How did I allow myself to get mixed up in this mess...? No deaths, not yet, but they were rapidly trending toward them. Scorpicores were essentially just a more muscular version of a lion, a snarling maw framed by bony growths, and a scorpions tail at their back. This one in particular was still small, unawakened, the guild sending their men in to handle it before it grew to the size where the golems might not be enough.
Life insurance came at a far lower cost than an alchemical construct, after all.
'Still small' didn't mean 'small', though. Everything was relative. It was easily as large as the biggest bull Tyr had ever seen. Kirk's monocle was smashed in the flailing of the things tail. All chimera had a healing factor, and this one was no different. The maxxid rode the creatures back, his six sharp legs piercing its hide, holding him in place as he repeatedly hammered the crown of its skull from above. Calling out to his 'wave god'.
“Witness me!” Kirk clacked. Valorous deeds and words, not very effective whatever the case unless his goal was to enrage it further. Tyr did as he was asked, hanging on for dear life in an effort to hold the tail down. Lashing back and forth, the whiplash was incredible. It was strong, this scorpicore, a proud and noble beast. Unfortunately, chimera's lacked the characteristic gentle nature of gryphons and some other magic creatures. Half magical beast, half monster, they would gorge themselves for most of their lives until finally being brought down by something bigger than them.
If not, they would awaken and evolve. Growing wings to become a manticore or something even more dangerous. Chimera adapted to their environment and could come in all shapes and sizes, the only consistent part about them was their typical catlike heads, but this wasn't a universal rule. Odd things to think about while Benny hoisted a slender crescent axe taller than he was. Slowly chipping away at the curling horns protecting the beasts neck.
The others remained in the rear. Two mages and four archers, plucking away from a distance. Normal humans who didn't possess the sturdiness of a kijin or the incredible regeneration common in maxxid. Kirk had lost his dominant claw to the beasts jaws thrice already, healing at a speed visible to the naked eye. Together, he and Benny made an incredible team, the others were just... There. If not for the constant shouting from the half-orc in the back, Tyr would've forgotten about them.
After three minutes, Benny alternated from the head and rolled along its flank, bisecting the tail and sending Tyr flying through the air. Crashing through a nearby rooftop, he groaned in discomfort. They had discussed his own ability to heal before the plan had been ratified and were seemingly intent to let that save him. If it could be called a 'plan' at all.
Shit...
Still dizzied after having ridden the tail like a bronco, Tyr lurched out of the window, falling flat onto the street and dragging himself to his feet again. The scorpicore bleeding from a score of wounds, Benny ensuring that each one was ravaged by darkness magic to prevent any unnecessary healing.
“You're up, big man!” Kirk hissed. “Stab it in the eye or something, I can't hold on for much longer!”
Or something...
Tyr dropped into the panther stance, allowing his weapon to extend into the shape of a boar spear. His control was still rough, but after all the time he'd spend studying various weapons and their structures – it was at the very least an easy process. Stick them with the pointed end. Not much finesse needed for something so simple.
He charged forward, throwing all of his weight into the strike, drinking in the intoxicating power of fire and skewing it straight through the eye as he'd been told. It's bones, even its ocular lobe, were as hard as steel. Thankfully, the spellbreakers gave him the purchase he needed to let the tip of his spear glance along its cheekbone and into the softer parts. For good measure, he willed his weapon to become a blocky headed hammer – imploding its cranium from within, unable to hold up to the force of the expanding auronite. Only a few more thrashes came from the beast, it all happened so quick, its nerve endings firing off and sending it sprawling around like a dying snake. To make sure the deed was done, Tyr was well into his eighth repetition of hammer to shattered skull while the others collected themselves.
“Whew...” Benny panted. “Good fight, lads. Not a bad idea, using allomancy like that! Now we've not only its tail, but a relatively intact head. More money for us!” He smiled widely, hands on his hips, very much the child.
“We must consider the finer aspects of governance. The simian mammals who rule this land are the ideal proxies, but we must also take steps to ensure that their collected efforts remain disrupted for as long as possible.”
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“What did you say?” Tyr asked, trying to make sense of the words. It seemed wholly out of place and totally random.
“Me?” Benny looked around. “I said it was a good fight... Your head okay? I got some health potions if you need em.”
“Indeed. It is unfortunate that they've begun incinerating their organic refuse. Our kin to the north are having a better time of it. Perhaps it is time to move on, these are the perfect forms for doing so safely and without suspicion. Our furs aren't worth much to their trappers and tree cover is plentiful in this region, even more so in the northern lands.”
