[WFRP2e] The Power of One - Part 2 - "Transire Benefaciendo"

[MrAbdiel]

Bella's eyes flare wide at your panicked tone; and before she can think, she has snatched the blunderbuss from your hands, spun on the spot, and fired.

Spoiler: OOC: Rolls...

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StrangerAgilityVs26 - (1d100)[57]
or else take (1d10+3)[13] damage.

Description pending.

Your night eyes are better than anyone's; but even you can't see well in shadows with the day's sun high in the sky, demanding your eyes adjust to its power instead. But the muzzleflash on Leonardo lights up the scene for a split second, along with a great boom.

The creature is undoubtedly some kind of mutant. Bella's aim is good for a split second decision, if not quite perfect. just a little off a blast that would have torn a hole through its body or sheared off its head. As it its, a good scattering of the tiny lead pellets impact up the creature's left side; grievous wounds just shy if an immediately fatal wound.

In the flash, you see it. Or him, perhaps; a thing that, but for the assault of fate's dark vagaries, would have been a man. Dirty enough that you cannot tell the natural shade of his skin, somewhere between pale and dark tan; a messy tangle of black hair and big, frightened eyes. His body is fat, but his arms and legs are thin - the corpulence striking you immediately as an unnatural facet of his condition. More immediately inhuman is the protrusive nose, or rather, the trunk that sprouts from where his nose should be; fleshy, no longer than a hand, and recognizable to you only as reminiscent of the carvings of mammoths you saw in your time in Norsca. He is dressed in a ragged and tatty set of too-large trousers held up with a rope tied about his waist, and what might generously be described as a shirt, which is just sackcloth roughly stitched together into a sort of clumsy vest. In the instant the weapon flashes, he is reeling away; startled either by your shout or Bella's spin, but not fast enough to avoid the blast that rakes up his left side. Bella collapses backward onto her backside with the recoil, and the mutant tumbles and squirms back with the impact.

"Ahhhh! Forry! Forry, forry! Ahhh!"

It's a shout of pain more than viciousness; the kind you know well from the slave pits; the helpless squealing of the endlessly frightened. As you pull yourself up onto the second story floor beside Bella, you see the fat fellow crawling away toward the back of the building, where a rickety ladder made of scrap wood and cordage leads up to an attic space. As your eyes adjust, you hear the whimpering, grunting thumps of the mutant trying to get away, trying to stand, but finding his footing fails him.

"Forry, forry..."

There was a moment in Bella's face where the fear drained to elation; the thrill of firepower well spent from the hands. But that too drains away to dawning horror.

Cestié has clambered down the opposite wall and springs over to land beside you, bracing himself on the wall with one hand and fumbling for a dagger with his other. "What happened? Are you alright? What... is it?"