Led managed to dodge the Vrock, while taunting it. He'd even managed to touch it with the blade of the machete, though the thing's demonhide skin resisted the cut. Not the level of savagery normally espoused by Darethan, but certainly going against a demon twice his height without using his own natural attacks... that must be the bravery that Darethan loves in his followers.
Perhaps this fight would be of Valkhan's style, ordered and steady, with teamwork besting the enemy in the end. Led was keeping the Vrock busy, distracting it from hurting those who could best hurt it. With only the negligable weapon of a machete originally intended to cut locks out of doors, Led tried to convince himself that he was doing his part, and that it would still bring the Vrock's death in the end.
But then a puff of... a cloud of... oh Gods... fungus spores. These creatures were where the unholy fungus came from, or these creatures carried it around on their person, unharmed, and released it during combat. What a clever, or insidious trick.
Led tried to move out of the way, but he had all he could do to avoid the swipes of the thing as he'd dodged past it. And he felt the stuff touch his skin, get onto his face. He closed his eyes, and closed him mouth, though some got inside. More got into his nose, and an involuntary gasp of fear only brought the stuff farther into the poor boy's lungs.
The spores started growing. Not the blackening death that he had seen before... this was simply small tendrils of plants growing into his skin and out of it. It hurt like you would expect many hundreds of small items to suddenly pierce your skin, but at least they weren't very deep.
Still, Led felt the first tendril of fungus start to sprout from this chest, where his robe had been open. Looking down, the little green shoots could be seen wiggling to the surface. Then he felt it happening on his arms, his face, his tongue, the inside of his nostrils, and his ears.
He could
feel them. Feel them inside his own flesh. He'd thought the sensation of an axe on his spleed was bad enough, this was so much worse. This was to his body everything the desecrated alters had been to his mind.
It was only reasonable that he yell out in panic, voice higher than any time since he was a young boy. Frantically, the former scribe starts to rip the tiny growths from his skin, heedless of the pain and but still mindful of the danger from the Vrock. "Get it off! I'll not be killed by something you can't fight." Then, in a brief moment of clarity, he remembers the pouch of holy water. He'd carried it on his person for just such an occasion.
He nearly rips the cords holding it on, but manages to detach the waterskin from his belt. He pops the bung, and upends the precious water over his head, catching some in his hand to splash into his nostrils. Then he pours it over the rest of his body, balancing speed with conserving what's left of the water.
- 84hp MAX
Not shifted
Second round Fast Healing 9
Dodge vs. Vrock
Withdraw action (still get an AoO since it has reach)
Six squares east
Mobility Feat (+4 AC vs. AoO)
Skirmish (+3d6, +2 AC)
Defensive fighting (+2 AC, -1 to hit)
Use a potion
Geek the mage, first.