Location: Southern Giants Rest Bandit camp, early morning. [@Pyromania99][@FrogRFlowR][@VitaVitaAR] [hr] The fomorian tilted her head, a wolfish, predatory grin forming on her lips as she’d look Fio up and down. Fio would get the distinct feeling she was eyeing her up, specifically, her chest area. “Hmm, I dunno…aren’t witches supposed to be taller?” The fomorian would reply after a moment. “Where’s the intimidation? The spookiness? You got the right attitude for it but your looks leave a lot to be desired.” She was spouted some sort of nonsense, it seemed. While the Fomorian was busy sassing and drawing Fio’s ire and the three were busy taking stock of the situation now that the battle was effectively over, Luna could hear a few shouts of victory from where she had left her men and the archers. Three distinct voices…meat at least, that the three had managed to come back alive. A few shouts from them signaled they were already planning on securing the area and searching the premises themselves. Luna would at least, find something to help transport the deceased with. A small cart that was hand pushed and full of firewood. A simple transport that could easily be pulled by a steed should they have one. Location: Harzel Border Fort [@Crimson Paladin][@Guy0fV4lor] [hr] The wyevern missed, mostly, the tips of its claws would barely graze the knight's armor, a few deep gouges appearing in the frozen exterior. Acting swiftly, Ethelred would stab the butt of his lance into the creatures talon, piercing its relatively weaker scales with little difficulty. Ice bloomed from the wound, the wyvern hissing in displeasure as the ice began spreading through its legs, frostbite quickly starting to set in. In response, it’d attempt reaching down with one of its wings, attempting to bat Ethelred away, only to be met with more pain as the sword would cut into its flesh. [i]ka-thunk[/i] The sound of the siege weapon firing, followed by the sickening, cracking sound of a large bolt slamming into the wyverns neck, instantly impaling the creature as the bolt ripped right through its scales, sending it reeling back and its body contorting painfully as it was staked to the ground with a foot, and subsequently had its entire neck broken and pierced by the ballista bolt. It didn’t move. “Ha…hahah…” He could vaguely hear Grainne laughing from her position above. A small cheer rose out from among the surviving knights. A short lived relief. Grainne ran to the edge of the ramparts, steadying herself with both her hands as she’d gaze out over the field. Ethelred could hear a commotion, the sounds of roars, galloping of hooves. The earth shaking from the weight of some beast. “...Icicle! The big one’s coming!” Grainne shouted. The soldiers shouted, scrambling away from the tower as Lonan and a birthday suit Reinhardt came galloping into view. Lonan veered his fey steed to the left, then to the right, as Reinhardt took one of his halberds, slamming the head into the ground and with a herculean heave, cleaved rocks, earth, and dust into the air, a small, temporary smoke screen. A beam of fire sailed right by them, slamming into a hill someways behind the fort, completely obliterating it. “Evacuate the area men! Do not engage that beast!” Lonan shouted, briefly locking eyes with Ethelred, then moving his gaze to the remaining Ballista as he’d stop briefly. “Sir Reinhardt! Grainne’s on the Ballista!” “Uoooh, uselesssss. More shall be juuuudged…” The dragon wasn’t stopping its charge, it was aiming to bulldoze them all and seemingly an attempt to completely destroy the fort with its physical might alone.