BY INVITATION ONLY No Good Deed- Shadow of the Demon Lord- Prologue

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Chaka

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#61
Ruin

Clear around the Jotun, Ruin looks up at the target and considers. Their knowledge of Jotun physiology is limited. They examine the stout quarterstaff for a moment. "Inefficient without a weak point to strike Or leverage..." They notice the Achilles tendon on the right leg is partially exposed by sores in the rotten flesh. An idea forms.

Darting forward, Ruin pauses before expertly timing a thrust towards the ulcerated leg at a tight angle. They punch through the rotting skin like paper, the staff slipping under the taut tendon between it and the muscle before sticking in place. Quickly changing grip, Ruin grabs hold of the staff at the far end and wrenches...





..the tendon jerks hard but doesn't snap. Ruin desperately pulls the staff clear before they lose it completely.
 
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Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
#62
Runt

There's nothing quite like seeing a tool of the Imperial Mages strike a brother Orc to send Runt into a fury. Rage roars through the fog of doubt and confusion and Runt advances from the abomination's flank, lashing out with his chain to catch the beast's wrist on the backswing of that big, ugly hammer. The heavy lump of twisted iron on the end connects with a DEEPLY satisfying crunch.


4 damage
 
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Excession

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#63
RELICT

Slipping around the monster's flank, and past the precisely-striking Ruin, Relict observes from a convenient blindspot.
No nourishment here, but the little clockwork had the right idea. Tensing, he waits for the opportune moment - and then pounces onto the constructs back, digging in with sharp claws, climbing for the head.

Perhaps too late it dawns on him he's merely caught it's attention rather than done any real damage.
 

Sideris

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#64
Orm

Yours is the lineage raped by this monstrosity, he could hear his grandfather shout. Stand! Stand despite the fear! Trembling knuckles tightened round the axe haft to creaking to splintering.

Spitting on the flagstones, the jotun shakily steps forward until momentum takes him forward into a jog. His eyes set like a man waiting for death. Axe head raised high, Orm aims for its knee opposite the clock work. Show him the biggest man in the world, take his knee, falls right down.





...or close enough to shave into its patella and bite deep into the tendons clumped there.
 
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Sarky

They're good direwolves, Drozzt
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#65
Ragoza Ragoza Excession Excession Sideris Sideris Hair Hair Chaka Chaka

The stench of the corpse only gets worse as more damage is inflicted, causing eyes to water and lungs to sting. Any resemblance to the original Jotun is gone, along with most of its skin and large gobbets of brown stinking muscle. Rather than slowing it down, the grievous damage seems to make it angry, insofar as the dead can rage. It whirls about faster to each challenge, its movements quickening.

The mercenaries don't give it an inch. Spite and his human friend shake off their injuries, spit out teeth, and charge back in, the human opening up the giant's midriff, spilling oily greasy intestines into a festering heap, tangling up a leg. The clockwork, Melody, puts out the remaining eye, large chunks of rotten, fungal brain matter coming out with its barbed stinger.

The atrophied, many-jointed arm, with unholy speed, grabs Melody out of the air just as it leaps off the thing's head, and the little clockwork is thrown so hard against the ground a metal wing snaps off, grounding it.

[Fast turns, folks]
 

Chaka

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#66
Ruin

They don't think they've ever seen another clockwork before. Not that they remember. Ruin steps forward between Melody and the monster almost on instinct, putting themself between her and it, their cloak splaying out as they rapidly spin the quarterstaff in front of them. When the Jotun's corpse reaches out again they bring the staff down hard on a wrist joint, aiming to shatter bone.



 
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Sideris

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#67
Orm

Adrenaline as much as fear shakes the very root of his soul. Orm continued hacking through its knee even as he vomited from the stench. Thundering through, he thought only of his family, those distant, hazy images of people he once loved. Sparks flew from how furiously he hit, but to no avail.

 
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Hair

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#68
Retch

Flicking through a few pages of the dusty journal, and finding nothing interesting, Retch looses an exasperated sigh. He tosses the book aside and fumbles at the knot tying his stringy belt. With a quiet crow of victory he pulls the sling from around his waist, before grabbing his pants with a squawk as they fall to his ankles. He pops a stone in the pad, gives it a hard spin, and looses at the undead monstrosity.


[It's a 12, botched the dice command]
 
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Excession

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#69
RELICT

Still clinging to the monster's back, the vampire climbs a little higher and begins ripping at the throat with his claws.
His lip curls in disgust at the foetid meat clinging to his hands, but needs must.
 

Sarky

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#70
[Undead Jotun takes a fast turn]

Excession Excession
As you slice and claw at the old meat of the thing's shoulders, its whip-fast atrophied arm comes after you, and a hand with seven fingers and too many knuckles wraps around your face and neck like strangling vines. The clunk against your skull sounds like there are memtal bars underneath, not bone, and then it squeezes so hard your vision reds out and you feel like your head might burst open from the pressure as it tears you off its back and tosses you aside casually.

[Time for slow turns, people]

Attack roll

Damage roll
 

Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
#71
Runt

On the one hand, lot of respect for whatever the fuck that fanged beasty is trying to do. I mean, yeah, sure, he's getting his ass handed to him, but it takes balls to try and climb up a stitched-together monster's back.
On the other hand, the stupid dead fuck's antics, and the dead jotun's response, are really fucking with Runt's aim. A sure swing with the chain goes wide as the abomination casually chucks the vampire aside like a toy.
The chain barely completes it's arc before an agonising voice of iron and blood roars through Runt's mind.

