Chapter Seven: The Stalemate At Loton's Cove

Domarc and Zangua both manage to hurl their bodies away from the smoke; Mordred stands there confused for a split second, then retreats as well. As the smoke dissipates, you all hear a loud but muffled voice, speaking as if from deep within the rock:

"Oh dear, it seems you have forgotten the secret knock. Don't worry, the doorman will come down to meet you presently, so don't move a muscle, a-ha-ha-hah."

Somewhere high up on the mountain above you, you hear a distant crunching sound.

A moment later, you hear it again, louder. Then again.

Domarc looks up. Under the darkening sky, he can only see a faint crouching shape perched on a shoulder of rock. Then it vanishes. Crunch. Domarc's eyes dart back and forth, and he sees the crouching figure again, now at least a hundred yards further down the slope. A few more bounds, and this thing, whatever it is, will be upon the party.

You all have time for two actions before the thing is in melee range.

Domarc manages to get a second puff of smoke out of the rock. Nothing happens on Mordred's end.

Domarc. you can take Advantage on your saving throw this time!

Domarc tumbles out of the way of the second smoke burst.

The monster on the mountain continues leaping downward, stones and gravel bouncing down ahead to herald its imminent arrival.

You all get a good look at it as it pauses about fifty yards away. Though it maintains a low crouch that conceals its size, it's easily eight or nine feet tall and skeletally thin, with waxy, yellowish-white skin taut over its bones. A long tail is held coiled against the small of its back, and it has tattered, locust-like wings on its shoulders, which it rattles menacingly as it rears back for one final leap down.

Roll for initiative.

Sick kid, busy work week, gird your loins for combat on Monday!