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Church On The Hill

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The second that Arturo had seen his target, he had already sized it up. It was definitely shorter than him and looked like some sort of Lizardfolk or Dragonborn, maybe a mix of the two but he had no way to be sure; all he knew for sure is that it was armed much as he was and it looked mean. This had never and did not in this moment dissuade him from action however and he was already off like a streak of lightning as he shot towards the burning carriage that was barreling towards him. He had been planning on going under or over it as the situation unfolded, but thankfully neither were necessary as an arrow flew past him and slammed into one of the horses, causing it to veer off to the side along with the carriage it was pulling, freeing Arturo up nicely without any expended effort on his part.

He did however take advantage of the momentary confusion to snatch up a stray rock he saw on the ground with his shield arm, the leather strap around his forearm keeping the shield itself from dropping but he didn't exactly need it for his next move, he simply used the shield to hide it until he was a solid ten feet away from his target. Without warning, he took a short hop and turned his right foot to the side so he could land in a skidding sort of slide, a movement which kept his momentum going but also gave him the traction he needed to twist his body into a full on pitch as he winged the rock as hard as he could towards the Lizardfolk's face. His hope was that this would force it to bring its guard up high as he leaned hard onto his right foot and used it to spring forward as he took hold of his shield's grip properly again and thrust both it and his club out towards the monster's stomach.

This kept him guarded somewhat, though he couldn't compensate for everything with such a bold move. Then again, he had never really given much thought to the consequences of his actions, he only saw them as a means to an end. At best, he would knock the wind out of this creature and open it up to a harder blow; at worst, it would be a good test of both his and the monster's guard.

@Witches Brew & @Better Than Gore 

Edited by Opaquely Translucent

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"I-I don't know," Mythandriel's assumption was correct, Kelvin just didn't know who Constans was or why he was so important to the Lizardmen. Dorian's approach startled him, he had never encountered such a creature, but it seemed pretty similar to a horse and he had road those before. Mythandriel scooped him up and placed him on the creature's back, there wasn't a saddle, so he immediately hunched forward and wrapped his arms around its neck. He gripped tightly in preparation for Dorian's swiftness and off they went. Speeding across the field and onto someone's front porch. Kelvin hopped off and knocked frantically on the front door, hoping someone was there to answer it. The woman came from this house, so he was under the impression that someone was waiting for him here, and his assumption was correct when Dale opened the door. "Get in here, son. You'll be safe inside." Kelvin didn't even need that reassurance, as soon as the door opened, he slipped inside as long as there was enough room to do so. Once inside, he tried his best to explain the situation.

Myth's attempt to put down the horses was a success, the first arrow struck an artery and forced the horse to topple over, tripping the other and forcing a chain reaction of death. The limp bodies came screeching to a halt as they slid across the dirt and the carriage did the same. Smoke billowed from inside as the interior steadily burned, thankfully there was nobody else inside of it.

Arturo's charge didn't go unnoticed, although the Lizardman did little to nothing in regards of preparing itself for him, or his rock. In fact, the Lizardman didn't even bother deflecting the rock, simply because he didn't care. It made impact with a loud thud, yet he didn't react. It simply stood there and watched as Arturo closed what distance they had between one another. It studied his movements and his approach. Watched as he lunged with both his shield and club. His rear leg slid and his shield rose to cover his midsection, preparing for impact. They would meet with a loud clang, as wood struck metal. But as they connected, the Lizardman would shove with his shield, forward to give him clearance to thrust underneath with his sword. Aiming to skewer Arturo's closest leg.

@Opaquely Translucent & @Witches Brew

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Myth didn't relax, even as Kelvin got inside Dale's home, even as the burning carriage screeched to a halt. Everyone was safe, for right now. Now she just had to deal with Lizardman and the rock throwing stranger. Bad things always seemed to happen in Coth, especially near Dale's house. The poor man must be so sick and tired of Elves bringing crap on his doorstep. First with Ioreth and the horse stealing, and now with herself, and the bear and this burning carriage and lizardmen. She gripped her bow tightly, and eyed the tree line. If she tried to shoot from here, she would risk shooting the stranger. She stomped her foot, and then suddenly it came to her. She's an elf, right? Where do elves go? 

