Hoard of the Dragon Queen [IC. 2014 rules]

"This is Frulam Mondath's right hand -  Langdedrosa Cyanwrath," Leosin says slowly. "He is a ferocious warrior that wields a great sword. He does seem to have some honour code, though, so I think he will indeed release these prisoners if he gets a one-on-one match with someone worthy." 

"Oh golly," Tam said. "What are we going to do? We have to help get those prisoners back, but can one of you fight him? He looks scary." Tam tried to sketch the scene for her report, jotting down the details of the challenge as well as the names Leosin mentioned.

Montar snarls and begins moving toward Cyanwrath, clearly intending to volunteer.

Tam grabs Montar. “Wait! Are you certain you can take him?”

Montar's head spins back to Tam, his eyes wild. Some of the recent polish of his speech deserts him. "Does it matter, lass?" he snarls. There's a pause then, as he takes in her youth and concern, and his eyes soften a touch. "No more, Tam. I can take no more. If I die fer that, well, at least I could hold me head high in front of me clan when next I see them."

Tam looks around, wanting to do something, anything, to give Montar aid. She respects him immensely for what he's doing. But there's nothing she can do. She hugs him, squeezing him tightly. "I'll tell your story, either way, my friend." A tear rolls down her cheek.

"Don't worry, lass. I've had a good life. Nigh on two-hundred years, most o' that crafting fer me clan. Me one regret was not bein' able ta save them. But I kin do this. Save yer tears fer those who lost their families today on account of these butchers."

Montar gently separates himself and strides forward. He drinks Olav's experimental brew (4 temp hp) and then announces in a booming voice. "I'll fight ye! Stop yer hiding behind children, ye pathetic coward, n' come forward."

(Before the fight is joined, he'll grow to large size. He'll also make sure that at least one other raider is always within 30' of the fight.)

Draylin

The monk looks to Thistlewick, lip quivering like a bear containing a growl.  

He looks to Montar, gently, but forcibly moving Tam from his intended path.  

He looked at Tam, fighting an internal battle, quill or sword?  When your life's work it is to spread the truth, the quill often proves mightier than the sword. 

He slides to Thistlewick, saying quietly, "If you have any tricks to make me more convincing, now is the time to use 'em."  He pauses for a moment, locking eyes with the druid before leaning in to gently touch his forehead against Thistlewick's mushroom cap hat.  "It has been my honor to stand with you, brother," he says softly, "to whatever end."

Stepping to the edge of the battlement, he addresses the cult champion directly.  "Four there were, four unwilling guests of your encampment.  Three will live or die by sword and claw, one will survive to tell the tale, end it as it may.  Release them, if it is a contest you seek, summon your best two lieutenants.  Our three will battle your three; lest we kill ourselves for the honor of spilling your blood individually."  Draylin summoned every ounce of breath that his thin chest could muster, sounding out his own challenge.  

***OoC:  Going off of the OoC comments and recent posts, it sounded like we had 3 ready to throw down.  Thistlewick would have an opportunity to try and alter his course, but I think that Tam and Montar are locked in their own interactions.  DM, do you need a roll for this?  It would be a straight d20 for persuasion or intimidation.***

Sure, you can give me a Persuasion roll, but it will be with a disadvantage as Cyanwrath has the upper hand in this interaction

***persuasion DIS ADV 14 - although the arguement could be made that his challenging pose, hair and torn up tunic flying in the wind from the battlement, blood splattered and pi$$ed off could be pretty intimidating (see image above).  It is also possible that I am just easily amused.  Cant wait to see how this plays out!***

The massive blue-scaled creature's eyes narrow into slits as it focuses on Draylin. It gives the half-elf a cold, calculating look, letting the heavy silence stretch for a moment before a deep, rumbling chuckle erupts from its chest, the sound as harsh as the grind of a mill's stones.

"Do not make a fool of yourself, stick-thin monk," Cyanwrath snaps dismissively. "You are in no position to bargain, let alone demand. I do not negotiate with sheep peering over a fence."

With a contemptuous smirk, the half-dragon unsheathes a massive greatsword. He raises it towards the battlements, the blue steel catching the reflection of the burning town. Slowly and deliberately, he paces the blade through the air, pointing the tip at the trembling guards, then at Tam, and then at Thistlewick.

