>>5612021The warlord approaches your group gingerly, evaluating the threat each of you poses to him. Luaue nocks and arrow and levels her weapon at him undaunted, though he pays her little mind, unimpressed by her bravado. Alantha similarly whips her tentacles at him and snarls, her eyes filled with fear and loathing, and while he does stop a moment to inspect the displacer beast, he moves along, viewing her as nothing more than a natural curiosity.
That leaves you. You are a seasoned combatant and have managed to survive two hundred years and more of turmoil. In the past, you have fought against countless opponents, orcs among them, and emerged victorious. Though surrounded and outnumbered you may be, you feel fairly confident in your chances of making it through this situation with your life. Granted, he does not know any of this, but he seems to recognize your ability from your posture.
You envision him smirking beneath his mask as he relaxedly brings his weapon to bear, his voice taking on an amused inflection. "My patience has worn thin, dark elf. Make peace with your gods." His statement rouses his lackeys into action, eagerly moving forward to join the warlord on the offensive.
Your move, Jezyrene. Pick one.
>The battle is on! The three of us will fight them, together.>[Will] Perchance if I am loud enough, I could keep him arguing for a few moments more?>I challenge him to a duel! He had best find the courage to face me alone!>It would be incredibly convenient if Moradin did something right this moment!>[Write-in.] 