W͈̣̬̹̜͎̜̣͡É̺̳̝Ạ̸̯̭̯̖̬̰̫̀K̳̟̱̳̰͔̯̼͜͞N̹͍̻̤͓E̷̡̯͓͎̝͍̤̬̻͝S̡̛͓͎̟̭̜S͎̺̲͙͖̗!̧͕͖͖̻̣͈̘̫́͘ ̦͓͘͜S̥̖̮̠͓̼̟͟T̯̬̭͡͞R̵̸͔̟̯ͅÌ̸̫̼̝ͅK̕҉̘̮̼̺͍Ẹ̛̛̖̀ ̞͙̳͔́T͏̵͇͎̰̗̙͠R̷̺̺̭̀͡U̧̳͉͇ͅE̬̠͜,̴̸͕͓̘͙͇ ̤͖̜̝̣̠L̡̳̰̘͈I͓̠͠͞T̘̗̦ͅT̷̮̤̤̙L̢̗͖̺Ḛ͘ ͍͍̣͕͉̮ͅO̻̣̣͟Ṛ̛̛̗͈͠C̸͈͖̠̻̹̝͔͕!̴̝̳̲̥͘

In spite of the pain Runt smiles and the fog clears. Grimnir watches.
 

Sarky

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#72
The Jotun has been mostly flayed at this point, a damp skeleton stained in ancient blood and preservatives, mere ribbons of flesh hanging off bone. The ground is slick with ichor, large sheets of rubbery skin, and rotten viscera that just... fell out. And the smell! It is almost a weapon by itself. Free of its confining flesh, however, the skeleton appears to move with even more grace and speed. It clicks and pops incessantly, much like the cloth wrapped smaller constructs, and if you didn't know better you'd think it was laughing.

The human with the sword, Corben you think it was, manages to drive the point of his weapon into the back of the thing's right knee and twists, dislocating the joint and sending the jotun toppling. In response, its slender multi-jointed hand flashes out, grabbing him by the lower jaw. A crunchy, meaty wrench, a spray of living blood, and he falls, his face a ruined mess. At the same time the giant hammer catches the mute orc, smashing his shield like it was made of straw and pulping his chest against the wall. A roar of fury from Spite. "Keep at it, he's almost down!"

[Aaaand fast turns, people!]
 

Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
#73
Runt

R͉̻͍̩̩ͅI̷̟̮̘͎͓̪̦P̲̮̪̜̺̠ͅ ͞A̺͍̳̪̳̣͘N̩̺̘͕͈͘ͅD͎̯̭̤̘ ̬̫T͕E͈͎̜͎̜͍̦A͍̩R̯̼

The scrawny orc roars as the hammer falls on his mute brother. Grimnir's words sear through his mind as he takes his chain in both hands and brings it crashing down on the undead jotun's skull.

 

Sarky

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#74
Ragoza Ragoza

The remaining mercenaries are hacking furiously at shoulders, trying to literally disarm the beast. The hammer arm finally comes away, revealing steel bindings and reinforcements in the joints, and then Runt's furious attack smashes a large hole in the thing's skull. Purple light spurts out like a hiss of steam. There's a glint of silver inside.
 

Chaka

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#75
Ruin

Ruin appreciates a good weak point. Shifting grip on the staff, he waits for the Jotun's head to sway within reach and thrusts his weapon into the gash in the skull.


 
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Sarky

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#76
There is a small clink sound as a small silver coin falls out of the skull and plops into the oily dark mess puddled around the skeleton and an anti-climactic silence as the bones settle. All around is heavy breathing as Spite and his surviving crew catch their breath or clutch at injuries. The remaining human kneels by his counterpart's body, closing the eyes and sighing. "So long, big brother. May your next life be kinder."

Spite uses his sword to climb to his feet again. He walks to the remains of his orc companion, lays a hand on his shoulder. The eyes snap open. Spite asks something, too softly to catch. The orc nods weakly, and closes his eyes. Spite pulls a knife from his boot and plunges it into his friend's heart, killing him instantly. The old soldier sags, wipes his face, takes a few moments to collect himself and steady his breathing.

"Callas awaits. He deserves to suffer whole lifetimes of torture. But... He's too dangerous. We kill him as quickly as we can, or we all die. There's no room for revenge right now, understand?"

Chaka Chaka
Melody lies still by your feet. Its key has stopped turning. The remaining wing, fine silver filigree, is bent out of shape, but the body seems mostly undamaged.
 

Chaka

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#77
Ruin

Ruin kneels down, gently slotting the missing wing back in with a click. The other wing'll heal once Melody is up and running again. They wind the key a dozen times, then stand up. Melody'll come to shortly.

"Efficiency over base emotion. I can achieve that. Shall we go?"
 

Sideris

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#78
Orm

"I've still some hate left in me for maximum efficiency." He brushes the axe head with a bit of ripped shirt.
 

Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
#79
Runt

Still dripping blood and embalming fluid, Runt takes a knee beside the corpse of the mute orc, one hand on his triquetra and the other gently restimg on the dead orc's head.
"Throw of your chains and rise to Valhalla."
Without a further word he rises, and repeats the process with the undead jotun's remains. Before anyone can say anything about honouring their enemy he makes eye contact with Spite.
"Jotun gets all twisted up by magic, gets turned into a weapon. Heard that story before."
 

Hair

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#80
Retch

After tying his pants back up and retrieving his book Retch joins the others. He had noticed the coin drop out and shamelessly roots about in the stinking muck to find it, maybe getting more smeared in the stuff than strictly necessary.

Appropriately unclean, he pipes up. "All done with your praying and posturing? Or are we going to wait for His Magical Cuntooze Wazisname to find us?"
 
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