Gembound went in and out of the snapping, giant chest's mouth as though it were a subway stop. One in, another translocating to take their place, a third escaping--even the Mimic seemed annoyed by the high traffic, and more importantly, the lack of permanence its would-be meals displayed. They were supposed to STAY in there. So it could EAT them! UGH!
But its meals were distinctly rebellious; they did not do that. In fact, one of his hinges was suddenly torn free. Not off, not completely--the puppy wasn't strong enough for that, but technique had counted for a lot here and suddenly the entire top half of the Mimic was... lopsided. Dangling.
The lid lost almost all of its crushing, snapping power, and also its control, so that as tentacles made it bounce about, it sort of loosely flopped instead of anything more sinister.
The battle waged hot right until the moment Halcyon slammed the second hinge. The little "pop" sound it made was quite innocuous unless you realized what it had been; a moment later the entire top half of the chest sort of... sagged. It bounced once more, then--paused, horrified by the realization that it was FALLING APART! Oh NO! Now it spat out anyone that it had. And began to bounce backward, rapidly reversing, until it slammed off a wall. Its "head" (the entire body, really) flailed around, the teeth that hadn't actually pierced anyone hanging off the loose lid. A slimy, red tongue shot out, encrusted with gold and gems, lashing at the Gembounds--now in self-defense, an attempt to keep them at bay.
It was on its last legs, now--err, tentacles--and it would take little to finish it. But the question was--how did one kill a giant wooden chest?
Chomping Chest
Characters may roll to attempt killing blows.
All Failures/Critical Failures will be lashed by a frantic Mimic's defensive tongue. This is long, red and whiplike, and encrusted with hard objects that could cause heavy bruises and minor cuts.
The next post will take place on July 21st in the afternoon/evening GMT.
Yew should be double-posted for this round.
@Genghis @Halcyon @Spark @V-Chaos-Eleven @Fleas @Callista @Angel @Yew @Menkheperre @Mai @Audland @Thalia @Zephiran
Others shuffled in and out of the mimic's maw. Angel was left holding... someone completely different, and they startled and let go of Menkheperre in an instant. "What?" They blinked owlishly, staring, confused. Okay. It seems like it wasn't worth the trouble anyway with everyone leaving after; with the top pried off fully, it couldn't really keep anyone in anymore.
This thing was gross. Angel didn't want to be next to it, but they wanted to get this thing dead even more. It deserved a good, solid punch. Baring their teeth, Angel reared back with their fist and launched forward with a clipped yell, going full force by the tongue and aiming for a good, solid hit by the thing's latch.
The battle was turning strong in their favor, at the very least. The mimic was visible weakened and now on the offense. She felt.. almost a little bad for it. She didn't know whether it was some kind of enchanted object or just the weirdest lesser she'd ever seen, but it seemed scared. It had also tried to eat multiple people, which negated some of its pity points.
She'd attempt to pull the same maneuver she'd tried [and failed] the first time- pivoting on her front legs and lashing out with her hooves to donkey-kick at a tentacle, or perhaps a weak point in it's gilded tongue.
This time her hooves actually found purchase, digging into soft flesh. It was gross. Very gross. But also a little satisfying? At least she finally got a hit in.
When Spark recovered from being shoved to the ground, they saw that the chest had been significantly reduced in the seconds that'd passed. This was somewhat worrying, as it was even faster now. They weren't entirely sure what to do about that - they weren't a fighter like the others, and they weren't eager to try out the role.
Instead... What if they could be smart about this?
Spark, instead of heading toward the mimic, instead flitted about the room, searching for anything that looked out of place in amidst the scattered treasures and chaos. A trap. Something they could trigger when the Mimic made the inevitable mistake of coming close.
There might not BE one, considering the fact the room was already well-guarded by whatever was flinging itself from corner to corner right now, but it was worth looking - or perhaps it wasn't. Spark had made the mistake of turning their back to the most dangerous thing in the room, which retaliated accordingly by smacking them roughly, embarrassingly close to their rump. They wheeled around in pain and panic, their search forgotten.
Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:
Eleven shook herself, her head and everything inside still aching in a dull, throbbing rhythm. That bouncing little bastard. She'd teach that thing a LESSON, alright.
She joined the charge to finish it off, as the others kicked, shoved and punched. Not in that order though. Eleven had a different target from the others, though. Where they saw the whipping tongue as a threat, she saw it as limb that'd be
really easy for her to rip off. That way the mimic would have no choice but to lay down and DIE.
That was kind of depressing actually. She felt bad. But it was too late - she was charging for its tongue, trying her best to time it so that she wouldn't get whipped in a really shitty place.
But oh god, had Eleven fucked up. She had gained a little too much momentum, and she saw the tongue shoot towards her, seeing her strategy from miles away. She couldn't stop in time, to keep herself out of it's reach. And, oddly enough, she felt as though the Mimic was experiencing that feeling too. Watching the dominoes fall, unable to keep themselves from a fate neither of them wanted.
Instead of biting down on the tongue, it was shoved down her gullet, making her gag.
Eleven now had the Mimic's tongue halfway down her throat. This was not a sensation she'd ever have the privilege of forgetting.
Fleas didn't like fighting. She was a scrawny little thing with a about as much muscle mass as a twig. She'd wanted puzzles, damnit! But it was fine, the mimic was nearly dead. A couple good blows, and the thing would fall over. Everyone was running in, trying to get their last punch in.
One gembound ended up with the mimics tongue down their throat, which was about the worst thing she'd seen in her twenty or so cycles of life. She hoped she would forget seeing that. To take her mind off that, she searched the room around her. Fleas wasn't a fighter, but she didn't have to be strong to help kill it-- she just had to find the right tool.
Fleas had barely gained the thought in her head when the tentacle whapped her upside the head. Pain rapidly blossomed. Warmth coated her head and red coated her vision. She yowled, running off to some far corner. The strike left her head streaked with fresh cuts and her ears ratty and torn.