She clenched her bow tightly, and she quietly and quickly made her way into the forest, her toes brushing against the leaves soundlessly. She'd have to circle around, and get the lizard from behind while he was focused on the stranger. She ran, her hair flowing behind her as she maneuvered her way around the trees, making sure she didn't step on sticks and make unnecessary noises. She saw the back of the Lizardman, he was just a bit shorter than she was, but his back had a hunch, so he appeared much shorter than he actually was. She also saw the stranger's face, and she made eye contact with him. She slowly raised a hand, and pointed up, making sure he saw her. She was going to get up into the tree, and take her shot from there. Once he got the point, she made her move, sneaking up into the tree, gliding from branch to branch until she got high enough, and found herself a good vantage point. She wrapped her legs around a branch, and drew her bow, glaring down at the attacking bipedial lizard. She had to move quickly, cause they were moving almost at the speed of light. 

She drew the string on her bow, and she aimed carefully. She had to be sure when she made this shot. She took a deep breath, and released her arrow, hoping she made her mark. 

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Obviously, this lizardfolk was a definite brand tougher than a lot of what Arturo had faced in the past, especially considering it took his rock to the face without so much as flinching and despite how hard he'd tossed it, he hadn't even managed to draw blood. That was fair though, it gave him an understanding of what he was dealing with and information like that was easily worth its weight in gold when it came to keeping yourself alive. With that in mind, it wasn't at all a surprise as his club stopped dead against his target's metal shield and he could see in an instant that his weapon had cracked heavily along the top, drastically reducing its overall lifespan to what he would roughly equate to the end of this fight and that was just if he was lucky.

Thankfully, the archer woman who had been talking to the boy with him had managed to get around to a more advantageous position in the woods where she was getting ready to fire off another arrow; it was easy for Arturo to feign ignorance of this knowledge considering that he was currently getting pushed onto his back foot by the lizardfolk's shield and he could see it going for an easy stab into his right leg. With a deep breath, he kicked his adrenaline into overdrive as he'd done with the Gnoll and managed to fling his shield arm down in time for his targe to intercept the blade, but considering how beat up his old shield was, it wasn't any surprise that the blade simply pierced through the worn leather and wood as the tip managed to jab his leg a bit.

Thankfully, it was able to stop the blade before he was more seriously injured and with the creature's blade now bound up in his shield, he had an idea. Using the back end of his adrenaline surge, he put his full weight on his right leg and swung his shield arm up to the side as he pivoted on his foot as he attempted to leverage all his strength in order to spin the lizardfolk to the side, just enough that the side of its neck was the most likely target for the arrow the woman had fired to hit. To make sure that the monster wouldn't catch on, Arturo brought up his club with unnatural speed and brought it down in a vicious hammer blow, fully expecting it to catch the shield again which would undoubtedly finish the job of breaking it...but if that arrow could hit a vital spot in the neck, that would be all the opportunity he needed.

@Better Than Gore & @Witches Brew

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The Lizardman's hand would sneak up the handle of his sword and take hold of the guard, he then cranked it via turning his hand clockwise like a key, doing so would forcibly collapse Arturo's shield wielding arm outward. Then he spun, rotating his hips and pivoting on his rear leg, doing so forced his tail around and toward Arturo, more specifically, his knees. His goal was to trip the Half-Elf and force him face first into the dirt.

An arrow whizzed by him, narrowly missing its target, the Lizardman wouldn't notice Mythandriel's positioning due to being locked in combat. But he would notice the arrow sticking out of the dirt as his spin concluded, which forced a hiss. Back peddling, his shield arm would raise to guard the upper portion of his body and his eyes darted around in an attempt to find whoever shot at him.

