Gnap!
Gnap!
Player DM: Xenarchy
The Party
Younger - Human - Barbarian/Rogue 4
Nin-Galad - Dawn elf - Fighter/Rogue 5
Helmuth - Hobgoblin - Cleric 2
Karl - Human - Ranger/Rogue 4
Arissa - Human - Sorcerer 2
Encounters
Human Adept 3 - CR 1
12x Gnappers (Compsognathus) - CR 1/2 ea.
Swiftclaw (Deinonychus) - CR 3
The Scene Begins
It's a completely ordinary middle of the day and nothing unusual is happening at all. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Without much of interest taking place, it so happens that each of these adventurous persons has come down to the docks for whatever reason suits them.
There, a ship has just come into port. From chatter and talk by the teamsters moving cargo from it, it has just returned from distant Am'shere with a hold full of exotic things. What stands out is one dirt-robed fellow, adorned with bits of animal bone and bird skulls. He's ranting and waving a staff topped with a goat's skull, shouting angrily about something.
Why is Karl here? He's here to make sure that there are no snake-people hiding out on the ship. It's a long story, but he's talking to some of the teamsters and dock-workers quietly as cargo is moved onto the docks. Once he notices all the shouting and the shaking of a staff tipped with a goat's skull, he crooks a brow up towards his hairline, one hand raising to push the brim of his hat back. Begging the pardon of those he's talking to, he heads over in that direction to investigate, making his way closer with a long stride.
Arissa has been at the docks for some time now, speaking to all sorts of people of various descriptions. The sight of a ranting man in robes with such an odd staff quickly gets her attention, and she paces over to watch and listen to him... definitely curious about the matter, even if she looks pretty calm and isn't immediately speaking to him, not wishing to interrupt his remarks just yet. She looks aside to Karl momentarily, not recognizing this stranger but noticing his appearance as distinct in any case.
Not far from the lapping waves of the port sits a scrawny hobgoblin, his nose buried in a dusty old book. Tusked teeth shift with the subtle movements of the near-man's lips, the creature mumbling to himself as his bright eyes skim the contents of the pages in his hands. His chest rises and falls suddenly in a jerking motion, wheezing cough hacked out into the air with a rippled, punctuating sound. Distracted by his ailment, Helmuth clutches the symbol hanging from his neck and looks over to the source of commotion, using the battered bec de corbin at his side to help himself rise unsteadily to his feet.
Posting himself up comfortably not so far away from the docks that he cannot spy what sorts of cargo and people are being moved around, and yet not so close as to be involved with any of it, Nin-Galad watches with a curious stare. This is a passtime, in a way; finding out what sort of cargo is arriving and who happens to be showing up are things worth noting for one such as himself. Still, the raving of a man wrapped in what looks - from a fair distance - to be a burlap sack that someone has sacrificed a series of house-pets to, Nin cannot help but be interested. A shove dislodges him from the corner of the building he had been leaning at, and he draws in close to see and hear just exactly what is going on with the yelling chap.
Several teamsters shifting a large crate find themselves confronted by the noisy strange man. They set down the crate to give him a word, but he jumps up on top of it and shouts, "You're all a blight on the earth! Slavers! Murderers! Nature must live free! Free and not caged to be gawked at for entertainment!" He wedges the bottom of the staff into the side of the crate and starts levering it open. The crate is making noises. It goes 'Gnap!' This is followed by a chorus of little gnaps. There are living things inside there.
A foreign man in a foreign place, Helmuth casts his curious gaze across the ship that the wild man screams at with mild concern, a low growl rumbled forth from deep within his chest at the sight of the fellow tryign to pry open a crate. His brow furrowed, the Arvek Nar begins to motion forward, his booted feet scuffing the cobblestones below with each hobbled, limping gait he makes, body leaning awkwardly to the side as he surges forward with an even pace. Heavily accented common sounds out then, carried by the sea breeze over the loud clamor of the docks. "Oi! That's not yours to open!"
