4404/tFSoK - The Lion's Pride-1

tFSoK - The Lion's Pride-1
Date of Scene:	08 August 2016
Location:	Great Painting of Ariamis <PoA>
Synopsis:	Would-be dragonslayers explore the depths of the Shulva chasm.
Cast of Characters:	Priscilla, 253, 908, Staren, Reiji Arisu, Lezard Valeth, 1014, 974

---

Priscilla has posed:
    The last time any group of Multiversals got a map in Lordran, it lead to a dark, dank, underground hellhole so deep beneath the earth it was pretty easy to forget the sun ever existed.

    . . . Surpriiiise!

    This time, at least, it seems a professional cartographer has done the work, rather than scratchily drawn through estimate by the hand of a traveller who never takes off his armoured gauntlets. It also leads well, well outside of the borders of Anor Londo, the now-destroyed Burg, Izalith beneath, or any other civilization on the continent, going well off into the wild, outland reaches where everything begins to dissolve into the stark mountains and formless fog that isolates the country from the rest of the world.

    So it's little wonder that Ornstein expects this to be easy to be kept a secret, never mind the point at which people have to navigate what feels like as many miles straight down, possibly reaching the point of wondering 'shouldn't we be hitting lava by now or something?', over an endless tangle of fissures, gulches, and makeshift stone bridges, all of it gradually growing smoother, slicker and wetter as condensation from leagues around seems to gather and flow down the same way they're going.

    Which usually means at the end, the water has done them the favour of carving out a bigger space to move around in. Specifically, a space big enough to build the heart of a major modern metropolis in, skyscrapers and all. Despite how far buried the place is, the entire area is very faintly lit up with a semi-luminous, greenish mist that swirls low over most surfaces, and billows up from the most central 'floor', as well as various bioluminescent lichens and fungi that are probably living off of geothermal, since there isn't a photon of true sunlight here.

    The very bottom is too far down, and too mist-shrouded to see, though anyone can certainly hear a lot of sloshing and gurgling echoing up from it, strangely irregular in its intervals. It competes for reverb space with what, at first, sounds like very stereotypical spooky cave wind, but the dull, distant, windy roar sounds to regularly change its pitch back and forth, and given enough time coming down, absolutely sounds like something breathing, albeit at an impossibly slow rate; perhaps inhaling every thirty minutes.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    "Okay, so this time I got you chicken tenders with honey mustard," Psyber says, talking presumably to the sword across his back. He's holding a small cardboard box with minor amounts of steam wafting from it as he takes the long walk towards the meeting place. He was, by nature, normally against deceiving Priscilla as Ornstein would wish. Yet he is here anyway, perhaps to assess the situation and see accordingly.

    "You're going to want to dip your chicken into the mustard and then take a bite. It's very important to, with chicken, use honey mustard instead of original mustard. Original Mustard is inferior and does not do the chicken justice." He comments. If Ari appears, he'll hand the box off to her and let her eat at her own pace as they descend.

    It's possible he believes that feeding her before a fight is the eldritch secret to some great power.

Gudako Ordria (908) has posed:
    It should not surprise anyone that the person holding the map and perhaps even taking the lead is Gudako, with her two spiritual presences somewhere in her vicinity but not materialized at the moment. She had hoped Kyra would be here, but given her usual 8D face doesn't seem bothered by the white mage's absence.

    To those willing she has distributed talismans/ofudas, inscribed with a number of generic poison and toxin resistance charms which, while they won't protect against direct exposure if someone walls into a pit of acid or superpoison like this dragon has, should at least prevent indirect exposure from leaving too serious a mark. Plus whatever other contributions people make, obviously.

    Dressed in the black and orange clothes that make her usual here, she's already carrying a large leather messenger bag filled to the brim with god knows what, and the occasional clanking of empty bottles inside, as well as what sounds like crystals. You'd have to confiscate her bag to be sure but it's a safe bet.

    The theory is proven true when, reaching the mist-filled air, she pulls a bottle out, swipes it in the air quickly, and then seals it. More magical paper slips are on the jar, probably helping it contain samples. She does the same to the fungus and moss, too, causing pauses in the advance, at least on her end. She seems completely uninterested in what she's doing, insofar as that can be told through her usual smile and dead eyes.

