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DraconicFeline rolled 1 100-sided dice:
36
Total: 36 (1-100)
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 Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 9:00 pm
Character || Biroki
Stage || Sage
Battling || Spitorog x 1
Battle Stat || 35
Defense || 5
Roll Needed || 30-100
Rolled || 36
Outcome || win
Experience earned ||
23
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DraconicFeline rolled 2 100-sided dice:
1, 55
Total: 56 (2-200)
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 9:04 pm
Taming || Spitorog
Attack Stat || 35+6=41
Speed Stat || 21+4=25
Intelligence || 5
Roll 1 Needed || 30-100
Roll 2 Needed || 75-100
Rolled || 1, 55
Outcome || EPIC FAIL
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 9:26 pm
Biroki wasn't sure he wanted to know what the wetness on his ear was. He'd woken up to it, and it was accompanied by a series of unnerving gurgling sounds. It was very unpleasant and uncomfortable, but, since he had been woken up from gruesome nightmares, he was loathe to turn and face it. He really didn't want to know. Too many things could be wet and gurgling.
His ears rang with a mighty ribbit as the source of the gurgling announced itself, shattering any hope of a return to sleep. Not that he would want to, particularly after the dreams he had had. Terrible dreams of death and despair...
He turned to face the creature - the same one that had been plaguing him for over a day now, and grimaced, unwilling to thank it for freeing him from his dark fantasies
"G-go away, you stupid spitorog." he said, pushing at it. It remained there. He was tempted to stick his tongue out at it, but it was right near his face and he did not want to taste its spittle-bubbles.
"Ooogh." he mumbled, sitting up. His head reminded him of the sudden noise, pounding ferociously at his movements. "Wonderful..." he mumbled, "Just wonderful." His work would not wait for his headache to subside, which meant that he would be tending to patients with it, and managing stock, and doing all sorts of things. All with a pounding, miserable head. "Just... wonderful." the spitorog coraked again, and he ignored it, washing his face in the basin and heading outside to the firepit.
He needed his tea, and he set up a kettle of it to boil over the well managed fire, glowering at it as it began to steep. A croak drew his attention, and he looked down to see that the spitorog had joined him, seemingly staring at the pot. "What do you want" he asked it, giving it a shove, "Go away." he shoved it again, harder.
For a creature so small, it was sturdier than it looked. He wondered if spitorog feet were somehow magically sticky, as no amount of shoving would move the stubborn, stupid, creature from its spot.
He decided to ignore it again, watching his tea. A watched pot never boils, and so it felt as though it took forever. He was grateful for the first drops of soothing liquid that reached his throat, and was about to take another sip of the warm, sweet-smelling liquid, when a croak - loud and raucous - broke though his newfound calm, tearing to tatters.
He looked down at the spitorog next to him. "Can't you stop that?" he asked it, taking a deep gulp of the tea, "Just leave me alone. Or be quiet." he said to it. He finished off the kettle, his annoying companion pulsing next to him. He decided that getting rid of the spitorog was at least worth another try.
"All right." he said, "Lets put you in a n-nice, marshy home." he said, picking it up.
Perhaps it was the fire. Perhaps it was just time. As he picked it up, squeezing it slightly in his hands, it puffed itself up. Crystal spines dug into his palms, the chipped edges of a few of them cutting the skin. "Aaaah!" he yelped, dropping the spitorog...
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