Might of Moxie (Althanas Boss Rush)

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

"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.

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.

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"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Quote:

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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.

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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 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!!”

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.

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 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...

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....

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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.

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Quote:

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

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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."

Her eyes widened, becoming saucer-plates in the bright light of the afternoon. In this place, in these plains there was little but grass and tough scrubs and small woods. No snow, no freezing chill unlike that of Salvar where Philomel had fought and lived for so long, survived for so long. It was a different world here, a different fight, a different sort of hallelujah.

She grabbed her crossbow from where it hung at her side. On a useful buckle, on the belt at her waist, swinging there with everything else that there was. It was already loaded, with a fresh bolt within it, and there was little time. She watched the creature shed its outer layer like a cocoon as it became an ugly butterfly. The bolt itself was mostly blunt, shaved down and not the best for making a killing, but what Philomel had in mind to do would change the course of what everyone knew of archery.

"Stupid zombie flesh," she cursed at the thing.

Sweeping up with the bow, she narrowed her eyes down the sight. Looking down the beam, her eyes concentrated. Moving her gaze up from its breast to its shoulder to its neck she searched until she found a fleshier, thinner piece that could be penetrated, or at least this faun hoped.

There was a curve of the adam's apple, a lump there that rolled when he growled and roared. That would be a place to pierce, fire at and hit, to use the magics Philomel had within her - for she could send a quake as strong as one to pull down a building through the shaft of the weapon, through the bolt. Sending it across the world, across the distance between her and the dragon and the beast that they desired to slay.

She would shoot it and it hopefully would catch him, and shake his throat dry. Ruined and dry.

Beside her Delath the dragon yelped, before plunging himself back into the earth. He disappeared quite quickly, passionately devouring and digging through the earth to dwell back underneath. There he would go to rest, all twenty feet of him, to writhe and hide until he needed to come back out and help in the attack of disaster.

Oblivious to his offer, the men and women gathered against the creature continued their desperate folly. Cydnar extended his fangs, angered, and yet reticent to help them. Had they worked together, regardless of whose suggestion they plied their aid to, they might not be surrounded by such vicious carnage.

“You have been judged!” he roared. His skin whitened. His eyes turned jet black. Power courses through his veins. “You have been found wanting.”

The verse that condemned a thousand magical creatures and criminals to death through the paladin’s life echoed only in his mind. It served only to steady his nerves as he levitated the quartz spear aloft and aimed it as best he could. The eyes were his first guess, but now the thick veins pulsated on the beast’s erroneous skin, a new opportunity presented itself.

“To the earth asunder!”

The spear jolted mid-air, then darted forwards. Cydnar pushed air with a clenched fist, as though he were throwing it on his own strength. Telekinetic energy swelled in the air, soon drowned out by the tyranny of the creature’s presence. It sickened him. Only adrenaline prevented the Hummel from regressing into a zealot.

“Brother!”

Cydnar turned away from his projectile’s path and set sights on Dalasi. The swordsman appeared beleaguered, but seemingly unhurt. He gave the creature’s rampage a wide birth and closed the gap between them. There was a roar behind them. A small victory.

“I saw a woman who teleported.”

They stared at one another. They arrived at the same conclusion.

“What did she look like?” Cydnar glanced around at the embattled mercenaries.

Dalasi pointed an accusatory finger at a fiery faun a hundred feet away, ready to fight, but new to the bedlam. Cydnar smiled warmly. His fangs protruded from his mouth and he hissed softly. He looked back at the titan and saw ice form on its neck. His spear protruded from the creature's head, as usual, wide of his intended target. A plan formed.

“Let’s go!” he bellowed over the din and ran towards their unwitting ally. “You there!” he cried. “Can you get up to the neck to shatter the vein with this?” Cydnar conjured a small shard of rose quartz, sharp as a razor and hard as diamond from thin air to show her.

Storm had found the group seemed to be successful in spite of himself. The rocky behemoth hadn’t focused on him when he ran. It had tripped, but over a stone outcrop rather than over his wire. To hear the beast thunder to the ground brought a thick mist of dust down from the ceiling of the great pyramid, and a few large bricks with it.

