Some people argue about the nature of hell, whether it is a place of warmth or a place of cold. In this case hell is a place of not only cold, but freaking bitter cold. Breathing causes steam, moving causes steam and exposed skin aches and burns. Beneath the ruins it's like walking into a icy prison, with artifacts frozen to the walls and bodies much the same. There is no scent of decay because decay has been halted. The smell is instead ice and the harshness of machine oil.

Chago's pace picks up a little in the icy chill, using motion to keep warmer where he can. Still, the chill bites at him until he snarls "Fecking 'caps came from the winter winds. You think this is gonna slow me down?" while he rubs his palms together to keep his fingers warm.

All is well still until... CRASH.

Turning, he finds that while he was the noisiest thing down here, he’s not now. Part of the wall breaks away, a large clockwork troll, being a troll who had bits removed and replaced with clockwork, stomping towards the smaller Cap.

The redcap turns, fists lifting and ready to fight as the clockwork beast appears. "Damn. I thought I was ugly." he rumbles. One hand turns and his fingers flick in a 'some on' gesture while as he backpedals to keep a little room.

A very tiny bit. Even if it does sacrifice his chance to maybe swing first.

The mechanical troll is...well...very big. The ceilings down here are a good 15 foot and he's not quite brushing them. Chunks of ice cling to the metal which makes up his right arm and to the muscled plane of his grey-blue skin, even clinging in the white beard. He roars, a gutteral animal sound before charging forward, the mechanical arm swinging while Chago sets himself. If it lands it's a blow that's going to hurt rather a lot.

Well, like the old saying goes... the bigger they are, the harder they hit. Being so short, Chago is well versed in this concept, and in proving it wrong sometimes. He waits as the charge comes, sinking into a lower stance, hoping the blow goes over him and trusting his renewed Oakenshield to hold if it doesn't.

As the troll comes, Chago pivots, well, he slides, but that’s kind of a pivot. He catches himself on his left hand. The right is aimed for the knee of the monstrous troll, looking not to drive directly into it, but to rip and tear with all the spikes and edges of the Gauntlet's full length while the blow from the troll just misses taking his hat, and maybe his head, off.

Well, looks like it's a lucky day all the way around. The Troll does take Chago's hat off with enough force to push the redcap back if not onto his butt. However...there's enough Oakenshield left that the blow doesn't remove Chago's head as well. And where the guantlets rip and tear it leaves gapping holes, as not only flesh, but ice break away. The blood that drips is a rich green ichor that reflects like machine oil and the Troll howls in pain, pivoting his weight onto his good leg, surprised that Chago isn't so much floor squish.

Chago hits the ground and rolls with the landing to come back to his feet and starts in once more, circling so that the massive troll will have to pivot -fast-, use that hurt leg more than he'd like, or let the 'cap get a really nasty angle. Since the most likely of the three is that that leg gets used, the cap is watching it close and as soon as the weight shifts, he lunges in fast, jaws gaping and aiming to remove more of that leg, like... say... mid thigh down? It's going to hurt if the troll is smarter than the redcap allows for his species to be, but no guts, no glory, right?

And the bite is just the start. As soon as his teeth meet, whether there was a leg between them or not, he's driving up to slam into the beast with his shoulder to try and topple it.

Chago's teeth come in for a bite and the troll reels back at that moment, gears clacking as he moves. Chago does get a bite, but it's lower, just below the knee instead of the mid thigh he wanted. The troll bellows, pieces of stone and ice raining down around both of them. He's balancing all right on one leg until Chago pushes and he swats the redcap hard as he slides, balance lost to ice and force.

Ow. Ow. Owowowowow. Did we mention ow? Trolls hit hard. Clockwork cyborg trolls hit even harder, even off balance. As the troll goes one way, Chago goes the other, hitting the wall and seeing stars briefly as he hears the *crash* of a falling troll monster. He shakes his head, charging the sound of the fall as much as seeing his target. Gauntleted hands reach out as he sees the beast, leaving himself open a bit as he figures on the thing being too busy getting up to realize the danger.

You see... trolls have horns. Horns make good handles. And while a redcap may not be as strong as a troll, a troll's -neck- can still be snapped with the right application of torque by a redcap that's got the balls to go for it. Even as he darts in to try and get the grab that'll let him wrench that neck, Chago spits blood from a split lip at the things face, more insult than anything since he's not aiming for an eye or anything.

The troll is pretty well armored... Well, most of him anyway. The horns are one of those things they didn't expect anyone to go for. Because going for a troll's head is insane. Then again, those who brought this abomination to life weren't counting on a redcap who has a little of that insane going for him.

Chago manages to get a good hold, the troll still struggling to get to his feet. He rolls, attempting to buck the recap off, but not getting enough traction to really put his full strength into it.

Chago refuses to give up his hold too, riding the troll like a cowboy on a bull. Well, other than using both hands. As the troll struggles, the redcap shifts to try and kick as he jerks and twists, then he swings his legs to try and grip the massive figure with his legs so he can gain the very leverage that being a leg short is denying the troll. Sucks to be a one-legged man in a butt kicking contest, don't it?

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

If not for the one-legged problem, and the ice problem, the troll might be able to slam Chago onto the floor. As is he's swatting at the cap, but not with enough force to really dislog him. His breath comes in gulps as his neck is twisted, sinews protesting the abuse and blood staining the side of his mouth. Gears grind in his spine as it's wrenched and there's not much he can do to prevent the inevitable.