Finally, the blade stops, locked on Montar. A wide, toothy grin spreads across Cyanwrath's reptilian face, his yellow eyes flaring with violent excitement.

"Ah... finally, something interesting," Cyanwrath snarls, his jaws snapping shut with an audible crack. "A worthy contender! I will fight him. What is your name, dwarf? What is the name of the Champion of Greenest I am going to butcher tonight?"

Montar pauses, forcibly calming himself. The dwarf strides toward Cyanwrath, growing to nine feet tall as he does. "The name's Montar Runeseeker, dragon-spawn, though a coward like you doesn't deserve to speak of anyone in this village." He draws his maul, carefully taking up a position within 30' of another raider, without making it obvious. "Whether I win or lose, you will bleed. And, regardless, you will let those innocents free and leave this place. That is the deal."

***Montar activated Giant's might as a bonus action while talking and approaching.***

Draylin

His face did not change.  His glare conveyed his disdain for the half dragon champion, but he offered no more words.  He stood tall, calm and composed, but internally he was holding it together by a thread.  Forcing his focus on his breath, he slowly cleared his head and grimly accepted the truth of the situation.

"You do your clan and kin proud, brave dwarf.  Moradin stands with you, my friend.  Focus your rage, avenge your people, and all of those who's blood stains that greatsword," he calls to Montar as he makes his way off the battlements to the field of battle.

Cyanwrath's eyes flare with malicious delight as the dwarf activates his magic, muscles swelling and bones cracking as Montar expands into a towering, nine-foot-tall fighter. The half-dragon shifts his stance, his tail lashing the dirt in anticipation of a real bloodbath.

"My name is Langdedrosa Cyanwrath," the creature booms, slamming a heavy, clawed fist against his armoured chest. "And I give you my word - a warrior's word - that regardless of who wins this duel, these peasants will be set free, safe and sound."

Cyanwrath glances back at the weeping captives, then turns a cruel sneer back to the giant dwarf.

"Actually...  to prove my good faith, my kobolds will release the children immediately. But if anyone or anything interferes in our combat... if I see a single rogue arrow from the walls, or hear the chant of a spell... I promise you, the remaining adults will be executed on the spot. No tricks. No interference. This duel is between you and me and you and me only. What say you, Montar Runeseeker? Do we have a pact?"

Montar nods grimly to Draylin, appreciating the sentiment, and sharing the half-elf's disdain for the half-dragon and the undeserved insults he so freely lobbed.

But then he turns back to his foe and says simply, "Yes, we have a pact."

"Very well then," Cyanwrath nods and turns back, barking an order in Draconic. Some of the kobolds scramble and untie the two children and the teenage boy, shoving them roughly towards the keep's gates. The youngsters soon reach the safety of the walls and get taken by the defenders to the battlements where they are reunited with their uncle. As promised, they don't seem to be harmed, even the older boy whose clothes are stained with blood. 

"Now, let us begin," the half-dragon declares after that's done.

Montar, let's roll initiative. 

Cyanwrath initiative: 2

Montar initiative: 13

Upon reaching his foe, he nods once, acknowledging the battle without offering overmuch honor to his foe, whom Montar considers to be profoundly dishonorable, despite his letting the three children go.

With battle joined, then, the enlarged dwarf circles, looking for an opening while trying as best he can to keep the watching audience of raiders close enough. Each warrior feints a blow, but the half-dragon, perhaps not taking Montar seriously, is a bit slow. Montar pounces on the slight misstep, slamming his maul home against the ribs of the half dragon (Atk: 23; Dmg 14 Bludgeong).

The dwarf does not gloat; rather, he seeks to press his slight advantage by activating the fiery rune on his maul. Immediately, flames envelope Cyanwrath and seek to restrain him (Dmg: 8 fire; STR DC 14 saving throw to avoid being restrained).

***I'm assuming a 23 hits. Montar might take an action surge here, but it depends on Cyanwrath's saving throw. This is pretty much his best shot at not dying, so that was a lucky first roll.***

Cyanwrath Str saving throw 26

Montar watches the flames hopefully, but soon they die down as the immensely strong half-dragon escapes their restraint. Montar takes a half-step back, and readies himself for the counterattack.