Scene #2793: Newlywed Game Hunter

Owner	Pose
Ysabel Thibault	The Primal Forest, a lush land of marshes and forests where all manner of wildlife roam. The sky is clear and blue, but the air is constantly heavy with moisture, and rightly so: pools of water, shallow streams, and rolling waterfalls are almost everywhere here, covered in blooming pads and algae and looking for all the world like solid ground until one steps on some of them. A few are more dangerous, holding toxins from underground that seep up into the clear water, but it's easy enough to tell those apart by their noxious purple hue. Strangest of all are what appear to be rocky protrusions coming from the earth in a few places: closer inspection reveals them, however, to be...bones. Ancient skeletons covered in layers of moss and hardened with age, partially buried in the damp earth and arching up and around; ribcages that could serve as small houses, spinal columns like the trees around them; very few things should be quite /this/ big, even in Wyveria. The base camp of the Primal Forest is located in a wet area shrouded by trees, allowing for shade and peace from most wandering wildlife. Branches and trunks rise out of the lilypad-covered water that sits waist-deep in a stream, and as bogged down as this area is, the Guild has helpfully provided a wooden rowboat for hunters to travel to and from the camp to the rest of civilization. Fortunately, the canopied tent of hide sits firmly on a small island of solid ground, with an empty red chest beside it and a blue chest not too far away. In the blue chest are the usual supplies: maps, healing potions, rations, paintballs to track larger monsters, as well as ammunition for bowguns and coatings for arrows. A large ribcage arches low out of the earth nearby, an ancient serpent long since lost to time, its ribs serving as a foundation for the mangrove tree that rises up through it on thick roots. The way out to the deeper forest is just past its form, through the waist-high water.
Lucatiel of Mirrah	This is not the kind of place that Lucatiel of Mirrah enjoys. Since she had initially set foot in this forest, she'd been attended by the unpleasant sensation of being watched. As a fencer and warrior, her instincts are honed to the point where she pays attention to those sensations. They're usually right. Where her native land is comprised of open areas and sand, scrub flats and wide open plains, this place feels claustrophobic and hushed. She can't see for more than a short way before trees crowd her view. Owing to the nature of the job, she had left her horse at the base camp, far away from the potential action. Naruiel is a magnificent horse, strong and well-trained, and she would really prefer he not be eaten, given as acquiring another would be more or less impossible at this point in her life. So, she had set off on foot, taking with her maps, rations, paintballs, and a jar of coating for the arrows, although she doesn't seem to carry any bow to speak of. Lucatiel comes to a halt near the great ribcage jutting from the soft earth, craning her neck to look up, frowning behind her ever-present mask. Reaching out a hand, she runs the palm of her glove along the yellowed bones, the gesture seeming one of both respect and mystery. How could something grow so vast? It's not a mystery she can solve, though, and so she trudges forward, evidently resolving to do something constructive as she goes, tearing her broad cavalry greatsword from its scabbard, clamping the hilt under an arm, and unscrewing the jar of arrow coating. Tipping the bottle as she walks, she lets a little of it dribble onto the sword's edge, capping the bottle and stuffing it back in a belt pouch, tilting the blade this way and that to spread it without touching it. Behind the mask, she wrinkles her nose. It smells absolutely horrid, but maybe that's just the damp, rotting forest around her. She's long since lost the ability to tell the difference. The next job in Wyveria she's taking, it's going to be in a damned /desert/, she resolves silently.
