Wrock stood still as the rest of the party charged forward, not joining them. They would do fine, for now he would buy time to keep a certain level of pressure off their back. Strangely enough, or maybe it was predictable, the Chimeras only chased the party, leaving Wrock alone.
Turning towards the flesh wall Wrock held a grim look, "Now. . ."
A hand burst through the flesh, as if climbing out of it—and not through it—a Chimera revealed itself to Wrock. It had scythe-like arms, the head of a wasp, legs of a goat, and the body of an ant. Its body crackled with red heretic energy, and it tilted its head at Wrock.
"That's. . . much better.", it spoke.
"One of intelligence? Guess I don't mind have a chat."
"A messenger.", it tilted its head in the other direction.
"Me or you?"
"You or me?"
"I guess I was wrong. This guy's an idiot."
"Trespasser, you are always wrong."
Wrock took up a simple stance. It seemed this Chimera had a liking of battling in the art of tongue.
