Closed [Guest ST] Dug Too Deep

[Kaie]

As invested as she was in her own escape, Kaie was not deaf to the sounds behind her. The shrill cries were seeming to mesh into the shriek of one massive behemoth. They appeared to be coming from everywhere and no where at once. Their vocals filled the tunnels, causing the Myrian to want to hesitate before advancing and taking a turn. It was if no matter where she went, a pack was hiding behind the bend, waiting for the chance to jump her when she least expected. Adrenaline got the better of her. For once, Kaie had no qualms about choosing the flight option. At least Yukmen weren't the only creatures she could hear.

There was an odd clambering of bodies, yowls and growls of frustrated animals after their prey. One glance around her shoulder and Kaie was astounded by the sight that greeted her. Behind the backs of her sprinting comrades was a sea of beasts whose front had managed to crumble like the ending of a wave. The olive skinned man stood at its edge like a beach goer testing the waters. Some had their hands on their ears as if in some immense pain, but from what? Unless their obnoxiously terrifying screams had given them the same headache they had given her, something else was going on. If only she could figure it out...

The next observation she spotted before whipping her head back around to focus was the muscular man beside another sellsword. Both were hacking like mad through those who had scampered over the barrier of bodies. The taller of the two was much more ferocious in the act. There was an incredible anger (more like hatred) radiating from his being. He had been slaughtering the abominations as if they had stolen something precious from him. Perhaps in another time a swarm like that had. Sadly, there was no time to wait around and ponder his rage. Kaie was simply grateful she had it defending her back.

A roar more earth shattering than the other grasped the Myrian's very soul mid-run. It was the cry of something dominant, and arguably more bloodthirsty, than the other had seemed to be behind her. Its bellow rocked her world and they didn't stop at one vocalization. Petch, the Myrian woman almost thought she was hearing the crumbling of rock in the background. None of them were strong enough to tear heavy rock from the walls. Well, maybe that large sellsword was capable, but the rest? Not so much. Besides, there were monsters scrambling after them that had no concept of diplomacy. Stopping to create barriers in vain would be a suicide mission. Unless...

"Myri, damn them! Petch that! Petch that!" Kaie snarled in her own tongue, all but twisting around in panic at the sound of the stony impact. The thrower was an easy one to pick out. It was the bastard Yukman who charged straight through the debris like territorial Tskanna. The very sight of it was enough to make her heart kick into full gear. Needless to say, they were about to get petched.

"I'm dropping back! Run ahead and be ready to use whatever you have on you!" The Myrian shouted over all the sound pollution at the fleeing spelunkers behind her, pressing against the tunnel wall to give them leave. The archer boy could lead them to the surface until she could pick it back up. If she could. And as the gap between herself and the assaulted trio closed, Kaie swallowed the natural fears. It was time to perform. Their survival depended on it. Who knew if all three remained unscathed after that impact anyways? They'd need all the help them could get for this crowd control.

Withdrawing her gladius and letting out a feral snarl, Kaie sunk back into her defensive position and let the tide wade to her instead. Amber eyes studied the masses, searching for a target to catch her eye. It took mere seconds for that to happen. Pretend all she wanted, anyone could see the hulking silhouette of the Alpha. Someone was going to have to have a go at it. Might as well be her...

With her left, Kaie tore her food knife free from her hip. In Syliras she had always wanted to trade it in for coin to buy herself a quality dagger. She sure was cursing herself then. Yet without another thought, Kaie hurled the knife its way and silently prayed to the Goddess Queen it caused some damage. After all, the last time she tried the seemingly simple feat, her enemy was assaulted by the harmless handle end and her comrade met the sword. If only the Fates had been a little more in her favor when it came to knife throwing...

"Let's get a move on!"

Kaie began to back pedal steadily twice the pace of the onslaught. She hacked at them as they came toward her, wielding her sword with more force than tactic. In the long run it hardly mattered to her in that moment. As long as she was killing them or inhibiting a quick advance, Kaie was pleased. Well, as pleased as one can get when facing a horde that wants nothing other than your flesh and blood...

