Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-10197675-20131121201952/@comment-5735114-20131123021115

Tyranil's scythe hit its mark, and the dragon stumbled. The scythe wasn't enough to pierce the dragon's thick scales, but the swing was stong enough to deliver a decent amount of damage. The dragon stumbled, then fell to the ground unconscious. Tyranil would have kept on swinging the scythe at the dragon had Eilonwyn not shot him in the shoulder. Tyranil shrugged off the attack, the bow was still corrupted and did little to impede him. That, and rage is a great anesthetic. He slowly started flying towards Eilonwyn, his wings now completely blood red, and yet he spoke surprisingly calmly. "Did you really think that an arrow from my very own bow would harm me!?"