Ysabel Thibault	The water becomes a little less deep as Lucatiel proceeds out of the base camp. It's hard to find a place where water isn't covering the ground, but at least that makes it easier to move. She's relatively alone for some time, too: large, pink birds glide through the sky above in flocks, various insects both familiar and otherwise buzz in Lucatiel's ears, and lumbering Slagtoths (http://goo.gl/3GYw43) the size of cows plod in small herds looking for foliage to chew on. Everyone seems very willing to leave her alone if she leaves them alone. The forest continues, until a clearing overlooking a cliffside is reached. Not much water here, fortunately, save for the noxious pool sitting alone in the corner and serving as a home for large, purple toadstools along its banks. It seems lined by thick, towering trees at first, until one looks far in the distance to see what is very obviously a skull the size of a small village. No, it's now clearly the largest skeleton in this entire forest looming above the clearing Lucatiel's arrived in, ribs coated in moss and cracked with age like the columns of some ancient civilization's ruins. Even trees have started growing on its upper reaches, as if they were stuck on solid earth. Something that once was the king of this forest, now serving as a peaceful monument to an era long since forgotten and a home for those now living. Lucatiel is only allowed a few minutes of peace to admire this spectacle before the ground beneath her rumbles. Whatever it is, the creature beneath the earth comes closer and closer at a rapid pace, until, after just a few more moments, the ground beneath Lucatiel erupts. It's hard to see what attacks her in the spray of dirt, but flashes of the green parrot-like beak and four curving fangs snapping up at her with muscle-paralyzing venom are barely visible in the dust cloud. BOSS MUSIC: https://goo.gl/kKXqWy
Lucatiel of Mirrah	Marshy ground gives way to puddles, here and there, but Lucatiel's well-crafted boots manage to repel most of it. Occasionally a little splashes when she steps uncertainly, staggering into larger puddles and splashing water liberally; but for the most part she manages to keep dry. Mostly. Every so often she raises a hand to swat away what she assumes must be midges, although once in a while she gets a glimpse of bizarre and foreign insect life. The knight mutters under her breath, swatting again to clear the bothersome insects away. They, naturally, do nothing of the sort; the buzzing plague follows her across the marshy ground so long as there's water nearby. Finally she reaches a clearing, glad for the pause in swampy earth, although she regards it warily as she approaches. Clearings usually aren't uninhabited, and certainly not a place like this, to go by the frequency with which bills are posted. Something big and hungry usually makes its home where there aren't swaths of vegetation. Then, she spots the skull. Behind the mask, her jaw drops. That skull must be the size of a small /village/. Dozens of people could shelter beneath it comfortably, and still have plenty of room. "Damn my eyes," she swears softly, staring. "What did those bones /belong/ to?" Her eyes travel upward further, noting the ribcage, widening. Are those /trees/ growing on those bones? Yes, they are. Quite suddenly, the ground shifts. Lucatiel immediately leaps and lands in a ready position, feet spread, weight balanced; metal shield hanging on her arm and coated blade in hand. The greatsword is massive, but she wields it easily; either a testament to her strength or the blade's remarkable craftsmanship and balance. Her mismatched eyes flick left, then right, but she can see nothing beyond the slots of her mask. Exhaling an annoyed breath, she reaches up with her shield hand, quickly unclasping the mask and hanging it around her neck to hang down her back by its straps, and no sooner is that done than the ground erupts in a shower of damp loam, bits of leaves, a rock or two, and one flying Knight of Mirrah. Lucatiel is sent sprawling, and she hears the snap of a beak dangerously near, near enough that it shears off a few of the white feathers from her hat; bits of them flutter serenely to the ground amidst the chaos. She wrenches herself past, trying to put herself out of range of the beast. As she moves, she sends her shield up over her shoulder to hang with the mask, too; it's not going to be much use against a maw like that. "So there you are. Clever beast," she says, leering, as she picks herself up and begins to slowly circle. "We've nothing like you in Mirrah, but that shouldn't stop me from killing you, all the same. Dance with me, then, beast." Her greatsword twitches, catching the light; moving to and fro as though to beckon the creature. She can't yet see it through the cloud of dust and loam, but if she can lure it out, she can begin to fight it. Still backing away, she smiles sourly, waiting. "I can be as patient as you," she states, with a soft laugh that most ordinary folk tend to find incredibly unnerving. One supposes it's just how she is. "And I can stay here all day if I must..."