Got him down, I guess without my help. Screw it; any port in a… nevermind.

Logan had begun to do some sort of flexing, posing posture that Storm could make neither heads nor tails of. The psion had more than proven his competency, but this seemed like neither the time nor the place for such hubris.

The faun had attacked with a mighty bolt; Storm thought he heard another speak to him but was too absorbed in his own attack. Teamwork would have to wait, he thought in a stroke of brilliance.

With a quick flip of his wrists, Veritas produced the same pair of daggers that had gutted so many sorry idiots before. Those noodly appendages looked far more vulnerable than their rocky predecessors, and Storm’s eyes lit up as he ran straight at the mighty creature.

WHHHIIIRRR C’SHH! WWHHHHHIIII-SSSSSSSSSSSS

The long arms came after him with a speed that they were in no way capable of before shedding their stony façade. The first set of blades were deflected with an expert twist of a dagger, however for all his experience Storm had never even seen the second arm attack.

oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit

The blade, or blades, hit him across the belly with a brutal slice. Storm knew it was bad; but dared not look down at the damage. He spun his body low and fast across the floor, tucking blades to his forearms as he clutched desperately at his stomach. He pushed heels hard to the floor to distance himself from the abomination.

Looking up, he glanced at the action while assessing damage. With his fingers, he could tell that the slices were deep, and the warm thin flow of blood through his fingers foretold a debilitating wound. It was only a small relief that he could not feel his intestines outside the flesh.

He was down, and working a small electric fire across his abdomen in a possibly futile attempt to heal. Had he wounded the beast at all? Had he bought enough time?

Slow, badly wounded, and pumping blood, Storm started to see his vision blur as he began to drift from consciousness.

Tobias watched the mountain crumble.

He exhaled long and let his arms fall to his sides. The dark titanium blade dug into dirt as he stalked forward toward the titanic victim, ready for the end. The arms flailed almost comically, as though the beast finally knew a primal fear equal to what it instilled.

"So how does it feel?" he asked in a low voice, words that were swallowed up by the carnage that raged around him. In his world, there were only two; Tobias and his prey. "After all of this, you are the hunted, and the smallest of us are killing you for sport."

A wicked smirk crawled across his face, and Tobias raised his weapon. "Scream for me. Show me the measure of your suffering, and then, you may die."

He caught the blade racing toward him on the edge of his blade.

Irreverent silence consumed Tobias' mind as he focused entirely on the guardian, seeking to offer those it had killed peace.

He batted the vestigial blade aside and let out a ragged breath and reached into the folds of his cloak. The glint of his prevalida firearm shone brightly as the sun caught it, and he quickly aimed for the beast's neck.

"Go for the throat."

John landed, tumbled, and skidded to his feet just to see the monster shed the stone plating it had, in favor of darker magics. Though, at this point, John was past the point where it could surprise him. It needed to die, and die it would, whether it was stone or flesh or metal or fire, it would perish at their hands. Logan called out for a diversion or protection as he darted toward the head, followed by the snapping of two large bony arms.

John ran toward him, intercepting the two appendages, attempting to block the flurry of slashes and stabs with armored hands.

Searing pain blossomed at his left shoulder blade as he blocked one bony talon and used his other arm to break it off. John didn't miss a beat, and as the wound began to bleed, he concentrated on his armor, and it moved over the gash, sealing it, at least for the moment. He ducked under another swipe, managing to block another of the giant's fingers and break it as a talon he didn't see plunged into his back, just to the right of his spine. John roared in pain, spinning round with such force that the bone broke off inside him. Liquid metal again coated his injury, though the armor at his hands was growing thin.

A swing came at his back again, but this time he was ready. He caught the long finger with his armored right hand, pulling it toward himself as he formed a long blade at the end of his other arm, sacrificing much of the armor that protected him. His wounds flowed freely as he swung the makeshift blade upward, cleanly severing the behemoth's arm at the wrist, leaving it a flailing stump.

As the hand fell though, the other arm snaked forward, plunging a bony spike into his abdomen. John roared, swinging with the blade again, severing the last finger on the arm.

