A few more moments passed without incident, not that Tycondrius was particularly concerned.
Reload. Brace and aim. Breath control. Slow and steady squeeze of the trigger. Reassess situation. Repeat.
The encounter was finite. No matter how much suffering, whether it was physical, or through the slow and steady annihilation of his hopes and expectations... it would end, eventually.
"⌈Ravagerrrrrr's STRIKE!!!⌋"
Tancred's voice came at an unwelcome time. The Iron-Rank Reaver struck a weighty greataxe against the Frost-Tail's head, forcing it to stagger backward and away from Legionnaire Karodin. The damaging attack was sound. Its execution was questionable.
In its half-blinded blood haze and without an obvious target to direct its anger upon, the creature began to thrash about. Its mana-empowered tail launched three different Stormbrands away-- one of them into a pile of suspicious-looking rocks near several suspicious-looking holes.
