The Tatzlwyrm hisses at Connor before examining its surrounding. With such larger forces near by, it strikes what it views as the weakest target.
Connor swings his glaive-guisarme back around to come again at the tatzlwyrm but the icy conditions decide to intervene! Roaring in rage at his own lack of luck, Connor steps foward, his polearm slipping form his fingers as he unslings his axe again.
"Ikki switch me!" Feinmeir yells pulling out the new sword.
NONONONONONOWHATISHAPPENINGWHATISTHATOHMYGODS
Ikkis reflexively recoils with his shield in hand, deflecting two massive bites from the creature's jaws. Taking the opportunity provided by a halt in its attacks, he moves backwards through the snow, shield still raised, towards the sound of Feinmeir's voice.
"What is this thing?!" he exclaims, finally finding words to pronounce.
Feinmeir steps forward and swings at the beast with his sword
"A tatzlwyrm! A type of lesser dragon. This one seems to be an arctic version. I re commend hitting it with sharp metal objects and blasting it with spells."
Feinmeir blow strikes the beast and draws blood. The tatzlwtm hisses in agrivation as it watches Ikkis withdraw from his grasps.
"What? You don't think it would make a nice purse?"
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Arthrax snorts, shaking his head in bewilderment. This creature was trying to tear them apart and she spoke of purses. Well, he'd do his best to turn it into a purse. Purses usually didn't have sharp teeth and claws they attempted to mangle you with. Hmmm, I guess we aren't so different after all. He chuckles at himself, shaking his head again as he refocuses on the beast.
Round 2!
Demona
Arthrax
Tatzlwyrm
Connor
Feinmeir
Ikkis
on delay
Merisiel
those in bold make your move.
Demona moves two squares right, one square down (on phone today, so somebody please move me), shouts out, "Arthrax! Duck!" and without really waiting, sends a jet of fire at the dragon. The fire passes close enough to curl the hairs on the left side of his head, but passes right over the dragon.
DC 14 Reflex for half or catch fire
just a heads up, you're on the edge where you're more off the map than on.
ahhhh! Fire hot!
The Tatzlwyrm hisses and growls in angish as the fire licks away at its snowy white scales. It ignores those before it as it attempts to put the fire out.
the fires out and its the bottom half's turn.
Feinmeir uses the Tatzl's rolling to study it quickly and then strikes out at it.
@ meri - 'aight
@ Feinmeir - The frantic rolls and squirms from the Tatzlwyrm prove to be to chaotic of a target and your axe grazes over a coil.
As the primitive dragon flops around in the snow to put out the fire burning its scales, Connor lifts his greataxe back and brings it down on the wiggling wyrm like he was chopping wood. Another bestial growl rolls out of the young man's throat.
Round 3
Demona
Arthrax
Tatzlwyrm -21
Connor
Feinmeir
on delay
Merisiel
Ikkis
Gr... it's moving around too much for them to hit it... I'd best bolster my defenses in case it goes for me again!
Ikkis concentrates hard, and as he does, an icy shell forms around his newfound mail.
Arthrax axe swings with great force towards the arctic monster and digs deep into its throat. With a dying scream the creature collapses to the ground.
"Well, I don't ACTUALLY want a white dragon skinned, purse. I just told it that to make it mad, since it was saying all that stuff about the hairy child being a replacement meal for Ikky."
Ikkis had to hold himself back from laughing, but managed to say, "Hairy... child? Anything mistaking Feinmeir for a child seriously needs to get its eyes checked."
"Aye, I be in me 120's not me 30's" Feinmeir says slightly aggravated.
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Arthrax just offers an arched eyebrow and dubious expression to the spoiled woman. The creature had seemed plenty mad already. Arthrax supposed that all creatures seemed mad when they were trying to tear you apart. Not given to such philosophical debate, he realizes that HE is actually a bit hungry. He grabs a strip of jerky out of his pack and starts to gnaw on it, turning his head to hide his smirk from the hairy child.
Well that went better than the last fight, no one got hurt she said with a smile as she gets closer to the monster to get a good look at it for future references
"Yeah, but there's no guarantee that they'll all go that way. Feinmeir, I believe this may help should we run into more trouble... Herra Gozreh, getur máttur þinn koma jafnvægi til að mynda þetta earthen að vera er!
Once again, the light emanates from Ikkis's hands. He touches Feinmeir lightly on the shoulder, casuing the light to course through the dwarf's armor and clothes, finding and healing the areas with the most damage.
Connor breathes heavy for a few seconds as he slips out of his bloodrage. Misinterpreting the conversation, he self-consciously runs a hand across his chin, feeling his morning scruff, "I didn't think I was that hairy..." The young man shakes his head and motions the group onward, "While ideally I'd love the time to skin the wyrm and butcher it to test its flesh for consumption, there is a lady to rescue. If everyone's injuries are tended to, let us be back on the hunt." He re-holsters his greataxe after cleansing it with a handful of snow then goes to pick up his dropped polearm again before taking back up the trail.
"We can grab it on the way back with the lady in tow." Feinmeir sheathes his sword and continues to follow the trail.
Indeed let us continue on the path. she says happy that ikkis has controled her power
Indeed let us continue on the path. she says happy that ikkis has controled her power
Ikkis follows, taking the same place in the group that he had previously.
Even if this isn't an impregnable position for me, at least I'm well armored, and the more blows I draw the less my friends will get hurt.
He told himself this, but in truth his knees were still shaking from the force of the Tatzylwyrm's blows against his shield. He began to recite an old and traditional prayer to Gozreh, one that had been passed down since before the inception of the god's worship. Ikkis did not know it, but the words he spoke to himself were spoken by those of the Green Faith before him, and of even more primitive religions previous. No one knows where they had come from, but scholars believed that the words had much power in them, and though they had changed slightly over the centuries, they would never be fully lost to time.
"I must not fear.
Fear is the man-killer.
Fear is the storm that brings the final death.
I will face my fears.
I will permit them to pass over me and through me.
And when they have gone past may The Sky Father see my path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain."
After some jesting between yourselves you continue your trek through the woods. The snowfall makes it difficult to keep track of where the bandits have gone and haven't, though you quit certain your moving along fine.
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The surreal image around him grates on Arthrax's nerves for the first time. Snow in the middle of summer in Taldor. He grimaces, thinking with a bit of irony that right now he would rather be putting up with an orc woman bossing him around trying to tell him how to do his job than be here in this unnatural winter kingdom.
On a side note, as the tail of the party he got very familiar with his ward's assets, so to speak, and silently congratulated himself on finding a coat that would not go down far enough to cover her sway.
Demona, intent on the forest around her, is totally oblivious to the dirty old man checking out her rear...I mean, taking up the rear.
As you walk, you notice feathered bundles and strange fetishes hanging from the lowest branches in the trees, swaying and shifting in the wind. All are struck with small pins holding pieces of leather bound around them.
Connor slows as he notices the little warning signs in the trees, "We're heading into someone's territory. Be on your guard for ambushes. If this is the bandits handiwork, they are pretty poor bandits to leave such obvious signs of their base of operations, or if this is another group, we can hope they aren't friendly with the bandits." He mutters under his breath, "Knowing our luck they'll be best friends with them."
in this cold altered place? i highly doubt it
Connor kicks up a wad of snow in front of the group to punctuate Merisiel's point, "Yes, very unusual weather for this time of year. Some foul magic is at work here and I don't like the smell of it."