Ysabel Thibault	Clouds of dust spread from where the creature erupted from the earth, shrouding it as it drags its serpentine form out of the ground. Sometimes flashes of color come through, green and orange plates slipping out of the debris cloud to suggest its form. Hissing and rattling sounds rise out of the spreading cloud; barely seen, the Najarala coils up, eyeing Lucatiel through the curtain of dust. A swish of the creatures broad, plate-covered tail stirs up the debris and sends three large scales flying toward Lucatiel. As they spiral through the air, the wind rushing over their strange shape lets out a bizarre, ear-piercing peal, until they bury themselves in the earth around her. None of them are aimed at her, strangely enough... The tail suddenly rattles, filling the air with an even sharper sound. The scales on the ground vibrate as the sound hits them, bouncing the sonic assault back and forth between them to assault Lucatiel before the strain is simply too much. All three scales explode with concussive force, sending shards flying in all directions as if the beast left bombs sitting in the ground. Confident that its trap must have stunned Lucatiel, the Najarala slithers out from its cloud of dust to coil around her. The snake wyvern is easily 150 feet from the tip of its beak to the tip of its rattle. The entire body is shaped as if modeled after an Aztec god: a sharp beak framed by four powerful fangs sits just in front of piercing yellow eyes, and along its neck is a strange "hood" formed by parallel plates arching all the way down to its curled-up forelimbs, fading from green at the base to blazing red at the tips. Its long body continues, lined by more feather-like plates of green, until two small and mostly useless legs mark the base of the tail. The tip is the home of the vicious rattle, where a fan of loose scales sits ready to resonate and be hurled at its target. The Najarala's coils circle wide around Lucatiel at first, but soon that wall grows smaller and smaller, as the snake wyvern keeps its sharp eyes fixed on its prey.
Lucatiel of Mirrah	Stolen glimpses are the best that the knight can hope for until the dust settles. Bright green here and orange there lend some impression of colour, yet still it offers no idea of its overall size. The sound is the better key, here; to go by the displacement of dust, loam, and other debris, as well as the noise it makes while rushing about, it's a very large thing indeed. The Najarala eyes her, and Lucatiel eyes what she can of the Najarala; two hunters regarding one another warily. Doubtless both know that only one of them will walk away from this meeting. Lucatiel has only enough time to duck before three of those great scales are sent whipping through the air; but none of them pass quite closely enough to actually hit her. Why is it moulting? Shedding? Whatever these things do, anyway. She flicks a brief glance toward the scale, warily, and then promptly loses all care for the curious things, because she's too busy dropping her sword and clapping gauntleted hands over her ears. She might be screeching a virulent curse or two as the things squeal, insulting the very fabric of Ysabel's world as being absurd and ridiculous and why do things /get this big/, but there's really no telling amidst so much noise. Grinding her teeth a bit, but thankfully, relief comes as the scales rupture, unable to take any more sonic assault. That's great because the squealing stops. That's also terrible because the shards are sent in every direction. Lucatiel finds herself wishing she'd thought to put up her shield, because several of them manage to rip through her silk shirt; drawing lines of red against arms and shoulder, and one of the chips lodges itself into the other shoulder. Stunned momentarily, but not down and out, the Knight of Mirrah drops to the ground, seizes her blade, and finds herself immediately circled by one hundred fifty feet of muscle, rock-hard scales, and malicious intent. Those bright eyes can be nothing but malicious, the way it sizes her up, as though curious to see what this funny little prey-animal might do. "Oho," she says softly, pivoting to search for a way out. "So. It will be like that, will it? You'll find this desert rat has fangs of its own," she mutters, eyeing its anatomy as it slides past her. So, not quite a serpent, with legs of its own. What use are they, with such a muscular body? Weak points, perhaps? Not necessarily, if it isn't using them in its locomotion... That rattle, however, needs to go. Her eyes flick to regard it, even as the scaled noose tightens around her. Decisively, she kicks off the ground, launching herself forward with her sword slung back. Halfway through her lunge, she whips it around with startling speed, attempting to hack into the fan of loose scales at the Najarala's tail. Perhaps it won't be as much of a threat if it hasn't got something to launch at her. And her eardrums would dearly like that screeching to not be a repeat incident. Lucatiel grunts as she swings, bracing herself with one boot dug into the soft earth, throwing her entire back into the swing.