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

It was an art form, how with he'd slain each one of the yukmen as his sword tore through their flesh, as steel reaped through bone and how rage, the unearthly, ungodly rage that seemed to leak from one of his pores fermented the air around them. A dark ancestral mixture that brought nothing but Deaths seductive touch on the children of the earth, in the darkness that'd enveloped them, bodies fell at the hands of the mercenaries. "Hmph!" came from the throat Senghor, his blade piercing through the stomach a yukman, at this point he'd seen that the narrow passage would have to wait, these beings had brought a battle and they would wage war. In a swift motion the yukman impaled on his steel's stomach burst forth and its warm insides bathed the cold earth. His palm shot out and pushed the corpse off and his eyes looked to his side, the other sellsword was there he too was putting up a fight, it was admirable that even after what he'd went through the warrior in him still wanted to fight, still fought! As he inclined his head back onto the coming fray, he felt a euphoric rage cool his blood, the forge of his spirit calm for a moment as everything took to slow down and his breath now visible to him as it escaped his moistened lips, the yukmen seemed like an army and they where but few in number, he liked those odds. The Forge's fire was poked and it awoke, now burning with more life it was a violent flame, untamed and powerful and he was the blacksmith that was father of the forge, his palms clenched tightly around the hilt of his longsword, the strain of leather was sound as he seemingly dug his very hands into the sword's neck as if choking it. Another wave came, another slaughter ensued, the first yukman came, and Senghor's eyes observed the space around him, there was ample space to move as he wanted too yet he could only do it once, with its arms outstretched to welcome death the ebony flesh bearing human moved forward, from below his blade came with an arch that tore through its pits, up to its trapezius, the arm fell off. In a eased motion his left palm enclosed over its face, making saw to avoid its mouth, his left leg wrapped around the yukman's right and he shoved, the yukman fell yet in an act of cruel brutality, Seng shoved its skull into that of another yukman's which had already been cut down. The back of their skulls met and shattered, yet he was not yet done as with repeated motion of absolute violence, he grasped its skull tightly and bashed its skull into the earth. As he raised his head, another sought death and so he obliged it, he thrust his blade forward and pierced its stomach and with a shove to the side, entrails spat out beautifully, artistically. Using the dead yukman as leverage Seng stood, the heel of his boot to crush the battered yukman's skull beneath him, and when he pulled out his blade from the stomach of the yukman, another came and another artistic method of death was presented. If he was going to die, we sought to do it in the most Vilhjalmr way possible... When another fell, he heard that roar pierce into the confines of his ears, the Alpha, it was only when he heard the earth rumble that he looked up, his eyes shot open as the behemoth through the gigantic piece of 'cave' at them. "Damnit, move!!" Senghor roared as his eyes drifted towards the injured mercenary, he saw that the man would be crushed if he didn't move as he shoved his blade down the neck of another yukman, his palms left its hilt. He moved the fellow sellsword out the way by tackling him, his shoulder hit into its shoulder and both men fell to the ground. When the impact rattled the earth above and below, Seng's throat was nearly suffocated by the dust that'd gathered yet he couldn't, wouldn't let that deter him as he coughed out the dirt, rolling over and sitting up, it the oncoming yukman that truly brought him back to his senses. His palm scrambled about the soil of his sword and when he remembered that he'd used the neck of a yukman as a sheath, his own body would suffice. As the yukman came onto him, his foot connected with its chest and shoved it back, it fell onto its brethren hindered them for a moment. "Get up an fight damnit!" the desert skinned mercenary hollered at the still dazed sellsword, and when he saw stir awake, he decided to act, standing up to quickly ducking from the sweep of a yukman's claws Senghor's eyes quickly found his sword. With duck, jab and right hook the yukman staggered back and opened way, Senghor didn't hesitate, with a couple of steps forward his right hand betrothed its extension quickly and as if two lovers in the heat of lust, yukmen become another objective in their way. Senghor's began once again, to cut down the yukman before him yet when he heard a somewhat all to common snarl, their chances rose yet when the Alpha began his much, everything became all too interesting. Seng wanted its blood, it was the adversary worth it, with his longsword in hand the yukmen that came soon joined the others before them, each dying in a methodical artistry only a Vilhjalmr could muster. With the rest of the expedition now out of the yukmens way, the mercenary wouldn't have to worry about two things, all that stood in their way was but an army of yukmen and an Alpha, and amongst them all his subconscious wondered, who really didn't like those odds?...

[Razkar]

Shockwaves like miniature earthquakes shook the passageway as the Alpha's missile landed, crushing the spot where Wilhelm had stood a half-tick before. The wounded mercenary screeched as Seng bore him to the ground, his barely-bandaged bolt-hole tearing at him anew. Even the Yukmen trembled slightly as the tremors knocked some of the steam from their charge, focusing on the Myrian hacking and slashing backwards after the scrambling merchants, the monstrous Seng, the viciously-cursing Wilhelm, and... and...

And no-one else, apparently. The blonde Faval and the pale Crypt had vanished, either deeper or higher, it was not known nor seen. Not that it was important; the loss of their blades was.

They would have come in handy as the Alpha bellowed a challenge to Seng, whom it assumed - with typical animal logic - was the leader, given how huge and fearsome he was. The Alpha had no concept of honor or glory or pride in defeating a worthy enemy, however.

It hungered. They all hungered. And as Alpha, his mind plugged into the slavering, endless appetites of all his underlings, his own was near-insatiable.

In fact, lose the "near".

It charged across the space between them and Wilhelm scrambled away, leaving Seng and the monstrous abomination to duke it out. The two or three dozen smaller, faster Yukmen were his problem... mainly because there were that many, and because they would leave they Alpha to its prize.

But they had him.

"Fuck this!"

Wilhelm didn't survive this long in the sellsword trade by being overly-brave or sentimental. Seng may have saved his life, and he was grateful, but that didn't mean he'd stand stalwart and noble next to him fighting impossible odds. If the glory hound wanted to die like in the sagas, that was his deal.

"C'mon!" He snarled to Kaie as he staggered past her, slashing at an ashen, groping hand as he did and removing it of a few fingers. "We've got to go!"

The clients certainly had the right idea; they were all-but-sprinting through the inky darkness. Stumbling, cursing, falling, cut and bruised a dozen times each by shards of rock, but definitely moving up and out. Wilhelm saw they waddling and glinting ahead of him, few remaining glow worms reflecting dully of pitons and picks and daggers and-

Crossbow bolts?

"Down!"

