Althanas Festival Boss Battle: The Golden King Eiyuu Ou

Out of Character:

Opens Saturday 3rd September as part of the Althanas Festival celebrations

Fallien.

Utterance of the very name to anyone who had been lucky enough to visit the country would result in a myriad of hushed tones and shaking heads. A vast island nation known for its harsh deserts and xenophobic citizens, its contribution to the world was a culture dominated by religion and a proud matriarchal dynasty, with a history flecked liberally with strife and disaster not unlike Lornius. For anyone wishing to visit the island, a long and perilous voyage from the Tular Wastes would help temper their spirits and expectations but yet the brave and curious travelled with increasing frequency to trade in rare goods, explore ancient ruins, or to even glimpse mythical creatures.

Irrakam, Fallien’s capital city and the centrifuge of religious activity on the island, was the most attractive city of the island - with a wonderful view across the Attireyi river and the sands beyond to the grand temple of Suravani. Yet, even with its four thousand years of history, Fallien’s truest beauty laid buried beneath the southwestern glassy sands of Nirrakal along with a mystery spanning as many years as its own existence; one that even the Jya and her Matriarchy could not be aware of.

Fallien’s most important secret was the Temple of Ea.

There had been many deities reigning over the island;. Suravani, the moon goddess. Mitra, the sun god. Each of them had spawned their respective cults and divided the adoration of the people. But, all the while nestling among these legendary names and the factions that worshipped them, was the mythical home of the king of kings; the mortal god-king Eiyuu Ou.

It was mythical no longer.

The beauty of the Blight, another name for the Nirrakal deserts, was wasted on Thomas Moorcroft. The heat of the sun beating down upon his face and the shimmering fragments of glass around him should have been a nice memory for him to take away after the treacherous voyage across the sea to Fallien, yet somehow the archaeologist couldn’t absorb it at all. His mind instead wandered like a lost child back and forth between the significance of the entrance to the structure he had uncovered three hours ago, and the sickly anticipation of what this meant for the country’s religious atmosphere as a whole. Thomas’s eyes surveyed the front of the entrance pylon of the sandstone temple, where someone had carved the story of Eiyuu Ou and Enum Elish’s great battle in the Twilight Mountains against the Trinoxx, and remembered the tale of how the raging conflict between god-king and beast would eventually anger the gods and send Eiyuu Ou into exile. An exile, it seemed, that ended here in Nirrakal. Six huge statues of the mighty Eiyuu Ou constructed in front of the pylon seemed to further confirm this, along with two great obelisks - one of which was damaged.

This new found temple was a strange bedfellow. For as long as he could remember, Thomas had always felt he had some sort of divine power driving his actions up to this point in his life. He had always known what to do, and known, rightly or wrongly, what he wanted. It didn’t matter whether it was exploring the ruins of Fallien, or investigating Raiaera in the aftermath of the Corpse War. Yet now, faced with a gaping maw leading to a chamber of answers that had eluded mankind for eons, Thomas was unsure of what to do, of what the implications of his discovery would be. Would he approach the temple’s entrance and hope to study the riches that had lay there for years, or would he seal the chamber forever and let the secret go with him to the grave? The risk of being branded a heretic was like a proverbial noose around his neck and he could feel the rope tighten with every breath.

Moorcroft found for the first time ever he was lacking answers, but the curiosity was unbearable. As he paced up and down the sands pouring over years of knowledge contained in his books, Thomas slowly came to the realisation that being the first to reveal the secrets of the Temple of Ea and Eiyuu Ou’s fate was the only thing that mattered to him now and everything else in his life failed miserably in comparison.

He moved slowly but smoothly along the wind carved banks of the dunes to the entrance below, proceeding with careful steps. Being an explorer, Thomas was used to travel in desert conditions and his legs and chassis were strong enough to cope with the searing heat rising from the sands and the scorching sunlight bearing down on him from above. Even if he felt ravaged at that moment, Moorcroft knew the day wouldn’t claim him before he reached the temple’s innards.

Thomas Moorcroft took his first step from sand to stone and felt relief at the having the solid surface of the temple’s floor firmly beneath his heels.

***

The temple seemed to be alive.

As Thomas proceeded deeper into the intestines of the legendary Ea, the wood and oil torches that flanked him spontaneously burst into flames and illuminated the path in front of the explorer. The hallway smelt musty and with the torches came the scent of burning dry wood, one that filled Thomas’s nostrils until he could no longer smell anything else. Though the flames were hardly adequate enough to eat into the cool darkness, His well trained eyes would ensure light wouldn’t be a problem for him.

Besides, Moorcroft felt he wouldn’t need to rely on his keen navigation skills to get to where he needed to be. He could feel the temple leading him, guiding him, almost as if there was life hewn into the rock of the temple that pulled him on spiritual rails towards his destination. The energy resonating all around him hit Thomas quickly, sharpening his focus and calming his nerves. He extended his own torch before him, a bright orange glow shining ahead. Though the majority of the ancient sandstone masonry was intact, dangerous footfalls and dangling vines emerged from the shadows to put an immediate end to his feeling of security. Thomas’s journey from then on involved treading lightly and darting over the pitfalls and traps protecting what he believed was the inner sanctum; the place likely to be Eiyuu Ou’s very burial chamber.

