Rolled 5, 3, 20, 16 = 44 (4d20)
>>5443439“I’m not leaving yet.”
Hamaraska looks at you as if you are speaking in some unknown language, rather than their own elvish speech.
“I’m not leaving without my sword and the head of this so-called ‘Ghoul Supreme’,” you explain patiently. “And that means that I need to deal with this damned elemental.”
“It’s suicide.”
You stand tall, and spread your wings—even as the membrane begin to disintegrate, and the wings to shrink and shrivel.
“It is the essence of being a True Dragon,” you announce.
Hamaraska looks at you uncertainly… But stays.
“What are you doing?!” Azonia shouts over to the two of you.
“Go,” the Lancer suggests. “Get out.”
Azonia looks to you, and you nod. She chokes back a laugh, and shakes her head.
“Madness!” you pronounces, but takes command of your elven entourage eagerly and readily enough, leading them away.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, King Theral,” Hamaraska says quietly.
So do you, honestly… But you have to try. You step forward, emboldened by the vestiges of your <Dragonshape> and by the Fearsome Presence which you thus project. You’ve done this before—once, when you released another elemental in a similarly-desperate situation back in the Bloodrise mountain range, you were able to cow the powerful fire-spirit with your will. Now, you face down the crackling, arcing energeis of the barely-cogent lightning elemental, and try to remember how it was done…
