You can feel the mana inside you bubble and roil as it swell, leaving the leylines of your aetheric soul and coursing through your physical body, humming in your head, gathering behind your eyes...

You can see now. Truly see. You may still feel woozy, but Magick Eye has cut through your chemically-induced illusions. The Dragon of the Wood stands before you. You’d heard stories of him, of course, but you’d always thought they were from so long ago that he’d either died or moved. Or both. As it happens, though, dragons are very long-lived, and this particular one shows his age more like a tree than a wine--thick in the trunk and larger than life.

And the Wyrdstone is affixed to a heavy chain dangling from his horn. Lovely. At least you can see that his own life force is almost double yours on a good day, and he’s a bit soft under-tail. Somehow, this lumbering ball of thickness actually seems more threatening than the slavering, lithe beast the shrumbloid haze had cast him as.

OPTIONS
< ATTACK >
< DEFEND >
< DEVOUR >
< Attempt to evade his attacks, stall until moonrise! >
< Slide between his legs and bury your shields’ prongs in that soft underside! >
< Attempt diplomacy--he’s a wise old thing, surely there’s a deal to be made >

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