"It is r-really h-hard t-t-to see, b-but hopefully we c-can f-find a place to t-take shelter soon."
As Hundur starts barking and the sounds of the scouts trudging ahead die down, Machaera frowns, wondering what they might have noticed. Squaring her shoulders, she tries to force her way ahead to join Fizzlewhisk and Mervyn as quickly as she can while beating a broader path for the others, but the heavy drifts slow her to a dream-like pace.
Mervyn motions back to signal Machaera to tell Annalisa to let the dog loose and follow it. For it knows what it sees.
"Turn the dog loose. It will show us wot it spots." he tells Machaera.
Digging further into his position, bow readied. Mervyn all but disappears from sight.
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** spoiler omitted **
R1
Machaera, Unknown Enemy, Fizzlewhisk, Annalísa, Aðvinr, Mervyn, Snjórinn
Aðvinr raises his spear warily moving forward with Ratatoskr at his side.
Without a sound, a sudden flurry of movement reveals the snow-white creature; the sun glints off of its scales. Fizzlewhisk is too well trained at surviving in the elements, though, to be taken by surprise and he is out of harms way before the creature lands. For now.
R1
Machaera, Artic Tatzlwyrm, Fizzlewhisk, Annalísa, Aðvinr, Mervyn, Snjórinn
Seeing the creature pounce from the snow "Wot in the hell is that?" he yells as he moves back toward the group as fast as his little legs can move him (1 square) and he lets off a shot from his bow toward the creature.
Mervyn has fired one arrow.
Snjorrin laboriously moves forward.
Though chilled to the bone, the young hunter's survival instinct overrides his frigid lack of comfort. With a flick, the gnome's walking staff snaps open with a curved scythe blade locking into place as Fizzlewhisk slashes at the beast.
"Big and mean!"
While he slashes at the ivory creature, the gnome wracks his brain to try to remember what his parents taught him, and if this beastie belongs in the natural world.
Annalísa barrels her way through the snow, Hundur loping along at her side .
Fizzlewhisk's scythe nicks one of the only two limbs that the creature possesses, knocking a scale loose and drawing the first hints of blood.
Mervyn's arrow misses the swift, slithering beast.
Getting a good look at the beast as you move in, you see that it's at least 7 feet long, and probably weighs several hundred pounds. It has two clawed limbs towards the front of its body, and the rest of it is built much like a snake's body with a soft ridge of spikes along its spine. Its head head is obviously reptilian, reminiscent of dragons, crested, and its mouth is full of sharp teeth.
R2
Machaera, Artic Tatzlwyrm, Fizzlewhisk, Annalísa, Aðvinr, Mervyn, Snjórinn
Machaera pushes ahead to the side of a tree. Catching her breath, she sights around the trunk and hastily conjures a blob of acid to hurl at the creature.
The creature hisses as Machera's acid sizzles against its scales, eating away at what little natural protection they afford its body. Still, it keeps its eyes set on Fizzlewhisk and strikes out at the gnome once again.
R2
Machaera, Artic Tatzlwyrm, Fizzlewhisk, Annalísa, Aðvinr, Mervyn, Snjórinn
Snjorrin continues to slowly slog forward.
Fizzlewhisk lashes out again at the creature.
Annalísa continues to barrel through the snow until she brings herself up even with Fizzlewhisk, hoping to distract the beast from her smaller friend. Hundur races to keep up beside her.
R2
Machaera, Artic Tatzlwyrm, Fizzlewhisk, Annalísa, Aðvinr, Mervyn, Snjórinn
Snjorrin continues to wade through the snow.
Realizing the difficulty in reaching the creature, Aðvinr begins a mystical chant in Hallit, calling upon the giant's blood running through his veins. Aware of what is happening, Ratatoskr moves clear as she shaman's body begins to grow, doubling in size and mass, his weapons and gear growing with him.
He takes a step forward, preparing to attack the vicious creature.
Weighing his options which are limited with everyone around him Mervyn fires off another arrow at the creature.
Mervyn has fired two arrows.
The gnome calls to the others, "It's a tatzlwyrm b-but I've never heard of a white one. If you c-can talk to dragons you c-can t-talk to it t-too. H-hard to p-put t-to sleep. Watch out f-for its p-p-poi-poison b-breath!"
As Aðvinr starts to grow before your eyes, Mervyn fires another missed shot.
R3
Machaera, Artic Tatzlwyrm, Fizzlewhisk, Annalísa, Aðvinr, Mervyn, Snjórinn
Drawing her sword, Machaera switches to her other hand to keep pelting the wyrm with acid. "It doesn't seem to be in the mood for talking!" she calls, before hissing out her cantrip's incantation.
Nonetheless, she addresses the creature in Draconic, rather more boldly than she would if spells and steel weren't already flying, borne along by the pulse of battle, "How about it, then? Is there any reason for this, or shall we just keep doing this all day?"
The Arctic tatzlwyrm whips its head towards Machera briefly, causing her acid to miss.
When Hundur arrives, growling and snarling like proper prey, the arctic tatzlwyrm decides that perhaps Fizzlewhisk really isn't worth the trouble. Especially since Hundur's arrival also brought a much larger prey with sharp shiny things with him.