Ysabel Thibault	The Najarala is a clever enough creature. It watches Lucatiel, and it knows very well that she hasn't been disabled too much from its earlier assault. She'll attack, and soon; though whether she'll actually hit somewhere it's vulnerable, it can't quite say. Her sword flies and strikes the rattle of loose scales...where it quickly bounces off, those scales hard as stone against her cutting blade. Looks like that's not going to be the best target to aim at. The Najarala is quick to take advantage of her poor choice. Its head suddenly flies at her again, beak snapping and fangs glinting to deliver a toxin to her body that would paralyze her muscles for a few seconds if she's unlucky enough to get caught. A second later, whether it actually stuns her or not, the tail comes up and /whacks/ right into her like a giant paddle, aimed to send her flying away like a pesky mosquito. On the bright side, that at least gets her out of the creature's coils if she's knocked away. Like a cobra waiting to strike, the Najarala curls up again, torso raised in an S-shape and forelimbs curled at its sides. A forked tongue slips through its beak as it watches Lucatiel's next move.
Lucatiel of Mirrah	Glinting in the light, the Mirrah cavalry greatsword is swung so hard it rebounds right off the scales, glancing aside and causing her to spin around with the force of its momentum. Lucatiel uses that to her advantage, whipping the blade around to try and parry the beak clashing shut on pure reflex; the movement at the corner of her eye enough of a giveaway to alert her that the Najarala's doing /something/. Not fast enough. The serpent's fangs glance her shoulder, and while the blow is barely a graze, those fangs are still sharp, and they're still coated in potent venom. Her sword drops from nerveless fingers, only to be snatched by her opposite hand; her face contorts as she tries to move her stricken arm again through pure force of wi-- THWHACK. The blow is bone-breaking in its intensity; while Lucatiel's tougher than most folk and it doesn't actually break anything important, it still knocks the air out of her and sends her caroming against a tree trunk. Wood splinters as she smacks into the midst of it, tumbling down gracelessly, hat fluttering in a different direction. She climbs groggily to her feet, shaking her head to clear the starbursts, grimacing and testing in the half-second it takes her to reorient herself to check for breaks. Nothing broken, and it seems to have shaken the paralysis loose. Good. Except the Najarala's still over there, and it looks like it's hungry. Not so good. She shakes her head one last time, blonde braid whipping behind her and beginning to fray out of its neat ribbon. She'll recover her hat later; right now she's trying not to get /eaten/. "Clever." Lucatiel spits aside a bit of blood where her lip had been caught, gauging the creature warily. What to do? She may have bitten off more than she could chew, this time; although death certainly doesn't frighten her like it really ought to, it's still /unpleasant/. And it's wholly against her nature to give up in any endeavour. Hm. Her mismatched eyes flit to those tiny limbs again, considering. Perhaps those may not be as vulnerable as she might think, but maybe the pain of attacking them could drive the creature to distraction. As it is, that thing is entirely too clever. Stepping back and circling, she watches the Najarala intensely, flicking her blade again. Come on, the gesture seems to encourage it. Come on. Move. Circle this helpless critter. Expose those claws...
Ysabel Thibault	The Najarala is curious, wary. Like a snake, it doesn't seem interested in chasing down its prey, but instead wearing it down and trapping it. Lucatiel's obviously not running, so it doesn't need to pursue...but she's not moving toward it, either, and the Najarala's obviously not going to just turn away. The snake wyvern rears its head up a little higher, its torso arching back. Its beak opens, and it /strikes/. Like normal snakes, the Najarala can strike with its whole body. While perhaps not as sharp and graceful, it does have the the added benefit of throwing the beast's entire weight into the attack. In this case, it does exactly that, hurling its massive body toward Lucatiel with jaws agape, curling its body with the momentum so that, even if she dodges that fang-lined beak, she'll have to move even further to avoid the brunt of its slithering body. Of course, if she /does/ avoid that, the Najarala's at risk: it'll take a moment for it to get back into a good position, and if Lucatiel's quick enough, those stubby back legs aren't going to be too far away from her...