Staren has posed:
    Staren is wearing his armor. He's also, at least initially, riding something kind of like a convertible's cab compartment atop a pair of legs, built out of stripey wood and animated by magic. It makes the long trip easier for him (and possibly for a couple of passengers, if they ask and they're not, like, Lezard or Gudako,) at least until the more difficult terrain forces them to abandon it ('These are prototypes, I never got around to programming 'jumping' in yet because I haven't used them much.' he explains)

    The slicker rocks are a pain to navigate -- Staren makes ample use of those oh-so-convenient energy wings he can summon, making him look like a giant armored fairy.

    Finally, they get where they're going. "Wow." Staren comments, re: the sheer size of the place. He takes at least several seconds just to marvel at it.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
                      WE DO NOT FEAR WHAT LIES BENEATH                      
                         WE CAN NEVER DIG TOO DEEP                          

    There was a song about this sort of thing, wasn't there? Of hubris and courage and the terrible things lurking in the vaulted depths of the world. At the very least, Reiji thought as they proceeded deeper into the crevasse-riddled caverns, the darkness looked more or less normal. No terrible, too-thick, encroaching Dark, just plain old ordinary dark. The lack of the capitalization is important.

    Not that this particular mission is necessarily sitting well with him. The last time he'd come along to slay a dragon in Lordran, he had the time to convert an entire creation engine into a geomantic cauldron purpose-built deathtrap specifically made to kill it. Though then again, Kalameet was no ordinary dragon.

Of course, this was no ordinary mission either.

    He had no quarrel with the dragons of this world. Except for the one that tried to murder them all, the only other Everlasting Dragon he'd met was more or less a pretty nice guy to be around. This one, though, Ornstein himself didn't feel at ease with allowing to live. So perhaps this mission is necessary? They'll just have to see as they arrive.

    "You bought your sword chicken tenders?" He asks over towards Psyber, face illuminated by the steady light of an electronic torch. "Well. I suppose that's one way to build a bond. Careful though, if you get her started, you might not be able to get her to stop." There's a beat as he exits into the great cavern, a rush of damp, steady air stream billows against them just in time to make it all the more dramatic. "...Hmn," Reiji concludes, "We must be getting closer."

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard Valeth is not quite so lacksadaisacal as Psyber, but everyone deals with the inherent stress of basically everything in Lordran being a giant pain in the ass in their own way. Lezard has the talismans from Gudako neatly folded in a breast pocket, bringing a measure of dignified appearance despite his megalomaniacal nature.

Lezard himself seems to look over the caverouns, deep land with a note of interest and perhaps even amusement, folding his arms as he steps up onto a ledge to look over the vast area. "Hah. What does not grow, falls into decay." He doesn't seem particualrly worried about the potential levels of airborne toxin in the air. He turns back to Gudako, a smile on his face. "Well then, this seems to be a singularly dismal place for a dragon, even one such as this, to be making its home." He shrugs. "Perhaps this is more of a 'cleanup' job than one thought." He steps back away from the edge before someone tries to get the bright idea to 'accidentally' kick him into the yawning pit. He can guess maybe one or two present might have been able to justify doing just that without it weighing too hard on their... conscience. Such as it is.

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    Ari materializes at around the moment when it's obvious that Psyber is ready to hand something off to her, her armor sounding heavy on the stone despite how lightly she steps. She takes the chicken and mustard in intense silence, and goes about slowly eating it. The reason for the lack of speed would become apparent to anyone who spent a few moments in study, as after that first bite, she is trying to find a way to apply as much mustard onto the tenders as she can without dropping anything or getting it on her fingers. Whether a false body that materializes on whim would have any problems cleaning off sticky breaded-chicken-mustard fingers is a mystery.
    Nevertheless, the chicken slowly disappears, without slowing the group's pace. She doesn't appear to be looking around as she eats, but still comments, "An odd wind." On a possibly unrelated note, "It's sweet." This tone is faintly approving. She looks up at Reiji, but does not comment on the possibility that this is all part of some necessary ritual for unlocking cosmic power versus swordsman-sword bonding versus culinary curiosity, etc. Her mouth is full.
    Nomf.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Underground locations immersed in mist and darkness and possibly with horrible monsters down there? Possibly in some kind of giant cave?? Enark, sole survivor of the Order of the Blue Scholars, has appreciated the feel of sunlight on his skin again after so long, but he can not say he finds this place any more unappealing than Lumiere. At least this is a seemingly natural environment instead of the same four walls + insanity-inducing white space that he's been dealing with for the past however-long. And there are others! And he is gradually remembering how to Person again, and actually appreciating the presence of people!

