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DraconicFeline rolled 1 100-sided dice:
19
Total: 19 (1-100)
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 9:31 pm
Character || Biroki Stage || Sage Battling || Spitorog x 1 Battle Stat || 35 Defense || 5 Roll Needed || 30-100 Rolled || 19 Outcome || Loss Experience earned ||
3
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 9:44 pm
The spitorog bounced on the ground, righting itself with a few wiggles, unharmed. Biroki's hands bled where the edges had cut them, and he looked at the mess - shallow wounds really - with shock.
He had been hurt.
By a spitorog.
A stars-crossed spitorog had hurt him. He shook his head unbelieving at his bleeding hands. What was the world coming to?
He called on his healing training, trying to concentrate on his magics - they weren't deep wounds, if they could be wounds at all, but the hand was one of the trickiest parts of the body to heal, right alongside the head and heart. It had a lot of ligaments and bones and muscle and nerves that he had to keep in mind, even with small crystal punctures such as this. He needed his focus.
The spitorog wasn't helping. It was making loud gurgling sounds now, at exactly the right pitch to break his concentration. He was sure the little beast was doing it on purpose. "Thats it." he said, giving up for the time being, "I'm getting rid of you." he picked it up again, boldy, and carried it off.
The morning shifts were just beginning, and there were fewer people than before. Fewer people, fewer tents... soon enough, the Neued camp would be abandoned. He hoped not completely. He hoped that the Obans would not drive all the villagers from their homes.
They probably would.
Finding a suitable patch of mud, he dropped the spitorog into it uncerimonously and walked to his tent to work, where one of the healers there was kind enough to help him with his hands.
He had almost forgotten the spitorog, when, suddenly, he heard a croak. The sound filled him with dread and rage and, almost reluctantly, he looked down.
Damn it.
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