J'mon Sa Ord (devossa) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-05-14 08:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, artagan, percival de rolo, ronan lynch, shaun gilmore, theodore nott |
WHO: Exandrians + Friends
WHAT: Slaying a Dragon
WHEN: Friday, May 14th, Late Morning/Early Afternoon
WHERE: The Tip of Lower Manhattan
STATUS: In-Progress, Semi-Closed
WARNINGS: Typical genre violence.
NOTES: I'll be rolling damage for Thordak, if anyone has any particular thoughts on how much or how little they want their characters to be wounded during this fight, let me know and I'll figure that in as well. Here are Thordak's stats.
If pressed, J'mon would say that they had hesitated on this attack for so long because they still had information to gather. Tactically, it made sense. While they had a very narrow window of time, they were still very much within it, and it was imperative that they knew exactly what they were dealing it. It took weeks, realistically, to fully establish the kind of lair that would cause them any trouble. And Thordak was a discriminating monster. He hadn't chosen the city of Emon, or Ank'harel before it, out of any sort of loyalty to the area. It was because of the massive populations of both cities. Here, there was almost no one. He'd spent most of the last two days harrying the larger threats, testing his mettle against them, picking off those who strayed too far into what territory he had claimed. But J'mon didn't recognize any of the faces and didn't feel particularly moved by their loss. If it kept him busy and kept him from turning his eyes to those who actually lived in the hotel, all the better. It didn't seem like most of the people who had arrived here so suddenly were really worth saving in the first place. The truth of the matter, however, was that J'mon simply didn't want to face this fight at all. Their numbers were good, at least there was that. And there was time to rest and prepare. Luck was very much on their side in this. But that didn't mean it would be easy and they didn't want to put anyone they cared for in danger. But there was no place in their world for this dragon. When the day finally came, J'mon sent a message to the others they had gathered. A simple time and place to meet, followed by the rough strategy they had already outlined to Ronan and Gilmore. J'mon would draw Thordak in, then they needed to get him on the ground and keep him there by whatever means necessary. If Percy could neutralize his ability to fly it would make things so much easier. Then they would spread out and throw everything they had at him until there was nothing left. They had planned for the worst and clung to the hope that it would not come even close to that. As they waited for the others to arrive, J'mon sat in contemplative silence on a bench near the edge of the water. Thordak had perched on the city's copper guardian, wings folded, watching them as much as they were watching him. Instead of their usual layers of draped fabrics and adornments, J'mon was dressed simply in only a dull brown tunic and pants. Feet bare. Hair twisted into a tight knot at the back of their head. They had no weapons, no armor. At least not yet. It occurred to them, vaguely, that only Percy and Gilmore knew who they were. But all would be revealed quite shortly. And if all went according to plan, it would be well worth the risk. |