[hr][center][@Zverda] [color=thistle]Anala Attor[/color][/center][hr]She was tired of the troll managing to get up and shrug off attack after attack, it was infuriating and frankly? She was ready for these things to be done. Ignoring the monstrosity for now, she struck out at the two Zombies that had come with it, her firebolt smacking them both squarely, which was a relief all on it's own and she was pleased to see that some further damage was being done to the slightly less worrisome creatures that the rain was beating down. It wasn't as wonderful as taking out a Troll, but it was something, even if she didn't kill these things.

>Anala hits the normal zombies with firebolt, 2nd Zombie takes 6 damage while the 3rd takes a piddly 1.

[hr][center][@Lady Selune] [color=darkmagenta]Mhyrienne – The Mildly Suspicious[/color][/center][hr]Clack... The blades reformed themselves around the central whip.

Clack... She spun the scourge around slowly, but building up more and more speed.

Clack... The blades themselves stiffened in their position as the weapon swung around 
towards the undead titan that the group had been battling.

Clack clack clack clack... The first blades bit deep into the flesh of the creature's neck, but then they began... Locking themselves into its putrid hide. The scourge curled around the throat of the creature, and even in its undead form, it realised that something was badly wrong. Fingers came up to tear the weapon away, but as soon as they made contact with the blades attached to the whip, it let out a howl, fingers spattering black fluid down onto the ground.

Then she whipped her arm back. At first, the pressure strained against her, but she persevered. The troll itself was spun around, its back facing her, and she planted a leg onto it. Pulling harder, the pressure mounted... Mounted... Mounted... Then like a broken dam, unable to hold back any longer, it was released. The head of the creature came spinning off like a hurled discus, and the weapon she was carrying made a bullwhip like crack.

She wanted to make sure the creature was dead however. The blades of the scourge twisted themselves around, the glasslike substance reforming itself into a blade almost as long as the woman wielding it was formed. Placing a foot over the gurgling stump that had been the head of the creature, the elf plunged the blade down into it's chest, and twisted hard.

The undead abomination let out one last great twitch, and then its arms fell still once more, the bindings of her hex were released, the energy that the creature once had flowed into her, and she felt the bubbling of her skin that had been brought on by the accursed sleet here fade from her.

Now. Who was next to fall?

>Mhyrienne finally gets to actually kill something using her warlock powers. The Undead Troll takes 14 damage, failing its Undead Fortitude roll and dying for good. Her Hexblade's Curse activates, and grants her six life, and her longsword changes forms into a longsword.

[hr][center][color=maroon]Zaerith Dustborn[/color][/center][hr]Perpetual insomnia plagued these silhouettes of false life. Zaerith could smell that now, as the other elvish caster decapitated and impaled the mutilator of Markus. The severed head rolled, due to a mystical momentum still from the warlock's malleable weapon. Its pupils still possessed no fear nor apprehension.

Just ravenous hunger.

The trickster's sword pirouetted, slashing the next victim, with its lethal pitch. Yet, the frayed flesh of the zombie withstood the resurrected rogue's bladesong, deaf to mortal wounds and Death's subpoenas. The verdict was delivered with the wizard's razor sharp gavel, but the defendant seemed only to be shackled by its starving undeath.

>Zaerith 'kills' Zombie 3, but it makes its Undead Fortitude CON save, keeping it at 1 HP.


[hr][center][@Hekazu] [color=tan]The Unnamable[/color][/center][hr]It would have been a lie to say that the pace of things one had never seen before appearing right there in the field of view of the puppeteer would have slowed down. No, there was more and more one did not quite understand, but amidst all of it a few realities reminded everyone of their existence. The biggest monster was down, even if the means it had been handled by eluded the understanding of both George and their human. A weapon that shifted so freely in the hands of its wielder? One would have thought they'd seen it all with the outlandish approaches back... no, this was no time to fall upon memories and wonder. There were still two lesser threats to quash.

Having once retreated, close combat could not be avoided any longer. The man rushed down the street for those few steps that needed to be taken. A cudgel was raised, and then lowered onto what was left of the head of the opponent already sporting an open skull. Just like back on the docks, with the notable exceptions of brains already running wild and none of the strikebreakers having been quite this ugly. Not to mention the nauseating puff of fumes that thanked the assailant for this effort. And despite the fact this... creature was now missing more than half of its head, its eyes seemingly ready to drop out of their sockets at any given moment, it refused to go. "These are quite worrisome George, not that you would not have said so by now..." the cudgel wielder would mutter to their companion.