His breath hitched as the bony arms flailed around near-harmlessly, and John stared down at his bleeding stomach, knowing that it was the only thing keeping his insides inside of him. He mustered up what concentration was not devoted to not crying out, and the metal of his blades and gauntlets retreated up his arms, coating his wounds, keeping himself from bleeding out, though now he had no protection, no armor that wasn't keeping himself alive.

John clenched his teeth, and breathed despite the pain, standing up straight. The pain lessened a bit and he began to run forward to where Logan was. He only hoped that they finished this quickly, internal bleeding was a bad way to go.

Philomel's bolt struck true, tearing the fiends Adams apple from its rotten flesh. It let out a gurgling howl, only to be met with a sharp report as Tobias let off a shot from his gun to also sink into the beasts wounded neck. Fetid black ooze gushed from its wound as it staggered back, arms flailing as it fell to its back. Dust filled the air, clouding and obscuring everyone's vision. It thrashed about for several moments, its vile blood showering over all in the area. The beast only had time for one last thought as the light left its eyes.

'I have...failed...'

Its savage heart grew still, and it let one last whimper out. The terror of the expidition had been slain, the mighty Moxxilus had fallen. The group stood in silence for several moments. Such a monsterous beast surely couldn't have been felled so easily? Blood began to pool at the base of the creatures body and silence filled the air. It would appear the group had been successful. Sure, the excavation was filled with the corpses of those they were supposed to have protected, but the dig would be able to continue when new recruits arrived on the next shipment. All that was left was to reclaim the dig site, and get their reward.

Quote:

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OOC: It appears you have all defeated the foul Moxillus! But what was the creature so vehemently protecting? Enter the temple and learn the truth! Next (and final) post in about 2 hours

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Tobias glanced at the group around him that yet stood. In a mire of corpses, they alone saw the end of the creature, despite the original intention of the job. "They mentioned the temple being inaccessible before," he mused as the life drained out of Moxxilus. "Ah, right," he murmured as the longsword slid back into its sheath.

Tobias hurried quickly over to the fallen form of Storm Veritas. "Here," he said, "let me help you." Strength fled from Tobias' aching limbs and he quaked as his arms struggled to heft his wounded ally of convenience. "Erm... gah, he's out... and he's heavy..."

He staggered toward the temple with shaking shoulders and a man over his shoulders, and from beneath his black clothing; blood began to spew from wounds opened under extreme duress, the cost of strength far beyond his own. "Hey," he called in a raspy voice, to the Faun who appeared to be closer than the others.

"Hey," he repeated. "He needs help. And we should be able to get in the temple now, besides."

Logan's fists released as he watched the behemoth fall. As the dust began to settle, the psion wondered how many times he would find himself hired on a whim to do some unexplained job, only to end up in a struggle for his life and the lives of numerous others. By his count, he was at least up to ten, and that was only in the past year.

His eyes bounced around the ruins, from the monstrosity to its victims. Not a single archeologist, scientist or assistant remained. All of the grunts they hired were essentially nothing more than goop upon the ground. The only ones who remained were the ones hired to protect all of those bastards in the first place, and past experiences told Logan those same bastards full well knew the danger the hired guns would be thrust into.

There existed no single morsel of sorrow or guilt over his survival when so many others died, because their deaths felt justified. Perhaps if they had given the ragtag bunch an idea of why they were there to begin with, then maybe he might have offered more protection or help. Sometimes, you have to loose your pride so you can tighten your grip on survival.

Logan turned to look at the rubble and ruins, then to John. He made his way over and helped him up, as well, letting the giant rest an arm around his shoulder, before slowly, methodically, they made their way to the exposed entrance and walked inside. He had no idea what awaited them, riches, glory, or absolutely nothing, but he sure as Haide wanted to find out what all the fuss was over.

John's arm clasped with Logan's, and as he rose to from his knee, he coughed. Blood came up on the hand that covered it, and he realized that his lung was beginning to fill with blood. Likely that damned bone jutting out of his back. Or the one impaled in his stomach, if it was pointed upwards enough. Either way, he'd need some help pretty quick if he didn't want to drown in his own fluids.