Lared heard the call but ignored it. He could see the light! Freedom! Open air and clear spaces for him to run and run and be far from this horror! Mathias frowned, though, had jerking back to see the fear stark in Wilhelm's eyes. The old man reached out to grab Darrick, the other for Lared-

-just as the crossbows twanged-

-and the thick, fleshy impact of them made the man twitch and shake and stop...

He looked down. There were... things... in his chest. Things with short, clipped feathered, like arrows, but shorter, thicker. He took a breath and found it wouldn't go down, just as a spasm of pain bone-deep drove him to slump to his knees... lift his head back up in a motion that took seasons...

Long enough to see his killers rise from the shadows with their murderous weapons in hand, whispering and then barking to each other, shadowy forms breaking and blocking the light.

"No..." He croaked, in a voice flecked with tears and blood and sorrow. "We... We were so... so..."

Mathias watched his nephew's body fall backwards, never to move again through its own will, and let out a scream to rival the monsters poised to overwhelm the sellswords behind him.

OOCWell, neither hide nor hair of Crypt and Faval, so we're moving it on. Seng, you get your showdown, but if I may advise you and Kaie, I wouldn't try to wipe that horde out to the last monster. There's simply too many of them... that said, looking forward to the replies!

[Kaie]

There were few times Kaie had battled a horde of Yukmen, and for good reason. They were mindless, bastard mutants wrecking havoc upon Mizahar with all the enthusiasm of the worst sort of pestilence. They advanced as if pulling along a blackened curtain of death to wrap around those who foolishly caught their attention. Fingers turned to earthy claws, bodies shambling and rummaging through the tunnels without fear of the desperately swung blades before them. There was no remorse, no hesitation in their race when their brothers and sisters fell back to deteriorate upon the ground from whence they were birthed. Mangled expressions of unexplained hatred bore down upon the true living in ungodly retribution. One who lacked the adeptness in battle would be wise to avoid the behemoth that was an Alpha, the commanding general of spawn that fought for no fathomable cause. It was that sort of monster Kaie had watched wander the jungle once, and vowed never to make the fatal error of falling into one's sights. Yet the Fates work in mysterious ways. And as her clan always warned, even your most minor fears will find you.

Kaie grimaced at the roar of the Yukman in charge, her eyes not daring to veer from her current battle. However, between her vicious swings that hacked at the abominations that rushed their backs, she caught sight of the nightmare of the cave. His deformed chest heaved with hostility and bestial aggression. Strangely, it did not seem to stare without discrimination. He had eyes only for the muscular man Kaie had dropped back to defend.

Goddess, help this poor bastard...

The second mercenary was gone by the time Kaie glanced to her side to see whether he had fallen into the tidal wave that was the horde. Much to her fury (not that she could claim surprise), he was gone. With a cry of obscenities and a moment of reasoning with her, he had darted from the fray toward "safety." Had the odds been stacked evenly, she might've called him a coward. But when the sea of bodies began to swell and crash upon her again, she knew in her very soul that could never be true. For how could she curse a man who saw an obviously lost cause and ran to live another day? The very notion almost sent her running behind him without daring to think of her comrade.

"But if it were the walls of Taloba under siege with numbers surpassing Myri's, would you dare retreat with those who called it a lost cause to defend?"

Goddess-Queen, strike me dead the day I would think to consider it. But this cave is not home.

"Then you would abandon this man to die at the claws of these beasts?"

No, I would leave so that I may live to go home again.

The Myrian woman grit her teeth in inner turmoil, hand clutching tighter to the handle of her gladius. The gladius whose hardened sheath bore the tales of Myri's conquest, reminding her again in a silent fashion just how far from Falyndar she was. Just how alone. Was standing even a moment longer at the forefront worth the chance she'd never see her homelands again? Never feel the presence of her Mother when she walked Taloba's streets? She bet Keikyo was still sitting there in the barracks, waiting for her return. And her mother...Did she even truly care? Or did she sit there with that disapproving look on her face as she did in Kaie's dreams, relishing in the fact she had been right all along. With a down stroke of her blade into the shoulder of another Yukman, she couldn't help but imagine Him sitting there. Sitting there looming after her, right where she had left him...

"Akajia, open my eyes to see through your darkness to end the wretched creatures who hunt us in this tunnel," She growled in Myrian, gladius coming down to slash across hands outreached for her. Then her blade returned to cut across its screaming maw. It dropped only for another to take its place, then two. "Mother Myri, Goddess Queen, hear your daughter from the depths of this barbarian earth and listen to my battle cry. I am your sword and my life belongs to none other than you," Kaie roared a bit louder, backing up one step and then another to dash wildly at the swell that came from where Wilhelm once battled. She could hear the bellowing screech of the Alpha making his way forward to his challenge. Time was running out for both of them. "See that my aim is true and my warrior heart beats as long as you will it. If I perish here, let my blood claim this killing ground as yours. Until then, I fight 'til my last."

The Myrian hacked brutally without much rhyme or reason, just madness. The burn of her gnosis was like an answer to her prayers. With it she felt her belligerence rise along with her courage. She felt more steadfast and confident with her Mother at her side. Animosity grew along with the more frequent falling of her gladius. Her quest to kill was not without challenge. Every now and then a Yukman would dare rest his fingers upon her flesh, only to be cut through for his blasphemy. Within a few moments of her stay, her skin was riddled with claw marks and bruises from wild attacks she couldn't always avoid. They were outnumbered and overwhelmed. If the other mercenary wished to dance with the demon, she remained to guard against those that sprinted past him. All if only to keep him from being lost within the cluster with or without victory. To be surrounded was to die.

