Nidhogg's head shot up at the distant booming--and at the shaking beneath his belly, he scrambled to his feet. He stood uncertainly, eyes wide as he stared off toward--was that a voice?

"HISSSSSSSSSSSS," Nidhogg hissed.

He didn't really have a large behavioral repertoire to fall back on.

From where he'd been resting--a quiet, dark nook very high up on one of Draco's walls--he couldn't hear the others yet gathering. But he dashed down and forward at Vargas's call, at least, which barely reached him there. His bounding scamper carried him in a quick, oil-slick blur for the Black Spire, his jaws agape in a wild-eyed snarl. He was eager to join whatever chaos lay ahead, no matter what it was. He'd gained a thirst for combat in recent cycles, and here he came: streaking through the gathering without an ounce of caution, launching himself straight for the cracking stone.

His leap upward was a strong one, his scramble higher powerful. He slammed into the stone a second later, and his claws were scraping uselessly at it, his jaws closing pointlessly again and again on solid crystal. Were the stone still part of the Black Spire he might have been burned away and as it was, it still singed.

Whatever was going to happen next, well... Nidhogg neither knew, nor cared. He was too busy trying to kill a rock right now.

It did not take much to bring Azrael into the dark light of Draco. Simply the shaking of the rocks had him interested and investigating, the echoing of the voice - The Creator? Is He here? and Vargas's words - A fight! - brought him in on a sprint, eyes lighting up with excitement. Wings open, propelling him forward, he half ran half glided into the gathered gembound with a roar of fury, pushing his way to the front near Vargas, and bearing all four arms in an intimidating battle stance.

He bared his teeth and snarled, wings half-folded, as he glared at the cracking Oilstone. Prove himself? Oh, he sure would! He hadn't had a good fight since his brawl with Master Vargas and he was itching for some more action! "SHOW YOURSELF! I am READY!"

THE CREATOR'S TEST

[THE BLACK SERPENT]

250 / 250 HP    100%

Oil began to seethe from the cracks in the stone: dripping thick and iridescent black, splattering on the rock below. And then... it began to take form: that which was pushing out taking thousands of tiny shards of Oilstone with it. It was serpentine, like a great constrictor, seemingly formed of oil itself and clothed in shimmering Oilstone scales.

Its attention was taken almost at once by the little beast circling it; slitted eyes narrowed, and its tail--sliding from its chrysalis--flicked hard in Garnet-Epsilon's direction. A few razor-sharp shards of Oilstone shot for it like arrowheads. Forked black tongue flicked as it looked back to the rest, rising to a full height of some forty feet tall--and then it hissed, rows of Oilstone fangs gleaming.

It went for Nidhogg--the beast was closest, and in a rush the Black Serpent was on him, coils closing tightly. Fangs drove for Nidhogg's body, and sparks of unfamiliar magic suddenly flew from where it bit down.

Vargas 20/20	Nidhogg 20/20	The Sentinel 20/20
V-Hiddenite-One 20/20	Ruby-Beta 20/20	Azrael 20/20
Garnet-Epsilon 20/20	V-Labradorite-One 20/20	Rue 20/20
Khavur 20/20	Relic 20/20

[ ACTION LOG ]

> THE BLACK SERPENT has aimed a shard attack for Garnet-Epsilon, and a constricting bite attack for Nidhogg! Both may attempt to either dodge or attack. Failure to dodge will inflict 10/20 damage and will inflict one point of Corruption on those who are struck.

All other characters may act as they see fit! Physical contact with the Black Serpent will inflict one point of Corruption damage.



> THE BLACK SERPENT emerges, and begins attacking!

This quest is open to new entrants!

@Vargas (Nidhogg, Sentinel) @V-Hiddenite-One @Ruby-Beta (Azrael) @Garnet-Epsilon @V-Labradorite-One @Rue @Khavur @Relic

Despite being so horribly dwarfed by the shifting, oily coils of the great serpent, the Kornerupine shows no hesitation. The glory of battle and the freedom to fight call their name, and they hiss back at the striking snake. Now this, is what I've been waiting for!

They pull at their magic, feeling it whirl wildly around their stone. They call for something, anything to claw and tear at the corrupted beast. They feel it fill their mouth, and exhale the wild magic. White spores drift from their mouth, billowing towards the black serpent. With luck they'd latch on and feed.

ROUND 1/?

100%

ATTEMPT: Wither - Draining Fungus
DEFENSE: Who needs it?
INJURIES: None

Nidhogg hissed as the other, far larger and distinctly more muscular Oil-serpent came crashing for him with gaping jaws. He tried to scamper out of the way, his own black-slicked hide a benefit: if he were lucky he'd wriggle out before it could snag him.

"I WILL KILL YOU!" he seethed, snarling, even as he... ran away, his claws snagging every rough edge of Oilstone chrysalis he could find. He scrambled up the side of it, coiling and winding his way up with rapid motion, a dark blur as the serpent devastated the empty spot which Nidhogg had just inhabited.

