Apparently, the surprise of being awoken in the middle of the night has drained much of Arzhel's strength for the steel of his sword is stopped dead against the creature's armor of bone. The light of your campfire shines a hellish light through the creature's bright, yellow eyes, and it's crocodilian maw widens in a wicked and toothy smile. The danger suddenly sinks into Arzhel. Adrenaline quickens his reflexes, allowing him to duck under the return swing.

OOC: Alastor is up, Gratianus should make a perception check, and then it's Arzhel's turn again.