"Oh... oh, that's not good. H-hey! Hey, you over there! Get away from that crate you crazy bastard!" A shout from Karl as he notices what the raving druid is doing with the staff - and as he hears the chorus of noises from inside the heavy crate, "...bloody hells, he's really going to let them loose right here on the bloody docks--"
The black cloth which is usually bound around the vast majority of his pale head is instead today merely wound around his throat and chin as a scarf to ward off whatever mine chill wind might feel the urge today, so Nin-Galad's rising eyebrows at the various 'gnaps' are easy to notice. He purses his lips slightly, staring at the box as it is prised open by the raving man. "What.. Is in that box?" This is not directed at anyone in particular but rather to those nearest where he is now standing. "It sounds angry, or hungry. Or both, perhaps." Apparently the concept of someone not owning the crate cracking it open had not crossed the Elf's mind as being a bad thing, but it seems it had to most others around him when they begin to move and shout.
Arissa seems more amused than anything by this sort of vehemence, watching with interest, her face showing an odd mix of glazed-eyed 'distance' and warmth... which persists even as the man begins to pry-bar the crate.
She walks up toward him. "You better stop. You have no idea what you might unleash not only on all these people..." One of her hands gestures around the dock area, "But even if you think they're nothing more than vile slavers and killers, whatever is in that crate will target you as well. Stop now and everything will work out fine..."
Notably, her other hand is raised overhead as she begins rocking back and forth on her feet and heels... slowly, rhymthically... still smiling, but moving oddly.
"The hell's goin' on 'ere?" A familiar voice demands, from down the docks. Younger is just pulling some work gloves off, as he walks in the direction of the crates and the crazed Druid. Younger then looks to the Adventurers nearby, and that's when he knows this is no good...
Crack! The front of the crate gives way and it falls open. There inside, and packed with simple straw bedding, is a swarm of strange, bipedal reptillian beasts. They are little, but have been driven to a frenzy by the jostling, strange containment and all the banging and shouting outside. The teamsters leg it. The madman atop the crate just shouts and hollers about society deserving the just and virtuous savagery of nature brought down upon it.
Initiative
GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d20+9: (3)+9: 12
Nin-Galad hops back when the front of the crate is flung open, revealing the little.. Gnappers. Biting, angry-looking wee things, whatever their name might be. Slipping his hands around behind himself and within the shadow of the cloak he wears, they reappear again an instant later with clawed gloves attached to them. Moving back in, he reaches for the nearest gnapper with a quick thrust of his hand, aiming the tips of the claws at the thing but going wide and instead charring the box from which they have erupted. The air around them ripples with heat, and they hiss faintly.
"Ye sumbitch! Ye cain't be lettin' critters out on da docks, shyte-fer-brains!" He runs over quickly, closing in on the box in preperation to scale it and put a thorough pounding on this hair-brained Druid. Those dock workers he almost killed are his co-workers! "Ye bes' lie down, ye dandelion-eatin' rat-bastahd!" Younger's not known for mincing words.
"Is that it? You are going to call the gods to help you oppress and kill sinless living things? Two can play at that game!" The dirty man laughs madly, hopping from one foot to the other from his place above the battlefield. He mutters and chants, doing something of a mad little dance. When the quick ritual is complete... something happens! It's not clear what.
GAME: Arissa casts Grease. GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15
Arissa makes a tiny laugh as the crate falls open, still bouncing around back and forth on her heels, hips swaying as she banters with the mad-man. "Sorry, but I'll have to handle this before it becomes a worst-case outcome and they become precisely what you're worried about..." This would be good advice if she acted on it sooner, but she spends a few seconds simply continuing her rhythmic posture; the only thing different about it is that she does smile to Helmuth as she feels divine confidence reinforced in her mind from his actions.
By the time she's content with her movement, 'the situation' is already well under way. She acts just moments after everyone else does, but 'moments' are enough for man and lizard alike to have rushed into the fray. Her raised hand swings downward with a shout, and for all the violence that motion suggests... what happens next is far less than brutal; creamy-white liquid forms within the crate, causing many of the lizards to slip within. "Now! Push the panel back in place before they get out!"
GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d20+10: (1)+10: 11 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d6+1d6+2: (6)+(1)+2: 9
Clicking the flats of the blades attached to his gloves thoughtfully on the first miss, he takes a half-step back and turn to spy just exactly who else is around him as he feels the curious burst of confidence that is certainly not him simply being cocksure. He notes also, that there is more than one caster and thus moves back to free up the space for whatever it is Arissa happens to be casting. When the grease appears and several of the wee monsters hit the ground, he pounces back upon them. Clearly he missed the part about putting the crate wall back in place.
He stretches both arms for the nearest prone monster, his left hand missing and instead spearing the crate's floor with a crunch while his mainhand strikes true. The blades slip into the monster like hot knives through butter, hissing like hot metal being quenched before being withdrawn with a sizzling flick of the wrist.
GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d20+10: (7)+10: 17 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d20+10: (10)+10: 20 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d20+10: (2)+10: 12 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d20+10: (14)+10: 24 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d20+10: (17)+10: 27 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d6+1d6+2: (6)+(6)+2: 14 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d6+1d6+2: (6)+(5)+2: 13 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d6+1d6+2: (2)+(5)+2: 9 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d6+1d6+2: (6)+(2)+2: 10 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d6+1d6+2: (3)+(3)+2: 8 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d6+1d6+2: (2)+(5)+2: 9
Nimbly, one long leg is propped against the opposite edge of the crate for support as the claws are pulled from the still sizzling body of the lizard laying prone. It is lucky indeed that he has long legs, or this would be rather tricky. His offhand is used to stabilize himself, the claws being thrust through the roof of the crate whilst his leg does similar - sans the piercing wood at least. His mainhand is now free to plunge indiscriminately at those lizards that remain prone, and his hand flashes in a series of black and silvery blurs. The claws hiss and crackle as they meet tissue, bone and wood on multiple stabs down into the nest of lizards before him. The smell of charred wood and skin is heavy in the air before he finally retreats, withdrawing both sets of claws and pushing himself away from the crate with the same leg he had propped against the edge to free the way for anyone else to strike if they were so inclined.
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+4: (9)+4: 13 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+4: (2)+4: 6 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+4: (14)+4: 18 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+4: (14)+4: 18 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+2: (15)+2: 17 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d3-1: (2)+-1: 1 GAME: Xenarchy damaged Arissa for 1 points. 12 remaining. GAME: Arissa rolls Fortitude: (2)+2: 4 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d2: (1): 1 GAME: Xenarchy damaged Arissa's strength for 1 points. 1 total damage.
Through the fire and chaos, the frenzied little things burst out of the crate. There are far fewer active now than before, only five escaping from greasy and burning imprisonment. The rest sizzle and twitch. Most of them swarm around Younger and Nin-galad, the two nearest targets of their ire, and gnap at them harmlessly, at best gnawing on protective armour with their little raspy teeth. One darts off after Arissa and leaps at her. The little claws make tears in her nice clothes and the teeth sink in. The bite is hardly anything, little more than a nip from an unruly cat. However, a dull ache sets into her muscles. These things are poisonous.
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+4: (5)+4: 9 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+4: (13)+4: 17
GAME: Younger rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7
"Ge'offa me, ye li'l slimey rats!" Younger kicks out at the lizards as they approach. The snap at him ineffectively a moment, one catching his boot. He frees it with a powerful yank. He doesn't waste any more time, leaping up onto the box. Growling, "Yer gonna pay!" He reaches out to grab the Druid, but is fought off rather easily. "Stay still!"
GAME: Helmuth casts Command. GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13
Clutching symbol and polearm more tightly in hand as the foul little beasts erupt forth from their slippery prison, the resident hobgoblin settles back a comfortable distance away, looking grateful to the gods above that he wasn't chosen as a tasty snack. Mustering his resolve, Helmuth looks toward the mad druid as he scrambles with Younger in a wild struggle. Pointing imperiously at the the madnman, his voice croaks out with an authoritive command, "Fall in the name of the Raven!"
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7
A net goes whirling through the air towards one of the lizards, but in all the chaos it hits nothing but grease-stained dock wood, eliciting a curse from Karl's lips. "Bloody hells--"
GAME: Younger rolls 1d20+7: (6)+7: 13 GAME: Younger rolls 1d6+4: (4)+4: 8
The madman stares, stricken by Helmuth's words, and drops flat on the top of the crate. He quickly gathers his senses, realises there's a man with a club standing over him and rolls off the back of the crate, catching a solid thump on the way. He goes 'ouch' and lands on the dusty ground, then casts another spell. Fog billows out in all directions, obscuring him and the immediate surroundings.
GAME: Arissa rolls Fortitude: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile. GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+1: (3)+1: 4
Arissa decides not to chastise the man hacking into the lizards; fights are fast, frantic things and it's entirely possible her request went unheard. She simply keeps swaying... which proves to be a less than useful defense when one lizard rushes in and delivers a bite, venom rapidly coursing through her body and drawing a hurt cry as she feels this.