>The Unnamable moves to flank Zombie #3 with Zaerith, hits his attack with a total of 20 and [s]deals 4 damage[/s] is foiled by Undead Fortitude.

[hr][center][@BCTheEntity] [color=deepskyblue]Talran Galelove – Medium Friendly Paladin[/color][/center][hr]Hells. What was he doing? He'd let his anger get the better of him, his desire to see the undead brought low; and for that, one he'd thought was safe enough found himself nearly dead, nearly a repeat of the loss of their guide. And who noticed? He alone, it seemed; the rest remained absorbed in the destruction of the dead, those he'd thought to end with his outburst of power, even as the prime danger was brought low by Mhyrienne - right next to Egil, no less! Was she so concerned with the glory of the kill that an ally dying right next to her was of no concern?

Follow her lead. You alone can destroy these undead with certainty.

[color=deepskyblue]'Silence,'[/color] he bade under his breath, to himself rather than to any others. Markus' end had come swiftly, with no warning and no means of prevention without foresight; by contrast, if he allowed Egil to perish in this heinous rain, or worse to the undead that sought his end, his blood would be on his hands forever more. Knowing full-well that it'd draw attention, he broke free of the battle against the undead the drunken monk dueled, its foul claws scraping off of his mail, and he rushing on swift wings to Egil's aid and applying a dose of healing to him, enough to cure his wounds and bring him back to consciousness. Though if the rain had any say in the matter...

[color=deepskyblue]'Seek shelter, now!'[/color] he implored, pointing Egil toward the cover Sebastian and Lucian had taken. He would not allow Egil to risk his life further against the undead, nor to perish himself in this acidic rain when he could hardly bear the wounds to begin with. The dead could wait, especially when others could take them down in their time.

>Talran moves below Egil, provoking an attack of opportunity from Zombie 1. He uses Lay on Hands upon Egil to heal him for 5 HP, bringing Egil out of unconsciousness, and leaving himself with six points of healing until after his next long rest. He will use his reaction to guard Egil or Mhyrienne from the first attack made toward either of them, if Egil does not move toward Sebastian/Lucian's shelter.

[hr][center][@Irredeemable] [b]Orhvin Yi[/b][/center][hr]He felt woozy all of a sudden. Very, very sudden. That wasn't the alcohol hitting him- passing out thanks to booze was an old familiar friend, no, this was something else. He had barely time to react to  the claws of the zombie raking into him before he fell down to the ground, head hitting the cobbles with a nasty sounding thump.

When he awoke, it was because his face was burning. The freezing cold acidic weather had shocked him into awakening... And that zombie was reaching down to claw him in the face again. Oh no. He didn't scramble so much as he did lurch forwards, placing a foot on the undead creature's knee. Then, using his quarterstaff to spring himself upwards, he placed another foot on the creature's stomach, and finished the maneuver with a kick upside the creature's jaw, snapping its head back with a spray of gelatinous black fluid.

It wasn't down yet, but he didn't care. Using the momentum that he had gained from running up the creature, he pushed down hard on the top of his quarterstaff, launching himself upwards into the sky. He had to time this perfectly, and whilst he would have liked to have done something fancy in its stead... He didn't trust his injured body to work for him like that.

So instead, he did what he was good at. Which, in this case, was coming down, knee-first, on the head of the creature below him now. Having sailed over the head of the sorry individual that had magically knocked him out, he felt the skull of the second zombie cave in beneath his knee, the magic and matter that held it together falling apart at the concussive force. With a shudder that ran through the Genasi's teeth, he looked at the zombie that had succeeded in mauling him.

That kick hadn't taken him out of the fight. This would. Darting past his ally, seemingly swerving around them, he used the momentum from his circular motion to spin, extending his foot as he did so. The creature, hit again in the chest by his foot, was sent backwards into the wall of the house letting out a foul screech as it did so. 

It was finished, he knew it. Snatching his quarterstaff, which hadn't even finished falling from where he had powered himself off from it, he turned to his opponent and bowed down in mock-respect, just as the creature fell forwards in a pile of rotten limbs.

>Orhvin finishes things. End of Combat.