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Andras is glad that Cap is safe. He doesn’t know how good of a swimmer he’d be. Alright. Someone tie a rope to me and I’ll go across... He waits patiently for someone to go across the river first. Or to tie a rope to him and let him go first. Just something to get them out. Out into the sun. Out into the fresh air. Anywhere but this damn cave.
Andras watches in silence as Erik dives into the water. Brave. Hopefully he'll be fine. Can't really help him as I am. He does his best to stay out of the way, trying to let the others help or not without being a nuisance.
The loss of Bertram would have shocked Andras into silence. If he could still speak. As it is, he just sits, slightly numb to the sensation. At least it was pure avarice that got Bertram. He couldn't stand another friend dying for his sake. But it could have been worse. Much worse. While contemplating mortality, Andras waits patiently for the people with opposable thumbs to do Rope Things. He looks with trepidation at Hokey, worried that she has forgotten that he is unable to grasp things. But she shoots back a look that says don't worry, reassuring him. He keeps an eye out for any danger, hoping his superior animal senses will at least prevent them from being surprised, even if he can't do anything from where he's standing.
Turning around, looking to see that everyone's safe, Andras sees Hokey pointing at a bulging, fat coin purse. Hey, I'll carry it for you! she says, gesturing to his pack. He drops his clothes in there and heads for the purse. You only get one chance to raid a dragon's hoard after all. He turns around, trying to use his brute pig strength to force his way through the enveloping flesh. But it's not enough. It squeezes, and presses, in on him. He struggles, and can't move. Urghhhh. Disgusting. Finally, he manages to grab the purse, and runs out of the exit as fast as his legs can carry him. Dropping it on the floor, he's disappointed to see it was all copper coins. Thanks, Hokey.
Andras takes a look at the pile of treasure, and heads towards a relatively intact coin purse. He picks it up in his mouth and passes it to Geraldd. Watching the cavern fall down upon them, he spots something interesting. A nice pair of clothes, made out of soft leather. They're black, and have gold engravings on them. Could do with a change of clothes, and those are beautiful. Dodging chunks of dragon, and keeping his footing, he grabs the clothes in his mouth, and bolts for the exit, keeping an eye out for anyone who's in trouble. I can't carry any more in this state. Shame. But don't want to put anyone else at risk.
From the other side of the 'passage', Andras hears the familiar clanking of Hydrand's feet. They must be near. Hey! Over here! I'm out! SQUEAL. SQUEAL! he says encouragingly.
Andras, realising it’s pitch black, tries to get back in the way he came out. After struggling for a few minutes, he realises the futility. Hopefully the others will be here soon. Instinctively, he raises a leg to mark his territory, surprising himself. Better keep that urge under control in polite society...
Andras does the best approximation that a boar can do of a shrug, and presses forward, curiosity getting the better of him. He keeps an eye and ear out for trouble, but continues along the tunnel regardless.
Andras feels a little useless, looking sadly at his hooves and lack of opposable thumbs. Watching Hydrand root around in the crates, he waddles along the dragon, towards the tail. Without straying too far from the party, he keeps an eye out for further enemies, and any possible way out. He longs for the sunlight on his skin, not just because of his... condition, but to be out of this dank, foul smelling cave.
Andras watches on in despair as the poor woman explodes. More and more, it seemed like they needed to get this thing out of Bertram and Geraldd. He approaches the male lying down, and as best as a boar can, tries to get him to his feet, grunting at the others to help.
Andras snorts in discomfort, but manages to keep his revulsion under control. I wish I was human again. Can’t really help whoever is crying out... He continues to stay alert and will follow the group, but seems most intrigued by the cry.
Andras oinks in approval at Hokey picking up his things, and slightly wrinkles his snout when he sees Geraldd pick up his saber, but doesn't complain. He looks a bit sad seeing Hokey climb up the side, something that he's not able to join in. Their little climb earlier was exhilarating, despite the near misses. He happily trots behind Erik, using his superior boar senses to keep an eye and ear out for any danger. Unfortunately, the heightened senses also made his sense of smell better. This place didn't smell great even in the cavern, and entering the rotting, flayed dragon is not the best experience of Andras' life. The hot, putrid air, even just a few steps into the eye socket, nearly makes him retch. No truffles here, that's for sure... Or if there were, I wouldn't be able to smell them. Andras chuckles to himself at the thought. Oink, snuffle. Snuffle. Oink oink. Grunt. he exclaims happily.
Hearing Bertram talk about bombs, Andras scrabbles to his feet. He again labours in the dirt of the cavern. no BoMB. BEaST gUARD SaVG OrNMeNt. HeLP LooK. Andras stands next to his letters, snorting in pride. If a pig could smile, that would be the expression the boar is wearing. He points with a raised foreleg towards the entrance to the dragon.
Andras grunts, looking back at the group. They’re too far away. He shakes his head at Cap. Snuffle, snort snort. He returns to the group, and sits down on his haunches, posed like a dog.
Andras concentrates intently, dragging his hooves in the soft dirt of the cavern. He draws large, clumsy, childlike letters. I WilL gO LoOK CAvE. As everyone watches him write his laboured letters in amusement, he grunts with satisfaction at his handiwork, letting out an amused oink. He heads slightly up the tunnel, boar flesh wobbling comically as he stomps up the path, oblivious to the tremors that he is producing whenever his hooves impact the floor. Once he is a short way from the group, he peeks his head through the eye socket of the dragon, cautiously seeing if he spots anything.
Seeing Hokey still surrounded by three of the creatures, the boar was tempted to charge at them, but Andras fought the animal instinct. It’s too risky. Bertram and Geraldd are there. Hesitation won’t help Hokey. The one closest has only minor injuries, and will be a tough nut to crack. Maybe I can get its attention. He puffs himself up, thick hair bristling, trying to look as intimidating as possible. Squeal, squeal, squeeeeaaaaal. He begins grunting and squealing, intimidatingly. But the sounds are lost under the din of battle, and the creature just ignores him.
Seeing an opportunity as one of the creatures turns its back, the boar bites deep into its tendons, tearing a bloody chunk out of its leg. Exhilarated by the taste and scent of blood, and emboldened by the sight of creatures falling to their attacks around them, he paws the ground, hooves sending up clouds of dust and dirt. He charges one of the monsters fighting Erik, a bristling mass of angry boar flesh. His charge is slightly too cautious, trying to avoid trampling his allies, and the creature evades him at the last second. The boar grunts in anger, hot breath escaping its snout and forming small clouds of condensation swirling and eddying in the air around him.
A creature claws and bites at the ferocious boar, leaving angry red marks on its hide, but he just squeals in anger and does not succumb to the poison. He stands defiant, daring the monsters to come to him. Next to him, he sees Erik go down. No.
Hooves and tusks fly out, goring and trampling the creature that knocked Erik to the ground. Wake up! Wake up! Oink, snuffle snuffle. A moist, bristled snout tenderly caresses Erik’s face, boar snot and drool dripping from it onto him. It gently sniffs at him, while grunting. The sensation of water on Erik's face snaps him out of the influence of whatever foul substance courses through his veins. |
