Dragon Attack

"[THREAD TITLE]" is a [SEASON NUMBER] thread started on [IRL DATE] and finished on [IRL DATE].
==Summary==
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==Full Text==
Blunt: The fortress rumbled and the rebels inside looked around, frowning and murmuring among themselves, wondering what was causing the shaking. Dust fell from the rafters, and the rumbling got louder. “Oh my gods!” one of the rebels suddenly screamed as he realized what was about to happen. “The two days are up!”
In the next moment the ceiling lit on fire, a dozen armor class dragons dropping in. The rooms of the fortress were sent into disarray and their occupants into a panic as the beasts began to tear the place apart. They did not outright attack the rebels. But they did knock them out of their way, or pick them up to toss them so they weren’t interfering with their task of sniffing out those that Stonegit wanted delivered to him.
From the outside, the dragons shot fire blasts into the walls to make entrances, swarms of scouts wriggling in to begin their search. Tables and beds were flipped and scorched with flames, the walls and floor boards torn up, and all over the fortress the dragons searched for their targets, not letting anything get in their way. Only the fact that the fortress was coated and primarily made of ice kept the fire from raging out of control.   
Fiendal was just attempting to find a way to escape the smokey hallways, when a large gronkil dropped in front of him, growling, wanting to get past him despite how narrow the hallway was.
Fiendal: Fiendal looked for a way past the gronkle and couldn’t find one. “DAMN THIS TO HEL!” he yelled. He tried to push the beast in front of him, but realized after a few attempts that it was not happening. Maybe I can calm it, he thought, and he put his left hand out to the Gronckle. In almost a whisper, he said, “It’ll be okay, I just need to go.” His breathing was heavy and he was sweating from the immense heat. Gods, please let this work, he prayed.
Blunt: The gronkle snarled, snapping at him threateningly, and then butted him to the floor using its large head. He trudged forward, intent on simply walking over the man, even though doing so could injure him. It’s heavy foot was placed on his ribs, and it was just about to hoist itself over, when a excited war like cry echoed down the hall. Out of know where, Blunt jumped into the fray, hitting the dragon with an upper cut that send it sprawling. He scoop up the fallen Viking in a french deep, meeting his eyes intently for a moment, letting his hair whip around his shoulder as he tossed his head. “We must make haste,” he said seriously.   
Fiendal: “aye, the best idea i’ve heard in ages” fiendal says back, his head was thumping and his heart was racing but he was going to make it through, there was a rabble of vikings and dragons fighting, hopes here good until they were blocked by a sudden line of zippleback gas fiendal yells “oh no! two heads twice the status. pre-inject venom for digestion-” and he’s cut off  by his new ally yelling something.
Blunt: “There’s no time darling now run!” Blunt exclaimed, carrying him bridal style and running off down the hall as the very angry gronkle got back up. Blunt rounded the corner, ducking and dodging fire blasts and falling beams as he did so. He leaped over a balcony, landing on another one across from in, rolling, and keeping Fiendal from all harm as he did so. Setting the man down and spinning him once gracefully, Blunt eased him into a side room with a heavy door, and closed it tight.
Blunt dusted off his hands, turning to Fiendal with a sigh. The man was sprawled on the ground, his hands pressed into the floor at his sides. Blunt held out a hand. “Well then, that was an adventure. Now that I have delivered you safe and sound with out a scratch, I think we should discuss how you can repay me.”
Fiendal: Quick as a flash, a whispering death shot up out of the floor boards, snapping off Fiendal’s hand as it went by, and vanished into the ceiling. 
Blunt: Blunt’s face dropped. Not only had a terrible injury just been inflicted upon this poor man, but the mood Blunt had worked so hard to built up was now gone…well, maybe it would last, Blunt tried to reason with himself. Depending on how well this man took loosing his hand.  
Fiendal: there was no reaction for a few seconds, out of nowhere, his hand was. Gone. just, not there anymore. but the pain was so immense that it hit him like a tree had just been thrown on his hand. he let out probably the loudest yell of his life, his hand a simple stump now, after his yelling had stopped he stayed on his knees, holding his wrist and crying.
Blunt: Blunt’s arm slowly lowered. He didn’t take it well…shit. “Hold on,” he said earnestly. Stripping off his shirt, Blunt tore it into sections, tying one around Fiendal’s arm to slow the bleeding. Blunt picked him up once again. “Hang in there!” he said. “I’ll get you to a medic,” 
Blunt ran from the room, and fortunately found an exit, he would be able to treat Fiendal in the village. 
Fiendal: “thank you” he whispers weakly to blunt through his tears, his headache was gone, but he was losing consciousness “im… going… to.. sleep…” he says weakily
Blunt: “Nope!” Blunt declared, slapping his cheek lightly as he ran. “Stay awake! Just for a little bit longer. Once I start wrapping you up you can go to sleep." 
Fiendal: "oh ok” he says meagerly, this is going to be a hard trip for him.
Category:BOTGD
Category:Season 3
Category:Events
Category:Blunt Donz
Category:Fiendal Hrothgar Hookless