Yet right after that noise, Arissa tries to act like she's barely affected by it, smirking as she twirls several steps away from the lizard, an extended palm held in front of her as she continues to spin in place. Arissa winks at Karl during these rotations, apparently having noticed his attempt to help... then she lets out a shout, a gold-white ball of energy flying out of her hand and slamming into the lizard near her to significant effect; it stays on its feet but was clearly hurt by this.
Yet Arissa looks more affected by the spell than her attacker. She continues to twirl in place, and anyone looking at her will notice she's showing a beaming smile; as if consumed with some sensation that is making her feel profoundly wonderful.
GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d20+10: (12)+10: 22 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d20+10: (2)+10: 12 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d100: (30): 30 GAME: Nin-Galad rolls 1d6+1d6+1: (2)+(2)+1: 5
With the creatures snapping at his legs, Nin does some quick footwork to avoid the rather sharp-looking teeth lining the mouths of the little beasts. They may not have large mouthes, but if experience has taught him anything it is the tinier something with teeth and scales is, the more likely it is to be ridiculously poisonous. The yelp from behind him gathers his attention, his head snapping back in that direction towards Arissa though as the fog erupts around him it abruptly removes all thoughts of moving to assist. Instead, he focuses on the creatures nearest him that he can still make out through the thick fog, sweeping the cloudy coverage near him with both clawed hands but only striking home a single time and apparently not hard enough as he does not hear the familiar thud of a body hitting the dock.
GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+4: (15)+4: 19 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+4: (15)+4: 19 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+4: (19)+4: 23 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d100: (92): 92 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d3-1: (1)+-1: 0 GAME: Xenarchy damaged Nin-Galad for 1 points of subdual damage. 1 total. GAME: Nin-Galad rolls fortitude: (9)+6: 15 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+2: (12)+2: 14 GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d3-1: (1)+-1: 0 GAME: Xenarchy damaged Arissa for 1 points of subdual damage. 1 total. GAME: Arissa rolls Fortitude: (19)+2: 21
Gnap! Four of the little creatures are in the fog, stalking Nin-Galad now that Younger seems to have vanished. They surround him, acting like deadly predators of the jungle despite being only as high as his knees. They leap and scratch and bite, most of their attacks doing little but scuffing his armour. One gets its teeth in enough to do a minor scratch. Arissa still has one to deal with. It's injured, but intent on taking her down. It jumps and bites again, dealing insignificant scratches with its teeth.
GAME: Younger rolls 1d20+7: (13)+7: 20 GAME: Younger rolls 1d100: (70): 70 GAME: Younger rolls 1d6+4: (6)+4: 10
"Shit! We lost da fuggin' Druid!" He wastes no time; if he can't catch the cuplrit, he'll help those nearby. He leaps down into the fray. One of the little critters comes within club-range and Younger sends it tumbling across the dock area with a powerful underhand swing. "I fuggin' hate fog!"
GAME: Helmuth rolls 1d20+4: (13)+4: 17 GAME: Helmuth rolls 1d10+1: (8)+1: 9
The resident hobgoblin lifts his arm as if in fear as the fgog billow out from the collapsed madmen, attempting to shield his eyes from some blight that never reaches him. Clutching his polearm in hand, he hobbles over towards Arissa at a hurried pace, uneven gait causing him to sway as he lifts the weapon wqith great effort, bringing the blunt hammer's head of his bec de corbin crashing down in a vicious arc, the weight of the weapon sendign it home with a sickening crunch as the near-man fells the little chomper. Looking up at Arissa, Helmuth blinks, turning his attentions quickly to the fog beyond.
"Oh, /now/ what..." As the unnatural fog blossoms across the docks, Karl drops back away from it with a scowl that crosses his expression; turning and stepping over to one of the nearby crates, he leaps up, grabbing hold of the edge and hauling himself onto it effortlessly. The rifle on his back is unslung, and he straightens, scanning the edges of the cloud, "We can't let any of them run off, the Gods alone know what trouble they'll make!"
"Haha!" There is a shout from the furthest edge of the fog. "Nature has greater power than this! I'll just-" You hear the madman whacking and prying at a crate. "There! Now you'll- Wait, ah! Noooooo!" He screams, cut off by a hacking and chomping sound. A low, hissing growl from something much larger enters the concealing mist.
The gnappers lift their heads in frightened alertness and scatter as quick as they can.
