Might of Moxie (Althanas Boss Rush)

[Cydnar]

Cydnar and Dalasi got to within a stone’s throw of the heart of the expedition camp when the chaos broke out. Within the space of a heartbeat Dalasi unsheathed his two-handed blade and darted to the east. Cydnar heard the cacophony before he felt it. The ground trembled then thudded in the wake of the thunderous cry.

“Perhaps the wine can wait, then,” he said bitterly. He tensed his stomach and stood to attention. He watched his brother disappear into the crowd that converged around the culprit, and then re-appeared at full speed running back towards Cydnar.

“Get down!”

Cydnar has prone before Dalasi’s warning finished echoing through the temple garden. Something, or someone tossed a clod of earth so big it crashed through the top of the obscuring pillar and sent rock and ruin and history showering through the air. The first boulder landed ten feet from Cydnar and shook the earth of its fear.

He righted himself as quickly as he could and removed the detritus from his robes. He tied his hair back and clenched his fists until his knuckles were white to remove the tension in his limbs. Dalasi side-winded through the lighter shards as they rained down and arrived at his brother’s side.

“You’re not going to like this,” he panted. Though out of breath, the situation did not faze him in the least. He was ready. He was sharp. He was born to a life of conflict. “But, it’s sort of made of rock.”

Cydnar blinked. He looked over Dalasi’s shoulder and met with their adversary. A golem, large as any he had ever seen made or mimicked to life stomped and thumped and swung its way through the ranks of mercenaries that arrayed against it. The reptilian head was visible even at distance, and its strength audible for miles through the thick, humid jungle of Dheathain.

“What is your suggestion?” Cydnar waited for his brother’s reply.

Dalasi smiled. “Find the more robust members of the guard and work with them. Lead the untrained in a coordinated attack and if that fails, organise a civilian withdrawal.” Dalasi wasted no time in laying down his hand.

Cydnar gave his brother an acknowledging nod and bent at the knee. He pressed splayed fingertips against the trembling grass and closed his eyes. This was a sign to his brother to leave and get on with it, and that he was intending to dig deeper into the golem’s origins. Something, not just the fell aura in the air, was strange about the temple.

“Good luck, Salthias.” Dalasi turned and darted back to the melee.

Cydnar felt down through the grass, the roots, and the rock. He felt the thrum of artifice, of ancient magic, and of darkness. Long ago, this creature had a purpose. He tore through granite and mud and earthworm’s nest. Then, he felt it. All at once, the golem’s rage feedback through his geomantic tendrils and struck him square in the forehead. He bolted back, knocked off his feet and flat on his behind.

“For Yrene’s sake,” he cursed. By the time he got up, the golem’s rampage had intensified and his brother was out of sight. Cydnar frowned, but begrudgingly began to advance towards the battle. He kept his gaze attentive, on the lookout for anyone that looked like they might grasp the concept of not running towards an angry earth elemental with sharp sticks.

The emotions he felt, the unbridled rage, left no doubt in the Hummel’s mind. This creature was not to be reasoned with. Quartz flecks formed around the High Salthias’ head, and trailed like fairy dust in his wake. With a serpentine snarl, he broke into a run. No sooner than he met with the rearguard, someone with common sense shouted a plan. He began to channel the flecks into a spear and caught the enigmatic human's attentions.

"It's made of stone, but it's eyes can be prized out!" He jostled the spear, but had no skill to throw it. "Anyone got a good arm?"

[Logan]

Logan stopped completely frozen in his tracks as the monolithic monstrosity rumbled from beneath the ground below, ripping various bits of foliage from the ground as it did. The psion's eyes grew wide as he watched it began to lumber about slowly, almost methodically. Scientists and Archeologists were crushed one after another beneath the gigantic feet and hands, and as the dust settled following each attack the true nature of its power was left plain to see with large, ten-foot wide craters all that remained.

"What in Haide," the psion asked as he peered along the full girth and then height of the beast, or at least of what he could see. He only hoped there wasn't more beneath the ground below.


A few others whom Logan was certain he recognized darted about, but he really had no intent to worry over who was who. One arm swung sideways toward him, but he deftly rolled out of the way of the simple attack. Three fleeing grunts were not so lucky, and were launched into the air and then slammed into columns, boulders and other bits of the ruins. Dust began to build-up with each movement of the massive creature leaving a building dust cloud near its base. It would be near impossible to target from range, but perhaps if someone could get close enough...