He may not have seen her, but his companion certainly did. “NO FAIRS!” He shouted as he came hobbling out of his hiding spot in the brush. Mimicking the hand motion he made prior to the carriage catching fire, another flame sparked to life within his grasp and he threw it at the tree. He had no intention of hitting Mythandriel with it, for the tree itself was the target of his frustration. The fireball hit the trunk with a thud and flames immediately engulfed it. Mythandriel now had to make a decision, flee from her vantage point or risk catching fire along with the rest of the tree.

@Witches Brew & @Opaquely Translucent

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"Fuck!" Mythandriel hissed quietly as her arrow missed the attacking enemy, and she bit the inside of her cheek, her brows furrowed. She wasn't the best archer, but she could have sworn she would have gotten him, but he was just moving too fast for her to hit. She wanted to throw a fit, but suddenly, a second enemy revealed himself. She stayed close to the trunk of the tree as the enemy threw a fit of his own. She could have sworn she saw him stamp his foot into the dirt like an emotionally disturbed child. 

However, instead of stopping at the stomp, his hands moved intricately, in a way she's never seen before, and a flame was born between his fingers. Her eyes widened, and she stayed as close as she could to the trunk of her tree as flames started to engulf the tree closest to her. It hadn't rained in a few days, and it's been hot, so the foliage was drier than usual. She wasn't sure what to do. She could aim a shot at the enchanter, or she could abandon her post and have to fight up close. 

She was sure she'd be scolded by her mate later if he found out about this, but she decided to stay in her tree, despite the risk the fire posed to her. She instead released the trunk of the tree, and restrung her bow. She could feel the fire flames hot on her face as she aimed for the magician, her arrow pointing right at his chest. She was going to fire these arrows as fast as she could. The stranger could take the swordfighting lizard on his own, but an armed lizard and a magician? She wasn't sure he could handle them both. She had to keep the other's attention. 

She unleashed her arrow, and quickly she strung another and let it fly. The heat from the flames kissed her face, yet she remained. She couldn't fit in close combat, the first time Zan tried to teach her didn't end as they had expected, and she had learned nothing about fighting. So she held her breath, and strung her bow once more. 

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Damn. His strategy hadn't worked even a little bit and all he had to show for it was a busted shield and now the archer was in danger; this was already turning out to be a massive headache and the further into the fight he got, the less and less his mind seemed able to focus on anything other than wanton violence. Still, he had been working on reeling in his temper in his time here and he pushed his thoughts back to the fight at hand as he was fairly easily moved around by the lizardfolk, though he still had ample time to see the tail that was coming straight for his legs. With an annoyed click of his tongue, he used his considerable strength to wrench his shield in such a way that a good chunk of it shattered, rending it effectively useless in exchange for giving Arturo his freedom of movement back; he was going to need it for what happened next.

He was going to have to take the hit to his legs, that much he had already prepared himself for but he moved himself in such a way that the tail slammed into the back of his calves and sent him sprawling backwards. He could feel the shock of the impact run all the way up his legs into his hips, but that was a pain he could take, if all for the sake of this next move. If there was one truth he'd found to be immutable over the countless fights he'd endured in his life, it was that the only shot that really counted in a fight was the kill shot, everything else was just tertiary in comparison. In an act of commitment to this truth, Arturo took his club in both hands now that his shield was destroyed and with as much force as he could put into it, swung it with the intent to bash the lizardfolk in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of him at worst, or rupture something vital at best.

It wasn't an elegant solution, nor was it a particularly safe one as he would inevitably fall square on his shoulders, giving him only a small amount of time to push himself back into a small backwards roll. However, if his shot connected, it was most certainly going to cause the beast to double over and that would be all the time he needed to close the book on this fight.

