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.

The half-blue dragon's hoarse laughter echoes right to the keep's wall as he cleaves deeply into the arm of one of the raiders, instead of Montar. The raider screams in surprise and agony, but Cyanwrath doesn't show a single hint of remorse or empathy towards his wounded soldier. Instead, the malicious glint in his yellow eyes seems to gleam even brighter, completely amused by the dwarf's mystical deception.
 
"Ah, a quick reaction, champion of Greenest," the creature booms.

With terrifying agility for his size, the half-dragon smoothly steps away, easily ducking and weaving to avoid the counter-attacks of the fighter. As Montar's massive weapon overextends and draws a wide arc through the rainy air, Cyanwrath ruthlessly calculates the opening. He lunges forward, thrusting with the blue-steeled greatsword again in a couple of attacks.

Attack: 14 Damage: 8

Attack: 7 Damage: 8

End of turn. 

 Expecting the mighty half-dragon's blade to slice through him, Montar is surprised to emerge unscathed from Cyanwrath's attack. Trying to maintain his focus, he swings his maul in a low and controlled arc and tries to connect this time (Atk: 17, Dmg: 14).

(Montar's turn is over regardless of whether or not it hits.)

The heavy maul connects at the last possible moment, a resounding THUD that echoes through the courtyard, perhaps surprising both Montar and Cyanwrath as the sheer force of the impact ripples through the half-dragon's guard.

Cyanwrath lets out a sharp, pained grumble, his boots slithering in the mud as he works to find his balance again. This time, without retorting cleverly or wasting breath on taunts, he simply snarls, fixes his lethal yellow gaze on the giant dwarf, and lunges forward to attack from both sides once more.

Attack: 13 Damage: 13

Attack: 9 Damage: 11

End of turn.

Montar thanks the entire dwarven pantheon as Cyanwrath somehow misses him twice more. Unfortunately, in his haste to counterattack, he again barely avoids tripping over his own feet. (Atk: 7 (2nd nat 1 this combat))

That's all Montar can do this turn.

Thistlewick is not happy being an idle spectator as his companion takes the brunt of these attacks.  Turning to the nearest official he whispers,

"The parapets are lined with everyone watching this challenge.  Get some squads to the ports and gates in case the kobolds try to sneak in.   Get squads prepared no matter the outcome of this duel.  We can ill afford to be caught on our back foot."

Persuasion:  Dirty 20

While the two champions circle each other, the mud splashing beneath their heavy boots as both miss their attacks, a desperate plan is being hatched atop the keep's walls. Governor Nighthill and Escobert listen intently to Thistlewick's quiet proposition, their eyes darting between the druid and the tense standoff below.

"Yes, yes, we can do that," Escobert nods, his jaw clenched as he glances at the remaining adult hostages.

"But please, let them know to just defend if needed. I worry about this being perceived as cheating by this monster," the Governor says quietly, his voice laced with dread. Escobert nods again, slipping into the shadows of the battlements to whisper strict orders to a handful of guards, directing them to take up strategic, heavily defensive positions around the gates just in case the worst happens.

Down in the mud, Cyanwrath's chest heaves with frustration as he resets his stance, before he goes for another couple of vicious swings with the greatsword.

Attack: 11 Damage: 11

Attack: 18 Damage: 11

"Have you had enough, yet, Runeseeker?" the half-dragon bellows as he slashes wildly with the sword. 

End of turn.

The second swing slices deeply into Montar's shoulder, and blood flows freely. The dwarf focuses, drawing upon his training to give himself a second wind. A portion of his wounds heal (5). Then he digs deep and swings his maul, but has no more luck than before (Atk: 13).

(end of round) 

Roused by the successful drawing of blood, Cyanwrath doesn't show an ounce of hesitation. He is entirely in his element now, taunting and swirling around Montar with fluid precision. The heavy blue-steeled greatsword hisses through the air in another pair of deadly arcs, testing the giant dwarf's defences with predatory joy.

Attack: 11 Damage: 14

Attack: 16 Damage: 9

End of turn.

Cyanowrath's massive blade whips out to strike twice at Montar, but by the barest of margins the dwarf avoids being struck. He attempts to retaliate, but luck continues not to be on his side (Atk: 8 (and there's a 2)).

Cyanwrath continues chipping away at Montar's confidence, pouncing and attacking. 

Attack: 26 Damage: 17

Attack: 16 Damage: 9

Montar reels at the first blow, barely able to stay upright. He swings ineffectually at the half-dragon once again. (Atk 7: Yet another 1. This is absurd.)

(Forgot to add end of turn.)

Cyanwrath lets out a dark, booming laugh. "Is this it then, dwarf? Is this the best the Champion of Greenest can offer?"

The half-dragon's tail sweeps through the drizzle impatiently as the creature leaps forward with predatory speed, bringing the sword down in another merciless pair of finishing blows.

Attack: 21 Damage: 12

Attack: 16 Damage: 11

Montar gasps as the blade cuts through him. Blood gurgles in his throat as he tries to talk, but can barely manage it. Slumping to his his knees, he croaks, "Uphold yer bargain," before falling on his face in the dirt.

The blue-steeled greatsword cuts through the rainy air as if in slow motion. Before the eyes of all the horrified defenders, it slashes Montar across his body, spilling his dark blood into the mud below. As Montar drops to the ground, his giant form rapidly shrinking back to his normal dwarven size, Cyanwrath doesn't stop. With cold, merciless precision, he lifts the massive sword above his head and pierces the dwarf's stomach in one last, vicious attack.

In the heavy, suffocating silence that falls upon the keep, Cyanwrath pulls his blade free and spits in the dirt as he looks down at the defeated fighter and the blood puddling around him. Then, the creature slowly turns his head towards the walls, his yellow eyes tracing the pale, terrified faces behind the battlements. He raises a clawed hand, gesturing to the kobolds behind him.

"He fought with a warrior's spirit, but it takes more than that to best a dragon," Langdedrosa booms, his voice carrying through the cold rain. He wipes the blood from his blade with the edge of his purple cloak, then slides it back into its sheath with a sharp, metallic click. "I am a creature of my word. Release the remaining prisoners. We are done here."

The kobolds shove the remaining hostages towards the keep gates. They are terrified and weeping, but unharmed, as promised. Cyanwrath gives Montar's limp, bleeding body one last, cold look before turning his back on the keep.

He walks away into the pale grey dawn that has now begun creeping up the horizon. Behind him, the raiders and the kobolds gather in one massive, disorderly crowd, booming and cheering their leader's victory as they melt back into the hills, leaving the smoking town of Greenest behind them.

End of combat and initiative. 
Montar is currently unconscious with one death roll failure (inflicted by the final thrust of the sword).