To Prove D&D Exists for Echolon

Literally slipping the 5' around Ely and Ily, Tommary the Unworthy briefly recalls a reel he once caught, The Descent, whose protagonists were equally caked in gore.  For a moment he ponders whether this fight is a great misunderstanding, and maybe due to an inhalation of strange spores, the party is engaged in hallucinogen induced hostilities with Nine or some other friendly, a moment consisting entirely of the time he needs to slide over blood slick and deliver another windbreaking to the monstrosity.

5 sneak attack damage added if either attack hits

Attack: 12 Damage: 7

Attack: 20 Damage: 7

After which Tommary will disengage skate another 15' back, his skirmish mobility ready for a reaction if his blows have baited the stinker, or there are any other surprises.

OOC: GDI this week.  Blugh.  Anyways.

IC:

Ilyara noticed the effect that Elyona's flaming blade had on the monstrosity, and even though her spell fizzled like a soggy firecracker last time, opts to try again in the hopes of backing up their paladin. 

Attack: 16 Damage: 22

Tommary does a slide-by cleanly ripping the belly all the way around causing entrails to spill about the feet of the creature like a pile of rope. This exposes a fat caked beating heart which Ilyara neatly pierces like a pin!

It stands for a second and then clatters to the ground in a pile of bones and armor covered in green rotting slop.

YAY WIN!

"......................Ew." 

Tommary the Unworthy Personally But in Need of a Good Bathing for the Public Good flicks sick slick from his sabre.  Looking over the putridity embellishing his clothes and kit he calls, "Toots, that thing you do with the magic wipe down, I think I need that ... actually wait a sec."  Tommary uses Windbreaker to poke around their fallen foe looking for items of momentary or long term interest, those clubs and cleavers seemed pretty bad ass regardless of their opponent's hygiene.  To maximize his intent to figure out this dude's deal, Tommary will Search with investigation 29

OOC: presumptively taking advantage here because he imagines either or both Illy or Ely will be in the position to help whether they opt to get their hands dirty or just provide overwatch while Tommary does all the routing.

OOC: huh, looks like the 14 was the advantaged roll and it should read 23.  

The armor is old and dented and made to fit a being 8 to 10 feet tall and very rotund, so not at all practical. The cleaver is large and unwieldy but would count as a battle axe.

The green glow of the mace head glimmers through the slime, the runes on the handle look interesting, making Tommary want to clean off the goop to get a better look... It seems to say "

BBZZZTTTT!
"DOn"T touch that!"

So identify would require Tommary the Unworthy But Squirrely to touch it, so hands off that ritual.  Instead he'll see if he can work his brain to see if he recognizes the runes or the general make origin of the mace.  Arcana 18  

“Ely, are you alright? Tom’ry, I’d love to clean you, you have no idea, but I can’t do it from all the way over here so you’re gonna hafta come back inside the tent for me to do it. And while you’re over there, retrieve my crossbow bolts for me while you’re at it.”

"I'm reading over here!"

“Well when you’re done reading, collect my bolts for me. *Sheesh*”

The mace is obviously enchanted and seems to be a weapon dedicated to the god Nyrghol, a lesser known entity of filth, corruption, and disease.

As Tommary investigates the mace, the others notice the trail of guts pulling back the way the creature came from, like a long green worm retreating.

"Oh no, absolutely not."

Ilyara sets herself and starts carving at the undulating entrails, restraining their retreat whilst vivisecting viscera using Green Flame Blade and a whole lot of loquacious lamentation of gruesome gastric grotesquery.

"Ew ew ew ew ew!" 

The bits of once living tissue burn and sizzle releasing fumes that make your eyes water. The spider crawls cautiously closer and pokes at the corpse making sure it is dead. The purple arachnid turns suddenly. It spies a slithering length and pounces upon it with claws and fangs, ripping it apart, chittering in delight.

"Well, huh, so I guess nobody wants this mace of grotitude, I mean Davegrohl?  No one?  I mean do we just let it sit here like this, or get pulled back by the guts from wence it came, perhaps the trap of Davegrohl himself?" Tommary shrugs and then scampers after some retreating gut trail to pull his and Toots' arrows and bolts."  

Quote from MidnightPlat >>

"Well, huh, so I guess nobody wants this mace of grotitude, I mean Davegrohl?  No one?  I mean do we just let it sit here like this, or get pulled back by the guts from wence it came, perhaps the trap of Davegrohl himself?" Tommary shrugs and then scampers after some retreating gut trail to pull his and Toots' arrows and bolts."  

 After about 30 feet, the gut slows to stop and begins to visually deflate as if it were becoming dehydrated.

OOC: Your Long Rest was interrupted, you may take a Short Rest or go back and attempt to finish your Long Rest.

OOC: Should we start our long rest over?

OOC: I"M ruling that you just need to finish 4 more hours.

Tommary hands over Toots' bolts, "Hey, you know some folks think a night's sleep is actually better when it's interrupted?"