@Better Than Gore & @Witches Brew

Edited by Opaquely Translucent

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Arturo's effort hadn't gone unnoticed, before being swept from his feet the Half Elf decided to ditch his shield entirely and take hold of his club with both hands, swinging desperately as he fell backwards. The Lizardman was in the process of back peddling as the swing commenced, which created a small enough gap for the club to miss its mark, but it did connect with his shield with a clang. Surprisingly enough the Lizard wouldn't take advantage of his downed foe, instead, he waited for him to get back to his feet. Taking those moments to get back into position and prepare for another engagement. "Gets upsssss~" It hissed.

Mythandriel on the other hand, was just full of surprises, she decided to stay in the tree as it hastily engulfed. Flames licked at her and threatened to singe her flesh, but she was dedicated to hitting her mark. That dedication paid off. An arrow struck the Sorcerer right in the chest, piercing its robe and managing to penetrate his scales, which forced yet another hiss. It obviously didn't feel too good. Mythandriel's successful attack also made the Lizard even angrier, so it prepared to throw another fireball at her. This time directly at her. If the burning tree didn't make her flee from her high ground, perhaps a fireball aimed in her general vicinity would. "Takes this!" He shouted as his hand ignited and he overhand threw the spell at her. She had time to avoid it, very little time, but time. If not, the force from the blow would likely knock her from the tree itself, on top of catching her clothes on fire. But that was probably the least of her worries, for her skin would also likely be drastically burned.

---

Previously...

Weeks had gone by without so much of a word from Zanzarog; whereas it had been against his will, all of the answers he had about his past were cleared up. Nisnav was behind it all, every memory, every motion, the Wizard was the puppeteer, pulling strings he had weaved and making the Half Orc dance. Zanzarog honestly couldn't tell the difference between what was factual and what Nisnav had fabricated, or if any of it was real to begin with. Whatever the case may have been, one thing was certain, Nisnav built the Half Orc to succeed where he had failed. Zanzarog's destiny was to oversee the inevitable downfall of Coth and all who inhabit it. But he wouldn't stop there, Zanzarog's intentions were far more malicious than that, the newfound Necromancer would see to it that anyone who praised or worshiped their false deity would renounce their religion entirely and raise the banner of the one true GodNisnav.

Zanzarog spent days on end being tortured, both mentally and physically. When Nisnav tired of tearing through his mind, he turned to instruments that the Half Orc never knew existed. Prodded with red hot pokers, carved with knifes, waterboarded, worked over past the point of shock. Nisnav aimed to kill Zanzarog's personality so that he could rebuild him into the monster he was intended to be. Torturing him until his mind and body became fragments of their former self. Zanzarog became nothing more than an animal, cries for help had been replaced with incoherent babbling and monstrous roars. Just when Zanzarog believed the torment had come to an end, the mending process began. Nisnav went back to work on his conscience, filling it with memories to mask the trauma and to mold him into the perfect successor. Zanzarog was no more, what stood in front of the Wizard was now the perfect solider. Emotionless, fearless and above all else... merciless.

Yet for some reason unbeknownst to him, Nisnav kept his memories of Coth and his time spent with Mythandriel intact, perhaps a test of will? Would Zanzarog forsake those he loved in order to carry out his Master's orders? That much wasn't yet evident, only time would tell.

"Oh?" --- "Conshanns?"

@Opaquely Translucent & @Witches Brew

Edited by Better Than Gore

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She finally landed a hit! Yes! It struck the Lizard magician right in the chest, exactly where she had been aiming, and it managed to pierce through its scaled skin. However, to her surprise, it didn’t take him down. Instead, it just pissed him off, and another ball of flame birthed itself between his scaled fingers. Myth lowered her bow, and her face immediately paled. He was pissed, and he was lobbing a fireball right at her. With the flames beneath her already burning the bottoms of her feet, she had to jump from her high perch, and get to safety. This was going to hurt like hell, but if she wanted to live another day, she’s have to deal with it. 

