, and YOU get a slaughter!

If Kith can get away from the carnage outside, she'll be there to back you up. Maybe one for each of us?

Just checking in! How's it all going? 

Kith would have had your back even if you had ran off at the beginning, Chewbacca!

For Kithran's part, she had her shortbow ready to fire if anyone attacked. So when kitty man charges she'll fire off a couple arrows at the closest zombie and then draw her daggers and follow Ch'dau into BATTLE.

Lol I lost it at "zom-b-q"

Wooooo! Headshot! Headshot! Headshot!

*re-checks Kith's alignment* Oh yeah, true neutral. Whew.

"I see five of the undead," Gib states in a low tone just loud enough for his fellows to hear. "If there are only the five, we have the advantage. Speed could be our advantage. We might be able to get two of us through the door of the cabin while the rest tend to the corpses."

Kithran draws her shortbow and nocks an arrow, a weapon far less personal than she prefers, but time is of the essence. She glances sideways at her large cat friend, and can sense there is not much time left before he pounces on those seemingly terrorizing this man's family. And she wouldn't let him do that alone, "I like this idea."

Kith makes eye contact with Gib once more, then with Ch'dau, and back to the shamblers. Then raises her bow, taking aim as she whispers, "If they are hiding for their lives, we should make haste. I will be with the monster-slaughtering party to draw them away from the cabin, if we decide to split up instead of charging in together," one of the creatures walks into her sights, and she keeps him there until either her party decides to attack, or the creatures come racing their way, "We should hurry though. I can scout if you like, as I don't mind this man throwing himself to his own death if that is what he so chooses, but I doubt the rest of you feel likewise."

I'm glad you found me and brought me here to join in all the fun!

You're welcome, boss! *finger guns*

"BING!" the hoverbot cheerfully intones. "Next stop, the PLC!"

Shit shit shit shit shit, Steam growls silently to himself as the Friendliness Hoverbot careens forward, those pilots had made it look so easy. He continued attempting to emulate the motions and the coolness with which he had watched others conduct similar machines while also maintaining control of the off-balaced navigating system, but the two were hardly condusive. At one point he is nearly laying his entire weight onto the mechanism to turn right, then he must go left and proceeds to lay into that one as well. And then the shit, or rather Artie, hits the fan.

The left mechanism, as Steam finds out, requires nary a poke in order for it to turn. Thus, when he throws his weight into it, their hoverbot is thrust wildly into oncoming traffic and crashes into a streetsweeping bot. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Slipp flying wildly out of the vehicle, landing hard, but still in decent shape. Artie, however, makes it only as far as the hoverbots blades, and Steam is drenched in his blood by the time they come to a stop.

"BING!" the hoverbot announces in its warm, feminine tone. "Standard event number six detected: one of the crew has unfortunately fallen to their deaths. Please stand by while a replacement clone is summoned."

Ah, yes, standard event number six, Steam thought, standard event number eleven was his personal favorite, but standard event six could be pretty brutal.

The crew was quiet a moment as the dust and Artie particles settled, until finally he heard Blowz speak up from behind him, "Friendliness bot.  Do you have any further instructions to aid our captain in controlling yourself? Is there something he should know about how to turn?" Huh, no weird accent from creep-bot? Highly suspicious.

The thought of uncovering a commie bastard relaxed him a little as he stared down at his hands, still grasping desperately at the controls. He slowly unfurled his aching fingers and turned to the rest of his blood-soaked team, all looking as grateful not to have shared Artie's fate as he felt.

"Pilot, Loyalty Officer, not captain," at this point the distinction may not have seemed worthwhile to any of these civies, but any modicum of structure and organization was a goddamn blessing to the ragged soldier, "Anyone besides bloodstain over there hurt?" He looked out at the limping Slipp, "You gonna make it, Hygiene Officer?"

Mmmm, a kid-sized meal!

*twirling daggers like Raphael and his sai, face stuffed with pizza* Aaaaaaaand? We got this, bruh!

EDIT: Eol, when I first read your post I thought you meant gigglers that had been gigglers for 6 years. After I wrote this I re-read yours and realized you meant 6-year-old children who were gigglers . . . I'm triggered *finishes pizza*

Post is up!

Before Cedric heals the wounds Kith was examining the guy from where she stood. Could she tell if the gashes were consistent with the ones she had seen on the victims in Crandel? I'm most familiar with 5e, so I'd like to do the equivalent of an insight check--I think in 3.5/Pathfinder it was Sense Motive on the guy.

Kith doesn't trust this guy, and how dare he try to pull one over on her big kitty man friend?!

The meeting with the priestess had proved fruitless, but then so had her attempt at research. It served her right. Book research had never really been her thing. Resigned in their conclusion that continued pursuit of information on the horrifying goings-on would likewise turn up nothing more than further wasted time, their party decides to spend one more night in Crandel before leaving in the morning. Kithran, usually a light sleeper, ready to act at any moment, passes out the moment her eyes close, her fingers still tightly wrapped around the handles of her daggers under her pillow.

She's almost surprised as she wakes up, having expected to be woken up by either more screams or with a set of mangled teeth baring down into her neck. It was a nice surprise though that neither had occured and she woke up feeling pleasantly well-rested.

That pleasant feeling lasted all of breakfast, and then their group ventured out into the mist. It was even thicker now, even more obscuring, and the eerieness of the silence had Kith's hair's standing on end. As the day wore on it prove far less eventful as she had expected, but the lack of any sort of life was hardly reassuring. Even if creatures had fled, leaves made sound, brush rustled, branches creaked, but not here. Every now and again a breeze floats by and moves some twigs around and she's convinced for a moment that they aren't in purgatory. The feeling doesn't last, and the party moves forward.

And then, as the mist begins to turn into shadows around them, she hears it. Strange now in the abundance of this suspicious silence, that the moment she finally does hear a familiar sound her hands are immediately on the hilts of her daggers, almost perfectly in sync with the Kazari beside her. Of course, the sound of a shambling man approaching them from the mist was far from reassuring, considering their last couple days.

The man is wrecked. Gashes along his bellyl leak blood, and he appears to be living by shear will alone.

Yes! Those are awesome!

I beg to differ

Oh baby

That accent IS awesome perfect, Blowz.

Sorry, had a crazy weekend *hides behind glasses now held together with gorilla glue* I'll start working on my post as soon as possible!