Hoard of the Dragon Queen [IC. 2014 rules]

The half-dragon staggers back a step as Montar's weapon hits, coughing out some dark purple blood just as the flames envelop it. With a surge of pure adrenaline, Cyanwrath violently flexes his whole body as the glowing fire chains try to restrain it. Almost instantly, they fracture and shatter into harmless sparks against his hide. He spits another mouthful of blood into the dirt, his yellow eyes locking onto Montar savagely. 

"An impressive strike, Runeseeker!" Cyanwrath bellows, a wide, terrifying grin cutting across his bloody jaw. "My turn."

Without any delay, the creature rushes the giant dwarf, swinging its massive greatsword in two blinding, brutal arcs!

First swing: 24

Second swing: 22

The heavy blue steel blade whistles through the night air, slicing through the light drizzle. 

The first hit will do 9 damage and the second - 16.

End of turn for Cyanwrath. 

The greatsword bites deeply into Montar's side; blood flows freely from the wound. His eyes widen as the sword whirls around for a second strike, and he realizes he is badly overmatched. Nevertheless, he reacts on instinct, calling upon the magic of his second, and last, rune to redirect the force of the blow. The greatsword cuts downward, toward his hip, but then, in a puff of misty cloud, it instead he slices into one of the masked raiders, cutting deeply.

Montar forces a chuckle, and for himself to remain calm. "Do you think so little of both me and your fellow cowards that you would take time to cut one of them down while fighting me?" (Deception: 7)

The dwarf does not wait to see the effect of his minor ruse, moving immediately to counterattack. Unfortunately, it looks as if his luck has deserted him. His first swing is so wild he nearly faceplants. Recovering, he calls upon the last of his tricks to attack again, but this too is off-balance and misses wide. (Atk: 7 (Nat 1), 13). Try as he might, Montar cannot stop his chin from dipping, as he realizes that this might be the end. 

Draylin

Draylin's knuckles were white as his hands gripped the stone battlements walls.  He was too disciplined to cry out, instead sighing in deep relief when his friend somehow managed to redirect the beast's second attack.  He swore softly when Montar's own attacks missed, praying to every god he could think of that Cyanwrath's next offensive would be deflected by the sturdy dwarf's armor.

Tam was not particularly religious, but something about this battle made her pray to the gods of Faerun. "Please let Montar make it through this fight," she said.