Put On A Night-Light!

Bailey eyes the half-elf carefully as he stepped in, swinging his flail. He was going to bring this sucker down, he knew he was, he just ahd to think confident thoughts. Already the half-breed was dizzy and lurching from the centipede mandible extract. Out of the corner of his eye Bailey could see that the big half-orc had missed again, and Pled was getting ready to flank.

But then the half-elf started chanting.

"No!" Bailey yelled, not wanting to be a twicthing, charred mass on the floor. Panic ruined his aim, as the half-elf ducked easily despite the poison leadening his limbs. Bailey saw that handsome face smile, and then a glowing something shot past.

With a crash, the torch behind him fell to the floor, and began to gutter out. The only decent light now was from the half-elf's sunrod - and the half-breed was hiding it in his cloak!

"No!" Bailey yelled, swinging the flail again. But he couldn't see anything, and only empty air felt his desperation. Pled swore a profnaity as his flail bounced off of the half-orc's chain shirt. Like Bailey, the darkness had prevented him from striking a telling blow. "Farvin you jag-napes!" Bailey yelled. "Get that bloody, &^%ing door open!" Farvin was scarmbling, searching, and then Bailey thought he saw a shadow shift...

The nightvisioned half-orc was swinging that damn huge sword right down at Farvin's neck!