“Interesting proposal, brother Hao. You are correct, these forms are ideal. The simians are as clueless as always, yet they have the sense in some places to offer proper tribute. I've read that the ape villages to the north live beneath an autocratic rule instead of the false democracy here. While your plan has its merits, do you not think that those in the north might be smarter? It is well known that authoritarianism is a superior form of governance, as asserted by sister Ji Li.”
Tyr noticed that the kijin's mouth hadn't moved and neither had any of the others. It was coming from somewhere else. “You can't hear that?”
“Hear what?” Benny raised an eyebrow. “You're freaking me out, man.”
“Maybe it's some primus magic.” One of the men said with a shrug, unconcerned. He'd seen far worse psychosis in his time among adventurers. Those who could claim mental stability didn't often take to a mercenaries life.
What the hell? Tyr looked around. He could hear whispers from every direction, but a group of heavily accented voices came with much greater clarity. Am I going insane? No, Mikhail says insane people don't ask themselves if they are insane or not. Then again... It's Mikhail...
“This is all well and good, but you're ignoring the presence of a high one. One of the celestial apes. Sustenance may be scarcer here, but our safety is assured. To continue operating from the shadows, we must become one with them. I rebuttal this motion with my own, which is to stay. Whether this is a land of disgusting bureaucrats or not is irrelevant. If anything, it stands to benefit us a great deal. When we've the opportunity to make our plans known to the wider world, this will be far superior as our seat of power.”
“Understood, let us follow this wisdom and reconvene for dialogue at a later date. As it is, our operatives have already infiltrated most of the city and unlike the rats – they see us as little threat. As long as we maintain our distance from their places of worship, we are given free reign. All in favor?”
“I.”
“I.”
“I.”
“Then let it be so. As the nightmother wills, the padding of our paws shall herald her great coming and no hairless ape can stop us. Hehehe.”
“Hehehe.”
It seemed unanimous, this decision. Tyr caught wind of their spira just in time to make eye contact with a family of fat raccoon's chattering amongst one another in the trees. He looked directly at them, and they – him.
“Keep it moving, ape. Don't make me come down there.”
“Yeah, you stupid monkey.” One of the plump mammals was shaking its fist at him in a very human way. “Ugly ape! I shall decorate the halls of our forefathers with your hide and sup from a chalice cast from your skull.”
“Inferior hominid lifeforms! Disgusting! Our vengeance is coming! Action is coming! Wolololol!”
What the hell...? Tyr's face twisted in confusion, locking eyes with what appeared to be their leader based on the fluffy girth of his body.
“...By my whiskers... Does this human understand us?” One of the rodents... Were raccoon's rodents? Marsupials? Tyr didn't know, he didn't have a background in biology. Another question to add to the list.
“Oi!” Tyr shouted, throwing a rock at them, promptly dispersing the group. “I can hear you, you dumb rodents!”
“We're Procyon, you... You green hat wearing oaf! Read a damn book!”
“Yeah, stupid human! Read a book! You, borne of a mother smelling of boar spoor and elden berries!”
“Wolololol!”
“We shall return, frail one! Your doom is nigh! You stupid bi--”
“Are you alright?” Benny called out. “Can you speak to raccoons? I'll admit I don't know much about primus', but that's an odd power...”
“It's not impossible.” Kirk adjusted his shell in what much be his peoples equivalent of a shrug. Even maxxid did that, it seemed. “He is fluent enough in the deep tongue. As raccoon's are mammalian lifeforms – it wouldn't be all too surprising. You've a talent, my boy.”
'My boy.' Tyr was near five times his age!
Hells... What is happening to me?
“Anyways... That was strange – and I'm going to leave now. Is that acceptable?” Tyr addressed them all at once, receiving nods and shrugs in return. As per the guild charter, his cut was owed and bound by magic contract. He had no reason to remain behind while they harvested the corpse as was their right.
They were close to the dungeon now. Less a cave leading into the earth and more of what might appear to be a shallow quarry dug out of the ground. A gaping void with naught but the dilapidated remains of a rope ladder leading down into the darkness.
“Wait...” Tyr could hear it again. A voice, not audible by normal senses, not 'words', but... Killing intent. “Get down!”
He cried, turning violently back towards them as a pair of paws squashed Kirk flat. Benny howled in anguish at the death of his friend, whipping his axe around, the force of it splitting the air. For all his might, his blow was battered aside. A manticore. Twice as tall as the scorpicore, winged, with the tail of a snake and a scaled rear end. Vicious claws and a mane of needle sharp spikes framing a face twisted into a snarl, revealing a dripping maw of ivory fangs. A forest of snow white daggers pointed back at them.