Arissa winces again... possibly from the news of the druid's escape, or being bitten again, but she keeps spinning about... only to stop when Helmuth moves in. She smiles to him and even makes a quick curtsy gesture, then turns notably more serious in attitude as she comments on the mad-man's apparent escape: "I'm going after him. He's going to hurt others if I don't do someth...!" She's cut off by the screams, and concludes, "I told him! Is everyone else alright?"
Even as she asks that, she readies her crossbow and holds a hand overhead, waiting...
GAME: Nin-Galad rolls stealth: (13)+18: 31
Nin-Galad pulls his hand back, fingers straight as he readies himself to drive it back down at the lizard that has just latched onto his opposite wrist. The bite does nothing except leave a various obvious splash of venom on the black leather that forms it. As he starts to move, the sound of the druid meeting what sounds to be a painful and unfortunate end in the fog causes him to pause as well as the creatures near him, apparently. They scatter almost immediately, and the Elf thinks this to be the wisest course of action. Slipping backwards, he pulls his cloak tighter around himself as he flicks the hood up and slinks backwards into the fog and away from the sound of whatever it is that ended the druid.
Unsure of what he shoudl; do, Helmuth remains on the outskirts of the mists, his wary eyes affixed on some point within the bleakness before him as if entranced. Shaking his head, attention crashing back down to the earth below, he presents the encased hourglass in the direction of the sea, a ragged cough seizing his lanky frame just before he calls out another prayer in Navos' name, positive enegry channeled in the vicinity. Nicks and scratches seem to mend themselves somewhat then, some of the wounds even the little creatures suffered lessening before his will.
Karl double-checks the load of his rifle, bracing its butt against his shoulder as he crouches atop the crate... and then, the sound of a roar from the unnatural mists, and a cry! Well, he can't say the druid wasn't asking for it. He swivels the rifle in that direction, muttering, "Guess I'll just consider this practice..."
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+10: (17)+10: 27 GAME: Karl rolls 1d8+3: (4)+3: 7
"Althea's bouncing breasts..." Karl swears under his breath as the creature comes into view, his lips pursing in a tight grimace, "...it's a swiftclaw..." He actually hesitates a moment - but it's not looking very charitable at the moment, so he brings the gun up, sighting down the barrel and snapping off a shot that grazes a bloody line across the dinosaur's side.
GAME: Arissa casts Grease. GAME: Xenarchy rolls 1d20+6: (4)+6: 10
Arissa makes a slight laugh to Helmuth, pleased as her cuts vanish. "Thank you." Yet as suddenly as she seemed happy, she's back to a serious mood almost immediately after, still tense... still watching... there! She swipes her hand downward with a shout, creating another puddle of creamy-white fluid, this time beneath the beast Karl has identified as a swiftclaw... it slips, and falls!
Interrupted as it explores, the swiftclaw slips and falls. It clambers to its feet, but so confused by the greasy fall it doesn't have the time to do anything else.
Nin-Galad pauses as he listens, the fog still fairly thick about him though he stands on the outter edge of it now. A refreshing feeling washes over him, and he glances down at his wrist as the mild sting of a hefty bruise forming vanishes. When the sound of a fairly large, heavy body hitting the dock reaches his ears he moves in that direction. The cloak is kept wrapped tightly around him, but he spreads his fingers wide and opens his palms before himself as he moves, ready to pounce on the creature when he is close enough to do so without giving himself away to its senses.
Still clutching his polearm tightly in both hands, orange knuckles paling with beneath the strength of the scrawny goblinoid's grip, he scrambles forward awkwardly, tripping and falling to the ground beneath his own rather wide feet. Scowling, the man makes a motion before him, drawing some sort of complex sign in the air. A light flares faintly on the ground before Arissa before disappearing altogether, the near-man looking up from the ground to warn in a raspy, wheezing tone, "Do not step forward! I have left a trap for the beast, should he come for us."
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25 GAME: Karl rolls 1d10+3: (9)+3: 12
There's another sharp *crack* across the docks as Karl takes aim at the felled animal and fires... grimacing slightly as he does so. With it slipping and sliding on the grease, he appears to feel that there isn't much /sport/ in this.
GAME: Arissa casts Ray of Frost. GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+4: (17)+4: 21 GAME: Arissa rolls 1d3: (1): 1
Arissa looks down at the ground as Helmuth warns her about it, and... begins twirling in place. "Understood!" She points a finger at the larger beast before them, a gold-white beam streaming forth, briefly 'super-freezing' it... not as harmful as it could have been, but it is something, and she seems quite happy with herself anyway if the sudden return of beaming warmth on her face is any indication.