    Even if the Dead man keeps finding himself looking over his shoulder just incase, and twitching about at every stray noise like a bird. Yes, as much of a change of pace as this all is, and despite there still being a sense of familiarity, Enark realizes there is danger afoot. Possibly not just what they seek, either, but other things. That's usually the way of it, isn't it? There's never JUST the central threat, there's numerous lesser ones, and sometimes even more horrific than that which they seek.

    There is another obstacle aside fear, however. Enark is not a Lantern. And it appears, by whatever logic, that his spirit tires in a manner similar to a human body. And he is a book nerd who does not exercise much, and thus after all that travel across bridges and down tunnels and deep down under the ground, he is fairly winded. If he thought he could get anyone to carry him, he would.

    He is re-envigorated by the smell of food, however. "Oh, oh! I probably can not eat that, but I have not really tried since dying, and there IS food of sorts in Lumiere, so I suppose I can sample it. It does smell quite delicious after all--" As the stringy-haired, hook-nosed man starts to approach Psyber for the box, someone appears and seizes it, making him falter and jump back as though his hand had nearly been bitten off. Ari begins eating the food, and Enark looks away, folding his arms across his chest and trying to play it off like he hadn't even said anything.

    He has a pouch with various things inside of it for collecting and analyzing samples, but with Gudako already taking care of it, he fumbles for a vial or two of his own, mimicking her actions while trying to seem like he's doing it of his voilition. He scrapes up some fungus with some kind of paper he found, rolling it up like overly-moist sushi and then stuffing it in his pouch, and makes sure the ofuda stuck to his shoulder is still there as he turns to Lezard and says vaguely, "Well... You know." He then adds on airily, "DRAGONS. That's just how they are." Then awkwardly, as he walks alongside Lezard, the only person here who seems to know what's up with dead things and dragons, says, "So you've, err... Seen one then? A dragon?"

    The combination of breathing noises and Reiji's pronouncement of proximity make his already-cold body go a bit colder. It's unclear what purpose the dead have to sweat, but he's doing that too. "Well!" He wipes his palms on his threadbare robes, glancing over to Staren. "Yes! Well, then! Wow, indeed. Well-said."

    What a complete nerd.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Enark's question gains a small snort from Lezard. "You speak truth. Dragons have rarely contributed to anything besides their own ego." He sighs. "Regardless, yes. I have seen many dragons, and their reputation is generally well deserved." She shrugs. "And some say /I/ am too proud..."

Priscilla has posed:
    For a number of reasons, Gudako's, or rather Caster's, poison protection talismans are doing a perfectly fine job so far. If there's any kind of visual component that indicates they're being actively tested, it flickers at roughly its minimum level, which would tell anyone that they have plenty of safety net for the time being, but that it'd probably be very bad for their health were they to spend all day here doing things like 'breathing', or even worse, 'taking souvenirs', like Gudako and Enark are doing, though the latter has already reached the point of not really being able to say 'At least I have my health'. Li'l bit.

Herst any rate, the weird, bioluminescent, and uniformly green growths aren't hard to divorce from the rocky walls, and the increasingly thick layer of calcified something that was probably sludge once upon a time before it hardened into rock. In fact, the further down one goes, the more of it one sees. Anyone who has ever gone on a tour that featured a cave will probably be able to pin the aesthetic of the ceiling doing its best to melt into the floor and vice versa, like a lava lamp, is owed to a lot of limestone, but the bone-white, almost chitinous shell plastered over all of it, is new.

    In keeping with a secluded place chosen to not-die in for the next indefinite amount of time, there is little of definition to navigate by. Even Lezard, taking the highest place he can, won't be able to pick out any signs of habitation, human or otherwise, or any landmarks other than 'that funny shaped column over there' and similar. The near-omnipresent breathing sound is inescapable at any height, and seems to get no closer or more distant no matter where one goes, but the splashing, bubbling, and seething from below is quite obviously situated.

    The mist, despite providing convenient light, makes it an impossible pain in the ass to see anything occupying the vaguely defined floor area of the cavern complex. One could assume all the bubbling is owed to chemical vents underneath a layer of water spewing that all up, or one could creatively imagine a big old dragon snoring away with its nostrils exposed like a crocodile. Basic poison protection is enough to handle the fog itself, but . . .