"Don't be a hero! Run!" She cried over the yowls that deafened her ears before even she turned tail and raced for escape. It was only when the sound of her furiously sprinting feet began to mesh with those who had run ahead, did she hear the painful scream of a familiar client. A signal one of their own had fallen. And that something else was waiting for them at the mouth of salvation...

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

Senghor felt heavy, whether it was fatigue or something else at that time he just felt heavy, the yukmen seemed endless and he didn't know how long he could endure. His attire had succumb to claw marks already and one of those blasted earthly demons had drawn some blood, it was minor but it damned-well hurt, but Senghor was generous enough to cut down the being by piercing his longsword into its heart and kicking it into its brethren. As the tremors from the large rock's impact subsided Senghor could only but hear the beastly bellow of the Alpha as soon as he grabbed his instrument of death and began to lay his artist sense upon its smaller brethren. With his eyes shifting to the side for the moment, the chaos that was happening was a beautiful mass of confusion, the Myrian had returned and she'd began to cut through the yukman, the pale one, the kid and even that ass he'd saved... Gone!? Under his breath, as hoarse and deep as his voice was at that moment he could all but swear in anger, and slowly when his eyes returned to his own fray... If fear could strike down a man than it would be curved in the shape of the beautiful sword and harbingers of death would wield it to smite men without remorse. As Senghor cut his way through the yukmen that came before him, it was than that he saw the beast right before him, the Alpha. Unlike its smaller brethren, not only was it noticeably much taller but stronger, it fermented death and Seng caught its scent easily. It's earthly bare chest rose and fell rhythmically as it snarled at the man, whether it knew that it had twice his strength than Seng didn't know what he knew was that that voice at the back of his head was back and chose the wrong time to actually return. 'Well it was nice knowing you...' it mocked as Senghor took a half complete stance, the small area he and the Alpha were in didn't truly allow for much movement and with his hurt arm, he didn't want to strain himself. It was when Seng inclined his head and spat aside when the Alpha reacted, its large arms swept down at the smaller built human with its claws, Senghor could only counter by raising his longsword to parry the blade vibrated under its massive arms yet the side of the blade slashed its palms and it howled yet that seemed to do almost nothing but enrag it. It was than that it brought its arms to the side in another sweep that caused Seng to dodge by shuffling his feet back, an by a mere centimeters its claws missed him even as Senghor reacted by thrusting his blade into its chest and pushing the blade half way through, his boot fell onto its crossed arms and he tried shoving it back it was to no avail. It was much too strong and too large even for Senghor, it was then that he felt its claws, the Alpha had grasped Senghor by the shoulder and pushed into its 'talons' into his flesh, and for the first time that day the enraged human let out a howl, not of rage but of pure utter pain. Like a ragdoll Senghor felt as he saw himself being flung into a nearby wall and a pain, an inhumane pain shot up his spine like a strident bolt of thunder causing him to only screech in pain, it was a wonder to even himself that when the Alpha threw him his grip upon the his sword remained long enough for him to pull it out and fall an itch from his palms longing embrace. "I'm gonna die... Ha... Ha..." those sad words slipped so soundly from his blooded lips as he saw from his blurred vision the Alpha yukman slowly move towards him, it was as if it was taunting him, playing a game with the mercenary. Was its hunger a game, even as Seng laid there feeling as if death was so near, why would it mock him?, why not break him right there and than and just eat him up?... From his blurred vision Seng could see passed the hulking behemoth of a yukman and he saw her, she'd stayed, remained to provide cover but why?, Why would one risk themselves for someone like Senghor?, A Selfish, Proud, Arrogant Bastard that only sought things for himself an nobody else?. She tore through the coming horde of yukmen, to protect him and even when she warned him not to seek herodom, he didn't listen. Father would be disappointed, he'd not taught his son to let others suffer for his stupidity, for his righteously selfish acts of pride, No!... Cagn Vilhjalmr would be disappointed to see that his seed was lying there readily accepting death, readily willing to die and let another do the same because of him!, Because of Senghor!?. "No..." the young man whispered below his breath as he felt the towering Alpha loom over his nearly limp body, his wormed his self an itch forward and when he felt her neck within his grasp he was instantly overwhelmed. Already its claws had left their mark in his bleeding shoulders and now he could feel them dig into his side and thigh, he felt his sore body lose all its weight as it began to lift him up. As the behemoth had the Vilhjalmr over his head, Seng could touch the ceiling given the chance with the hilt of his blade in one hand loosely grasped, an enraged roar of anger and pain, of pure utter emotion tore through Senghor as he gathered his strength, like a javelin into the earth he thrust his blade into top of the skull of the Alpha, it roared in pain and loosened its grip onto the mercenary, as its claws dug into his flesh whilst he rolled to the side, adrenaline/rage was his only survival instinct, with what little Acrobatics he had he made sure to use of it at that moment because even as his large body descent, Seng brought down his body over its head and with his longsword still impaled in its skull he grabbed onto it for dear life, he felt as it bucked and moved around knocking into walls and this caused the blade to start slipping. The adrenaline fueled him as his arm snaked its way around its fat neck, Senghor viciously grabbed what he presumed was its wind pipe and harden his hold, even as it hit him into a wall, with pain piercing up his back Seng wouldn't let go, not now... He just couldn't!, it began to get soften under his tighter grip yet he knew this wouldn't kill it. With his hand still upon the hilt of the longsword which had now from its slightly open skull, its writhing body made things difficult yet like a creeping assassin Seng brought the blade of the sword to the neck of the demon, with his other arm still on its breathing pipe in a quick an amateurish insertion he slit the soft area he'd made, warm blackness spewed forth from the minor cut yet the savage Vilhjalmr wasn't done, No. This was for all the pain, the suffering, the agony and rage, for their fallen comrades and even those who'd ran, with the blade still upon its neck Seng didn't fear to cut himself, his palm left the earthly flesh of the Alpha and hooked around the body of the longsword. Another pain shot up Seng's pain as he felt its claws scrape his wrists and the jagged rock of the wall cut his back and opening another wound, he dug his knee into the spine of the Alpha and began to pull, a makeshift guillotine was crafted. For each buck and writhe, Senghor only pulled and pulled, he felt as the blade's side cut into his palm yet he'd folded his flesh so it was a minor gash yet for the yukman, a fountain of black was born as the blade cut halfway through entire neck, it was than that the staggering began to cease... Eternity, was what it felt like as the Alpha's body finally weighed down its loose head, it slumped forward up with its knees and dying snarls left its mouth. Tears, of sadness, of joy, of pain, of victory Senghor didn't know, yet when that longsword tore the yukman's neck like a knife through hard butter, decapitating its massive head off its shoulders, those were what met the young mercenary, tears, an ever flowing stream of them. As the head of the yukman rolled off its body and Senghor's blade weighed heavy from its blade, Senghor fell off and just slumped down there, the cold soil seemingly embraced him as exhaustion and pain enveloped him, with tears in his eyes he watched as the head rolled exactly at his knees, it looked pained and fully dead, truly dead. With a pained and slow raise, Senghor could only hold out his hand and grasp the jaw of the Alpha, his legs wanted to give out but he couldn't allow it with one hand bleeding and another feeling numb, his body beat and his mind seemingly on the brink of defeat, he still could allow it. The mixture of black and red blood was a beautiful one as Seng held the Alpha's head in his bleed hand, all he could do by than was turn and with eyes brim with tears, agony and emotion such as rage, all he could do was just let it all out, in a roar that would have challenged the Alpha when it was still alive Senghor could only bellow, roar out all his pain and rage, at that moment if this was there tomb than he would still fight, as fatigued and weak as he was... He would still fight.

