Dropping Like Flies

We are ambushed on our way out of the underground dungeon by the druid we suspected to find inside the dungeon. Damn him and his alarms that we tripped. Amidst the storms, whilst we try to swim in the shallow sea, the druid attacks, calling to his aid a pair of gargoyles and a squid. No releasing the kraken, though.

Thrak acts, and wants to know if one target is better than the others for his traits and skills. 'Has this gargoyle damaged anyone yet?'

'Yes.'

'Who?'

'You. In the previous round. Which was, in fact, the first round of combat.' I think we're all going to die. And battling creatures that can swim and move freely in stormy waters, whilst we struggle to doggy paddle to stay afloat, doesn't work too well for us.

Despite our best efforts, including a masterful illusion that brings the druid from his perch down in to the melee with us—who was to know he had a level of monk too?—Thrak gets knocked unconscious, as does Salvador soon afterwards.

We're not all down. And Salvador's best weapons are still with us. His huge summoned centipede bites in to the druidic monk, hitting for maximum damage! 'Are you sure that's the maximum damage?' he's asked. Salvador is sure, which is a shame, because that apparently leaves the druid on 1 hit point.

'Suicide your dog on him!'

'I'm going to.'

'Oh right. Look who I'm talking to.' Whether that was the plan all along, or only became the plan considering the circumstances, Salvador's blink dog charges from the dry perch, jumps down on to the druid, and gets a decent hit. The druid drops! Good doggy. Now let's get your minion back on his feet.

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