Blood on the Ice (Althanas Day boss rush)

Scar:
A rich Eiskaltian merchant has heard rumor of a mighty frost troll lurking in the far north of the region. Being a collector of rare and unusual trophies, he would like to have it slain and stuffed for his trophy room. You have been tracking the beast for several days in a terrible snowstorm when you find it in an odd clearing in the storm. All around you is a strange black ice that seems to suck the heat from your body when you make contact with bare skin. The beast itself is roughly eight feet tall and stands like a man, slightly hunched over with massive claws and a strangely apelike physique.

You have until noon to make your first post. I will be having a surprise NPC guest as your fourth member.

Black Shadow
Flamebird
Philomel
Special Guest

The low moan of his call was like a foghorn from a desperate ship calling to the eager lighthouse shining in the dim distance.

For some time they had been lone nomads, travelling over this bare and frozen land, returning to a place whence she, they, had been. Their company was of four, each of a rare race and a rare breed, of sturdier stuff than the rest of their kind. From a white speckled behemoth to the hot orange canine-like sprat clutching on for dear life, the creatures were a hodge podge of collective determination, with the mighty horned lady at their helm. She sat in the seat of the large saddle on the back of the tera'k, the aforementioned galloping, bellowing beast of burden, with Veridian the fox-formed earth-spirit being tossed around mercilessly.

The fourth remained hidden, deep beneath the forever winter cold.

Why must the pace be so fast? the fox suddenly moaned, directly into the faun's mind.

Veridian, she reprimanded, not for the first time.

The earth spirit grumbled, and buried his claws all the deeper into the leather.

Over fields and frost they went, had gone, following the tracks of this mighty animal. It was a myth, the Scar of Eiskalt was, or so people had said before firmer reports had been brought to the Radasanthian harbour. Even when Philomel herself had last been to Eiskalt, all that time ago when she ran solely under the banner of the Crimson Hand, she had heard stories but never any firm truth in them.

Now the myths of dying babies and villages laid to ruin were coming to real light, a bright sun in the realms of legend, because hair samples had been shared, footprints had been wax-copied, registered documentarists had written official records. And the faun, the Matriarch of all that was beloved, had clutched the rumour with all her heart, assembled her team of no good folk and stretched out on her own. Leaving the good ship the Feisty Fox behind, leaving Vaeron her best friend behind, going with the hoardes of other advnturers who longed to be the first to claim the pelt of the dark nightmare that was the Scar.

It had taken them three days to get here, three days traversing snow and low hills to get into these high meadows. Tracking had not been hard, after all Philomel had the best earth sense of any faun, and the tera'k that was her mounted beast had a nose that could sniff a bumblebee in a tropical storm. Now time had passed and whispers had been followed, and it seemed they were gaining on the creature. A last sprint, a last roar would be what they needed, to gallop in and raise hell around this levithan of old fiction.

To slay it in its warm blood and to claim it for the glory of all earth kind.

Black Shadow sat with his bow ready, waiting for the moment the creature, the Scar of Eiskalt, would appear. He had faced many powerful enemies in his past, including a dragon, and now knew that you could never be too ready. His last encounter with such a beast ended with his death. He was lucky that he was found and brought back to the citadel, only to be revived by the monks.

A loud roar sounded in the distance. It was close. As they grew closer Blacl Shadow's hairs stood up, a chill running down his back. The evil ahead would be a challenge, and something told him that his bow would fair little chance against the beast.

(OOC: MY special guest)
"So if we kill this thing you're going to give me potatoes?" The otter asked sitting in a comfy armchair that was comically oversized for him. The room was warm, with a crackling from a nearby fire filling the air.

"Yes little one, bring me the beast and you will receive more spuds than you can shake a stick at." A rather old man replied as he hunched over. "Now go..."

...

"Why the spudding fuck is it so coooooold..." Spud whined as he followed toe with the rest of the group. He had been forced to upgrade his orange jumper to a bright teal parka, pulled up over his head and cinched up until one could barely notice his furry face. His tail swished back and forth as he walked, his favorite spudbow, Bridget, strapped to his back. It would seem the cold would have no mercy on this day.

"I better get a whole bunch of taters for this..."

The group suddenly found themselves entering a large clearing in the storm they had been braving. The next hundred yards were completely clear, filled of a large circular clearing of an obsidian colored ice. In the very center, no more than fifty yards away, was the Scar if Eiskalt. It's fur was a brilliant white color, aside from stains of deep crimson along its arms and legs. It's head seemed almost human...aside from its large batlike ears and snout filled with razor sharp fangs.

Its ears twiched and it sniffed the air before turning, revealing that it had a large arm clutched in its jaw, fresh blood dripping and freezing before it hit the ground. The beasts amber eyes scanned the group before it opened its jaw to roar. The arm flailed to the ground as the hellish discord filled the air. It dropped into a crouch and dug its claws into the ice before launching itself forward, skidding across the treacherous black ice at the group.

Quote:

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Im going to try and get the next post in by 1:30 CST, but will wait for posts if need be. Ghosty you have until 1:30 to post before you are Dq'd due to time constraints.

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The faun turned, seeing the others that had come to ... hunt this beast with them. Them being her company.

They had finally slowed around half an hour ago, and now come to rest where the beast was obvious. Its lumbering form, more human than bear or ox or any other typical beast, towered above even her atop the tera'k. Her mount bellowed loudly, clearly not delighting in this sudden conflict, the face of the Scar not exactly one he had desired to see.

Obviously others had heard of this beast and its recent rumours, and longed to get a piece of the pelt for themselves. But Philomel was form that glory would be hers and her compadres. After all they had spent days - days - traversing this wild land that was as terrible as Berevar. Veridian had moaned most of the way and he was still moaning, not about the travelling anymore, but about facing this animal.

Deftly the faun jumped from the tera'k mount, taking everything with her including Veridian. She saw the black robed archer and a strange ... was that an otter in the peripheral, but it was her that was important. She would get this beast, she would be the one to kill it. As she landed her weapons clattered around her, and created a glorious sound of battle before she pulled out her crossbow. Ignoring the other warriors she breathed in, narrowing the beam of the crossbow straight at the beast. Sucking in her breath she prepared to shoot and send an earth-shattering quake at the end of the bolt. When it would it it would send tremours through the beast, much like an earthquake, and then.

Then - well then. The war would begin.

Due to lack of activity Phi will be entering the Might of moxxilus fight and we're going to call this fight a dud