[Crypt]

OOC Note :

Surprise, surprise! No, I'm not dead (yet). Sorry for the dryness of this post. I'm drained. I'll leave Raz to decide how the other four Yukmen react!

The unnoticed Crypt (unnoticed by most of the other mercenaries as of the moment when the projectile began its flight towards the main group, that is) had slipped into another branch of the tunnel, one whose floor was also sloping slightly upwards, in order to escape from the massive horde that was making its way to the top (with luck, the bandits - or whatever they were - up top would deal with them).

Unfortunately, this possibly cowardly action - though made in the interests of preventing himself from being engulfed by the horde - had caught the attention of a few Yukmen. Five, to be exact. They followed the cursing Crypt, who had counted on being able to disappear from the scene, making his way up top.

Other than the consuming desire to save himself, he intended it to be a strategic retreat (of sorts). In finding an alternative entrance to the surface, he hoped to reconnoitre the surroundings

At least that was what he repeatedly told himself, even as he cloaked himself in illusions and ran away from the Yukmen, who, even if they could not see him, could hear his footsteps and their echoes. If the other mercenaries did not have their minds fully occupied by the horde, they would sense his disappearance, and (hopefully) would understand his reasons for getting away. Naturally, they would most likely believe him to be a spineless milksop with a big blade to compensate for his general lack of bal - spherules.

Let them think so. The ends justify the means... I hope.

The tremors that shook the ground (due to the Alpha's projectile colliding with the ground, which also crushed the glowworms no sentient creature within five miles would care about) distracted the pursuing Yukmen for a few moments, enough for Crypt to sheathe his blade and remove an assassin's dagger from its sheath, which was strapped to his left thigh, holding it in a reverse grip with a slight amount of unwieldiness, due to his lack of experience with the weapon.

It'll have to do. Longswords are far too large for this kind of combat. Dira, I pray that you will aid me in sending these Yukmen their deaths with exceeding speed. Ionu, I hope your illusions hold, or I'm not going to drink to your health once I get back to a proper tavern.

Crypt moved steadily backwards, keeping an eye on the faint figures of the Yukmen, illuminated only by the glow of the glowworms. Thankfully, the tunnel was relatively straight, and it widened somewhat as it went up. He allowed himself a dozen deep breaths to calm his pounding heart, both to keep his composure when dealing with the pentad of mockeries of humans and to ready himself for what he was going to attempt to do.

The Drykas leaned against the wall of the tunnel, waiting patiently for the Yukmen to catch up with him. The illusions he would be able to hold for a few more hours, but time was of the essence; there was no telling how long the others would take to reach the surface and meet more enemies, and he wanted to ensure that they at least had more than a fighting chance. Crypt wanted to get paid, after all.

