The first line of spears met Merat with a resounding clatter. Immediately, Merat's many limbs went to work, either smashing legionnaires into the ground or snatching them up to drop in one of the abyssal mouths of his many insatiable heads. Rughoi groaned in frustration. Merat's power cannot be unlimited! The second wave quickly followed the first, already in desperate need of reinforcing. The kobold lines hammered tirelessly at Merat's nigh-impenetrable frame. Arrows were as numerous as dust motes, arcing through the air and blanketing the area around the central conflict.

He had to think. Taking the problem head-on was amounting to little, if at all. With each passing second, a valuable member of the army is lost to the gaping maw of the many heads. He noticed how the limbs are now so many that they seem to clash and block each other's way. Then the idea struck him in a fit of desperate inspiration. He looped around the gigantic frame of his enemy to the distracted back legs, now so numerous they weave together like a net. Then, he began climbing. Merat must have noticed the movement at his flank, because suddenly he shook with all the might of his profane form. Rughoi could not hold on, and his claw lost its stamina. He tumbled and hit the ground hard. Already, he was scrambling back to his feet to try again. Kobold vigilance will win the day, one way or another.