Meta Ruins of Myvolia

Tundrein Battle - Round 16

Alma and Cora

Cora

Ducking under the attack of the wight, you toss one of your smoke stick past the entrance, landing it on the edge of the deck, where it quickly generates a thick, oily cloud of smoke. You spring towards the entrance, narrowly avoiding another attack from the undead closing in. Tossing the second smoke stick through the door, you leap through the portal, crashing into the furnishings as you attempt to blunder through the front parlour of Peter’s house.

At least you appear to.

In reality, you dart past the door, melting into the smoke as you throw your buckler into the room to create the necessary noise.

It requires nerves of steel to freeze in the smoke screen, trusting that your misdirection has fooled your opponents. If it did not, the smoke with make a poor shield.

The wight on the porch, hungry to snuff out life, charges into the house, crashing into the furniture and flailing wildly as it searches for you. You swallow, thankful for small miracles. As for the other wight and the girl on the street, while you are obscured from their view, they too are lost to yours. It is impossible to tell whether your charade has worked on them.

Wight attack of opportunity: 15, unsuccessful


Alma

Grabbing the wooden frame holding the straw mattress you scrape it across the floor, bracing it up against the door. Sparing a glance out the window you see Kandure and Loqutore have dragged the undead inn keep to the ground and are pummelling it with fierce blows. Reaching back you scoop up your boots, sinking onto the mattress to pull them on. Fortunately, you had not had a chance to unpack your gear before all of this started, so your pack is lying complete next to the window.

As you pull your boots on, there is a crashing against the door that snaps the latch and causes the entire bed to buck. The sounds of more footsteps can be heard in the hallway, now. The door creaks and splinters as the combined weight of the wights in the hallway slams into it. Grasping hands reach through a ragged rent torn between the planks. You realize that they will force their way through in mere moments. You can not hope to stand against so many in such close quarters.


WHAT DO YOU DO?

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