09-13-2018, 06:40 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-17-2018, 01:58 PM by DM Surranó.)
Ooc - this is actually IC :-)
The dwarves estimate that the party is about fifty feet beneath a large body of water--the lake, no question about it.
LUGAR: "... questions."
"Questions. Amusing." The dragon reacts to Lugar's first words with mild sarcasm.
LUGAR: "... slave?"
Toot can't help but notice that Boo, initially tense to the edge of fleeing, now feels much more relaxed. As if that big bad scaly tower wouldn't be a predator that could bite the bear in half.
The stone cold warrior is not phased by the dwarf's anger or the dragon's intimidating words.
"Apparently he thinks so," he notes, quietly.
"I've heard that," the dragon growls, a warning with anger withheld, sounding like a male lion's roar in this confined space, and those happen to be touching walls can feel them resonate. He slowly opens his maw halfway letting his sword-sized fangs be seen, venom glistening on their tips. Then clasps its maw shut with a sickening snap, drops of penetrating liquid raining on the floor. A drop hits a small patch of moss with a hiss, and it turns black in an instant, sizzling for quite a few seconds.
Zelgadis takes a step back, assuming defensive posture, his hand raised to start a spell if needed.
The dwarves estimate that the party is about fifty feet beneath a large body of water--the lake, no question about it.
LUGAR: "... questions."
"Questions. Amusing." The dragon reacts to Lugar's first words with mild sarcasm.
LUGAR: "... slave?"
Toot can't help but notice that Boo, initially tense to the edge of fleeing, now feels much more relaxed. As if that big bad scaly tower wouldn't be a predator that could bite the bear in half.
The stone cold warrior is not phased by the dwarf's anger or the dragon's intimidating words.
"Apparently he thinks so," he notes, quietly.
"I've heard that," the dragon growls, a warning with anger withheld, sounding like a male lion's roar in this confined space, and those happen to be touching walls can feel them resonate. He slowly opens his maw halfway letting his sword-sized fangs be seen, venom glistening on their tips. Then clasps its maw shut with a sickening snap, drops of penetrating liquid raining on the floor. A drop hits a small patch of moss with a hiss, and it turns black in an instant, sizzling for quite a few seconds.
Zelgadis takes a step back, assuming defensive posture, his hand raised to start a spell if needed.