Before Logan could join the fray, his eyes caught sight of the Tarot's traitor, Tobias Stalt, and his Tarot brother, John. They would have to work hand in hand to defeat the beast, but could they?

"Listen! We must work together! This beast won't go down without coordinated attacks and defenses," Logan yelled telepathically out to the entire arena before him.

The psion turned his attention to John and Tobias, "You two, keep it busy. Do whatever you must, but keep it distracted."

His eyes darted about frantically, passing over multiple scrawny pawns and then landing upon Storm Veritas.

"Storm, we need to take out its legs. The arms will still be dangerous, but if we can get it back onto the ground we stand a better chance of disabling it," the psion shouted to Storm through his telepathy hoping the expert assassin would pay heed.

The psion's eyes bounced back to the giant stone structure before him, operating as if alive, sentient in some way.

One of the hands smashed into the dirt a few yards from Logan, and he sprinted toward it instead of away. Each finger of the hand was easily five-feet across, and so he had only one real option. Focusing all of his essence onto his blade, small, almost invisible air bubbles began to form upon the edges of his blades, and as he leaped into the air he thrust both down into the middle on the hand of the giant creature. The bubbles were prepped to explode simultaneously, the blades should hit with the full force of a sledgehammer and if done just right would leave quite the mark, perhaps even disabling that particular hand. If only...

[Cards of Fate]

Moxxilus was not pleased. First it had been so rudely awoken by intruders, but another had even tried to pry into the primordial fury that was its mind. It swung its six mighty arms wildly, bringing death with each blow. Lumbering forward it settled its gaze on the five fighters below. One was making a move for his downed hand, which would simply not do. He annoyedly flicked his hand outward, swatting the Psion out of the air quickly.

He let out a mighty roar and outstretched his arms. Four revealed themselves to be thrice the length of the main two, and seemed to be able to cover a much greater range of motion. His shorter two grasped at two nearby pillars of stone and ripped them from the ground, arming itself with makeshift clubs to sweep at its feet.

'Cant...let...' the thought crossed its mind in a brief moment of clarity. 'Seal...break.'

It howled once more and smashed with its two clubs, not aiming for anyone but coming close to smacking several of his foes at a time. His larger arms began to hammer about wildly, striking at crumbling columns and bits of the temple indiscriminately. It was almost as if the beast couldn't truly see....

Alright guyos, we're gonna try a post at 4:30 Cst next. Try to keep it rolling folks! Depending on your action next post will reveal a weakness.

[Storm Veritas]

There is the prevailing wisdom that in times of crisis, people instinctively trend towards either a “fight” or “flight” mentality. That there is a simplistic notion in times of danger that a body will either assess that they should stand their ground in defense, or run for safety.

This notion, like many other idiosyncratic components of time-honored knowledge, is a crock of shit.

Absolute chaos wreaked the battleground as the combatants sprang about in nearly every direction. Storm had sprinted in an effort to catch the eye of the big beast, while another brave (stupid?) swordsman had lashed out an assault at the monstrosity. Logan, a rare familiar face, had revealed himself, and lashed out an assault on the rocky thing’s awful hand.

”Storm! We need to take out its legs”

’The hell!?

The thought had invaded his mind, completely coinciding with what he had aimed to do. Hiding behind a pillar, he tossed the handle of his wire around, looping back to secure itself to it. A massive crash thundered, the big thing hitting the pillar like a battering ram, sending large fragments all about Storm. Quickly getting up, the lithe mage recognized the first pillar was secure. The statue-lizard had already set his sights on another.

Preposterously enough, the titan ripped two pillars from the dirt, like baseball bats for the stone slugger.

Holy shit. The power of this enemy was absurd; hopefully his speed wasn’t quite as staggering as his strength.

“Hey, shit-for-brains! Down here! That the best you can do!?”

His hands electric white again, he waved them at the enemy and began to run again. Through the remaining few pillars he wove like an ant from under an upturned rock, dragging behind him the little wire that he hoped would hold. Could it trip the massive, walking mountain? Time would tell.

Storm sprinted about furiously. The spider continued weaving his web; if he was lucky enough he might yet live.

Come and get it, boss.

