Lizardkin Druid

It takes a moment for the words of the scarred mercenary to sink in and another for the nuance to be clear.

Screwing up his face in anger, he snarls back at the half-orc.

By the wood and waters, how dare this little warmbllood call me weak?

He was more than a little annoyed. It had taken him self-control to remind himself that Lumpy had not challenged him, ignorant as he would be about lizardpeople ways.
The lack of faith in his instincts neither helping.

The burst of noise through the brush distracts him and he spins in a position of readiness.
[hr]
When he sees it to be only Flamesword, he moves to place an arm around her back, supporting her as she regains her breath.

with his other hand he quickly weaves his spell before placing it on her forehead.

The spell catches and Tiriel 's skin begins to grow dark and gnarly like the bark of a tree