Psyber (253) has posed:
    "I dunno, Reiji. She was asleep for like a bajillion years. I think she has a right to snack foods, man. She can junk out if she wants. The worst that happens is the sword gains mass and hits harder, right?" Psyber shoots a pair of fingerguns at Reiji. He puts on a pair of thin-framed glasses and his eyes begin shining a dim red color, enhancing his vision for low light so he can look around.

    Psyber laughs a bit at Enark, though it's a friendly sort of chuckle, "Sorry, man. It's not mine to give away. Maybe Ari will share some if she's feeling generous." He offers to him, looking sheepish as Ari chows down. He at least wants to greet the guy and make ammends for the miscommuniction.

    To Ari, Psyber hrms, "It's strange, and rhythmic. Like breathing, almost," He considers, rubbing the underside of his chin as he walks along, "The way the fumes are building up, though, my regen is gonna be taxed if we keep pressing in." He taps his foot a bit as he goes, "Boy this place is a dump."

    "Anyone ever consider we got asked to come down here so we die and leave someone open for some good, ol' fashioned regicide?"

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    "Do you really want your sword to get fat? Are you really okay with that?" Reiji asks, because apparently he and Psyber are both terrible people deep down inside. Much like how this world's pristine outer beauty belies the fact that its underground is evidently full of horrible toxic vapors, literally soul-crushing darkness, gnarly caverns and the terrible poison dragons who live there. "I assume it would throw off your swing, at the very least. Perhaps you should try giving her some fried tofu instead?"

It works for Xiaomu, anyway.

    To his credit, Reiji does not move to try to punt Lezard off a cliff like the mage likely expects. Reiji is pretty confident he can fly anyway, so that wouldn't even do much. "This dragon appears to have an entire cavern to itself, I wouldn't exactly call that too shabby. Though I suppose it's lacking the... dignity that I'd normally associate with a dragon."

    A beat. The poison is thickening somewhat-- the dull thrum of the magic talisman doing its work is sign enough for that. Reiji makes a face and pulls what appears to be an ornamental gas mask from his side, slinging it up and over his head. "The miasma is getting thicker," he says, voice somewhat muffled by the mask. "I expect we'll be arriving at our destination soon. Stay alert, we've no idea what else might be down there. Life has a way of thriving even in the harshest of environments- and the worse things are, the tougher life tends to get."

    He glances askance at Psyber's... nagging suspicion. The exorcist makes an uncomfortable sound in response. "The thought has crossed my mind, yes," he says. Then after a moment. "We're going so far underground, and I have not yet seen a way for this creature we're hunting to escape this place. Why did Ornstein believe this one to be a threat?" And why again, if a dragon IS a threat, did the Dragonslayer not come along to kill it?

Carna (974) has posed:
    Enark nods solemnly in response to Lezard as though they shared a deep and meaningful secret as he tries to scoop mist out of the air. Once the procession resumes, he says, "I saw one too. Sort of. It was at a distance. But it did not seem particularly amenable to reasonable discussion. Probably guarding some sort of hoard or something. Even though the tower didn't even belong to it!" He huffs in indignation.

    He waves off Psyber's apology graciously, "It is fine, it is fine. I should not have assumed. Very rude of me. Why would a Dead man be offered a meal? Foolishness on my part. Though if you find yourself in possession of any left overs, I would not be too picky to sample them."

    The suggestion of getting them out of the way to facilitate regicide makes little sense to Enark whose primary reason for being in Lordran in the first place was that Carna led him there. "What? Who would do such a thing? And why us? I am not... Politically-motivated! What do I care for the machinations of courts and so on?" He pauses, and then turns to Reiji.

    "Should I care about the machinations of courts and so on? Is this a thing I am part of now? Do I need to fear assassins?" The increasing degree of toxic mist has the scholar squinting into the mist. "I believe Sir Dragonslayer mentioned this was a toxin fit to slay even the Dead. In order to find a sign of some weakness we can exploit, how much deeper would you suppose we must delve? We are not going to face this creature TODAY are we?"

