Lost Creek Hollow the library of alexandria is burning

oh! its a 1d15 roll and the higher the roll the more damage one takes.

His voice screeched out of him, strangling a bit at the end as his body truncated and twisted against itself; the wolf was ploughed clearly against the greenery of the hollow with the irate guardian straddling him, face so near to his throat he thought he was surely done for. The pressure of the moment was so unbearably fast! Mink's teeth were hard set and grinding, his lips curving in a horrified frown and eyes - at first shut - blowing wide while his pupils turned to fine points.

Then the pressure lifted and the man spoke. It was far more level than the panic-riddled Mink. Stating the obvious and waiting thereafter for a response, at which point the breath fled from Mink's hitched chest in a heave. He practically deflated, although his fear and sense of danger were still strong.

Ye-yes, sharp intake of breath, th-the bor, bor, borders, exhale, inhale, nose, the -- the fuh, fish, gradually he eeked out some sounds that were almost words, focusing on breathing (and uncrumpling), until his adrenaline had at least started to recede and he could pant with a little more ease. I know of the bor-borders, um, I wanted to bring a gift, but I guess the f-f-fresh fish smell... I guess I missed them a little.

Ah yes, the fish! The gift! Remembering all the work he had input to hoist the mighty sturgeon from the river, Mink looked furtively around in the dark; looking evermore like the creature he was named for, compact ears flopping at the tips. He spotted the fish and grew instantaneously elated. There! That! Its for you. But that didn't make up for his trespass, and in remembering this, the man's head bowed again and he looked utterly droopy with his submission.