>[1] AUGHGRGLGARGAHH— [Roll.]

  59, 35, 87 vs. DC 70 — Mitigated Success

  You claw at your face to very little avail. It's like someone's pinned you under a sopping wet scarf, except the scarf is trying to squirm into your mouth and ears and nostrils, so upon further consideration the simile doesn't quite hold. It's starting in on your eye now, the bad one, the iron one, working its tendrils in at the corners (which accounts for the vivid spotting in your vision)— you don't know what it wants with your eye, but you dislike the concept on principle. And you can't reach the shortsword at your breast.

  "Ghak!" you say to express this. "Gnrff!" The snakeskin takes no heed: it keeps oozing, and you are faced with the imminent realization that you cannot, in fact, breathe.

  It's at this moment that Madrigal finally draws her spear. She comes up from behind you, but circles around to the side before she springs. To lessen the chance of getting you in the process, you suppose, or just for a better angle? In either case, she springs. You barely have time to gag (a tendril has made it through your clenched teeth) before she's upon it, stabbing two-handed again and again and—

  Later you'll ask about her methodology. She will shrug and say "gotta kill the anchor." You'll press for clarification. She'll sigh, privately thinking you quite dense, and say "the snakeskin. Fucker needs something to bind to— falls apart without it. I was tearing the snakeskin." Later, you'll say "I knew that. I was testing you."

  Right now, you are choking, and flailing, and Madrigal's frenzied efforts are proving only moderately effective. The snakeskin slackens, but doesn't actually leave your nose and mouth and bad eye. You are still unable to breathe.

  ?Keep a level head. Hysteria helps nothing.?

  Hysteria? You're not hysterical. Well, you are gibbering, slightly, but that's perfectly rational in context. It's not hysterical gibbering. Okay? Okay? What more does he want from you in a crisis—

  Madrigal stabs your shoulder. She doesn't mean to stab your shoulder, it's just that there was a lot of goo in front of it, and anyways you were flailing. But the rationale doesn't matter much when you've got the tooth of some massive beast driven into your shoulder by a God-damned skanky attitude-ridden lowborn!

  >[-1 ID: 3/10]

  You howl, though through the morass it's more of a gargle. God! It hurts. God, it hurts. And it's got serrated edges, so there's your blood everywhere, and could you just get this thing off your face?! Out of your throat?! All you have to do, really have to do, is grip it with both hands, white-knuckled, brace yourself against the wall, and wrench it away. There. It's gone, it's formless sludge between your fingers, you can and do breathe. God. God, there's an entire spear in your shoulder.

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  The goo at your feet still looks like a snake, if you squint, but one with both button eyes loose, the seams out, and the stuffing leaking out in… puddles. It may as well be dead, though it ripples hopefully at every drop of your blood.

  Madrigal is panting. "Where— where did that— come—"

  "You stabbed me," you say.

  "You'll— you'll heal— quick. Looks— superficial. Where did it—"

  "Table. There was its residue on the table. Maybe it was under the skin, maybe it just coalesced… I don't care. You stabbed me."

  "While helping—"

  "You stabbed me while helping."

  Madrigal takes a deep breath and works her lips. She wants to say something, obviously, and you'd be pleased if she did. But civility wins out, and all she eventually comes up with is: "What're we doing with the Fitz?"

  "The what?"

  "The—" Her top lip quirks. "The spear. We can't leave it in your shoulder."

  "Are you crazy?" you demand. "It's serrated! I'm not stupid!"

  "Okay, so you want to walk around with it in your shoulder."

  "No! Just break it!"

  "Break it?" It's like you politely suggested she throw herself off a cliff. "No. No way."

  "I'm not bleeding out in a maintenance room!"

  "I'm not breaking it!"

  You are, it seems, at an impasse.

  >[1] Leave the entire spear buried in your shoulder. You'll… make it work. Take a breather.

  >[2] Take the spear out of your shoulder. You better have something for the blood. [Write-in.]

  >[3] Convince Madrigal to break her pwecious spear. [Roll. Write-in argument for bonuses.]

  >[4] Aren't there— aren't there people coming? You can't spend the time! Hobble out as fast as you can and find a safer place to do any of the above. Assuming there is a safer place.

  >[5] Forget hobbling. You have to sprint, damn the physical wear.

  >[6] Write-in.

  >[END THREAD 6]