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    Ari pauses in her consumption long enough to tilt her head, and look between Psyber and Enark. The slow, methodical dipping and quicker devouring then continues without any sign she has even considered generosity. It may not be a trait thought important by swords. The most obviously alien of her mannerisms, the most clearly inhuman facet of her behavior, that which leaves no doubt that she cannot be the teenaged girl she mostly appears to be, of course, is in how she doesn't react at all to Reiji's suggestion that she's getting fat.
    Contrary to her actions up to this point, she saves a third of a chicken tender the last traces of honey mustard, then attempts to pass this to Enark without letting their fingers touch. She is wordlessly particular in this regard, though depending on his level of eagerness for fast food it may easily go unnoticed. Her expression is somewhere between 'neutral' and 'cold,' though as if she has no idea she's showing any expression at all. Should he accept, she'll return to Psyber's side while trying to keep watch on the result.
    What words she does choose to speak are back on task. "The smaller an animal is, the more quickly it breathes, and the more quickly its life burns through. Were this breath, it would be something as long-lived as large."

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard nods. "That question did in fact cross my mind, Psyber." He looks over to the angel, and tips his head. "But consider the source. Were that the case, either Ornstein is so negligent that even the mention of a dragon could cause him to be distracted enough to expose a critical vulnerability, or he is a traitor. Either way, he would be ill befitting the title of Knight, would he not?"

He chuckles, turning away and gesturing. "Let us proceed." He gestures. Lezard seems perfectly content with forging on into the city, despite the general dankness and horrible poisonous miasma nature of the area.

"One would be surprised at how often the Dead are offered food." Lezard comments as an aside to Enark. "Many believe that such rituals allow the Dead to enjoy a morsel of what their living life was like, soothing their anger and winning their favor for the next year." He chuckles at that, as if he found the concept absurd.

Staren has posed:
    Staren hmms. He deploys some small drones to track the sound, but it's omnipresent. So much for that.

    To Enark, he comments: "We do, perhaps, need to be concerned about such things, but as you just tagged along this one time and literally noone on this world save Priscilla knows you exist, I think you are safe." He shrugs. "Dunno if we'll face it today... I... If it's as tough as Kalameet, we're not ready. But if it's something less, maybe..." Staren looks around. "...Shit. We really should have asked more questions before leaving. Anyway, I got the impression this dragon must be much weaker than Kalameet. If that's not the case... well, /some/ of us can cheat death, I guess. Or someone's gonna end up sacrificing themselves buying time. Hmm..." Staren strokes his chin and mutters, 'Must be a better solution than that...'

Priscilla has posed:
    Low light vision is less helpful than vision that would pierce fog, but it is, nonetheless, helpful. As Lezard contentedly pushes on ahead into what is starting to sound like some sort of hellish swamp, Psyber can visually catch the swirls of the lighter, rising mist, and snatches of the movement that caused it.

    The irregular splishing and splashing falls into a proper pattern, echoing, or maybe occurring simultaneously at staggered intervals, and begins rapidly moving. The depth of water involved sounds knee or waist deep at most, relatively shallowly across the vast space, but that doesn't really exclude the fact that whatever is touching the water, is also visible briefly breaking through the green clouds ten meters up.

    Lezard approaching the bottom will soon find his talisman crackling at full capacity, warning him that his homunculus body would likely develop at least one kind of supernatural cancer inside of an hour were he to lose it, but that doesn't seem to be the main thrust of the problem. The stone palpably thrums under his feet, and at the point Reiji has gotten close enough for his gas mask to be a necessity, the two of them can see the shallow, brackish water pooling around their feet, starting to vibrate. Those three involved have approximately a second to do something before the following:

    The luminous fog abruptly parts like the deliberate reveal of a horror movie killer, pushed aside by the air pressure created by the massive creature charging through it. The splashing and thumping had been much too quiet for its size to suggest, easily matching the famous dinosaur it could be parodying. It has the same kind of thick, clawed, digitigrade legs, and a stout, stubby reptilian tail, but it lacks even vestigial, two-fingered arms, with the entire front half of its body being something like a swollen salamander's head, but without even eyes; all gaping, grotesque maw, filled with a massive purple tongue and what are clearly rows of giant, human teeth. That mouth is clearly big enough to try and eat both Lezard and Reiji in one charge, because that's the first move it makes, almost scooping its jaw across the watery ground like a predatory bird.

Staren has posed:
    Down they go! Staren uses drones to try and se a little further through the fog, but he's not the first to reach the bottom. As he moves deeper into the fog, he switches over from just using filters to the internal air supply.

    And then...

