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	THE VARUK, much to Gossk's surprise, actually fell backwards as his headless ally struck his legs.  This did however prevent the massive Dracodile from crushing him to death.  So, as he landed, the hardened ground cracked and caved and his gaze, having remained fixed on the Varuk, looked hungry.  Unfortunately for the Varuk, Gossk didn't just sit there:  his landing transformed into a momentum-saving maneuver, via a small step and turn to the right.  This swiftly brought his long spiked tail into play, allowing it to rake over the Varuk's body.  Smacking him in the face and chest, the tail also battered his weapon to his opposite side.  

	Bruised but not bleeding, the Varuk scrambled to grab his weapon, his fear giving him just enough power to do so;  However, he let out a yell as Gossk, now facing him again, had seized his ankles, his claws sending sharp pain up his spine.  The Dracodile dragged his prey closer, for the checkmate.  With one last valiant effort, the Varuk swung his battleaxe at Gossk's face, but the Dracodile expected it and stooped closer, which permitted the head of the weapon to sail past his head and on the back of his right shoulder.  The ax head still cut him, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been.  The Dracodile seized the Varuk's wrists and used his upper body weight to force the Varuk's arms back and above his own head, forcing his battleaxe to slam onto the ground.  

	The nostrils atop Gossk's 1-foot long jaw poked the Varuk's nose as they locked eyes---the dull light of agonizing defeat settling in the latter's eyes just before the Dracodile ended it with one decisive bite to the throat.  After a moment, Gossk pulled back with a grunt, effortlessly rending the flesh and snapping off the Varuk's head, which now hung out the side of his jaw by its throat meat.

	He finally turned his attention to the cloaked figure, just catching the last few seconds of its own skirmish.  It was impressive, but what it was intrigued him even more.  [color=39b54a]'What... is this thing?,'[/color] Gossk wondered, noting hints of green skin and a bulking mass.  Then it spoke, causing Gossk to blink at the strange name with which he had been addressed, or so he thought to be the case.

	He contemplated his response, his head tilting slightly as he eyed Tyrael and its weapons.  His mouth opened then, letting his trophy fall into his right hand.

	[color=39b54a][b]"To [i]o-hoon[/i]...has the gentle lord [i]thor[/i]... <Gossk Quor-dek>... [i]githen[/i] aid?"[/b][/color] Gossk rasped carefully.  He was not prone to answering questions with questions, but his laconic mindset compelled him to do so.

	He remained coiled, hiding his size with a slightly stooped posture, while his legs stayed half bent and his flicking tail outstretched for balance.  Although Gossk couldn't see Lynn yet, he did spot Licks crouching behind the Orc, her sleek body hiding in the tall grass.  Her ears down and pupils dilated, she was ready to pounce should the green thing prove to be prey as well.