[h3][color=bedded][b][center] Thomas Richard Harrison [/center][/b][/color][/h3]
[center][indent][color=bedded][i]Location:[/i][/color] Floor 3, Tower of... Wait where are we?
[color=bedded][i]Interacting with:[/i][/color] Satilla, Mustela Dirus Infernii (Fiendish Dire Weasel) [/indent][/center]



Remind Thomas not to let the Bear hug him. Or Keystone for that matter. Or the ex-ex-ex-Grey Render if it wasn't completely maimed by Keystone. All in all it seemed things were winding down, and yet that was what happened the last time before a new batch of enemies appeared. But even if they were withstanding the tide of rather oddly uneventually minions, Thomas swore he saw Nor stab himself. Twice. Maybe, he wasn't too sure since the dwarf was covered in armor, and moving like he wasn't. Either way it seemed the tin-man's second attempts to defend them worked stabbing the hairy ape with a good shank. Two and a half down, six more to go. That said, Thomas had only two spells left in his repertoire, one of which was already primed to go. His plan was dangerous, but desperation did that to a man. Or in his case a boy sorcerer. Regardless, tactical positioning was key in maximizing his spells to take out as many enemies as possible. . All that remained was getting Sana...[color=bedded]"Go Satilla!" [/color] Cheering his crush on as she rushed in there to do medic things to the perhaps not quite dead yet now getting better Sana somewhat slumped over.

Now that everyone did their part, it was time for Thomas to do his. Call it idiotic, moronic, suicidal, and yes even stupid. If he could get to the pentacle on the floor, one that seemed to be inactive at the moment, the plan was to taunt the enemies to taking him on as possible, crowding around him far from his allies before he could unleash the power of the sun. But first there was a rather large polecat skittering his direction, and being a rather bit of a road block to Thomas' direct path. The fiendish dire Weasel did not seem to relent, giving Thomas no opening as he attempted to maneuver around the ferret, he even tried to manoeuvre around the thing but there was just no luck. Thomas was stopped in his tracks by...

[hider=For the lack of a better example, please accept this artist's depiction of Thomas' problem]
[img]https://orig00.deviantart.net/8b17/f/2011/148/9/8/deal_with_furret_by_atokniiro-d3hgock.jpg[/img]
[/hider]

[color=Bedded]"Out of my way you Stinking Sulfurous Polecat!" [/color] A prime choice of insult no doubt, with Thomas staring down the beady eyed mongrel. A spell at this range would hit everyone in the area within five feet. He'd have tough out whatever attacks would come. Whatever, Whenever, Wicked Wreaking Weasel would wanting woefully wound willingly within wizard's way.