GAME: Helmuth rolls 1d6+1: (6)+1: 7
The swiftclaw turns to face Arissa after the tiny icy ray strikes it. Its eyes glint and is surges forward with incredible speed. It leaps at her, claws and teeth bared and... FWOOSH! A blast of cold erupts around the dinosaur and it slumps, skidding into the young sorceress from its remaining momentum.
Combat Ends
"Don't kill her!" As the swiftclaw, chilled to shivering unconsciousness by the rune's cold blast, skids into the sorceress, Karl shouts out the request. He drops down from the back of the crate to head over at a short jog, "She was probably /terrified/ after being crated and that idiot druid banging the door to her box open..."
Helmuth seems startled as the beatst triggers the hidden rune on the ground, the flare of energy and the charging reptilian's limp frame causing the hobgoblin to fall back with a cry of shock and surprise, landing unceremoniously on his behind nearby. Labored breathing is interrupted infrequently by a low hacking sound within his throat, the lanky Arvek Nar's chest rising and falling in half-coughs as he tries to compose himself. Still, the near-man seems relieved, glancing down to the symbol of his patron in hand and muttering a whispered prayer. Looking up, he asks, "Is everyone alright?"
Arissa stops dancing around as the swiftclaw rushes her, wide-eyed with fear and starting to backpedal... it's not going to be enough, even as she raises her hands in front of her face and looks away, bracing for...
...Nothing? Almost. It bumps into her legs pretty hard, but she stumbles rather than falls, flails, and regains her balance.
Yet when asked if she is okay, Arissa abruptly acts as if nothing bad was about to happen to her and looks very calm, very composed and gracefully pleased... smiling warmly to him. "I'm fine. We'll need to get word out about the ones that ran away from here, though."
When the swiftclaw darts forward, so does Nin-Galad. Breaking out of the fog and dragging a trail of it with him in his wake he stretches his arms out to either side and picks up the speed to try and reach it before it can get to Arissa. Apparently, however, this wasn't necessary as when it triggers the run it is thrown into a frosty slump at the sorceress's feet. His own run slows as well as the creature hits the ground, coming to resemble a disinterested jog as he arrives at the tail-end of the creature with his clawed hands hanging at his sides. A booted foot is stretched out, prodding the swiftclaw somewhat but the request for it not to be killed reached his ears before he got within throat-slitting distance. "I'm fine," he responds as he looks up from the swiftclaw to those nearby.
The hunter's head is shaking slowly as he draws nearer, the rifle slung over one shoulder in mid-stride. "Gods above and demons below, that man was an idiot..." He's muttering as he steps over to crouch beside the fallen swiftclaw, reaching out to smooth its feathers and check to make certain it's not going to die.
"Does it live, Hunter Extraordinaire?" asks the nearby hobgoblin, his tone echoing that of Karl's earlier introduction. Rising with a stifled goran to his knees and using his polearm similarly to a staff, the priest shuffles over to look down at the felled beast from Am'shere with an intrigued look; judging by the slacked jaw and starign eyes, it's a safe bet that the near-man has never seen such a creature before in all his years.
"Unlikely as it may be," Arissa speaks up, "I'm going to make sure how that mad-man is, dead or alive..." She steps around the fallen swiftclaw, then changes her mind as she sees Karl trying to save the beast.
She has a slight laugh at that. "Nevermind... if you'll check for him, I'll tend to this." She's not entirely sure how to 'operate' on a giant lizard like this, but certain biological truths apply to almost all living things... it's understanding enough that she's able to kneel down near it, fetching a few supplies from her gear on-hand and starting to tend to its injuries... at the very least blood-flow and stimulating areas that were 'super-frozen' by magic are a good starting point for her.
The question of 'can we kill it' is apparently not going to be a welcome one, so the Dawn Elf simply falls silent as they begin to gather around the creature. Carefully he crosses his arms over his chest, keeping the claws - particularly the super-heated set - well away from his person as he looks down at the Swiftclaw with mild curiousity. When Arissa turns back away from going to check on the mad druid, he lifts a clawed index finger, "I'll go take a quick look. I imagine there won't be much left though." Turning, he moves off at a quick pace back into the fog to look around for a ruined corpse.