Then he doubled back, curling over himself to stare down, tensing; he hoped that he could launch down for the serpent momentarily--hoped it would be distracted by someone else down there long enough for him to strike. Perhaps one of the others might have met it head on, but Nidhogg's priority--first and foremost--was not dying.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

His eyes widened--then lit up, bloodlust surging through him. A test-! From the Creator?! If it were true, it was a wonderful opportunity and oh, Vargas did love a good fight. But as he took a step forward, he remembered that no longer was he the mindless gladiator.

He was... more of a general, now, and he had an entire army around him to also look after. So he barked his warnings, first: "FIND ITS WEAKNESS! Burn it, if you can!" (If it were really made of oil, the thing would be flammable, he knew.) "Do not get caught by it!"

...Obvious, perhaps, but it was all the advice that he could really offer. Then he was charging in, trying to snag the beast's coils in his claws--to seize onto its scales with one limb and, bracing himself, bring the other forearm's massive blades scything down.

Orders were given--both the roaring decree, and the command from his Master.

The Sentinel rushed in, black-swathed halberd swinging. He wasted no time: his charge was alongside that of Master Vargas, albeit somewhat left behind. Vargas--with his towering four limbs--was simply swifter, but a moment later the Sentinel was alongside him. He brought the blade down, aiming for a point just alongside where Vargas had struck. Perhaps, together, they could carve the serpent into pieces.

The Sentinel was unsure that would even kill it. But it was the best that he could do. Perhaps--if they were lucky--someone else would have fire; it was not among his skills.

"Bleed," he rasped, muscles surging as both hands tightened on the halberd's haft.

This uh, this hadn’t been her brightest moment, had it?

The oilstone serpent burst forth from its chrysalis, distinctly upset with the flotilla Relic found themselves in, A mess of scales and glowing eyes, some dripping with the same oil. This wasn’t their crowd, that was clear enough. The purple one barked orders, ones not meant for them, and the monsters charged with tooth claw and halberd.

The wiser option was to back away from this while they still could, but they had to admit, they’d feel bad about leaving all these creatures behind to fight this battle. Not that they’d be contributing much in the first place, Relic felt like the others would have it handled.

Still, just in case.

The oil didn’t look appetising, but the cub had no long range spells to offer. They’d rush forth, black jaws wide, hoping to get a good chomp in while the snake was distracted by the other attacks. Comparing their measly jaws to the sharp edges that ripped into it’s sides. The purple beast moved to grab it and hold it in place, giving Relic what they thought was a good opportunity to get their own offence in. They shot for the flesh closer to the tail, about a quarter way of it’s length from tail tip to head.

The gems of the very Spire came bubbling and fizzing to life, creating (both surprisingly and unsurprisingly) an opponent for all of them to fight. Khavur hadn't been able to get its venom to come, its focus had been too far away from itself. It decided to abandon the idea once it realized that was probably not going to work here, on account of the fact that the being was not necessarily alive, as all the parts that made it were not exactly organic.

The Oilstone of the Spire was a hard rock to pierce, so they would likely require great force. Khavur could likely achieve that force only if... it regretted not starting from the air, and now the ground was crowded. Oh, curse its design. Khavur knew what it had to do, starting with making space. And so, while everyone charged towards the beast, Khavur wound up trampling away as fast as it could manage. Pumping its wings as soon as it got enough space, Khavur would manage to get about two centimeters off the ground before, unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, its back legs would trip over... nothing! And now it would go, obtaining -2 air and at least one sore jaw. All with a rather undignifying squawk it hadn't known was possible for its vocal cords to make.

Well... shoot.

Speaking of shoot, here comes the Lightning Shot.

To be honest, Madhukar didn't want to come back here again. As much as she really did want to revive Twisted's stone, she really did not have the energy for chaos demons and getting to know them all that much. But the thing was, with all the time Madhukar had spent completely neglecting this responsibility she had shackled herself to, it really was beginning to feel—no, it already had been feeling—wrong not to try. So she had come, this fateful day, to this creepy nasty cave in the very extremity of their cave system, hoping to catch sight of the guy Master Vargas had told her about, or ask him actually who his guys were again because she was starting to forget where they were supposed to be—the thought of going around interviewing each one was already giving her headache—until she heard a booming voice and a series of yelling and realized: she'd be meeting them all today.

Energy came quick after that; it teetered at the ends of her fingers as she strolled in with a strangely casual air about her. The fight ahead was already starting, and so be honest it was not looking good. What the heck was that oily thing, skittering around?—oh wait no, what was that thing everyone was fighting? It was large, its scales looked metallic—no, um... metamorphic? Madhukar didn't know anything about geology. Kaimana wondered what electricity would even do to it. Draco was small, rather unfit for a storm, but Madhukar could pull lightning from any particles in the air. She didn't know jack about electricity either, but a lifetime of magic and mayhem had at least taught her this.

Why not be a scientist and try it? Put the tinfoil in the microwave, watch it spin, watch it spark. Maybe they could catch it on fire. Maybe Madhukar should just stop thinking, pick her position, and shoot. Madhukar would begin by noting her exits should its attention turn to her, and then, she would breathe. Focus. Ready, aim... disaster! A lightning arc from her hand that went completely catastrophic, the lashes of it twisting outward in every direction away from the beast. Madhukar didn't even have time to warn anybody; it was already gone and done, the hand of fate cruelly ripping all control away from her grasp.

It had been a while since this had happened.