Hundur lets out a yelp and a whimper before the arctic tatzlwyrm wraps him up in its coils, slowly squeezing the life out of him.
Hundur 11
Tatzlwyrm 5
R3
Machaera, Arctic Tatzlwyrm, Fizzlewhisk, Annalísa, Aðvinr, Mervyn, Snjórinn
Snjorrin continues to close with the tatzlwyrm.
With the hound in trouble, Fizzlewhisk swings his scythe low in hopes of hurting the beast to get it to release its grip on Hundur, but cannot land a blow on the creature's coiling scales.
Whether from cold or fear, perhaps both, Fizzlewhisk looses his grip on his switchsythe as he swings and misses. The weapon flies out of his hand and lands in the snow a few feet away.
Seeing her dearest friend in trouble, Annalísa flies into a rage. Spittle flies from her mouth as she viciously roars, "Let go of my dog you son of a b**ch!"
Annalísa swings her sword at the tatzlwyrm but isn't able to land the blow.
Hundur yelps and tries to free himself, unsuccessfully.
Mervyn changes position to free up space for Fizzlewhick to disengage and let the big guy up into combat.
"Drop hammer and tack Fizzlewick, let this giant of a man frough. I'm gonna go ter circle 'round the creature and cop flankin'." Mervyn says as he hustles north, the snow not being forgiving on his small legs. "Clear a paff so 'e can charge the fink"
Towering above the battle, Aðvinr launces a brutal strike, his spear plunging into the vicious monster.
Seeing the spear drive deeply into the creature Mervyn hustles a little faster.
Aðvinr's spear pierces deep, opening a serious wound and turning the snow a crimson red but still the tatzlwyrm holds on to its prey.
Hundur 11
Tatzlwyrm 17
R4
Machaera, Arctic Tatzlwyrm, Fizzlewhisk, Annalísa, Aðvinr, Mervyn, Snjórinn
With a murmur that carries an unearthly edge behind it, like sharpening steel, Machaera calls a spark of magic to the weapon in her hand, and slides around the tree in front of her. Putting the trunk to her back, she lashes out at the wyrm with a heavy downward slash.
Just as it looked as if the tatzlwyrm were about to retreat, dragging Hundur beneath the snow, Machera lashes out and ends the creature's life. Blood pools across the snow as the tatzlwyrm's coils relax just enough to not longer be a threat to the still tangled up dog.
Seeing that the creature is dead and the danger has passed, Annalísa's rage is quickly replaced with fatigue as she moves to help Hundur. Feeling to weak to move the heavy dead weight on her own she snaps at no one in particular, "Someone help me!"
Sticking his spear into the ground, Aðvinr moves forward, reaching down to gently scoop up the burly hound.
She looks up at Aðvinr, "Is he breathing?"
Seeing the burly shaman lift Hundur up, Machaera stops in her own step forward to move the dead dragonlet. Seeing the poor brave dog's injuries, she glances in Snjórinn's direction, wondering how deep the pool of the half-orc's strange healing magic runs. Feeling helpless, she concentrates on calming herself down, scooping up a handful of snow to clean her blade. 'Food that speaks,' she thinks disgustedly, letting the last of her anger ebb away. That thing might have been able to speak, but if that's what it had to say for itself, it was a wasted gift.
"Yes, he will be alright, I promise you." Aðvinr replies calmly. Kneeling in the snow the shaman begins to work on the valiant dog, binding his wounds with healing poultices and herbs, putting the full extent of his knowledge and skill to work.
[dice=Heal (Treat Deadly wound)]1d20+9[/dice]
As Annalísa's companion begins to breathe more easily, the shaman smiles at the Ulfen woman reassuringly.
Mervyn will look around the area trying to find his two arrows that missed his target and return them to his quiver.
"Is there anyfink of this creature that is salvageable, isit? Can its fur be used ter keep Fizzlewisk warmer if yer skinned it, squire? I'm not the hunter 'ere so pardon me if I'm bloody well mistaken." Mervyn says, his breath a frost in the air.
He then looks up to see how much daylight is left.
"It has scales, not fur., that won't do much to keep him warm." the shaman responds.
Snjorrin moves forward, and impassively regards the wounded hound.
"I can sense its pain. Allow me..."
He then moves his hands over the hound's broken form, and with some sharp clicks and awful sucking noises, the dog's wounds close over, and broken bones return to their normal positions.
Hundur whimpers as the pain eases from his body and then once back on his feet he races back and forth between the two men who helped him, licking them ferociously before returning to his mistress' side.
Annalísa slaps the shrinking giant on the side in approval and then extends her hand to Snjórinn, "You have my thanks, both of you."
Mervyn will look around the area trying to find his two arrows that missed his target and return them to his quiver.
Completing his search, Mervyn can not find either of his arrows that have been lost in the snow. Frustrated Mervyn moves over to the group and is glad to see that the animal has been saved.
Being completely out of his normal environment and not sure how to proceed he awaits further instructions from Annalisa. He thinks about taking a moment to smoke but even that doesn't sound interesting. They needed to move on and would soon have to find shelter.