You Don't Have Much Time Left To Insult Greg Vrill Vrill sips, spits, and frowns.

"I'm a LICH dumbass... or, uh, I've, you know, merged with a lich... something like that... whatever. The details don't matter. Anyway I'm immune to your crappy poison. Didn't you just hear me? MASTER of POTIONS. MASTER. POTIONS. Get it? And nice costume Brogg you loser. Go die like Bartleby the fuckin' scrivener."

Regardless, he blogrolls a 6 for his save and looks oh-so-mildly the worse for wear.

Vrill and Croatius shiver and seem at last to be synthesized. "Let's make things interesting, shall we?" He snaps his fingers. At the periphery of this obscene labyrinth, portals open. You hear the dull clang of metal on metal as the hedge maze fills with a swarm of what, undoubtably, are legions of Knights of Armek.

Consider the hourglass turned. You each have one round of prepping now. Combat still is not officially to be considered to have begun, as CV is not yet casting. A more direct offensive action will negate that though.

ZOM-G says

HAHA THAT WUZ A GOOD1
U DRINKN THE BUG JUCE HA
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HAY CHECK IT OUT





"IM GREG VRILL LOL"











HAY GREG VRILL I SEE YR CAMEL TOE
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NICE FUX SOX
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HOMO  ¶ 9:49 PM