A smug, self-satisfied grin crept up on Gertrude's lips.

"Well, if you're offering it, then I'll take the extended praise later," Gertrude answered Rolan in a tone that sounded as if she thought she'd won something, "anyways, no telling what the poison did or didn't do, but it was an impressively won fight that made use of our efforts. I'll gladly add Rozenalt's slaying to my list of accomplishments."

Even though Gertrude didn't really do anything directly, her smug expression indicated that she was comfortable putting her name on this one. That expression faded, however, when the Houndmaster began regenerating and transforming regardless of her intercession. That cheeky bugger.

"Oh, sod off," Gertrude grumbled as the abomination howled, taking its hideous, disturbing new form. She didn't know if she'd ever seen anything quite so abhorrent. It was like looking down at a particularly large, grotesque, rampaging insect. Well, there was only one thing to do with insects that earned her ire.

"That's what I get for trying to be clever. Aye, mistress, I'll get back to my specialty!"

Gertrude gripped her broom tight, and raised her hand.

In an instant, a bombardment of forceful, pinprick fireballs rained down on the fell beast, just small and precise enough to not catch her teammates. If Rolan gummed up its joints, then Gertrude made wider movements all but impossible for the creature while providing damaging, explosive judgement.