    And then, a large monster shows up, attacking Lezard and Reiji! And while he wouldn't /mind/ if the first got eaten, Staren has a sort of honor, bizarrely, something he thinks of as 'professional courtesy', and so today he will help Lezard. As soon as he sees the beast he snaps off a shot from the beam cannons on his arm, and leaves the rocks, using his wings to fly, trying to hold a position above the monster as he readies his laser sniper rifle. Although, he starts to have second thoughts about whether a laser is really the weapon to use in mist...

Psyber (253) has posed:
    "Nonsense. If it were balanced correctly, extra weight could improve the swing balance," Psyber counters Reiji. Psyber's eschewing most forms of protection in lieu of busted-ass regeneration allowing him to purge toxins from his system as he kind of hangs out. He looks around a bit.

    "Yes. This would be massive. And very large, I agree," Psyber muses to Ari before looking askance at Lezard, "The reappearance of the Four Knights now, of all times, bodes suspicious to me. Also I thought we killed Ornstein." Psyber puts his hand under his chin and then remembers he forgot Adventurer/Hunter Rule One: 'Always check the body.'

    Damnit.

    He looks up as a monster comes out of the darkness towards the party, "Ari. Time to work." He states cleanly and crisply, drawing the sword off his back.

    He dashes in towards the approaching monster, aiming Ari in a cleaving strike towards the chomping creature's lower jaw to try to de-fang it somewhat.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Most special forces are at least passingly familiar with what to do when you're faced with the prospect of poison gas. Vanishingly few know what the hell to do when you're surrounded by the stuff on all sides. Reiji Arisu is a man who regularly punches horrible supernatural monsters in the face with his swords. He knows how poison gas works. That's why he has this handy dandy mask.

There's something else that his job has trained him to deal with.

    As soon as they find their way into that pool of water(???), drawing ever closer to that irregular, watery noise in the near distance, Reiji's practiced situational awareness comes into play. He may not be able to see into the fog, but he can hear just fine. Something is there.

A second passes. Something explodes from the fog.

    It's... It's PART of a dinosaur. He couldn't possibly call it a whole dinosaur, because it definitely is not. For one, its teeth are like tombstones-- meant for crushing, not tearing. Part of him assumes this is because this creature typicaly eats stone, though it's clearly either territorial or not picky with its meals. This must have been the source of that noise-- irregularity meant that it had to be alive. The volume and timbre meant that it was likely quite large. And this...

This THING.

Is trying to eat him. And Lezard. A matter of seconds is all he has.

    Reiji's reflexes are keen, but Lezard is... Well. He's a squishy wizard. More durable than most, on account of his unique relationship with death, but the risk is still there. The exorcist makes his decision in a split second, darting to the side and BOLDLY MANHANDLING the confederate warlock. Added mass will make a proper dodge difficult, but Reiji attempts it regardless, launching himself at an oblique angle to the horrible creature's charge.

    The thing clips his shoulder. Reiji winces as something pops and he goes spinning off into the fog. He manages to right himself, skidding a heel into the shallow lake-- when something acid stings his throat. The mask was knocked askance. Reiji coughs like he might be losing a lung, the talisman pegged to his jacket crackling dangerously as he moves to reset his own protective gear.

    "You know what to do," he wheezes to the guy with the horribly destructive supermagic. At least, Reiji hopes Lezard knows what to do. He presumes Lezard hasn't forgotten how to sorcery.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Enark delightedly accepts the chicken from Ari, bowing to her and thanking her profusely. "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! You've no idea how long it's been since... Thank you!" Then he holds it up to examine it, smiling in anticipation, his hand quivering, and then he very slowly puts it in his mouth and tastes it thoroughly as he tries to remember how to chew. He keeps smiling the entire time, as though discovering something completely new. He looks to Ari and nods several times while pointing at his mouth as he chews, as if to confirm, yes, he is eating it. He manages to get out as he puts off swallowing, "It tastes the way this air smells!" A finger it twirled around to indicate their surroundings. Then he finally swallows and says, "Aaahh... The texture was amazing though. I really must try some more in a place that isn't poisonous!"

    With Staren's reassurances, even the prospect of having to face political diablerie seems not as much of an obstacle. He sucks any remnants of chicken and mustard off his fingers and then follows the others down into swamp-bog-land. Certainly, the mist is closing in, and becoming more and more bad to keep breathing in, dead lungs or no, but there is a sense of optimism that wasn't there befor. He feels almost alive again, after all--

    SUDDENLY TOOTHODILE

    Enark leaps back and starts casting Murmurs, the reanimated remains of spells that have 'expired' in the past. He calls out a few dangerous-sounding spell names, trying to afflict the huge uggogator with a poison that melts skin, a fog to obscure sight (because clearly in this dense mist that is the exact thing that they need more of), and a venomous bolt that seeks to turn joints rigid and swollen with afflicted bone and cartilage alike.

