Might of Moxie (Althanas Boss Rush)

[Cards of Fate]

Start of 24 hour period. Due to lack of extras, everyone on the list is in for this fight. Below is brief prompt, next GM post will be at noon. The six of you have until then to post up introductions.

Your group has been called to assist a group of Archeologists by guarding a dig site in Dheathain. Once they managed to open the Temple a beast made of stone seems to attack them anytime they enter the excavation site. The Arena is a large temple in the middle of the dense Dheathain jungle. The dig site consists of a partially unearthed Mayan style pyramid and several decrepit pillars that look like they could crumble at any minute. Once everyone has posted I will start the fight by having Moxxilus enter. Feel free to go wild, remember to have fun.

Erirag the Poet
Cydnar
Storm Veritas
Logan
Redford
Tobias

[Tobias Stalt]

"The money's good." All the reply Tobias wanted to offer, and all that was necessary. For a mercenary, money was all the impetus in the world. Confident strides side by side toward the excavation site reminded Tobias grimly of the forced marches on Eiskalt, so long ago now. Overgrowth instead of snow crunched beneath their boots, but the sensation felt little different.

"Beg pardon?" came the terse reply, though Tobias barely glanced up to regard the archaeologist, "You said that it's good money?" A hoarse laugh quickly shriveled into a dry coughing spell. "Gods beneath us, you must truly be a poor soul."

His empty eyes fixed harshly on the man for all of a moment before they shifted to the dig. A soft snort escaped him, but nothing else. A cool breeze beat against his tanned skin as he reached up to fight with the fabric. "Poor," he echoed the word softly, tasting it. "Apt." He accepted the sentiment without any hint of venom or reciprocity in his demeanor. Not financially, but my soul is starved for many things.

The low growl of a jungle cat stole his attention toward the jungle just beyond them. "Be on guard," the scientist warned, "they have slain at least two of our entourage since we found this place."

Tobias waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not interested in wildlife behavior. Tell me more about why you need so many mercenaries to defend a dig site."

"In due time," the man spoke hastily as he paled and hurried ahead of Tobias. "You will see for yourself in due time."

A frown tugged at his lips as Tobias watched the flighty man evade his question. He stopped and drummed his fingeds against the sheath of his longsword. "Never helpful, these cowardly sorts," he sighed. Tobias glanced around slowly at the others gathered, still maintaining distance and mostly concealing his identity. There was no need to establish a camaraderie with business acquaintances he would likely never see again, and even less of a reason to reveal his identity when the employer's sole interest was his sword. "Suits me fine," he shrugged.

The group of Archaeologists who led them deeper into the forest seemed on edge, wildly watching out for any sign of danger. Tobias kept his hand close to his weapon but remained calm. Still behind the better part of the group, Stalt called no attention to himself by warning the group. If they were perceptive, they would notice on their own.

Place is dangerous, he mused, there's something they're not telling us.

[Logan]

The tavern was pretty empty for the evening rush as Logan shifted on his bar stool.

"Another round, keep," he said as he lifted a couple of fingers in the air to make sure he got the bartenders attention. The bartender nodded and went about his merry way pouring a shot of whiskey and placing it in front of the psion.

"You've been here a long while, Logan. Everything okay?"

The psion lifted the glass, peering deep into the thin layer of dark brown liquid before tipping it back and letting it pour down his throat. The warmth from the liquor hit his stomach and then rose through the rest of his body as he set the small glass back onto the counter. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Nope. I'm fine. Just a long last few weeks," Logan responded while glancing around the bar before continuing, "Where exactly is everyone?"

The bartender took the glass and began to wipe it down with a small white rag he pulled from his leather belt as he replied, "You didn't hear? There's a gathering going on down at the town square where this group of archeologists are looking for a few able-bodied adventurers for what I can only label as a suicide mission."

Logan's eyes grew wide. That might have been the very first time in recent years he didn't know about an event of that magnitude before everyone else. He kept his ears peeled for job opportunities, and this one was definitely an opportunity for something.

"Where are they digging?"