Keep going! Nearly there!

As the passageway opened up into a larger, elaborate and more ornate room, a stone rolled beneath Moorcroft’s eager heels which forced his balance to fail. There was a mighty crash moments later as the adventurer jarred his knees and hit the floor. As he spread his hands out to try and support his weight, Moorcroft realised he felt something smoother than the eroding sandstone of the prior corridor.

It was polished glass; ocean blue, smooth to the touch and covering every inch of the room's floor, save for a pedestal in the centre which was dwarfed by the sheer expanse of the chamber. Carvings in the ceiling sailing high above him seemed to depict the goddess Dryx sentencing a defiant Eiyuu Ou to death. The askew lid of the golden sarcophagus in the middle was decorated with runes which looked as if they were meant to serve as guardians over the body, keeping it sealed forever.

It appeared, though, that their duties had fallen short. The tomb was empty.

Thomas Moorcroft of Radasanth, Corone, had been on his feet four seconds before he felt it; the cold sensation of a blade tearing between his shoulder blades and punching through his chest horribly. The adventurer, caught so suddenly within death’s icy grasp, had not heard the footsteps tap lightly behind him as he had fallen. Thomas had not seen, from the corner of his eye, the flash of a golden pauldron reflecting the burial chamber’s light as its bearer moved with the stealth of a desert viper behind him. The hoarse voice that followed came too late and yet confirmed the fleeting fear of the events that had just transpired.

“...Learn your place. You shall kneel before the king of kings, mongrel.”

If the reaper had been kind to him, it would have perhaps allowed Moorcroft to look deep into the crimson irises of history itself. He would have been permitted to admire the golden blonde hair and boyish features of that which he had sought his whole life, that which had eluded even the greatest scientific minds and scholars for generations. As the bronze blade Mydisa retracted from the wound, there was no such respite from death’s agent; the cruel deliverer of fate it was.

Moorcroft would die alone without ever having laid eyes on Eiyuu Ou and would never know the honour his discovery would bestow upon his family name for future generations.

The searing afternoon sunlight traveled unbroken in a clear, cloudless sky, the sun hanging there in its zenith like an electrified orange. The air was hot, dry and motionless, no wind or breeze to dry the sweat that ran slick on Anubis' pate. For as far as he could see swathes of sand stretched in all directions, distant golden-colored canopies hanging faint in the air. Wind-carved structures lined the sandy ridge of the basin they prowled, a strange formation of solid rock that spoke of godly architecture.

The monster hunter had traveled many a league, on land and on sea - not for the purpose of merry-making - but out of necessity and servitude. The Tarot had, after all, sent him on his first undertaking. Thus, for that reason alone, he had came here as nothing but an aide; an aide, and an acquaintance to John Cromwell - the half-giant who had seen to the hunter's joining the Tarot consortium.

Who, also, had not so much as carped about the desert's unyielding heat, for if he had already grown exhausted, Anubis could detect no signs. The hunter, on the other hand, often found the distance between them had stretched. Times when John would be but a tiny spot in his field of vision.

The huge warrior was inhumanly resilient, possessing a seemingly depthless reservoir of energy, and Anubis could only watch in awe as they pressed on in their spun-out trek across this Fallien desert. Nevertheless, the signs showed they were close, and now, the monster hunter considered, was the best time that they stayed together. This wasteland was not empty of life, even if his eye judged otherwise.

The half-giant spoke. "Over this next set of dunes, yes?"

"That's what our man said, if my memory serves me correctly," Anubis responded, wiping with the back of his gloved hand at his sweaty brow. "We oughta have a quick break. Need to catch my breath."

John merely nodded, turning his attention back to the daunting ascent of sand before them. “Here,” he said, digging into the sand. Anubis watched curiously, before realizing what the half-giant devised; exposing the cooler layer of earth. He sat in the hand-made divot and pulled his over-sized shirt over his head as a cover from the torrid sunlight. John then fumbled through their sac of supplies, tossing a waterskin Anubis’ way and retrieving one for himself.

A score of heartbeats later they were on their way once again.

As they scaled the bank Anubis had the unfamiliar feeling of being so… small; they were, in his mind's eye, but negligible ants clambering up a wall so vast that it seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon. A mountain of dust and glass worn by eons of time. It almost felt irreverent, marring the perfect angled surface of the sand that ages past had worn smooth. Nevertheless, they were across and beyond.

Heat razed the desert and all foolish enough to brave it. A single stain of black moved across the grainy plane with purpose, indifferent to the harsh elements. Each step he took sank, and his feet came away with sand sloughing off. He spared a quick glance skyward, to where Namekroth circled. A single caw resounded.