    It's more panic than combat reflexes, and he has expended a large amount of his energy in the process. Thankfully there was already water(???) and poison in the area to manipulate, so he didn't have to create it out of nothing. That's SOME small discount. But he probably didn't need to even do anything and let others handle it.

    Much like when he saw someone for the first time in billions of years back in Escher Space, he simply acts on instinct to the potential of threat to himself, and worries about the consequences later. Hopefully something bad like poisoning someone in contact with the monster doesn't happen.

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    Ari watches Enark without betraying too much curiosity over his own culinary experience. She appears to be standing by Psyber's side as she does, but the truth is that she's never left the hunter's back. In a moment, she turns to look upward, and says, "Larger still." In the moment after, she is nowhere but in Psyber's hands, an ultragreatsword cutting a sharp path through the air. The false girl is gone, but the blade remains.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Someone has to keep this exploration mission on track, and Lezard is more than willing to make that happen. The Sorceror of Midgard, however, finds himself the target of a large angry doom lizard. This won't do. This won't do at /all/. He prepares to throw himself out of the way, but Reiji, being a bit more physically fit (on account of not having to make new bodies every month or so thanks to someone pulping him for his hubris), beats him to the punch. With a surprised yelp, Lezard is grabbed and pulled along, splashing into the basin with a grunt. "Gah! Fine!" He yells, indignant for the moment as a purple flame ignites in one of his hands, and he turns to hurl the deadly flame at the massive creature's legs, which detonates into a wave of seething, murderous lava that sets the water exploding into a massive wave of steam, vaporizing instantly.

Priscilla has posed:
    Staren gets the drop on the creature split seconds earlier, by virtue of having really fast projectile weapons. The twin beams lance into the creature's thick, oily, almost amphibian hide with a crack of steam that is red enough to clash awfully with the green, and leaving a sizzling crater exposed in its flesh. Oddly, it doesn't have much blood.

    The shot, at least, makes it stagger lower into its charge, causing the water to actually surge and break over its lower lip, where Psyber swings Ari through, and winds up shattering, or perhaps even cutting through, the front rows of its massive, millstone teeth, carving into the thick flesh behind it, and giving a lovely view of the fact that the roof of its mouth is pretty much /all/ teeth, as if a second set of jaws had poorly developed inside its extant ones.

    Halted in its tracks by the counter momentum of Psyber's superhuman swing with a sword clearly sized for superhumans, it winds up blasted by the rapid succession of Enark's panic spells. Predictably, blinding does nothing to a creature with no eyes. The skin-melting poison seems to have little effect over most of its body, sloughing off with the constant oozing residue covering it, save for where it very visibly burns and melts through the exposed flesh left by Staren's weapons. The joint paralysis does the trick fine however, and causes it to topple over, thrashing and spitting up geysers of black gunk that is acidic enough to clearly be a natural attack and not just gore.

    Hitting anyone with it is a gesture of little more than spite however, as shortly enough, the monster is consumed in a wave of summoned fire and lava, engulfed in the eruption of skin-peeling steam that is the least of its worries compared to the molten glow inside of it. Awfully, the sound it makes isn't a big, dumb, bestial roar, but a gratingly human screen dwelling right at the bottom of the uncanny valley, which leaves a wonderful impression as the steam clears (and with it, the most adjacent fog) and leaves its charred, partially melted corpse fused to the stones.

    Nobody here is a native, so it seems its souls wont be going anywhere. Still, looking at it, there is a certain, faintly nauseating sense that it resembles something other than a person; as if it were a malformed attempt at something, rather than a monster hideous for some arbitrary, grimdark reason.

    Oh well, if it's resiliant enough to these particular poisons to live here, it should make for great samples!

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    And like most things in Lordran and the surrounding environs, the horrible grindstone crocodinosaur is set aflame and melted into its most fundamental of component parts. But that... that SCREAM. That horrible, awful scream. And the souls that it left behind-- what is this creature, really?

    The result of countless many who have wandered down into these depths-- and who have fallen to the mist? Is that what the poison does to the dead?