The bartender shrugged.

"Why don't you go check out the gathering and find out for yourself. I know you aren't one to avoid death trap opportunities."

The psion smirked and threw a couple of coins on the bar.

"If I make it back, you owe me a whiskey."

The bartender chuckled as Logan left the bar.

======

"So you're saying we're going to Dheathain and we will have zero information on what we're supposed to be guarding." the psion asked the short, pudgy man to his right.

The man nodded and replied, "Pretty much that exactly. At least, that's what you've agreed to."

Logan laughed. "Well, good. I'd hate to know what I am supposed to be concerned about before actually putting my life on the line, but then again, your bosses would have to pay us more if we all actually knew what we were getting ourselves into."

The pudgy man grinned and shrugged. He wouldn't be providing the psion any further information.

"Well, alright then," Logan said as the carriage slowed to a halt. As he exited, he took in the site, which resembled to some degree some of the Red Forest ruins he'd experienced when he teamed up with Max Dirks to assist with the Adventurer's Crown and the take-down of Pode. He could only hope whatever they were guarding for or against would be less troublesome than that wretched bitch.

[Cydnar]

Ever since the Hummel brought their city to the surface, people had travelled far and wide to solicit their aide. Rumour spread quickly of the elven geomancers, knowledgeful about the earth and capable, or so they say, of shaping it and commanding it.

“I have seen markings like these before,” he said to himself.

He continued to walk around a leaning pillar, eyes tracing the strange symbols carved into its surface, hands held regally in the small of his back. Despite his employer’s insistence the excavation site was dangerous, Cydnar showed no signs of fear. The intrigue and wonderment of an ancient ruin captivated him utterly.

“Good,” his brother spat. “Please tell me that gets us out of this place quicker?”

Cydnar glanced at his sibling with distant disappointment. He appreciated he had been accompanied on this assignment, but the war-minded captain of the city guard was swift becoming a burden. He turned back to the pillars and ran a reverent finger over a spiral design at head height.

“It’s Ancient. Usually, these ruins are underground. They are buried beneath Fae structures or long crumbled into nothingness.” He turned to look east, where the central pillar loomed and an ant’s colony of workers dug, scraped, and rubbed away the work of ages.

“We’ll be ancient by the time we get home.”

Cydnar chuckled. His cold façade broken by Dalasi’s irreverent stubbornness. He turned to face his brother, folded his arms across his chest, and tapped a boot on the dry and dusty ground.

“Tell me what you see.”

Dalasi blinked. When he realised what was being asked of him he turned on the spot slowly. He took in every little detail he could make out, then turned back to his brother with an expectant glare.

“I see a hundred desperate men working for silver in a city of gold. I see sweat, muck, and mud from trying to do the job too quickly.” He paused, realising something, and smiled. “They’re afraid.”

Cydnar nodded in acknowledgement. The sky turned overhead, white clouds greying, blue sky momentarily stolen away by the promise of rain and thunder. His white and purple robes mirrored the black and purple of his brother. In every way possible, they were opposites. Occasionally, however, their minds converged.

“Our employer said we were to guard the workers until the excavations were complete.” Cydnar cast his mind back to their initial contact. He had not liked the pudgy man with a nervous position then. He was beginning to loathe him now. “Whatever they disturbed is no mere ‘problem’.”

Dalasi did not need to be a geomancer to detect a disturbance in the air. It was cruel, unusual, and disturbing. They could feel it crawl under their skin. An ancient presence, an elemental of rage and contempt for the people that violated its home. Cydnar wondered if they had finally walked into the den of an Archeomental. The Fae called them Primordial. They were elementals of incredible power, connected not just to the land, but the planet’s soul.

“Then let it appear so I can solve it for them.”

Ever the confident one of the two, Dalasi made for the temple complex. The sword strapped to his back had certainly solved many problems over the decades, but Cydnar doubted steel would be able to fell whatever gave the expedition nightmares. He dropped his hands to his sides and padded after his sibling. Perhaps wine, warmth, and polite conversation with some of the mercenary guards and their rumours would give new meaning to the markings on the pillar.

