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Drizzak
The trip in the wagon was far too slow for Drizzak's tastes, but the grovelling apology from the halfman was satisfactory. The chortle he vocalised was low and gutteral, almost evil, but was cut short as he felt his personal space being breached. The halfman had tried to play him, but he was a quick-witted dragon, small and quick. His laugh devolved into a growl as he swiped the vial of firey-liquid back and replaced it with a particularly foul-smelling extract from his leftover reagents. That same dark chuckle came back as he pocketed what was rightfully his once more. He wrung his hands as the wagon came to a sudden stop, a temporary camp going up as bedrolls were laid out. Drizzak squeezed to be the first out of the cramped wagon, rolling to the ground with a giggle.

Then came the appointment of his watch position. With the dark-warmblood. Being appointed as first watch did not sit well with Drizzak, he was much too excited to sit in one place for the night and look at the expanses of wild nothing that sprawled before them. He would have bared his fangs in a grimace, had he the time. Before he could tell his ears from his nose, the group was up and fighting. Fighting dogmen. Many dogmen.

"Gooooooooood."

That same evil grin crept over Drizzak's face as he tore his costume off and revealed his ash-coloured, scarred body. Garbed with only pants, Drizzak grabbed for his earlier prepared vials and simply tipped them both into his mouth. Dragon-juice and burn-fuel. It was time. With a cough, The small goblin's eyes began to smoke as his skin changed from ash-white to a deep crimson. His spindly limbs suddenly beefed up, arms elongating into gorilla-like clubs. His legs beefed up, but remained short and stumpy. Small ridges rose on his back and a stumpy tail sprouted from a hole in the back of the special pants. What was once a pale, skinny goblin was now some sort of beefy, miniature dragon-ogre hybrid, standing at just a foot higher. 

Then he burst into flames.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

With a noise like a cackle from the maw of Bahamut himself, Drizzak slingshot his new body into the closest unattended Gnoll. The dogman was not prepared. Not nearly prepared for the Red Death that was Drizzak, the Dragon. The Gnoll swung with its waraxe in a wide arc, but Drizzak was far too quick to fall for that. He ducked into a roll, lashing out with an arm as he skid to a halt. His elongated reach caught the Gnoll in its leg, toppling it with a great thump against the sand. The vile laughter continued as Drizzak rolled to the fallen dogman's side, grabbing a tight hold on one of his arms and placing a foot on its side. With a swift yank, a pop and a tear, Drizzak removed the Gnoll's arm completely. He was still cackling. Laughing without end. He brought the arm down again and again at the Gnoll's ribcage as it cowered and panicked, yelping for its comrades. Its fur was smoldering as he threw the arm to the side and pinned its other arm. His other fist came up slowly, craggy and bloodied.

"BAD DOGMAN! DOWN! HAHAHAHA!"

His clawed hand went for the Gnoll's eye and pierced into the socket before wrenching it to the side, removing the head completely. There was not much gore to be seen as the crackling fire of Drizzak's form quickly ate away at the corpse, leaving a blackened canid skull a few feet from a humanoid skeleton. Drizzak roared as he rolled off, looking to the others to see if help was needed.
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