Logan pushed one of John's arms around him, though it didn't help much since they were very different heights and John was quite heavy. He looked at the downed behemoth, then to the rest of the crew. It appeared that the only ones to survive were the ones guarding the ones who were massacred. It would have been funny if it weren't so morbid.

He slowly realized that they were missing one.

As if on cue, the one Logan had called Tobias called for help with the fifth member, who was slumped up against a rock.

John lifted his arm and walked over to the injured elf that the stone and flesh monster was chasing earlier. He was bleeding profusely. John looked down at his abdomen, then to his hand. Perhaps he could stop the bleeding, keep the man from dying, at least for the time being.

John concentrated, pulling armor away from the wound on his left shoulder blade, and formed it to his palm. He felt himself begin to bleed, but his wound was shallow, and he had quite a bit of blood left to bleed. He tore the elf's tunic, placing his armored palm on the two deep gashes that the monster had given him. He concentrated, and it was difficult, but eventually he sunk the armor into the wound, plugging all of the veins and vessels that were bleeding.

He turned the elf over, wrapping his left arm around his back to his abdomen, where his palm rested, and he picked up his legs with the other. Logan was standing a few paces off in the direction of the temple. John maintained his concentration and followed.

As the thing grounded to a halt, finally it seemed for these adventurers here had definitely been fighting for long, Philomel turned to look at them. Her eyes moved from one to the other, taking in each in turn with keen interest. Some she knew, some she recognised, and others were complete strangers to her. She was sure she, though, seemed like a sudden weirdo, running into their fight to help them destroy this beast, so sudden and unceremonious.

There were five of them, she could see, all of them male. Four were human and the other appeared elf, though what exact type of elf Philomel could not be sure. There was a tall giant she vaguely recognised - he had one of those statures that she was sure she had seen before but a face that possibly she had forgotten. Another being she knew the name of for he was the infamous Tobias Stalt, that (for a while) scourge of the Crimson Hand. Though now, of course, with Maddison Freebird holding court in Salvar he was more friend than foe. They all helped each other get to their feet, like they had bonded already in brotherhood.

A brotherhood she was determined to sidle her way in to. Why ever miss a good opportunity?

Philomel nodded to them each in turn, a few of them shorter than her, in fact most so. Apart from the giant man of course. Shouldering her iron crossbow, and hoping that very clearly they had been given a glimpse of her awesome power, she smiled, before giving a short introduction of herself.

"Philomel, at your service, no need to thank me," she said. "Now it seems you have a monster problem? I am sure I can help."

Gesturing back behind her at the corpse of rotting flesh she let a great grin appear on her face. "If you get pay, I don't mind taking my share. If you know what's in the temple ... well. I would be happy to go with."

Her hoof patted the ground, and the ground itself shook with a faint tremour, the very dust rocking from side to side. It was the motion of Delath, her dragon from the deep, scratching the surface of the world once more, a creature of habit and destruction who could definitely help in further times of trouble.

"I am happy to help."

The group limped into the decrepit entrance to the dungeon despite their wounds. The fight had been long and hard, and several of them were worse for wear. What they found left them confused. A simple ornate staircase seemed to lead down for about fifty feet or so before they encountered a large gate with a ancient rune carved into it. Tobias took point, and with a grunt he shoved the large double doors open. The swung open with a loud rasp and revealed a massive room with a simple egg in the center, surrounded by rings and rings of runic circles carved into the ground.

Logan and Tobias eyed each other before they continued, each step kicking up a small storm of ancient dust. Several braziers that seemed to have lain cold for millennia ignited simultaneously, bathing the room in a sinister green light. A cold, menacing, laughter filled the room as they appoached the center.

"I. AM. FREE!"

The egg in the center shattered, spewing a vile black fog that swirled violently in the room before gusting past the group sending a shiver down their collective spines. Little did they know it, but they had unleashed great evil upon the world once more. The Bale Dragon would ascend once more.

Quote:

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Well Y'all, it's over. Thank you for coming out and participating in our Althanas Day Boss rush. You will all receive the following item as a participation reward.