"Nothing, eh?" Tobias mused as he ran a finger idly across the keen edge of his blade. Hunter Colo had been a beast of a man, from what the mercenary could glean. The magic that this weapon was infused with allowed him to permanently track targets wounded by it. It was among the famous arsenal of blades collected by the traitor in his time spent far east of home. While potentially the least deadly, it had more utility than some of the others. "I felt that bastard Moorcroft for days, but he suddenly disappeared. He must have died."

Namekroth let out another shrill cry.

"I could go back," he reasoned, "I have no reason to be here if the target has already been eliminated. Still, there's something that doesn't sit well with me. The mission was to be sure he never found something. If he found it, there could be trouble." Tobias pressed on in spite of his distaste for the climate. It was not at all the lush Oceanside region of his homeland, nor was it a gentle place like Corone or the better parts of Raiaera. "Fallien."

He spoke the word with a hint of venom. "I met Alyssa here," he recalled. "We went on a mission together."

And now, you are her mission, aren't you?

"She will forget me in time."

Or be consumed by her desire to bring you back from the darkness that's swallowed you.

"I would hate to have to end her life."

But you would do it.

Tobias shoved the weapon back into its leathery sheath and tucked it safely away. He ran his fingers across the hilt of a slightly longer blade, stopped, then sighed. "How long has it been since Beinost?" he pondered aloud. The pain was nothing. Every wound inflicted on Stalt was swallowed by time. Only the memory of it lingered.

"If I never see those Tarot blokes again, it'll be too soon," he murmured. As he came over a cresting dune, the monster stopped in his tracks. "I'll be damned."

Tobias picked up the pace when he saw it. Entombed forever at the heart of a vast desert, the temple radiated with a malevolence he could feel. Namekroth descended from on high, perched on his shoulder, then bristled. "Easy," he told the familiar. "I feel it, too." The bird tilted its head and a ripple traced across its form. Tobias touched the conglomeration of mana given form, and it shuddered, then exploded into shards of deep black. "I'll handle this for now, old friend. I will summon you if I have need."

The gentle gaze of the bird dissolved as it faded from view.

John sunk a heavy foot into the yielding sand of the dune. It sank up to mid-calf and he raised his other leg beyond the first, feeling a slight burn in his muscles. They had traveled many days to reach this plain of sand, and it left him weary, despite his brawn and endurance. He blinked in the light, even the sun seemed bent against their journey, allying with the sandy dune to impede their progress. The boy, Anubis, followed behind well, even if he fell behind a bit at times. All the same, he was grateful for his fellow Salvarian. The journey, while not quite eventful, had been difficult, and the boy had more than proven his worth, on a ship and in a tavern. Vincent, who had set them upon this journey nigh two weeks ago, had made a good decision on him.

Though he did wish the boy could keep up.

Truth be told, John thought, it’s likely just my longer strides. He shortened his step a little as they reached the peak of the mountain of sand, rewarding them with their first view of the temple.

John stopped, standing at the peak, and stared. He had thought of what the temple might look like many times over the course of their journey, and had pictured it as a massive, ancient structure much like the cathedrals of his home country of Salvar, or a blackened stone structure full of magic like the Citadel. But now, as he stood before the thing, this thorn in the Tarot’s side, he felt quite unimpressed. It was large, but dilapidated and broken down, one of the obelisks marking the entrance laying partially uncovered next to the other.

“Anubis,” he called behind him, snapping his fingers. With a little pop, a cigar appeared between his digits and he stuck the leaf in his mouth, drawing a rich aroma. “We are here.”

"Good," Anubis responded, still climbing behind the half-giant. "Was starting to wonder if we were ever gonna find it." Moments later he stood side-by-side with John, silently eyeing the ruined temple before them. He tsked. "Disappointing."

“Aye. But I’ve never known Vincent to be mistaken.”

He immediately realized what he said. “I should say, I’ve never known Vincent to be mistaken about Tarot matters.”

He stood for a moment, wondering what awaited them within. Vincent had warned them to be cautious, as he felt great power, but could not discern what manner of magic there was. John admitted freely that he did not know much, but there was a reason he’d survived this long and progressed this far.

He never underestimated the situation. He spoke quietly between puffs on his cigar.

“Let’s get under that shade, then we can make plans.”

The half-giant stepped forward, dislodging a tiny avalanche of sand as they both descended the dune. As they grew closer, there was evidence of another’s presence. The ash of a campfire sat beneath the obelisk, whose symbols, once cut deep into the stone, were worn smooth by the moving sands. A pack sat, intact, close to the entrance in the shade. He sat, and Anubis followed suit as they hid from the sun.

Out of Character:

This boss battle has been transferred to the normal boss forums. Max Dirks has allowed a continuation of the 2.5x EXP multiplier for anyone who completes this thread. A posting time limit of 48 hours after the last post made now applies to this thread for all members enrolled - Fez, Redford, Knightly, Josette and Tobias, but a grace of 48 hours from now will be applied to allow the next person to post. Carry on, ladies and gentlemen. :)