Myth jumped just in time before the Reptile’s fireball hit her, the red hot flames licking the backs of her arms, singing the ends of her hair, and the heat from it all blasting against her cheeks. She gasped as she felt herself falling towards the ground, and she clawed at the air, trying to find anyone to hold onto. She let out a pained yelp as she managed to narrowly grab onto a lower hanging branch, and the tree limb bounced, trying to support its new weight. Myth quickly regained her composure, and hoisted herself up onto the branch, and hoisting herself upwards, trying to find a new perch, out of view from both Lizardfolk. She couldn’t handle being struck with fire again, so she’d have to be really careful about where she shot her arrows. 

This whole situation would be over in mere moments if Zan were here. He’d crush the sword fighters skull between his large hands, and bring her back the fragments to put into a jar. She hadn’t seen her lover in weeks, and she didn’t want to worry, he was big and strong and could take of himself, but something deep down in her gut told her something was wrong, and that he was in pain, and there was nothing she could do to help him. She patted out an ember that was threatening to spark on her skirt, and leaned up against the trunk of the new tree, trying to catch her breath as she’s thought about what to do next.    

Edited by Witches Brew
Fucking typos dude

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As Arturo pushed off of his shoulders and into a backwards roll, he was entirely prepared to be attacked in the process, but the attack never came. He was allowed to plant himself firmly back on on his feet in a crouched position as he gripped what was left of his weapon tightly in his right hand. The club's integrity had finally given in when it impacted the shield and had shattered harshly, leaving Arturo with what amounted to a jagged piece of wood with a handle, but then again, he could work with that; it had broken in such a way that it now had multiple tips that were definitely sharp enough to pierce flesh, even scaled flesh if he struck hard enough, so that was exactly what he was going to have to do. 

The lizardfolk didn't even have time to fully finish what it was saying before Arturo was darting towards it again like a bolt of greased lightning. He left his guard completely open as he lunged forward, springing off of his right foot to not only help close the distance even faster, but also to goad the beast into a thrust with its sword; he had only done a short hop in comparison to a full lunge which would allow him to land on his feet just at the edge of the lizard's range; if it committed to the thrust as he thought it would, his plan was to quickly duck and push forwards under its guard so he could spring upwards and slam his fractured weapon into the creature's liver, or at least where he thought the liver would be while also smashing his whole body weight into it.

Even if his attack was blocked again, he might just be able to hit it around the midsection and take it down to the ground, but he was hoping this little gambit would allow him to draw blood. His rationality was starting to slip away from him and if he wasn't careful, he'd be going at this thing like a wild animal in no time at all and he was absolutely certain that Vice would let him have it if he showed up at the man's doorstep looking like ground meat.

@Better Than Gore & @Witches Brew

Edited by Opaquely Translucent

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Arturo was a glutton for punishment; even with his equipment practically ruined, he still came back for more, angrier too. This impressed the Lizardman, even he wasn't that confident. Arturo was proving to be quite the combatant, if only there were more of his kind here to witness their encounter. His opponent closed their distance once more; however, this time his tactic was much different, his positioning was low and he aimed to thrust what remained of his weapon. The Lizardman barely had enough time to react, but he knew that if he held his ground it would end badly for him. So instead, his left foot slid away and his hips and torso rotated. In one swift motion, his sword came down like a guillotine, Arturo's closest arm was his target, more specifically his wrist. He aimed to cleanly remove Arturo's hand and narrowly avoid the thrusting motion he intended. Whether he hit or not, the Lizard backed away from the Half Elf, hissing as he did so.

Mythandriel had successfully avoided the Sorcerer's fireball, leaping from the branch she was on and landing in an adjacent tree. Due to the explosion and the excitement, her opponent hadn't managed to track her movements, so her current position was unknown. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage, her teammate wasn't fairing too well, despite his commitment to violence. "Ouchies!" The Sorcerer shouted as he sought the embedded arrow, with a bit of force it was ripped from his chest and tossed aside. Blood spewed from the wound and stained his robe. "Yous pays for thats! I'ms tellings Grayboy on yous!" Grayboy?