Lucatiel of Mirrah	Striking was definitely a potential option, and so the instant the Najarala's torso twitches so much as a scale out of line, Lucatiel is already kicking off from the ground in a violent lunge. Curiously, she doesn't retreat, but instead advances, trying to fling herself beneath the shifting coils, and thrusting her sword upward as she goes. It's a slice meant to bite deep into the Najarala's throat, if she's quick enough to reach it before it flashes past, although she'll be content to thrust steel into the creature's front feet. It's fast; there's no doubt that she probably missed its throat, but that doesn't stop her from the attmept all the same. What does a snake need with feet, anyway? Isn't a house-sized serpent horrifying enough without adding feet into the mixture? Wyveria's freaking weird. She grunts as the Najarala's burly body buffets her around in passing, rolling over and pushing herself back to her feet. If nothing else, it seems to have to recover after that exertion, and its hind feet are /right there/, a convenient target. The greatsword flashes in the light as she whirls it overhead, trying to sever one of them with a mighty overhand blow. Lucatiel's looking winded, though. The creature's battered her about a fair bit. She's lost her hat, her mask still hangs over her back unworn, and her hair's a mess. Bruised and bloodied, but not enough to give up, it's going to be either Lucatiel or the Najarala -- only one of them will walk away from this.
Ysabel Thibault	This time Lucatiel's swings strike true not once, but twice. As the Najarala flies over her, her sword cleaves into the creature's underbelly, drawing a streak of blood across its body. The snake wyvern shrieks in pain as it continues barreling over her, giving her enough clearance to move in toward its back leg and hack down into it. /That/ seems even more effective: her greatsword buries itself in what appears to be extremely soft hide, biting deep down into solid bone just below the knee. Blood flies, and the Najarala recoils in agony, whipping its tail and hind legs around less in an attempt to attack Lucatiel and more in an effort to get them /away/ from her. A few more loose scales go flying, burying themselves haphazardly across the grass. Furious, the Najarala comes around again, turning to face Lucatiel and bringing its tail around behind its head. With its body low to the ground, it uses its forelimbs to keep its torso slightly elevated...and then it rattles. It's a strange attack, and Lucatiel may have trouble telling exactly what the creature is doing for a few moments. With the giant rattle resonating behind the Najarala's crest along its back, the snake wyvern keeps its upper body facing her, hissing and glaring. The sound of its rattle echoes in the Najarala's crest, bouncing off of tall amplifiers again and again, but remaining contained in that natural echo chamber; Lucatiel can certainly hear its melody, but the magnitude of it isn't yet apparent, like a building chaos contained off in the distance. Then, suddenly, it all bursts. The Najarala shifts, and the sonic blast echoing in its amplifiers explodes forward powerfully enough to send earth flying and strike Lucatiel like the fist of an enraged giant. The Najarala itself is forced back with the recoil of its own sonic attack, and the sound-sensitive scales scattered around the clearing tremble before exploding themselves, putting Lucatiel at even further risk if she ends up too close to them!
Lucatiel of Mirrah	Well, that certainly seemed effective, Lucatiel decides as she's sent caroming through the air again. At least she managed to grab her greatsword before the Najarala thwhacked her with its tail in an effort to get her away from its vulnerable parts. This time she's smart enough to tuck and roll, using the soft grass and loam to break her fall and rolling to her feet. Mostly. Spitting out a few blades of grass, Lucatiel's single blue eye flashes as she regards the creature warily. For a few moments they seem reduced to watching one another like circling dogs, neither quite ready to back down, each trying to calculate how best to strike. The Najarala is the first to move. Lucatiel shifts her weight, the resonant sound reverberating through her chest, her head, and her very bones. Even she has enough instinct to know it's a precursor to something, but the question is what the creature's going to do from here. And suddenly, for the second time in as many minutes, Lucatiel is sent flying once more. She grits her teeth and holds to her sword; as she's tumbled end over end through the air, that's all she has the fortitude to do. A tree breaks her fall, and when it doesn't quite stop her, the giant rib bone jutting from the earth behind it brings her to a full stop, sliding to the ground upside-down. Dazed, all she can do for a moment is stare at the upside-down snake wyvern, wondering, perhaps, why it looks so strange. The answer is because it's upside-down, which Lucatiel shakes herself into rectifying soon enough, lurching to her feet and clearing the stars from her vision. That's a fine thing, knowing where to strike; those feet aren't as useless as they might have looked. To her, anyway. There's no telling how much that creature actually needs them, but certainly they seem to cause it pain when struck. It seems they're too small to have grown heavy armour plating. Smiling a bloody smile, because the fall had knocked her about enough to bite the inside of her cheek, Lucatiel watches the Najarala, striding forward even through the bursting scales. She ignores the slices drawn by the fragments; flinching away only when one of them cuts a brilliatn red line through the withered side of her face. The blood from the normal skin is red and healthy, but what bleeds from the rot of the Hollowing seems thicker, darker; like blood already congealed. And then the woman kicks off from the ground, feinting for the creature's front claws where it stands, thrusting for them while attempting to work her way around toward the back leg she had already damaged. "Have at you, then, lowly worm," she sneers, even as she pants for breath. "Show me those claws of yours. I'll show you /my/ claw!"