Reiji would rather not think about it.

    He sighs as he watches the last of the creature smolder away into nothingness. Reiji staggers a step away from Lezard before his gait seems to relax into its former pace. "...If there are any more of those monsters down here, they know where we are now. That thing's scream could wake the dead. Nevermind the heavy artillery and the LITERAL MAGMA BLAST that were just unleashed. "We should probably move on soon."

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber follows through on the swing after making connection with the beast, trying to sever the lower jaw entirely. Either way, the sword is removed a moment later and given a swift, hard swipe at the air to send any blood and ichor splashing into the water at Psyber's feet rather than stain the blade itself. He adjusts his stance a bit and then sheaths the blade across his back.

    "If this creature is able to survive down here, it might be worth it to relegate today's excursion to letting our experts autopsy it. If we can learn how it sustains in the noxious environment, we can return with much more ease and be prepared in future encounters."

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    Ari, wary of additional encounters with similar or other beasts, refrains from rematerializing her body that's vulnerable to high-level toxins and giant, crushing teeth. If she has anything to add, only Psyber would hear it. Mostly, though, it's just a feeling of tense wariness, and a vague dislike for the environs.

Staren has posed:
    A monster attacks, and the heroes... or at least, the people gathered here today, show exactly why they're the people you send to kill a dragon. Staren doesn't even get around to a followup shot.

    After several seconds of no second creature appearing, Staren lands by Lezard and Reiji, looking them over. "Are you okay?" His honest concern for Reiji and his complete lack of caring about Lezard's status (as long as it's not Staren's fault, anyway) blend into a dispassionate almost-monotone with only a hint of concern.

    Staren looks to Psyber. "Do creatures here even work in a way we can replicate?" He looks to... Lezard, he supposes, Lezard would be the closest thing to an expert on such creatures.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Well! Well, that was certainly something! Especially the bit with the scream at the end! Hm! Yes! And the cleaving of the jaws, and the light cannons, and the magma, and all. Yes! Hm!

    Once Enark composes himself, taking a moment to smoothe down his stringy hair, and then his robes, and then straighten his back, he realizes Reiji is over there poisoned, and immediately switches from composed to hurrying over rapidly on his tip-toes through the sludge-water that might still have some awful black acid gunk in it. "I'm coming, I'm coming! Hold on!" He arrives by Reiji's side and starts muttering things that are like words after they've been run through the filter of a corpse's last breath and then an arcane mechanism for making something that almost, but not quite, as though something human once said them. Then he enunciates actual language as he lays a hand on Reiji's shoulder and says, "Regurgitate Toxi--No, wait, not through the mask. Uhh... Extract Venom!" Then something in a dead dialect of Greek that might be related to the river Styx. The end result is that any poison in Reiji's system might be forcibly siphoned out of him through his skin, and then any damage suffered mended by a deathly cold flow of Spirit Stuff, taking away dead cells as readily as Styx would take away dead people, and sending them Elsewhere.

    "I concur with Lord Saber. This should prove adequate as a sample. Though I imagine carrying the whole thing back might be difficult, I shall fit my vessels to capacity with its flesh, bones, and Dead Lights if I can harvest them. I'm no Lantern, but spiritual matter is spiritual matter, yes?" Probably not, but one never knows. Now the only issue is, you know, finding something safe enough to touch to put it into a bottle or a box or wrap up in paper like a particularly odious purchase of fish from a sketchy local fish monger.

    "Good work, good work, all. My apologies for not being of more use, but you know how it is."

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard picks himself up out of the wet, steam-drenched environs. With a low hum, the water soaking his clothes vaporizes off, leaving him dry (and steam-pressed). "Well. That was... stimulating." He says, acting like he didn't almost just get eaten.

As the others discuss moving the carcass, he waves a hand. "Bah. Why would we even touch such a thing? We have /minions/ for that. Or at least, /I/ do. Let me take the creature and I'll send you some properly dissected samples for your edification." Oh goodness, Lezard is offering to be /helpful/? Shocking.

Staren has posed:
    Staren looks at the party. Then he unclips the Matter Manipulator from his belt and holds it out just enough to emphasize it. He looks to Lezard. "...Just tell me where you want me to leave it." Unless someone stops him, he points it at the corpse, there's a beam of light and the corpse shakes for a few seconds, and then it vanishes into storage.