---

"Constans?" Zanzarog spit. These strange creatures somehow knew of Coth's fearless leader. His eyes darted around, doing a quick headcount of how many approached him. They were armed and judging by the looks they were giving him, hostile. Sighing heavily, the Half Orc tightened the grip he had on his halberd and waited for them to take a couple more steps. Shnnk! Taking a step forward, the halberd came down, blade first and bit into one of their necks. His arms twisted, forcing the blade to transition sideways and with all of his might he forced it to the right. Due to the blade being lodged in the monsters neck, it carried the presumably lifeless torso with it and sent it colliding into the closest advancing teammate, knocking it over. "How dare you speak that name..." There were two left, despite Zanzarog being distracted, they stopped in their tracks. How effortlessly their comrades were dispatched probably had something to do with that decision.    

With a strong yank, the halberd was retrieved, cleaving through the creatures neck and covering those close to it in blood. "What's wrong?" Zanzarog cackled, turning his weapon on those that didn't come forth. "I'm not done with you yet." Taking another step forward, the halberd lunged, skewering one in the abdomen. Lifting it up off the ground, it would meet the ground as the Half Orc forcibly slammed it, his eyes then fell upon the lone survivor. "Tell me.. is your beloved Constans going to save you? Pray to him." Laughter could be heard echoing through the forest, truly mad, undeniable laughter. 

@Opaquely Translucent & @Witches Brew

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Grayboy? 

Her whole body stiffened when the lizard magician mentioned the word, Grayboy. Her mate had been missing for weeks, and he just happened to be gray skinned. How could this Lizard possibly know her beloved? She gripped her bow tighter, and she closed her eyes tightly. What should she do? 

She could get down from the tree, and try to fight the magician, and if she managed to best him, she could demand he tell her where Zanzarog was. That’s if she even manages to beat a fucking magician in hand to hand combat, which she wasn’t exactly a master at. Or, she could stay in her tree, and try to take out the magic lizard, and she could never hear about Zanzarog or his whereabouts. The stranger needed her help, his weapon had broken, as had his shield, and the lizard swordsman was strangely well versed in the ways of combat. 

Myth ran a hand across her face, and she gripped her hair, all while fighting back tears. She had to choose, and quickly. She removed her hand from her hair and formed it into a fist, and then she slammed it against her knee. Dale Thimmick depended on her. Kelvin depended on her. The stranger needed help, and she couldn’t just leave him to die. She winced in pain as she stood on the tree branch, her burnt and blistered feet gripping the branch as she balanced. She strung her bow again, and aimed, not for the magician, but for the sword fighter. She had to take him out, or the stranger was going to lose a hand it looked like. She took a deep breath, ignoring the pain she felt in her feet, and she let the arrow fly, aiming for the lizards neck. Hopefully, it would fly though the air, and slice through the lizards scales, and incapacitate him, allowing the Stranger to strike. Then the two of them could focus on the Magician. 

Zanzarog would have to wait, no matter how much she longed for him to return home. 

 

@Better Than Gore   @Opaquely Translucent 

 

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One step ahead it seemed this lizard was, but the deeper Arturo got into the fight, the more he found his awareness growing. Things started to pop out to him that he hadn't noticed before and it helped him to push his anger back just a bit, enough that as he saw the lizard's sword coming down at his wrist, he was able to pull his arm back against his chest; not quickly enough to avoid having the tip slice through his leather vambrace and slice into his flesh, but it was enough that he was able to prevent his whole hand from being taken off. Small victories were still victories and having a deep cut was definitely better than losing the whole thing. With his attack negated, Arturo put his right foot down hard and started to push off of it, but his growing awareness of this surroundings gave him something he could use.