Ysabel Thibault	The Najarala is not happy. With its sonic cannon fired, it gains a moment to stew and seethe in its injury. That leg is bleeding badly; it seems to use those hind legs as sort of stabilizers, and the Najarala's hind region seems slightly off-center as it strains not to put weight on that leg. Maybe not the most /necessary/ part of the body, but it's throwing it off at least a little. That could be what Lucatiel needs for an opening. She charges through the detonating scales like a soldier through a battlefield, and the Najarala recoils as if in fear. Her blade swings, slicing at a foreleg: these seem a little sturdier than the hind legs, if only because her sword doesn't cut as deep, but they aren't built for combat either. Lucatiel's in too close for the Najarala to do anything particularly strong, and its limbs are too focused on support to do much in terms of offense. What does the Najarala have left, then? It hisses, bleeding now from its foreleg as well, and slithers back, giving Lucatiel a relatively weak whack with the body of its tail to try and slip her up and buy it some time. It's then that it dives its beak into the ground, digging in deep and slithering down into the earth within a few moments. /Here/ it has some kind of advantage. Like a sea serpent cresting out of the waves, the Najarala is quick to burst out of the ground where it senses Lucatiel, arching up and diving down again. A second time it repeats its assault, and a third, before it blasts out of the ground in a corkscrewing strike beak-first with a hissing peal. However, its body is too long to get out all in one burst: with that last rise, it only comes out halfway, at which point it needs to brace its forelimbs against the ground and drag the rest of its body free of the earth. Hopefully, for its sake, it managed to send Lucatiel flying again, or else this is going to be an even bigger opening for her!
Lucatiel of Mirrah	Although it's not quite the hone run smack that had sent her flying earlier, a whack from a creature this big is still more than enough to stagger the Knight of Mirrah. Lucatiel loses her footing in the loose loam, forced to leave off her onslaught long enough to make sure she doesn't wind up with her face in the dirt. It's enough for the Najarala to get away. Away it goes, indeed; diving straight into the damp earth with alarming speed. Lucatiel wastes no time in trying to anticipate where it's gone, immediately moving away from where she'd been standing, although it no doubt has some way to find her. Maybe it senses vibration. She slashes when it surfaces, but she isn't close enough to do any damage. It crashes back into the ground, only to come up a second time to corkscrew and snap at her with its vicious beak. She throws herself out of the way, rolling; just close enough to be sent sprawling again, this time right back the way she'd come from, as the Najarala surfaces right beneath her. Though quick to pull herself upright, she's not moving nearly as quickly as she had at the onset of the battle, gritting her teeth in pain as she watches it prop itself up. So, it needs those forefeet for digging. Now that she's got a target to aim for, however small and well-protected, she can fight on more even footing. No sooner is she on her feet than she's lunging forward, whipping her sword around and bringing it down with a bellowing roar of challenge. "I've fought battles far more hopeless than this, worm!"
