Crunch

Tyrfing had missed the crocodile's bite of relatiation by mere inches, the sound of enclosing jaws in the air before his muzzle rattling around the inside of his skull. Mitros had landed his jump - one bonus - and the stranger was still alive and with the spirit to fight back - another, better bonus. The iridescent viking spared a glance at the man as he complimented his timing, and then couldn't contain his laugh as he saw the man retrieve a stick to do battle with. "A stick!??" He cackled. "Gods above, sir." Tyrfing had seen everything now, and the playful amusement in his eyes did not fade as he approached the crocodile once more.

"Mitros, move your god damn ass, buddy." He coached, still maintaining the easy and carefree tone with which he had spoken to the stranger. "It cannot bite you as long as you stay on, okay? Don't be a wimp, just crawl on up, we need you to figure something out before he gets in a lucky hit on me or stick-samurai over here." Tyrfing continued his assault as he encouraged the yearling on with his words, feigning an initiation each time the croc refocused upon Mitros' flailing limbs, and managing a firm bite to it's rear leg as it turned to hiss at the stranger and his makeshift sword.