The archer had let loose an arrow towards his opponent and it was clearly aimed for its neck. He wasn't even sure if the lizard noticed yet, but just in case, he was going to give the lizardfolk a hard choice. As he started to throw himself backwards, he cranked his hand back and once he felt his left foot touch down, he turned his hips and hurled his jagged former club directly towards the front of the Lizard's neck. A two-pronged attack might actually get blood drawn from it or even kill it if one of the two things hit it right, but at the very least, it might just put it on its back foot and it would be another opportunity for Arturo to assault it head-on.

@Better Than Gore & @Witches Brew

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Arturo was successful with his avoidance tactic, tucking his arm close to his chest would prevent it from being severed at the wrist, but it wouldn't protect it altogether. The Lizard's blade bit into Arturo's vambrace, chopping through the leather material and then it met flesh, maybe even bone if the Half Elf's timing was off. If not tended to in a timely fashion, it could prove to be somewhat problematic. The Lizard wasn't picky, his intention was to inflict pain and he had certainly accomplished that, Arturo would feel it once his adrenaline wore off. It decided to cut its losses, as soon as he didn't hear the plop of the Half Elf's hand hit the ground, he tactfully retreated. Back peddling away from his opponent to create just enough distance to avoid any retaliation, which Arturo attempted immediately after nearly having his hand severed.

“Nice trys softsk---,” His attempt at adding insult to injury was cut off as an arrow struck him. Mythandriel's shot had landed, thanks to her precise aim and timing, the lizardman never saw it coming or had any indication from his partner that he had lost the Elf's attention. His back peddling came to an abrupt stop as he sought the arrow embedded in his throat, but it was no use, even if he had managed to pull it free the blood loss would further lessen what time he had left. “Goods jobs yous dumb robe wearings scaleboi..” It then collapsed forward, face first into the dirt with an oomph. Dust and dirt billowed around him just to soak into the blood that likely flowed freely from his wound.

“Uh-ohs..” The Sorcerer added as he watched his comrade fall to the ground, he now had to make a very important decision. He could either hold his ground and continue fighting, where he would end up just like his accomplice, or he could retreat and face Zanzarog's wrath for failing. Neither sounded like a good decision, but one outweighed the other. “Diesdiesdies!” He apparently made his decision as his hand ignited once more just to throw it in Arturo's general direction. His accuracy wasn't phenomenal by any means, but the explosion would be enough, he didn't have to hit the Half Elf directly for it to be harmful. He was also the only visible target, Mythandriel's position was still unknown to him and he didn't have time to look for her.

@Opaquely Translucent & @Witches Brew

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Arturo knew that his move was a gambit going into it, but the payoff was well worth losing his what remained of his weapon in exchange for the arrow finding its mark in the lizardfolk's neck. That was one target down and the other was well within his sights, even as it prepared to cast another fireball at him. Sadly, he was on his back foot now and he didn't have all that much time to dodge out of the way of the full force of the attack, but he did also notice the archer preparing another shot as the caster whirled on him to sling his spell. His voice came out on instinct, sharp and clear as it carried all the way across the battlefield, right into the ears of the bow wielding elf as if Arturo were standing right next to her.

"Back of the neck!" he roared, calling out a strike from his erstwhile ally with the deftness of a commander before he turned his own back to the blast and threw himself into a dive in order to get away from it as best he could. The fireball itself barely missed his body dead on, but it exploded close enough to him that he was flung through the air like a rag doll, the flames from the fireball burning his back decently as he felt the force of it rattle his bones as he hit the ground and rolled to a stop. As he rose back up into a kneeling position, he felt a great amount of pain ripple through him. Thankfully pain meant very little to him, it certainly wasn't a deterrent as eyed the offending caster with a malice matched by few, it just meant it was going to take him a little more time to get to his next target if his call out didn't get the little whelp skewered through the throat first.

He was definitely going to have to prepare an apology for Vice however.

@Better Than Gore & @Witches Brew 

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