Bloodmane

==Loot==
*Scabbards
==Lore==
===Enter battle===
The lion-man roars as he sees you approach, and pushes his allies aside. He beckons for you to face him, apparently as keen on the duel as you are. From the scars which cover his muscular chest, he’s no stranger to battle. Some look like the work of blades, others of claws. Perhaps like a normal lion he’s accustomed to dueling for mastery of his pride.
You leap down from the saddle. Your adversary appears agile, nimble in spite of his huge muscles. You want to be free to dodge and maneuver. Solus moves into an attacking posture, as if about to leap into the fray. But you call for him to stay back. This battle is yours.
The lion-man orders his warriors back as well, and they seek opponents amongst your comrades instead. He advances, his sword waving through the air as if selecting an opening in your defenses, the fingers of his strange, clawed gauntlet twitching with suppressed violence.
His eyes meet yours, and hold your gaze for a long moment. Then he roars once more, and lunges. 
===Victory===
The lion-man staggers back, his broad chest rising and falling in great heaves as he draws his final breaths. His jaws twitch in what seems to be a smile.
"Good... fight..." he rasps. Then he collapses, and his pupils expand into the sightless gaze of death.
After the last of the creatures are cut down, you make a brief camp upwind of the corpses. Wounds are tended to, including a few inflicted upon your own body when the lion-man's claws found chinks in your armor. In the heat of battle you ignored them, but now they niggle away at you like burning needles. One of the healers begins to apply her salves to them, and you look off into the sky as you try to ignore the powerful stinging sensation which accompanies their effects. Your gaze traces the flight of carrion birds already gathering to feast on the spoils of war.
Soothing music reaches your ears. You turn to see Medea walking amongst the injured, playing her harp and singing soft elven words. The song is comforting. Whatever thoughts trouble her, it seems she won't let them interfere with her duties. But even so, you're reminded of what she said by the campfire, and the worries of the morning return in full measure.
===Flee/Defeat===
"Coward!" the lion-man cries. "You don't deserve to lead your pride!"
Your ears burn with the sting of the taunt. But you have to fall back.
===HP & Max Damage===
* 
* 
* - 640 HP, Max Damage 200
* - 1188 HP, Max Damage 200