Alright. I can't take them on, so I'll have to sneak up on them. Problems? Illusions. I can only affect one sense at a time, and I definitely don't want them to see me, so it's sight only. If I move, I'll have to avoid stepping on too many glowworms, since I might make a sound. The horde's probably passed this passage, so they won't drown out any noise I make.

A chime later, they arrived, still filled with rage - but one mixed with puzzlement. They could not find him. The lighting was insufficient for a close scrutiny of every square inch of the tunnel, forcing them to settle for moving further into the tunnel. Crypt grinned widely as he noted a slowly growing frustration in the still infant-like minds of the Yukmen.

More mistakes. Excellent.

He waited until they had moved approximately 20 feet away from him, and made his move. Keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him, Crypt made each step deliberately slowly, planting them firmly on the ground to prevent him from slipping on glowworm viscera - or entrails, or whatever they were. He took large steps to keep up with the Yukmen.

Fifteen feet... Ten feet... Five feet. There. That was easy.

Controlling his breathing, Crypt stepped up to the rearmost Yukman.

Now, what to stab? Somewhere painful. I don't exactly know how to kill a Yukman in one hit, so I'll have to guess.

He contemplated it for a few moments, and made his decision.

One deep stab into the left side of a neck later, the attacked Yukman cried out and collapsed to the ground, holding one hand to his neck. Taking advantage of its supine position, Crypt raised one foot and placed most of his body's weight behind it, landing a blow to the face of the Yukman.

[Razkar]

The Alpha was still far too young to understand pleasure when it was felt; perhaps it never would, for who was to know the mind of Yukmen? But as he tossed the muscled, grunting parody of it around like a broken toy, it did feel... satisfaction.

The steel stick it carried stung and tore, but couldn't stop it. It blows and strength was a gust compared to a hurricane, and eventually wounds and weariness left Seng at its feet.

Something that could have been a smile stretched and cracked bloody, jagged lips, revealing teeth like miniature rock formations. No, the Alpha did not know pleasure yet... but it knew victory, the satisfaction of its strength triumphing over another. It picked up the human and raised him high, so his smaller, snapping underlings could see his kill, know that he had the right to it. All that remained was to break the puny creature over his knee and-

Then a shard of sheer agony slammed into its skull like a spike from the gods, pain the likes of which it couldn't even fathom, couldn't even believe. Rage and hunger had driven it so hard that even being impaled on a longsword was but a hindrance to it... but now the sword was slammed through its head, crashing through bone and flesh and muscle and-

-and the horde bucked in confusion as its leader did the same, heaving around, slamming the already-wounded human against the jagged, dark, hard walls, but it wouldn't get off, and its victory was showered.

Survival. The bottom line for every living creature. Rage and hunger replaced by pain and panic, even for a mind as primitive and rudimentary as a Yukman's, and then it felt the blade at its neck, gurgled and choked as the skin was pierced, blade scraping against the stones in its chest-

The horde shuddered as one as something dark, filthy and streaming pitch effluence popped from the top of the Yukmen with an insane sucking sound. Even Yukmen had the capacity to feel a glimmer of shock, and in those few ticks in the aftermath, it was clear in their black, staring eyes...

Especially when that "thing" was picked back up by the staggering, victorious Seng... and what was that? What was that moment, that sliver of Tanroa's endless expanse? An impossible moment, one would agree.

Just for the briefest snatch of a tick, the Yukmen would have followed the one not like them, based solely on his ferocity, one worthy of their kind...

But this is not a fae-tale. Ruthless, vicious biology overrode the stolen moment and then the horde screeched as one enraged, disgusted voice, their leader and prime brain destroyed, resulting in all of them reverting into an even more savage, untamed state, thunderstorm of noise and hate slamming off the-

-unstable-

-walls.

Until they quaked and shook as if in terror, stalagmites falling like hail, impaling some, but others surged forward even as the passageway began to close, rocks showering down.

If the battered mercenaries were to escape, now would be the time, or killers and killed would share the same grave, buried beneath tons of impersonal and uncaring cavern.

++++++++++

The crunch was what made them turn; not the scream. Shrieks and screeches were common among the Yukmen, but the last one reeked of pain and fear. The four turned and found the fifth missing, flailing in the shadows, and then-

CRUNCH!

-Crypt would have felt the unmistakable grind of rocks under his feet, as well as bone and flesh, black blood oozing out the sides. The Yukman gurgled once and then what sufficed for a "brain" shut down entirely, and with a final spasm it was still...

... unlike its siblings.

Screaming as one they rallied, claws outstretched, prepared to rend and tear and wreak-

Then the wave hit them.

... well, not exactly. It's a nice narrative wording, though: it gives the impression of some huge, solid but intangible force sweeping through the darkness and overwhelming, morphing everything susceptible to it. But more accurately would be to say... a strand was cut. Four of them, actually.

The Alpha was dead. The slavering, raging hunger of the horde had been bound and battered into service of the largest and strongest, investing what meager restraint and intelligence it had into the behemoth. But now it wad dead... they were both free, and without purpose. The confusion of the moment made them pause.

A strange and inexplicable for Crypt, perhaps. The quarter of monsters going from screaming demons to milling, confusing, gaping caricatures... but it wouldn't last. The human had mere ticks before the resurgence of their eternal rage, and then they would do what Yukmen did.

Fight. Kill. Destroy. Consume.

