Azzeryx Wyrmclaw's page

Hate to see ya go, but take care, Raurya!

I appreciate that. I do try to keep him lovably tyrannical while still refraining from being irritating to work with. Kinda like a shorter, magical Buzz Lightyear: he suffers from a delusion that is very hard to break.

Azzeryx snarled back at the boar as it had the audacity to turn its temper on him. HIM!? Clearly, this boar did not know who it was dealing with! Time for a demonstration in a way only a dragon could deliver! "Talons! I believe a boar dinner is in our future! Bring me an apple and that boar's head! NOW!"

As he spoke, orbs of light started to coalesce in his claws, swirling about in his grip before expanding and flying right for the offending boar and impacting with raw arcane might.

Casting Magic Missile, using three actions to hurl 3 missiles at the boar. Can't wait to see them do 1 damage each!

Magic Missile: 3d4 + 3 ⇒ (3, 1, 2) + 3 = 9

Night Prior
Azzeryx hummed as Grazmik assessed the situation. H... must have been an abbreviation. Clever. The question was, were the two connected? For now, Azzeryx simply growled and let it be. It wasn't immediately clear if this 'H' was behind the poisoning... though he might be making popsicles of them if they were.

Morning
Raurya was quiet. Azzeryx liked that. Made things smoother. Grazmik seemed slightly caught off by her new responsibility, but who wouldn't? This was such short notice to be informed that you were to extol the glorious fury of a mighty dragon! But Killian... poor naive little halfling. At the question of who he was, Azzeryx halted in his tracks and turned around slowly to glower at him. "Who... am I?" Oh boy... "I am the incarnation of the north winds themselves. The herald of ice and frozen fury. Seer my name into your memory and do not forget it, mortal. I am Azzeryx, the Winter Dragon, reincarnation of the mighty North Wyrm, Azzerthynnox... and you are my Talon. I recognize this is a duty you may not be prepared for... but you are, for better or worse, my best selection to ensure that those who address me know to rightfully stand aside and bow their heads. Or beg for mercy at slighting my rightful subjects like Bort."

His yellow eyes traipsed up and down Killian's figure, before huffing and turning to continue marching off. "...your imposition needs work. Good spirit, however, you've got the idea."

As the boar came barreling out of the forest, Azzeryx locked eyes on it, before sighing and shaking his head. Evidently, he'd have to step in and do it... time to show them why he was The Winter Dragon! "Wrong, wrong... you serve at the pleasure of a white dragon! Act like it!" Stepping up, Azzeryx let out a growl, before bellowing at the boar and commanding it to drop prone (and prostrate before his glory, if it had the capacity to do so). "KNEEL!"

Nature, Command an Animal (Drop Prone): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17

Azzeryx seemed all the more convinced that somewhere in between the porridge being set into a bowl and the eating, the food was poisoned. That meant, whoever was handling food was the likely suspect. As to why, Azzeryx was far less concerned. He had been slighted - the reason was inconsequential to him. For better or worse.

Although he was no expert on whatever Bort was working on, Azzeryx stayed up reading through Bort's logs. He was none too versed on the dwarf's business that didn't concern him, but if someone meant him harm, he wanted to know who it was. They would be dealt with severely.

Society Check: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

Sadly, Azzeryx wasn't able to deduce much beyond his anger. Every name seemed like a likely suspect to him.

Come the morning, the kobold roused the others and huffed as he spoke. "...unbelievable. This is an unprecedented set of affairs, but a dragon does not conduct business without his Talons, or a Herald to sing his praises and legacy. And, unfortunately, I am forced to resort to drastic measures." He leveled a clawed finger at Grazmik. "You sing, yes? Bah... that will have to do. You shall be my Herald. As for you two..." He narrowed at Killian and Raurya. "You'll pass for Talons. For now. Now come! Your dragon patron has scores to settle. We start with this... Trin woman. She was serving. She had opportunity to poison the food. We interrogate her first."

Getting the location from Delma, and not waiting for the others to acquiesce to his nonsensical ramblings, Azzeryx marched off to find Trin.

Azzeryx seems detached slightly as he looks over Bort's body. Nothing of note. He had no magic that could salvage the situation. For all of his berating and badgering of Bort, he had a remarkably useful ally. And someone took him from Azzeryx. "...I believe this is the first time I can recall experiencing a sense of loss." he stated simply, lifting a claw to close the dwarf's eyes. "I would like to break this sensation down further, but I'm afraid it is being vastly overshadowed by this wellspring of UNRELENTING FURY!!!"

Rising to his feet, looking ready to bite someone's head off (possibly literally), he huffed indignantly at Rolth. "Under normal circumstances, I would freeze you in place and be on my way. But someone has cost me a significant amount of time and trouble. And I greatly detest people who fritter away my time."

Azzeryx's line of investigation is simple and practical. In between the porridge being made and Bort eating it, someone had it in their possession. From mouth, to table, to delivery, to kitchen, somewhere in that process, someone poisoned the porridge. So the logical thing is to seek out whoever made and delivered it and determine who tainted the dwarf's food.

Don't know if I'll need either of these, but rolling Diplomacy and Intimidate if necessary to make folks talk.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23
Intimidate: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

I'm here and still good!

"BORT!"

The voice that booms across the tavern from the front door is simultaneously vicious in its tone, and amusingly high in its pitch. Pushing his way through the front entrance, past the calming guests and table, and marching with a serious scowl over to the table Bort was eating at, the kobold Azzeryx stomped forward. A 3 foot tall picture of blustering majesty and draconic braggadocio stands as tall as he can, pointing a clawed finger at the dwarf right before he begins choking. Azzeryx is doing pretty much what he's been doing from the rear of the caravan the entire journey: using his extensive vocabulary to craft words into beautiful verbal clubs, and bashing them over peoples' heads. "I was promised a 'thriving community ripe for subjugation' and 'secret lairs of natural majesty in abundance' when you pitched your ridiculous route to me! And I have yet to see any sight that comes close to delivering on your grandiose claims! I demand we depart at once so that-!"

As Bort's choking worsens, however, Azzeryx's tirade comes to a halt as even he seems to catch on that something's wrong with the caravan master. "...don't think you can slither out of your obligation that easily, dwarf! Cease this charade!" However, as Bort continues choking, Azzeryx actually takes a step back and studies the dwarf, yellow eyes lighting up with magic as he tried to discern what was going on.

Medicine: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Using medicine skill to try and see what's wrong with him, and casting Detect Magic to look for anything magical about him.

SO! The mewling worms have run into trouble and come crawling back to their draconic patron in hopes he will show them mercy and favor!

...just kidding. Getting into character. Hey all! I'm the new recruit to the party! Don't let the NE alignment fool you - Azzeryx is very bad at being... well, bad. He's a lot of bluster and barking, but he's all too willing to be a team player. He's just looking for a lair to call his own, and a community of "inferior beings" to "rule" over. Just smile and nod along.

Looking forward to joining the team! Should be fun!