[Logan]

The force of the swat sent his blades from his hands, and they slid along the ground a few feet. Logan slammed into a pillar with a thud and a crack, most likely his ribs or worse. Blood coughed up from his mouth as he spat onto the ground. He coughed a couple of more times as he lifted his sleeve and wiped away any remnants. His chest ached with each breath, but he held no spare moments for injury or pain. Scanning the area, he watched Storm weave about, thankful someone took heed of his plans.

The psion rose to his feet, peered over to his swords and cursed his luck. They were directly beneath the path of the swinging pillars, but if he timed it right he might just be able to secure them and continue closer to the beast. If the psion could hear thoughts, he might have realized the creature was not just controlled, but was of sentience. It was not fighting aimlessly, but unfortunately, he held no means to know this.

Sucking in what bits of air he could, he winced a bit, but held back the coughs. One arm swung sideways with a pillar and struck four random archeologists who tried to remain hidden, but unfortunately for them not well enough. The bodies flew through the air, most unconscious, before slamming into a pillar swinging the opposite direction, flying off in the opposite direction completely and utterly lifeless. Logan sprinted toward his swords with focus and determination, leaping over the bits of wire Storm had left trailing behind him.

He leaped into a slide with his feet in front of him, his hands outstretched to his sides. The slide continued as his hands slid over the hilt of each of his blades, swinging them up and then thrusting them down into the ground beneath him. The blades erupted with tiny explosions as the bubbles from before erupted, caving the stone beneath him, and causing an equally opposite reaction upon his body flinging him up toward the underside of the creature. He spun the air and looking up at the underbelly of the behemoth, and reached his swords above him.

Sure, the attack wasn't likely to do much damage, but Logan only wanted to buy Storm a few more minutes of time.

[Tobias Stalt]

The trouble with being Stalt was that most days, you ended up with the short end of the stick. Today proved to be little different. The behemoth beast brought a sweeping stroke of raw power across the ground in an attempt to rake several poor souls across the dirt and smear them like paint. Fortunately, the one good thing Tobias had going for him was the vindicated and quiet confidence.

With a loud crack, Hecatoncheir slammed brutally against stone and the titanium blade resonated in woeful chorus. Only slightly taken by recoil, Tobias recovered quickly.

Myriad small battles raged on every front; a cacophony of terrified screams played in the background as a heavy concentration of grunts and howls resounded in disharmony. The humidity only added to the collection of sweat amassing on the mercenary's body.

When at last the large, sundered column came within striking distance, Tobias whipped his blade upward in a furious motion. "Fuck off," he hissed as the two weapons of mismatched size collided.

In disbelief, the scientists watched a man dwarfed by a stone giant hold the line against an assault that by every right should have crushed him.

Tobias grit his teeth and his body shook violently, the raw vibrations of impact tearing through him like wildfire. His harsh gaze peered past his obstacle and toward his foe in consideration.

There must be a weakness, somewhere...

Several shouts in feeble attempt to coordinate blathered outside his notice. Tobias focused entirely on the enemy. His mind, body, and spirit dedicated to the annihilation of an oppositional force, the veteran of the Eiskalt conflict became a living weapon.

He pushed off of the column as though it were a mere sword, and their strength a perfect match. Tobias shrugged away the attack and returned to his guard.

"My turn," Stalt murmured as he surged forward once more and sliced at the same spot he hit previously with his blade.

[redford]

John gave chase as the stone monstrosity carved a path of destruction through the forest. It had passed him, opting to pursue one of the other mercenaries attached to the expedition. Four stone hands flailed about wildly as John caught up, dodging a strike that nearly powdered an obelisk beside him. Perhaps a safer place would be under the thing. He dodged another strike, this one aimed at flattening him, and darted forward under a leg. A massive foot raised and came down at him, and he sidestepped, throwing his arms up as shards of stone plinked off the armor on his arms. He looked up at the behemoth, and an idea came to him.

It wasn't a good idea, mind you, but it was an idea, which is better than what he'd had twenty seconds ago. A thick spike formed at the bottom of his fist, and he leapt upward, burying it in the golem's calf. As it dug into the stone, he pushed more metal into the spike, effectively fusing the metal to the stone, leaving him with a secure grip. He swung his legs upward and repeated the process. The beast moved suddenly again, and he flailed, his arm nearly coming out of socket. The armor helped immensely though. The barest hint of a smirk touched his mouth.

Let's see how you like getting hit, friend.

