The sword of Markus remained sheathed, unable to slither its electricity from the noose of the shackled scabbard, as a pair of frantic swipes slashed across the gypsy's torso. The undead behemoth panted with hidden excitement. The corpus of yet another Vistani fell before its glazed eyes. With the broken posture of the troll's meal tumbling to the cobbled ground, the rabid monstrosity leapt eagerly upon the flaccid body, quickly nibbling away at the hide, clothing the left upper extremity. The teethy vise soon easily punctured the untethered gauntlet, then frantically to the barren neck. Scarlet blood hurriedly escaped and stained the surrounding blanche glacial flakes now accumulating over the duo, almost almagamating into a frenetic rosy womb for two. The hunched mass with the expired guide, substantiated into a proverbial chorion untimely ripped, bearing disproportionate twins, where one feverishly consumed the other. >Markus dies. The Troll is grappling and chewing his lifeless corpse. [hr][center][@Zverda] [color=thistle]Anala Attor[/color][/center][hr]Infuriated by the death of her long time friend, Anala thrust a bolt of fire at the Troll Zombie, ushering Lucian to get on the pony with Sebastian so the two could gallop away to the place of safety they had intended on going before the Zombies had decided to grace them with their putrid presence. While the Firebolt struck the zombie, a mixture of Anala's anger and the rain that fell caused her next spell to fizzle out, enraging the woman even further. Who dare send these creatures of the undead after them? Was it not bad enough that they had to deal with burning rain from the sky, but now they had to deal with the disgusting life that was the Zombies before them? [color=thistle]"Vile creatures!"[/color] she shouted in fury. >Anala does 3 dmg from the firebolt, misses with Chromatic Orb and now has 1 SP left. [hr][center][@Lady Selune] [color=darkmagenta]Mhyrienne – The Mildly Suspicious[/color][/center][hr]The man had died... Very fast. Startlingly, dangerously fast. Yet, she was tired of slinging spells from a 'safe' distance, relying only on the luck of the dice and the hasty aiming that one could carry out against an enraged beast. With her mount long since gone, she raised up her hand. This was no war cry or fist of triumph though, she was grasping for something up in the air. She found it. The darkness coalesced around her, and she could feel it solidifying, hardening. It was smooth and cold, glass-like around her hands, the obsidian shards finding themselves in a shape both foreign and familiar. Held in her hands was a terrible looking weapon. It held the elements of a whip in it, but was far from just a mere cattle-prod. Along the length were spaced leaf-like blades, sharper than the daggers she carried, and she let the strange weapon crack as she spun it through the air. She suspected that this fight would be the last one in the day. She was to pour everything into it in order to give herself the most advantage. She would not end up like the torn-apart wretch the troll was now feasting upon! Pointing a finger at the troll, she let out a scream in a tongue that she wasn't even sure she herself knew. [color=darkmagenta]"TAV IUMMORIN IESSE ORANT!"[/color] A cry of death. Of Hunting. Of tearing the bastard to shreds. >Mhyrienne reaches out and summons a totally not longsword scourge into her hands. She then uses her Hex Warrior ability to allow her to use her charisma modifier instead of strength, and then finally casts Hexblade's Curse onto the zombie troll, giving her a whole host of abilities that I won't detail here. [hr][center][color=maroon]Zaerith Dustborn[/color][/center][hr]A loud toll rung with a whimper. The levy extreme, as the gypsy forfeited unto a negligent tax. [i]Kehahahaha.[/i] A host of reverberating cackles echoed within the desecrated sanctuary of the trickster’s mind, as his eyes witnessed the destruction of their Stygian guide. The Grave Jester enjoyed reiterating the futility of fighting an ocean, in which a marathon of ships could barely traverse. His master’s voice always plagued his will, whether to sink or swim, toying with his amnestic soul as he flailed in the tossed waves of despair. Through the resurrections, it not only forged an insensitivity to death abroad, but a skittering weakness to care for himself. He too desired to be banished, like Markus, as light afore darkness. The price of peace is paved with the prior privileged. Yet, this persistent plea to overcome remained faint, but bright, kindled from a previous life. Preferring to recklessly dive against the ravenous tide, elvish glyphs began to smolder with a crimson ferocity upon the scalp of the wizard, as a graceful hand extracted thunder from its metal sleeve. Zaerith would again play the role of the lambent torch, quivering with a glistening iridescence. His reluctant arm impulsively churned the blade against the voracious hulk, caressing the blood from the monster’s flesh as the steel sang a delicate incantation of stealth and supremacy. [i]Kehahahaha.[/i] >Zaerith will employ Bladesong as a Bonus Action, raising his AC to 18. He will then employ Booming Blade alongside Sneak Attack due to Flanking Advantage, for 18 Piercing damage. [hider=Round 1 - Moves of Troll, Markus, Anala, Mhyrienne, and Zaerith] [img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/442949249068433409/470712152169381898/unknown.png[/img] [/hider]