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?"