[Philomel]

Literally, she fell across the fight.

One could not say for certain what had originally brought her to Dheathian. It was a strange place, a strange world, of something curious and undiscovered. What was new was exciting, and that meant adventure. Adventure rarely came for the faun of all fauns, the princess with no crown and no throne, but adventure was one thing she loved. It had a taste of the elegant about it, a world that was rarely touched by her breed, her class. New things emerged around each corner, around each venture. Beautiful things, hidden things, precious things.

Like a fight of carious men against the mightiest, hex-pedal creature that she had ever come across. Or perhaps the only one.

A gasp escaped from her lips as she watched them fight against this tall beast. All she had been doing was going for an idle walk, then the sounds had begun and - well. This. This terror, this horror. And around it, roaring at it, ignoring the amazement that was the temple behind it, were legends of old and new. Some she would recognise, were she to look, but in truth her attention was all drawn to the giant beast.

A thunder. A yawn. The earth shuddered as, quite foolishly, Delath the underground dragon decided to pop up his head from underground - not at her call, mind, but on his own accord. He burst from the earth in a shower of mud and rock, gasping his huge jaws to sleepily gulp in air.

Stupidly close to the beast and the fighters.

Philomel rolled her eyes, and took in a breath before promptly letting the earth teleport her. She disppeared from where she was, and appeared then, right beside the dopey non-fire dragon, sword out and ready to fight. Whatever this was that they had come across, stumbled upon, she knew they would need to help in any way.

At least to save their silly hides.

[Cards of Fate]

Logan's blades struck true, burying themselves into the beasts inner thigh. The Psion found himself holding on for dear life as the beast stumbled forward. The beast paid the two no mind, he was more focused on the fact that he had been matched in stregnth, and repelled. The behemoth stumbled back, both from force and from shock, and managed to trip over a piece of rubble sending the creature tumbling down to the earth, and launching John from his position on the leg, causing him to land with a thud.

The beasts arms flailed about, dropping its cudgels in order to stabilize itself. All six arms stood still for one brief moment as dust roared up to obscure everyone's vision. A loud crack could be heard, and several fracture patterns began to snake up the beasts arms. Slowly plate after plate of stone armor fell from the beasts form, like a snake shedding its skin. When the dust cleared, what the fighters saw was truly horrific. The creature had shed its stone plating to reveal mottled and partially decomposed flesh. Its four longer arms now moved freely and with prehensile precision, each ending with four razor sharp talons. The main two arms seemed to have trouble raising from the ground, as if the stone itself had been supporting the arms itself.

The only thing still truly covered was its head, which seemed to be the source of several pulsing veins. Its maw opened up and let out a hellish scream before the chaos resumed. It's four arms whipped around with nightmarish speed, lashing and slashing blindly. By this point any archeologist still in the arena had fallen victim to the fiend and were reduced to mush.

Alright guys, opening is made, you have two hours.

[Logan]

Logan's blades sank deep into the stone, and as the beast stumbled and ultimately steadied itself, the stone began to crack and crumble beneath. Soon, the entirety of the stone plate pieces covered the ground, including the one with his blades. Before he could react, the monster changed form, and the psion sat momentarily aghast at the horrid flesh-crafted ferocity before him. As the arms began to flail wildly, he lifted his swords to deflect the blows, but instead the stone plate remained attached providing an unintentional shield.

As he dodged amidst the dust and dirt swirling in the air, the psion focused his essence inward and then exploded it outwards, the air around him vibrating momentarily and then shockwaves muting the swirling cloud of dust into nothing. What was once impossible to see was then clear as day, the group needed to get to the head and specifically to the veins at the top...or did they?

He knew John and Tobias had to be relatively close, so he called out, "KEEP IT BUSY! I THINK I CAN FINISH THIS HERE AND NOW!"

Sure, the beast would hear the shout, too, but Logan wasn't the least bit worried. He had science on his side.

Focusing his essence while he kept a focused eye upon the veins, the psion squeezed his fists around the hilts of his swords. The liquid in the veins began to crystallize and sludge much like water as it turns to ice, the atoms and molecules within slowing down until they held no further movement at all. So long as the psion remained protected and untouched, the veins would eventually freeze over and the liquid would solidify completely. He didn't know exactly what it would do, but he knew it would be a huge help to the group.

"Payback's a bitch."