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The last echoes of your prayer reverberate as snaps of cold crackle around the Wyvern. Ice forms around the wings, robbing the membranes of the flexibility to billow and uplift the monster. The strange skeletal flying lizard with two heads pauses in confusion and begins slowly sinking downward despite the frantic beating of its wings.
Then, like a marionette with its string cut, the beast plummets downward onto the ground. Despite the crash, the thing doesn't make a sound. No growl or roar emanates from either head. Instead, the eyeless beast scrambles to get up.
"Right kids, keep your distance and stab away!" The 'General' shouts orders as groups of Baphomets rush forth with their long spears and stab at the Wyvern.
The goat men are... weak. No better than an average human in terms of combat ability, perhaps a bit worse because they're so small. Their strength and endurance give them a slight edge to even things out. But the most outstanding virtue is their bravery. It is clear from the reactions of the attacking goat men that they are scared out of their minds, yet they still continue fighting.
And they need that bravery because the Wyvern lashes out, biting at the sharp spears and moving about to catch the scampering Baphomets. Sometimes the damn thing lashes out with its poisonous stinger tail and almost catches a surprised goat off guard.
If you do nothing, your vassals should be able to kill the creature with a minimum number of dead and injured. You don't intend to let that happen. Two dead Baphomets are digesting in the stomach of the foul creature; no more shall be added to the belly of the beast.
<span class="mu-r">"Thrice damned wyrm, awa' with ye."</span>
You charge ahead with Frostbind in hand. The shout was to gain the attention the damn thing.
The tail of the Wyvern lashes at you!
>2 anons, roll 3d6!