Chago grits his teeth and his lips curl back from those vicious and ragged fangs. His arms tremble with the force being applied, until his legs hook properly for a moment of better balance. Then he gives a roar and drives that head sharply about with a cracking of both mechinacal bits and bone. "Linda fecking Blair’s got nothing on you now." he mutters as he forces the limp head back and leans in. His teeth rip and tear then, shredding the thing’s neck even after the break.

Just in case.

No one can say that Chago isn't efficient when he's making smush out of something. Even a large clockwork troll something. It seems like the whole thing should have taken longer, but only a few moments have passed. The troll's body quivers a bit, but not for long before the cold and the lack of blood brings it to stillness which will soon be frozeness. More pieces of ice fall at idle moments, cracking against the floor, and Chago can feel...something...watching.

Chago's head lifts, blood, ichor, and lubricants dripping from his lips and he turns slowly to look about. The fight was one part exhilarating and too many parts painful, but he’s not about to let that show. One foot moves to the trolls chest and the redcap rips the head totally free from the remaining bits holding it. "Hey mula! You want some of this?" he calls to the watcher and then he throws the head toward the shadows. "You bring it when you find some balls. There ain't no way out 'cept through me so you might as well get your ass out here and get it done!" he shouts before focusing on the sense of his goal and starting to move again.

He slips into Spanish more fully then, muttering curses that would do a nocker proud as he goes.

Only silence greets his ranting. Well, that and his own voice bouncing around the large halls. One might think he is alone...but...well...that's already been proven wrong.

As he moves deeper there a moment where anyone going more quickly or more in a rage would miss what Chago does not. Something embedded in the wall, behind thick layers of ice and a soft noise like the TinMan's cry for oil.

~help me...~

Some might think Chago was in a rage, but that calmed after ripping the troll's head off. The rest was more like a peacock displaying his plumage, all a big show. The only good thing about the cold now is that it keeps the aches from reaching full pain. That’ll come later.

The voice catches Chago's sharp ears as he was about to stalk further and he comes back toward it, head tipping left and right to follow the cry until he's peering into the ice with his lit arm held near the surface to see deeper into it.

It takes some looking, and turning at the right angles to see what's encased in the ice, but eventually he gets a good look. It's a satyr...umm...sorta. A half-sized satyr, woven of flesh and clockwork. She's solidly encased yet still alive, her eyes wide behind goggles which protect them from the cold. Seeing Chago she may not be sure if she's in any better hands, but can't scream in the ice.

Chago studies the ice for a long moment, and the semi satyr inside it. His lip curls in a scowl that may well make the figure more worried to see, but his muttered "Me and satyrs." he grumbles, embellishing the words a bit as he draws a small knife from his belt. He quickly sketches a door in the ice with the blade and then knocks on it before reaching for the knob and triggering a bit of magic to Portal Passage the ice out of the way. "Move. Now." he says when the ice opens for his spell. The path won't last long, and if she doesn't move... well, he tried.

At least that's what he's telling himself.

Okay, so she's terrified. And she's really really cold. However, she's not stupid enough to stay where she is given a path out. It would be too generous to say she runs, or even scampers. She lurches, one hip groaning as the gear turns, but manages to get out landing with a soft thud-clank. Her dark eyes lift to him and she frowns, taking in a deep sniff. "You...smell..." There seems to be more, but the little thing shivers, and reaches up, massaging her jaw with a grind of gears and oil.

"Well, you ain't exactly on the cover of Playgoat so deal with it." the redcap snarls. Maybe there is more, but it's hard to take an insult right after saving someone, even if it wasn't meant.

He steps closer to the little satyr and bends to examine her whether she likes being that close to teeth or not. "So... you just cold or need some oil or is there something broke or what?" he asks as he tries to figure out just what might help, and if she’s worth the time he’s spending. "I can rip out some of the wreck's lines and get you some lube if that'll help." he offers, gesturing at the remains of the freezing troll.

She shakes her head. "Cold..." Considering she's wearing not much, just barely what might cover for faint modesty, a vest and lion cloth. Another deep breath and she rubs her arms hard, her jaw works and finally gets going enough to speak. "You smell of herd... How do you smell of herd?"

Chago opens his mouth to reply and clamps it shut again. Saying 'you eat enough and you start to sweat it out, kinda like garlic' is probably the wrong answer here. Instead, he reaches for his earring and tips so the light from his bracer picks out the designs. "My Trueheart gave me this. It mean something to you?" Like it has every satyr that's seen it.

"She's in trouble and I'm here to help her." He explains then as he goes back to the troll's body to see if there's anything he can rip a section off and make the shivering goat a toga from. Anything is better than what she's got.

She nods, rubbing the tip of her nose. "I know her. I...remember.." She touches her leg fur. "This was once hers..." It's dreamy, calling on an old memory. "...I miss her."

Oh... that was -so- the wrong thing to say. Chago snarl low and meanacing as his head turns to look at the figure of the satyr, vibrating with the sudden surge of temper. "What. The hell. Are you." Not a question. A pure demand back with all the ire a redcap has as he glares at the mechanical girl.

Without even looking, he rips away some of the troll's outfit and brings it to throw to the clockwork satyr. "Wrap yourself up before you make me any colder." he adds as he fights his temper back down.

She yelps and peddels back until her back hits the ice, not getting much traction. The cloth falls around her and she peers out from under it, even as she wraps it around her. "I am...Meliton's key. Created from the strongest...to hold them..." She rubs at her wrists where tiny cuffs wrap around her wrist, but unlike the cuffs that have been on the other satyrs he's seen they're part of her clockwork make up. A tiny little clockwork voodoo doll.