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Tancred sits a the back of the first boat, trying to remember everything he learned about dragon slaying at the Order.
"Hmm... something about a black arrow, and a jewelled coat? Shoot the Dragon's armpit, or something. Not much use for a Cavalier. Or something about orbs I remember, yes, orbs... orbs and lances. Perhaps an Orb would do it. What is an Orb? Some kind of trebuchet, or mangonel? Damnit, Karnas would know."
He surveys the small crowd of adventurers before him. A welcome crew; no-one wanted to face one of the great wyrms alone. His gaze lingers over several of them. Lord Raptor, a chicken? Somehow, something in Tancred's traditional mind can't get over that. Rhazor, an elf of unknown allegiance and powers. Melusine, too... happy, perhaps, for a trip like this.
There is a *splash*, followed by a few muffled HELPs and a few blubblubs. Tancred turns his head, seeing someone's hands wave frantically from under the water. Realising that there's not much time, the Cavalier grabs a nearby set of waterwings and leaps into the stinking Catfish river, hoping against hope he can get whoever it was out before he has to swallow some of the water. That, and that the waterwings counteract the sinking effect of full plate armour...
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