Dealing in dragon killings is risky business; all I got for my troubles was a lousy dragon soul, and the opportunity to buy a house in Whitemane for 5,000 gold. The real-estate business would be a buyer's market considering that now potentially any property is at risk of a dragoning, you'd think. But no, you want that house? Pay for it. (So I did.)
|Portal 2 Space Core sold seperately.|
|High Hrothgar: its like going to your grampa's but with death on the way there.|
|Sabre! SABRE! SABRECAT HOOOOOOOOO!|
One thing they don't have, is an immunity of getting stoutly punched on the nose, like regular cats. I went through pretty much all my cheese wheels during and after this fight just to get back up to snuff. Contents of my bag started to look less like a delicious variety of foods, and just a slowly rotting produce section, overflowing with cabbages.
|Picturesque view, when not being mauled by wildlife.|
|ICE to meet you!|
I ended up running around the entire mountain trying to put enough distance between us to be able to regroup and come up with a new strategy. I couldn't wage a war of attrition, as his health regeneration kept him topped up completely if I did not put constant pressure on his healthbar. I couldn't either simply plant my feet and wail on him until one of us dropped, because it was clear I would be the one dropping every time. By the time I reached the Greybeard's doorstep, all I had left were some grilled leeks, and some wine. Broke-ass Dragonpuncher. At least I'm not homeless.