Ysabel Thibault	Lucatiel learns quickly, and that quick learning is paired with incredible skill. No doubt this is what made her so remarkable among the knights of Mirrah, and it's surely what's going to gain her victory against this serpentine creature tonight. The Najarala frees its hind legs from the earth just in time for Lucatiel's blade to find an old wound. Her strength cleaves into weakened flesh, crashing against relatively frail bone and breaking right through it. The Najarala lets out a terrible howl and recoils, stumbling and tumbling as its foot falls right to the earth. Blood flies across the green ground, and the snake wyvern, blinded by agony, finds itself sprawled in awkward coils on the ground attempting to recover its strength. A few sound-sensitive scales have gone flying from its pained flailing, but the Najarala is going to be stunned for more than a few moments from a wound like that!
Lucatiel of Mirrah	Skill and quick learning are the reason why Lucatiel isn't dead yet, at least not permanently, and it also explains why she hasn't become the Najarala's lunch. No doubt such a fearsome beast would make short work of any ordinary human disturbing its lair. It's managed to knock the Knight of Mirrah around quite a bit, bloodying and bruising her, but she isn't dead yet. No sooner does the greatsword bite into serpentine flesh than the knight is sent reeling back again, dropping her sword and clapping her hands over her ears as the beast howls in pain and writhes, but she recovers her bearings soon enough. Navigating the thing is tricky with the way it thrashes about, but she finds its head soon enough -- and if she has the opportunity, she's going to try and ram that heavy greatsword right into the creature's (hopefully) soft throat, straight through to the top of its head, if she's able. She's not interested in making it suffer; furthermore, the more it thrashes around, the more she's liable to be crushed by its aimless flailing.
Ysabel Thibault	The Najarala thrashes and flails, overwhelmed by the pain of its severed leg. The rattling of its scales is causing a troubling sound: the discarded scales across the arena tremble, threatening to burst at any moment and turn the area into a minefield for Lucatiel. She'd better act fast, and soon! Fortunately, it seems she's trying to do just that. It's difficult to find an opening through the Najarala's coils, but Lucatiel manages to get around the lashing coils of the snake wyvern and get up to its neck. The scales at its throat, she's already learned, are weak; as she'll find out shortly, the head is quite weak on its own as well. Her placement is chosen, and her greatsword is aimed. The sword comes driving forth, burying deep behind the Najarala's beak in a moment of weakness, and the creature /howls/. If Lucatiel keeps a firm hold on her greatsword, she'll quickly be pulled off her feet as the Najarala stretches up to the sky with its last howl. The sound resonates through the forest, detonating those last few scales left on the ground - which Lucatiel would fortunately be taken away from if she manages to keep her grip on her sword. The snake wyvern rattles, hisses...and then collapses, sprawling in a coiled heap on the ground with an impact that shakes the earth one last time. Victory! (https://goo.gl/ZbhRpy)
Lucatiel of Mirrah	Although the Najarala thrashes around in blind agony, the Knight of Mirrah manages to maintain a grip on her greatsword's leather-wrapped hilt. Aside from not wanting to lose her best weapon, well, she's been bruised and battered enough throughout this battle. While it means being shaken about like a ragdoll, she doesn't really feel the need for any more bruises if it can be avoided. Between being shaken up and being thrown against some unforgiving surface or another, she'll choose being shaken up. Curling up as much as she can, seizing the hilt in a grip of iron, she grits her teeth and hangs on as the thing surges skyward, trying to shield herself from the airborne fragments of scales. Those things are aggravating, and if she ever fights one of these things again, she's going to have to figure out how to take those out of the equation. It rattles, hisses, and then slumps to the earth, as the earth shakes at its impact. Several seconds pass where Lucatiel simply crouches there, panting and hanging onto her sword hilt, as though expecting it to come roaring back to life again one last time... but the forest is silent, and after a moment she can even hear the sound of insects again. Letting go, she tumbles to the ground over the tangled coils, muttering under her breath as she climbs back up to the thing and plants a boot in the underside of its jaw, retrieving her greatsword and wrinkling her nose at the spurt of serpent's blood. Well, she's going to clean that weapon thoroughly. With great dignity, she stalks over to where her hat had fallen, picking it up and casting a critical eye toward it. Some of the white feathers are a bit ruffled, but serviceable; and the black gryphon-plume is intact. Nodding in evident satisfaction, she replaces it, tucking it under an arm to carry it. Well, that's that. Half a glance is cast back toward the massive, and thoroughly dead, Najarala. For a moment she doesn't move, merely staring at the creature, before walking over and laying a hand on the ridge over one death-glazed eye. "You fought well," she murmurs. "I am sorry you had to die." With that, she lets her hand fall, turning and walking away. Her hat she swings up and replaces on her head, tugging it into place; the mask she turns back around, clasping into place. The greatsword she flicks the blood off of, what she can, and with that she turns to leave. If there's anything to be had from this creature's remains, she'll enlist the help of the nearby villagers to harvest it. Or perhaps the poor unfortunate soul who enlisted her help. It's the least he can do for her trouble, right?
