By all accounts, it was an unholy abomination, a writhing mass of coagulated flesh and blood flinging itself across the rolling waves of stone using whatever spare hands it had. Those that weren’t used to propel itself forward dug into the ground, dredging up stone by the handfuls, spewing them out in the form of hundreds of human sized earth chunks which flew wild about the room, slamming into the shifting ground, walls, and even ceiling. It was chaos, complete and utter. Stalactites, ancient formations of stone which had lasted eons of tragedy, slowly building themselves into impressive 20+ foot long spears of stone, splintered from the ceiling and shattered against the boiled earth, the shifting stone crags like great ocean waves easily dwarfing their little crew of humans.
This was power far beyond his control. The ability to terraform a cavern, even one only the size of a stadium, was a terrifying feat of strength. Even a powerful geomancer, those bearing the earth's touch, would struggle to make waves of stone, their singular shifts their greatest feats. Yet, as Garrote rose into the air, cresting atop a great piece of stone, surveying the battlefield from above, he noticed something unusual. Although he couldn’t find Trenton or Karfice, the two boys likely lost in the earthen sea just as he was moments prior, he noticed that the whole arena seemed to be circling around some point in the center, much of the stone leaping from the depths of the ground as would a fish into the air. It was remarkable, and not of the beasts design. The monster was struggling almost as much as any of them, dragging itself up and over the many shifting cliffs and crags whilst barely managing to keep itself from being ripped apart by the towering masses of rock slamming into each other, its eyes whipping rapidly around in an attempt to find a target. And it seemed that it had one.
Garrote’s chunk of stone, unbeknownst to him, had shifted from the obvious course, so instead of arching back down into the mess of stone, it careened wildly into the wall of the cavern. Garrote leapt off of his chunk of stone, using the momentum to roll onto one of the great stone spires slowly tearing out from the wall, bouncing to his feet and continuing his mad sprint across the uneven ground soon to break from the wall completely. The monster had all eyes on him now, its sole target. Whether it be a consequence of his person or convenience Garrote couldn’t tell, but it was certain to mean a quick and bloody death if he didn’t figure out a way to actually fight back soon.
Garrote reached the edge of his new platform and once again bounded forward, leapfrogging midair from stone to stone, trying to save his magic as best he could. He’d used far too much magic in that last attack on the elevator, and much more was sure to kill him. He could already feel the encroaching fog settling into his periphery, the unusual blur to his eyes, the wire drawn from ear to ear razoring every little bone down to their stubs. What even was this thing? And what were those creatures just hovering in the air? And-
To his left, its pitch as sharp as a fresh wind chime, one of the little floating insects rang out like an old grandfather clock, its swinging white tail mimicking the timed pendulum. It was simple, just 3 short clicks as it grew ever brighter, but Garrote knew immediately something was wrong. Intuition? Perhaps. Instinct? Maybe. Sense? Likely. Garrote drove his legs into the ground, scrambling away from the creature on all fours…threes, disregarding the boulders flying through the air,, and a good thing too. Just as Garrote moved, the little creature exploded outwards in a brilliant flash of blue light, obliterating a massive section of the platform behind him completely.
Garrote tumbled head over heel off the edge of the floating stone hunk, the sudden burst of the explosion shoving Garrote with unconquerable strength. He spiraled through the air towards the ground, unable to slow his descent at all. The deeper he reached into his magic reserves, the more his mind pounded, threatening to tear itself apart bit by bit. And even as he pushed past his agony, he came up completely empty, his clouded thoughts far from the coherence he needed for even simple casts. He was at the mercy of fate.
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Garrote slammed into the ground, rolling down the height of a great ridge, leaving behind a long trail of blood as he toiled to stop. He could feel shards of bones storming within the confines of his body, tearing through his internal organs and muscles without regard for his life. His vision was slowly fading, and beyond the searing pain all over, he could feel nothing. But this was not the end for him. No, it couldn’t be. A beast so mindless to kill itself in mad rampage was not fit to kill him. That was an honor he alone would bear.
Garrote united his body in protest once more, fighting desperately against the shackles settling around himself. He dug into the stone with every bit of exposed flesh he had left until he was leaving smeared trails of blood behind himself, until he grinded past his skin and into his muscle, forgoing any caution he might otherwise bear. His limits weren’t truly all he was capable of. No, they were self defined means of safety, walls to keep himself from tearing at his own soul with every cast. Much like Leo, Garrote had the ability to cast magic far beyond his means, but unlike Leo, Garrote knew exactly where the boundaries lay, and what would happen if he stepped beyond them. But in this moment, he stopped caring, his mind entirely singular. Slowly, ever so slowly, Garrote slowed to a stop, clinging to the bottom of a stone slope with the remaining scraps of his body, eyes dimly locked on the top of the crag.
At first all he could see was a handful of floating eyes peering over the ledge, a strange light echoed far back in the retina. Then there were more, rising up one at a time, bearing an icy, steely gaze which tore right through him. Then the head rose, the great undulating mass dragging its remaining eye balloons up with it, and finally, the hands, one by one slamming into the ground, dragging its twisted, malformed white body over the ledge, the wrinkles wrapped around its stunted torso akin to valleys. It dragged itself forward, every single eye focused entirely on Garrote.
In the beast's mindless rampage it had aided in tearing the cave nearly asunder, the walls and ceiling crumbling apart piece by piece like the ancient crumbling architecture of a long forgotten kingdom. So disastrous had it been, even, that the falling stone had even gotten to the beast, ripping one of its hands clean off, and gouging thick chunks of flesh several times the size of Garrote out of its sides and head. At the same time it had been harassing Garrote, the exploding sprites almost certainly its doing, it had undone itself.
The creature moved slowly, arduously, focusing closely on Garrote as he contemplated his life. Unlike before, the beast was exercising caution. Somehow, within the shattered body and mind of the twisted human amalgamation, it had thought and realized that it was causing its own demise. And now, it was focused, locked onto Garrote with the chilling gaze of a murderer a hundred times over. Its fingers dented the ground underneath it, every movment measured, careful, slow, almost…human. He’d been a little panicked to realize before, but the possibility was there and very real. Monsters were not human, they couldn’t even have human features, which means the only way an abomination like this could exist would be if a human had been somehow mutilated into this form, altered beyond recognition. Yet, such a secular procedure both wouldn’t have been tolerated and shouldn’t have been possible. But that was the least of his worries at the moment, and in reality, ever.
Garrote was by no means a meek warrior. His whole life he’d known nothing but combat, winning and struggling through despite the impossible odds against him. But, his enemies were a lot more powerful than he was, than he ever could be, and if they ever won, even once, it was over. This was simply a fact of his life, something that he’d long come to understand. Life imprisonment, slavery, torture, there was no way to tell what fate would befall him. So long ago, he made a choice. The moment things began to fall apart, the moment he could no longer smile bright and grit his way through, the moment he deemed his life beyond his means to save, his life was forfeit. A real shame. He’d really been hoping to use this against Tower.
Garrote rose his one quivering arm into the air, listless eyes locked with the visioned beast, his intent more than clear. No one was leaving here alive.
-Zenith Cast: Si…