[redford]

John stood in front of the structure. The pyramid was massive, and yet still large portions of it remained buried beneath centuries of dirt, or so the men who'd come to dig it up said. John doubted that there was even a forest here when the thing was built, even though the trees were quite large and old. He absently wondered what of value could possibly be down in the temple. From what John gathered, they'd been hired to guard archaeologists who wanted nothing more than to turn over a few rocks. What need had they of hardened mercenaries?

The forest around him grew quiet again, eerily so this time. Not even a breeze tickled the leaves overhead, and the birds halted their singing. It resumed a few seconds later without hesitation. John scowled, noting that though they'd encountered no resistance yet, the entire camp felt a little on edge for some reason.

Though John thought it a little strange for them to use such measures to make sure they were undisturbed, the gold was good, and so far there'd been nothing coming up from the entrance that John had pried open that led, the archaeologists said, into the main chamber. In fact, he hadn't heard any kind of report in several hours. They were likely engrossed in whatever was painted on the walls inside the pyramid, but they'd paid good money for protection, and John wanted to be entirely sure they were alright. Besides, the other half of his commission relied on getting the party back from the place. John turned and walked toward the door, climbing large stones that had been growing vines on it for longer than he cared to think on. He reached the large stone door, one of the few John could walk through without difficulty. As he looked back before stepping through, that deafening silence overtook the forest again. It was almost like the forest itself was...hiding? Like the whole woods feared for its life. John frowned as the wind rustled in the trees once more and picked up the pace, walking into the structure.

[Storm Veritas]

He wasn’t sure if he had been recognized, but expected his long absence from this land, coupled with a healthy influx of gray hairs and an uncharacteristic five o’clock shadow would make him unfamiliar enough to move with relative anonymity. The heat of the Dheathian jungle was ungainly, and sweat made his new clothes stick to his chest. Worse yet, the mud covered his boots and danced in brown splatters up over his knees. It was commoner work, or so it seemed, but there had to be more. Inside, it was still hot, but inexplicably dry.

This trip will be well worth your while, he suspected, eyeing the group about him. Whatever lied at the base of the pyramid was obviously pretty valuable, or paying for such a large number of obvious hired hands seemed foolish. I’d love to see the thieves that old prick suspected would try to take our findings get away with them before I do.

The grin that begged to spread across his face was stifled as he continued to hold up the torch before him. It was silly to not simply create his own electric light with a simply fingertip’s effort, but he wished to keep some abilities secret for now. The archaeologists, for their lack of strength or style, did their part to help. They feebly moved forward, clearing overturned rocks and speaking in whispers, chatting back and forth about bone records and the history of this godforsaken area. Storm found them insufferable.

The scientist-type was always easy to recognize: a combination of social awkwardness and physical ineptitude masking a quiet confidence in their own intelligence. There were clearly two groups here: brains and brawn. Storm had hoped none of the other protectors had much going on upstairs. A quick mind might see his long game coming before he could get back out into the jungle with the goods. Unfortunately, it didn’t appear he would be so lucky. There weren’t too many simpleton brutes here, though; no Letho-types that he knew he could outsmart.

Haven’t met too many dunder-headed elves… shit.

It was tedious and time consuming, but eventually the grouped reached the center of the pyramid, a strange amphitheater with natural light that dropped in silently through a series of stones absent from the top of the pyramid. It wasn’t some brilliant architectural marvel, but rather a hole that had formed from a series of the stones yielding and coming down. Their ancient homes were littered about the floor.

Wiping sweat from brow, he enjoyed a burst of actual light at last. It was spectacular; the center of the pyramid was much larger than seemed possible. It was a large bowl, diving deep away from the slanted walls of the enormous triangular prism, dark, dank hallways of dirt and mud giving way immediately to red clay, rock and grey stone. He still couldn’t fathom the size of it, and he could see the scientists’ collective faces light up as they broke through to the site. Clumsily, they ran forward, sliding down like sledding children towards the bottom of the massive room. They skipped towards a large grey rock pile in the center, chirping at voices more highly pitched than any men had any natural right to speak in.