Ysabel Thibault	The forest is strangely silent with the death of the Najarala; or perhaps that's the aftermath of the cacophony it made fighting Lucatiel. Whatever the case may be, the clarity in the air makes it very easy for Lucatiel to hear the gentle rustling of leaves as a slim shape slithers among the underbrush in surprise at her footsteps in the wet soil. It's not too difficult to see the creature, even without parting the foliage. Flat scales the color of fresh leaves lie coiled up in the grass, with two wide red eyes staring up above a beak flanked by blunt, short fangs. Stumpy forelegs are curled under two soft crests, and the short hindlegs lie just before the rattle whose loose scales have only barely formed for their purpose. The Najarala wormling can't be much longer than Lucatiel is tall, if at all. The infant gives a small hiss, as if in uncertain warning.
Lucatiel of Mirrah	The knight pauses in her exit, stiffening as something slithers behind her. After fighting the Najarala, her nerves are a little frayed, and she's not inclined to treat any sort of disturbance lightly. Most sensible creatures would have fled the site of the battle, so... She turns, squinting at the now-familiar flash of green and orange. And then Lucatiel blinks, somewhat owlishly, before her shoulders slump as she gives a long, slow, exasperated sigh through the mask. "Oh, bother." Several seconds of silence pass as she seems to debate what to do with this thing. She can't in good conscience kill a hatchling, however big it might already be, and furthermore, she wasn't contracted to kill two Najaralas. Yet at the same time, it looks alarmingly young in spite of its size; it doubtless can't take care of itself yet (although she can't imagine much that would try to disturb it). "...Oh, /bother/..." Squatting down in front of the creature, perhaps fully aware that it might well lash out, she offers a hand for the uncertain creature to sniff. Taste. Whatever it is these serpents do. "There, there. Oh, little one, I'm sorry. If I had known /you/ were here, I would not have taken that job." Now she's annoyed. "I suppose you're my responsibility, now, like it or no..."
Ysabel Thibault	It's hard to tell what the young Najarala thinks. It gazes at Lucatiel long and steady as she speaks to it, hardly moving as the knight squats down and offers a hand. Its tail flicks a little, but it takes some time for the young snake wyvern to act. Eventually, it leans forward, flicking its forked tongue out at Lucatiel's hand. After another moment, it slowly slithers forward, coiling around the knight's legs and smelling with its tongue again and again. Then it stops, looking back to her hand. And finally, its beak opens, and it chomps down with relative gentleness on her thigh. Fortunately it's not very sharp, and its paralytic venom hasn't developed yet. The Najarala coos with its mouth full, like some kind of exotic bird.
Lucatiel of Mirrah	In spite of her outward calm, the knight is watching the creature carefully. It may be young, but she's spent after the battle with the adult; this creature could still do damage to her if she let her guard down. Thus far it seems more curious than aggressive, though. It must be well-fed. And then the thing coils around her, chomping down and making what she can only guess are contented sounds. Almost like a dove, it sounds like; so maybe it's content. At least it's not /seriously/ trying to eat her, though it must look absurd. Lucatiel lets loose one of those long, exasperated sighs again, but she reaches down, slowly rubbing the Najarala's head. "Fine, then," she sighs. "You can come with me. I'll keep you fed, and I'll see that you don't get eaten in turn." Tugging at the creature, she'll pull it toward the same way she'd come. "Hopefully, the villagers won't take much exception to your presence..." And with that, she'll make her way back to the campsite, with a new little friend in tow. ...If he tries to eat her hat, though, she'll smack him on the nose. Hard.