++++++++++

"We have to wait for them!"

"Are you fucking mad?! Those fucking monsters are coming-"

"Yeah?! Then why haven't they?!"

Darrick's mouth moved back and forth but he couldn't come up with the words. Replies or mourning phrase or even the most guttural curse; all had fled his tongue. Crouched over the cooling corpse of his friend, he just... stared. At the sightless eyes; the purpling lips; the stiffening limbs; the bolts looking so simple and ordinary and evil, protruding from the bloody chest.

"We... We don't know!" He finally managed to stammer, Wilhelm and Jacen pressed flat on either side of the walls, dagger and climbing pick in their respective hands, peering into the glare from the opening of the cavern. "They... They might-"

"Look, if they were, they'd be here already. The sellswords have done their job-"

"What about all that crashing and screeching? They could-"

"It's a horde of petching Yukmen!" Mathias all-but-shouted, tired of having to explain things to a scared, stupid boy. "What did you think, that they'd meekly submit?! Of course they died hard! Now we just have to wait for the mercenaries, and we can-"

"No... No..." Darrick began to mutter, and all eyes turned to him worriedly. Most had heard that tone before: it was like the first few tumbling stones that heralded a rockfall. Only it was a man's sanity about to slip and crumble instead. "We... We need to get out! They're gone! You know they are!"

"Darrick, please, just-"

"No!" Darrick shouted, voice high and sharp and trembling as he snatched away from the older man. "WE'VE GOT TO GET OUT! LET ME OUT, LE-"

THUNK!

"Enough of that."

Wilhelm's perpetually grouchy voice rumbled in the aftermath of his dagger expertly braining the hysterical civilian. Darrick crumpled with a sigh and Mathias let go with one of his own. One hand absently stroked poor Lared's face.

I'm so sorry, my friend... but Rhysol will watch over thee, now...

"We wait?"

Wilhelm nodded, features paling even more, listening intently to the muted sounds of growling bandits and whinnying horses beyond the glaring entrance.

"We wait. But not long..."

[Kaie]

Her feet struck the cave floor with a rhythmic tapping far too quiet to be be heard over the menace of cries behind her. The foolish mercenary she left behind began to fade to the back of her head the louder the wretched howls became. Once or twice she had looked back during her escape but there was no sign of the muscular mercenary anywhere. The memory of the bellowing behemoth challenging him from the innards of his horde left Kaie with the most obvious assumption: he had foolishly accepted an Alpha Yukman's challenge. Certainly he had met his match and if not fallen to the leader of abominations, he was lost within the herd to be torn apart maliciously. There was no use in lingering on the thought, for survival was all that dominated her mind. Kaie had no wish to be honorable or decent enough to double back just to be sure he was indeed dead, and not battling the fight of his life back to the surface. He made his choice. He was never her responsibility.

That's when the shaking started. It caught her so off guard, she almost quit her run in sheer shock. The quaking came again as if had before, though this time she knew it was not signalling the birth of her hunters. It was...something else. And with it came the intensified savagery in the shrieks behind her, as if some semblance of collective thought shattered beyond repair. Their roused fury exploited the fragility of the caverns that trembled with panic, shedding their loose, rocky appendages without a second thought. Something from the collapse knocked her solidly about the front of her head as if she had ran right into it. She tumbled forward with a yelp of surprise, arms shooting out before her to create a flat plane with her forearms to break the shock. Her hands skid across the stoney floor, bringing about shallow slices and embedded gravel in her tender flesh. Something bled about the front of her hairline, but danger overrode her senses, bringing a shaken Myrian back to her feet. Gladius clutched in a white knuckle grip, she burst forward to make up for lost time from the fall.

Finally (much to her relief) the next few bends brought her upon the clients. She never expected they would dare wait for simple employees to somehow crawl out of Dira's reach in such circumstance.

"We have to move! I saw no one else behind me!" She called out upon arrival, hoping the sound of a truly living entity wouldn't cause a panicked man to make a wild slice at her throat. Stopping before them, she lifted the heel of her free hand to her forehead. Upon pulling away she found red like a layer of paint upon her skin. She was bleeding. Not badly to the point she should be worried, but whatever rock hit her had knocked her pretty well."What the petch are you all waiting for?!"

Kaie then spotted both the Darrick and the young man laying on the ground, one clearly shot dead with crossbow bolts to the chest. It didn't take long for the Myrian to put the pieces together. Never once since they arrived could she remember any of the men, mercenary or client, that carried the weapon. Her heart sank with the realization their fight was in no way over. There was a third party involved. Considering the other half of sellswords were supposed to be guarding the opening and their supplies, common sense told her intelligent killers in the cave meant they were raided. All dead. Supplies looted. There was no one up there to aid their escape. Just a bunch of ambitious thieves waiting to stomp on a couple of ants that managed to escape their flooded mounds.

This is a shyke show...

