The first thing Garkhen saw when he reached the hole in the wall was that the room beyond seemed like some sort of workshop, with various tables and benches and tools scattered about—more than he would guess were needed for making chains, though he knew little of the process.
The second thing he saw was a bolt of lightning blasting into his face. He grunted in surprise as it actually injured him slightly—it felt… cold, somehow—but his draconic heritage let him shrug most of it off. He looked about frantically for the mage that had cast the spell, spotting him hiding behind some hanging chains, gesturing quickly as he cast another spell. Swiftly the Warder brought up a ward, just in time for a bolt of… flaming ice to slam into it, sending burning shards flying back into the room.
Pushing aside the thoughts of just what he was doing in favor of survival, Garkhen returned fire with his own lightning breath, only to encounter the wizard’s wards. With his knowledge of wards Garkhen guessed that his foe was protected more from magic than from weapons, and so he started working his way forward, only to feel the abrupt impact of a sword striking his armor. He turned to see the injured archer, arrow still protruding from his shoulder, raising a sword with his other arm to strike again.
Garkhen raised his shield to block the blow, gritting his teeth as another spell impacted his ward simultaneously with the sword striking his shield. Before he could retaliate, however, another arrow thudded into the man’s side, and he stumbled and fell, coughing up blood. The Warder closed his eyes for a moment to fight back nausea at the thought of participating in killing men, then turned back towards the wizard… only to find he had disappeared.
“Where’d he go?” Almonihah demanded as he cautiously stepped into the room, looking all around him as he entered.
“I did not see,” Garkhen replied. There were three doors in the back and side of the room, but all were closed. “He must have used magic to escape.”
Before he could say more, one of the doors burst open, and another arrow flew out of it, narrowly missing the top of Garkhen’s head and sailing past Almonihah’s shoulder. The Ranger growled as he ran for cover, bringing up his own bow and firing back before ducking back behind a workbench as he pulled another arrow from his quiver. Garkhen, for his part, jogged toward the door, shield up to block any more arrows fired from it, his armor clattering and scraping against the stone floor as he moved.
The archer in the doorway had wisely decided not to stay in it, meaning Garkhen was unmolested as he advanced. He wondered, however, where Illusin was, and if the younger wizard had gotten to safety.
Just then he heard a loud shriek from outside. Zakhin’Dakh had spotted a man running from the back, and now he dove. The man looked up in shock just as the giant griffon plowed into him. Zakhin’Dakh didn’t use his talons, but he didn’t need to—the impact alone broke his target’s ribs, and he died as the griffon hurriedly backed off. Looking around, he saw no one else, and with the man dead, there was no reason to stay on the ground, so he took off again and resumed circling.
Zakhin’Dakh is not used to pouncing on things he doesn’t want to kill.