“That’s it, it has to be! “ The first spectacled scientist declared, bouncing down towards the rock pile.

“Is it fully preserved? It looks like it’s in great condition!” A second, similarly slight man skipped merrily down the bowl.

“Whaaaii… slooow… huff, hunngh” The fattest of the small group of archaeologists grabbed at his side as he waddled his way forward.

Storm couldn’t help but smile at the elation of the young men. He realized he had probably never known anything that could excite him as much as these young fellows had gotten over a bunch of goddamned rocks. They had dived in immediately, hammering away with tiny metal tools in a chorus of twangs and cheeps. He noticed the group of protectors seemed to be moving more quickly about him, and that he was suddenly finding himself near the back of the pack.

As Storm watched the men he had been paid to protect (and rightly planned to rob) dig into the large pile of rock, his stomach sank and he instinctively grabbed at his daggers, listening closely above the chipping, cracking sounds of the workers for what sounded like a distant, low cry.

You’re losing your mind. Get a grip, old man.

With a longer peer to the rock pile, Storm Veritas actually fell backwards, landing on his ass as his eyes must have lied to him.

The rock pile had just moved.

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OOC: Apologies for any implied bunnying, but we're in a big rush. Feel free to bunny my character any way you need to short of killing/dismembering him.

[Cards of Fate]

The trees themselves seem to rustle nervously as the archeologists approached the pile of rubble and began to explore. It seemed they had found some sort of statue, and their excitement had made them forget the danger of the area completely.

"Look!" huffed the more rotund youth in the group. "This...has to be...a hand." The group gathered around the particular section of the pile where the portly explorer was standing and peered. Five jointed "pillars" seemed to jut from a massive boulder, connecting seamlessly at their base, as if they had been carved from the very same stone.

"Give me a lift! Im gonna see if there are any rune on the palm!" A scrawny young man asked, who could only be fifteen at the oldest. The group struggled to lift their friend up onto the platform briefly whilst the onlookers watched in horror.

"WAIT NO!" an overseer roared as he broke from the crowd. It was too late. The young man had begun to examine several lines in the boulder, an incredibly detailed carving of what seemed to be palm lines. He didn't even feel the palm move as the "fingers" twitched slightly. Suddenly the snapped into a closed position, crushing the youth with a viscous crunch, spraying blood over his companions. The youths stood stunned as the hand raised from the ground and opened, dropping a bloody pulp before them before smashing to the ground on top of the rest of the group, gushing blood everywhere. The form tensed as the "pile" rose to take its true form.

Before the group now stood a massive eighty foot tall golem, bearing a roughly humanoid form except for the reptilian head that sat upon its stony shoulders. Six massive arms jutted out from the creatures back, each affixed with a massive stone hand. It took one moment to peer at the onlookers with its jade eyes before it opened its mighty maw.

"Intruders detected. DESTROY" It roared.

Due to the groups size I will wait until roughly 3PM CST to post again. Manda you have until 3 to post before you are Dq'd due to time constraints.

[redford]

John heard the roar from the pyramid and picked up his pace. Whatever it was, it was likely very large. There was a faint light in the tunnel, and he redoubled his speed. He began to hear screaming and yelling. The silhouette of the door grew larger, and suddenly he emerged into the giant dome at the heart of the pyramid. It was a giant shallow bowl, lit by sparse sunlight coming from a crumbling hole in the domed ceiling of it. Long, thick vines fell down into the room, and dozens of pointed pillars, almost like obelisks jutted from the stone floor, almost like they'd been shoved into the ground instead of built on it . Moss covered many of the stones on the walls and floor. But what dominated the room was the huge humanoid structure in the center. It was massive, more than sixty feet tall, and had the head of a lizard and six arms. It was a fierce-looking creature.

Then it moved.

John took a half step back instinctively. It took very little to genuinely surprise him, but a golem of that size would do the trick.

"Oh, shit," he muttered, staring blankly.