The Might of Moxxilus: A simple ring that once per day can be used to coat the user in a thick Jade-like stone to prevent all damage they would take that post. They are rendered immobile and have decreased senses, but cannot be injured or moved from their place. A last resort more than anything.

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Ok, first thing first, I have to say I’m impressed with the post speed and resulting quality. Posts within half an hour of each other (or less) with the quality that they were, was pretty impressive. Given the time constraints I’m going to be a bit more lenient than I perhaps would have been otherwise. Overall I liked the thread. There was some miscommunication at times, or some writers missed/ignored some actions, but that’s to be expected. Kudos for a few laughs, I liked everyone writing in the pudgy archaeologist at the start.

I’m using the quest XP model given that there is no ‘winner’ to based the exp off, but I kicked in a bit extra before applying the althie day bonus. I kept gold fairly standard given the reward (I will however be happy to purchase the reward for 250 gold for Talen to use :D )

	Plot	Character	Prose	Wild	Total
Cydnar	22	20	18	7	67
Storm Veritas	20	22	19	7	68
Logan	21	18	18	7	64
redford	18	15	18	7	58
Tobias	21	20	18	7	66
Philomel	18	18	18	7	61

Commentary:
Cydnar – Good job setting up your character at the start. You were by far the best in brining a global perspective to your character and why he was in the middle of the jungle. It’s not easy to do in this circumstance, but you stuck with it. Your description of the excavation site was good too. I like the imagery of the dozens of men clambering across the site as they cut it out of the earth. As I’ve gone through your posts I’ve ticked off plot, character, setting, more setting, good dialogue. Really solid work.

Storm Veritas – Nice subtle illumination of your character at the start to contrast his rather blunt motive. Your descriptions were good, I’m glade someone referenced the heat and sweat of the jungle. Solid action and pacing given how jumpy the thread was.

Logan – Your intro was good, but I wasn’t a fan of the dialogue. You’ve got a bar tender, Logan himself and an archaeologist and all of them speak with the same pattern. Not a big thing, but these three are from completely different walks of life. It’s a quick battle, so I wasn’t expecting war and peace, but there didn’t really seem to be a reason for Logan to be there. On the other hand, pacing was good, action was good. You led the charge quite a bit and engaged the others rather than just doing your thing, good work.

Redford – More back story man! What’s the deal with his gloves? Why are they magic? Where is John from? Why did he need money? I’ve given you a few points on setting and the descriptions, but more would have been good. Your character is large, you should play on that more. You mention not being able to fit through a door at the start, but not because of his height. Play on that a bit. I’m tall in RL, so I’m used to ducking under things. It becomes second nature, but people around me notice. Play on that.

Tobias – Good set up for Tobias at the start, and the interaction in your first post was well done. A few odd sentences and some spelling mistakes, but not hugely noticeable. Good pacing, good action. Some more descriptions of the surrounds would help colour your posts a bit. It was sometimes completely focused on Tobias rather than on the world he inhabited.

Philomel – I gotta say, I’m not envious of jumping in when you did. With the action underway and everything happening it would have been hard to get the same sort of intro in that the others had a chance to. Given that, I understand why Phi ‘just happened’ upon the fight. If I were in your shoes I might have jumped in normally, then flashed back to set up the story, then flashed back to the present. It’s a tough call though. One other point, you missed a good opportunity to paint the picture of your dragon emerging from the ground. It’d be an amazing sight to see it burst forth in a shower of dirt and roots. (Also, why didn’t you trip up the golem with your earthquake??)


Rewards:
Cydnar –
XP: 1013
GP: 40

Storm Veritas –
XP: 1646
GP: 55

Logan –
XP: 1218
GP: 64

Redford –
XP: 798
GP: 40

Tobias –
XP: 1506
GP: 66

Philomel –
XP: 962
GP: 36

Everyone gets:

The Might of Moxxilus: A simple ring that once per day can be used to coat the user in a thick Jade-like stone to prevent all damage they would take that post. They are rendered immobile and have decreased senses, but cannot be injured or moved from their place. A last resort more than anything.

EXP and GP Added!