Upon hearing the rumours, Cragenak strove out of Hargijk north, along the barrow road, past the huntlands and into Giant country. While he knew this was dangerous, he also knew the potential rewards. And so on he walked, driving himself through the crisply cool air whipping through the savanna. The smell of popberries fill the air, that soft, comforting and warm smell that reminds some southern traders of boiled potatoes; at least those that refuse to season, the damned southern simpletons. After breaking camp from the first night, Cragenak notices that the old Book Hold is gone. Not only gone, but completely gone. No rubble, no debris, nothing. Racing over, he notices a small carriage parked next to it, two Gnomes nearby. Finding a good few boulders to hide his approach, he moves closer still.
As the two dragons fly out of the tower being bitten and scratched by swarming rats, ash flying from their fur in a thin cloud resembling smoke, they are struck by the sudden flip in gravity, struggling to maintain a steady course. Gemscale leans to the side and pulls his tail up in order to bite one of the rats off, and he manages to clamp his jaws around one and pull at it, tearing its skin and releasing a viscous, lumpy liquid that likely once was blood. The small creature squeaks loudly as it is flung into the air and then grabbed in jaws again, this time being swalled whole. The flavour was bitter, sour and incredibly undercooked; most unpleasant. Whether through the distraction of the meal or the lack of aerodynamism brought on by bringing his tail up mid-flight, Gemscale quickly loses control and spirals towards the side of the ravine before catching himself.
Hexfang flies straight up, finding no bother with flying straight “down”, although the feeling in his guts doesn’t match the fact that he can see the clear blue sky, the cool sun glinting in one eye. His moment of appreciation for the beauty of the world around his stopped short as he reaches the summit of the ridge around the ravine; a rat bit through a scale. Not around it, not passed it, but through. There is now one scale on Hexfang’s rear left leg with a toothmark in it. The softer scales of young wyrmlings are often prone to scratches or marks. Rarely this. This is almost insulting.
Shooting out of the ravine ahead, Cragenak sees a large Green Dragon, smoke billowing from its scales, roaring and snapping away at unseen assailants. Smaller than you were expecting, but Dragons nonetheless.
Roll initiative (1d20 + Dexterity Bonus). What do you do?
Cragenak, if you succeed on a Perception check, DC 15, you can see the rats on Hexfang.