Vorrin was on the hunt. He began to tap his foot on the ground, giving the worm something to sense and something to move towards. With his war club iron gripped in his grasp, he readied himself to fight the worm.<br/><br/>It's attack was sudden, almost too fast for him to react to. He was only able to dodge this attack because he was specifically anticipating a strike from below, had the worm tried anything else it would have been up to his armor and tough skin to protect him. Vorrin leaped to the side, and then back to the now exposed head of the worm. It's vile, clamoring beak snapped at the air, wondering where had it's quarry gone. Before it had time to burrow back into the sand, a mighty swing of Vorrin's club connected with the massive bundle of tissue, knocking it's head to the side and disorienting it. The worm reacted in kind, it's tail lashing out of the sand and slamming into Vorrin, sending him back several yards. Vorrin landed hard, but still ready to rumble. He had bleed the beast, now he knew he could kill it.