It drew itself up taller, opening a fist, allowing a mangled, bloodstained hunk of meat that was once a body fall to the ground with a splat. John's armor crept up his arms into his chest quickly. Though the room was huge, so was the living statue, and it could likely be within striking distance in only a few seconds. It moved again, turning it's head with a grinding sound toward him. Dust fell from it as it moved. He looked over to a group of the archaeologists that he'd been hired to protect. He pointed at them.

"Get out of here!" John yelled. They began to scramble for an exit. John briefly considered hiding behind a pillar, but that would likely do little good. The creature was so huge, it was unlikely that something as insubstantial as the pillars littered around the dome would protect him. So he bent his knees, ready to dodge six arms, or whatever else the creature decided to throw at him. Hopefully the intellectuals would be able to escape, and John would be able to follow.

[Storm Veritas]

Storm had traveled to Radasanth. He had been to Raiaera, Salvar, and Alerar. He had scoured the globe and the open seas, and nothing had ever compared to or prepared him for what rumbled itself up from the earth. For the first time in his life, he found himself frozen in fear, as the lumbering behemoth crushed a scientist within its granite paw, like squeezing juice from a lemon.

You’ve got to be shitting me!

The monster stood some sixty feet in height, although some would later claim eighty. With six impossibly thick arms and the head like some kind of stone dragon, the dimensions were impossible, even in the oversized mausoleum that would be called a tomb. Worse, only the head of the beast seemed to have any life within it; Storm couldn’t fly and failed to imagine how he could exploit such a weakness.

It was obvious now that he had been the dupe, no doubt tricked into traveling down to his doom. There were certainly enough scorned lovers and widowed wives around Althanas that would be happy to see Veritas rendered mincemeat. That was obviously a matter to be settled later. What was less obvious, and more timely, would be how to actually wound the damned colossus.

Storm pulled his hands from his daggers as they would do him no good here. Even his substantial power harnessed into an electric blast would likely not be enough to fell the rock monster. Examining the enormity of his new foe, he reasoned finding a way to trip this thing, and attacking the head.

We’ll need to be clever mice around the kitchen floor. Trip this big sonofabitch up as he bowls his big ass forward at us.

One of the other tough-guy types stood facing the monster as the scientists ran in futility. Storm had found himself on the opposite side of the exit, a large stone door that he could no longer see. Others ran. A second scientist was crushed beneath the enormous foot of the thing, a sickening crush and crunch leaving behind a clear warning in the form of a puddle of meat and bone soup.

“We need to get that big bastard down.” Storm began, sounding inexplicably reasonable and almost considering the welfare of the group. “I’ll get his attention; see if you can use a rope, some rocks, or whatever the hell you can find to trip him up.”

Without a word, Storm sped away around the perimeter of the pyramid’s large chamber, lifting his hands and drawing forth a brilliant glow of white hot electricity to each fingertip. Racing with incredibly, horse-like speed, he hoped he’d catch the attention of the monster. With a shout, he issued a second challenge to the would-be hero behind him.

“And make it f*cking fast!!”

[Tobias Stalt]

Before he could even think, Tobias moved on instinct. His body lurched forward into a painful roll that carried him out of harm's way before he realized he was not the unfortunate target. "Hromagh's taint," he cursed beneath his breath as he came to the balls of his feet, landing in a crouch. "What in hellfire is that?"

He sucked in a harsh breath as the creature wrung the life from what formerly was a man. The wail that incurred sounded less human than scion of abject misery. Without hesitating, Tobias drew the longsword from his waist and rose slowly to his full height. The dull pain ached behind his eyes, stoking the flames of hatred the burned in his chest. "I'll draw it's attention," the Witch Hunter spat viciously as he strode to meet the beast head on. "Focus on finding a weakness!"

He broke into a run and swung the dark blade toward animated bedrock with a wicked tenacity in his gaze. Even if he could not harm it, he had plenty of experience with monsters like this.

His hood flipped back as the wind caught it, revealing the youthful but tired visage of a battle-worn Tobias Stalt.