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

It was and still very bewildering how the human body and mind works it is willing to fight, and hurt itself to prove that its host is not a coward, but also it is willing to run to prove that its host is a survivor. To Senghor this strange law seemed to be in effect, no matter how hot his thighs were, no matter warm and empty his lungs felt he kept moving. He had many things to thank, yet he couldn't at that moment for the yukmen behind him were still at him, and in their eyes the freedom they had brought upon another savage and bloodlusted nature and a falling cave, with his sword sheathed at his back and his trophy (the Alpha's head) hooked strangely at his side, he all but ran. Thanks to the myrian he found a path carved out for him to just follow and squeeze in through before the passageway gave in onto itself, he struggled for a moment and even got struck on the head by a little stone yet due to the stunned yukmen he gained just an extra few seconds to pass and run through the dark tunnel, his palms touching the jagged to lead him forward as the earth bucked and moved. Within his mind he was just imagining slivers of light beaming forward beginning to get a bit bigger with each of his staggered yet adrenaline fueled steps, even as the earth caverns quaked Seng kept what little footing he could, even as his body erupted in pain he couldn't let out just yet, he had to keep going was what he kept telling himself. "Than I'll go back to Sunberth, get a warm bed, some drink and probably a nice girl to settle down with..." he said to himself as he was rocked to the side and fell forward to only quickly prone forward, dragging the his 'trophy' into the earth only to stand up and keep pushing forward. "Settle down?... What am I saying" he kept talking to himself whilst letting a small chuckle leave his lips, he wasn't just talking, he was keeping himself occupied, motivated, if he couldn't raise his own moral what would? It was hopeful thinking, that after what he'd been through he could only rely on that an what little fuel his body carried, he shoved through the darkness, as when he felt the wall turn he did the same, he couldn't allow himself to fall behind. Upon his final bend through the passageway, the roaring of the earth still at his feet he saw light and silhouetted figures shadowing it, from their outlines the myrian was clearly amongst them, saying something, he inched closer and closer and felt as the warm of light touch his skin, his with the beating he'd taken he was saw he'd frighten them, probably make them think it was another yukman so he spoke, or uttered what little words he could muster at that moment before falling onto a wall and using it as a tool to still stand. "Why... is everyone still here!?, we need... To move damnit" he said as his blood still flowed, still warm and only registering little pain, yet one could see that his close to falling over and getting knocked out like the fire of a lantern. As he grit his teeth in pain, his breathing was filled with grunts and hoarse thick air, his eyes fell forward and he spat as the saw the body of that kid lying there, dead as dead could allow. "Ah shyke..." he said as he realised that their were still those bastards out there to deal with, even he knew that no matter much rage and adrenaline he could muster, arrows and crossbow bolts would be his undoing. 'And did they listen when you told them they'd be pin cushions as soon as they stepped out, No!' his darker subconscious spat frantically as Senghor tried his best to retain his consciousness, if they didn't keep moving soon, he'd fall over and he wasn't betting that anyone there had the energy to pick him up. "We need... to make a plan... Unless... we're expecting a miracle to... Appear" Senghor said through grit teeth and grunts, his blood was slowly beginning to cool and he couldn't allow that to happen yet, they needed to keep moving, to get out of here... "Damnit..." was all that Senghor would even utter at that given moment...

[Crypt]

OOC Note :

Oh, I give up. I can't write my battle scenes to be as epic as Seng's.

Does Yukman flesh taste nice? Sure, it'll be very crunchy, but there'll be mud, stones and dirt everywhere. Though for a gourmet palate, nothing is impossible to consume.

He looked up at the trio, watching them charge at him until they suddenly stopped.

What?

Momentarily confused, Crypt stopped contemplating the preparation of Yukmen flesh in a fully kitted out kitchen and stared at them for a few moments, his eyes tracing over the bulging eyes, the puzzled grunts emanating from their half-finished throats before deciding that whatever had killed the tension, he would thank it, him or her later.

"It's my lucky day, boys."

He moved closer to the trio, making a swift stab to where he estimated one Yukman's heart would be before slamming the blunt end of his dagger into the left side of its jaw, ensuring that it would be spending some moments writhing in pain if it didn't die from the wound in its heart. Another stab put paid to the second Yukman. As he was just moving towards the last, it recovered and charged at him, knocking him to the ground.

Crypt was grasping it by the neck with a hand, his other hand that was holding a dagger pinned down by a dirty hand even as it scratched and raged at him. The twain were struggling with each other, both reduced to the same level - that of mindless beasts, scrapping with each other in order to save themselves. And eliminate their opponent.

He won the fight. But barely. After a series of rolls on the ground, Crypt's dagger had made a few cuts into his chest, but once he was on top, he had managed to slash the restraining hand, releasing his dagger. Wild cries from the throats of both creature and man filled the air as Crypt stabbed again and again at his foe, staining his hand with the dark life-fluids of the Yukman.

Once his foe had stopped squirming, he rolled over and lay down, breathing hard, momentarily forgetting everything except the struggle. Then he remembered what he wanted to do, and struggled to his feet, placing a hand on a rock protrusion to steady himself before walking towards the surface.

He checked his body for injuries as he moved; scratches everywhere, some moderately deep, but no serious ones. There were spots where it hurt to touch - Crypt assumed that they would be bruises in a day or two. He removed some bandages from his backpack, tying them tightly around the deeper scratches. He would leave the other scratches as they were; a quick wash with some water from his water bag would have to do for now.

Just as the others emerged into the sunlight, Crypt came out of his own tunnel, stepping onto a small platform of stone which was slightly elevated. The Drykas immediately turned himself invisible (with the exception of his shadow), wary of any enemies nearby.

He scanned the area, looking for a hint as to what he would do next. The other mercenaries appeared one by one, all looking worse for wear, but at least they were not crippled.