Anything, when meticulously crafted and refined for a single, specific purpose, free from all unnecessary trappings and features, embodies a form that is pure and captivating. Like the most elegant of instruments, or the most elegant of weapons - their intrinsic beauty lies in their purity of purpose. In this, the human heart can not help but be enamored.
But when we ponder the nature of such beauty, an ethical question arises. If the thing is fashioned for a purpose that falls within the realm of the malevolent or the unethical, should we still regard it as beautiful? It is one of the foibles of man that we are often attracted towards the aesthetics of perfection, even when it is directed towards an objectionable end.
- The Principles of Conflict by General Damien de Savant circa 234 AC.
A thing from myth and legend fixed its gaze on me, its slitted eyes emanated a primordial light and were mesmerizing in their ferocious beauty. The Manticore unfurled its leathery bat wings, shaking off the last of the stone dust before giving out a thunderous roar that echoed throughout the temple. I was momentarily stunned by the sheer force of the sound as it reverberated through my very core, causing my bones to tremble in response.
The monster lashed out with its lion’s paw, its sharp claws screeching against the metal of my cuirass and knocking me off my feet. As the world spun around me, a burst of adrenaline flooded my system. Time seemed to slow down as I rolled to evade a liquid projectile hurtling through the air, taking cover behind one of the lifelike statues. The gob of whatever it was sizzled upon contact with the stone floor where I had been, just scant moments before. The creature possessed the ability to spit acid, or something equally deadly.
The temple resounded with laughter, a mocking echo that seemed to pierce through to my soul. It was the laughter of the godling, taunting me mercilessly.
It launched another attack, pouncing at me, which by some miracle, I dodged by half-rolling out of the way. I even managed to score a glancing hit with the blade of my weapon, but that was turned, for the most part, by its thick hide.
"You'll need to do much better than that. Struggling against such a juvenile creature, and this is only the beginning of your trials," Iasis, the Mother of Monsters, warned playfully, placing a delicate, clawed finger to her lips.
It was circling me, its prey. I was the only focus of its leonine and serpentine eyes, all four filled with equal menace. I kept the statue, a brutish Minotaur, between me and the monster. Dwarfing the largest of draft horses, it was of a fearsome size. But what truly unsettled me was seeing the alien hunger in those malevolent orbs. The primal part of me screamed that I should just run away. Fear, however, could give birth to more than cowardly flight. From fear could come rage. And from rage a serene form of clarity.
Seeking to cut out the root of the problem, I slashed at the goddess, the blade of my weapon passing through her form like so much smoke. This only caused her to erupt in new peals of laughter. Tsk-tsking in annoyance, I realized that there would be no choice but to play her game.
I focused on the task at hand and cast my investigative spell, Identify.
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Juvenile Manticore - [Chimerae lvl.12]
Health: 402/402
Stamina: 74/75
Mana: 7/7
Seeing something broken down into visible numbers soothed the part of me that feared the unknown. The monster before me, though no doubt a being of a fantastical nature, had Health, Stamina, and Mana. They were high numbers to be sure, but not totally out of reach. With my powers, given enough time, I could kill even this mighty creature.
A quick glance at my Status caused a small grin to steal across my face.
Health: 328/336
Stamina: 64/68
Mana: 9/14
Thanks to my heavy armor, the Manticore’s last attack only caused eight points of damage, a drop in the ocean. Even as I registered this, my Holy Aura was already starting to undo this minor damage. If I played this correctly, my victory would almost be certain. The only thing I had to worry about was its acid attack. Worriedly, I noticed the stone was still sizzling from the caustic liquid of its missed attack.
Almost as if sensing my thoughts, the snake head opened its mouth wide and spat a large gob of acid. The burning liquid missed me, splashing against the Minotaur statue between us. The acid ate into the living stone, causing Iasis to float closer. Her movement drew my eye, and although she hid it well, I saw a flash of anger cross the features of the dark goddess. So that’s what it was, I thought to myself with a grim smile. These statues were of some importance to her. That could be leveraged.
It was time to make this trial, divine test, or whatever this was meant to be, a little easier. I gave a challenging roar of my own, hoping to anger it even further, and forcing it to put aside whatever low cunning it possessed. In response, it simply offered up another bestial cry, and we continued our little game of Ring Around the Rosey. I started to cast an old staple of mine, Drain, upon the monster. Forming the spell structure in my mind had become almost second nature, but for some mysterious reason there was a resistance, an obstruction to the spell.
Nevertheless, I continued to push more Mana into the spell and the familiar black lines of ebon came into being. They formed a link between me and the mythical creature, and a flood of heady energy filled me. A flavor I had been without for too long, the very taste of life, distilled in its purest form. Between raw human cunning and the insidious power of Drain, it was just a matter of time before the thing died.
Unlike the Karilla, a large fearsome lizard beast that I had defeated in the Sainba, the Manticore sensed the link between us and stormed towards me. The monster’s feral charge was a hurricane of scale, tooth, and claw that smashed into the statue between us, toppling the sculpture over with a crash.
My timing was perfect, for I had moved out of its path just before the monster crashed through the stone, and I took shelter behind yet another statue. The silence of the goddess’ laughter was all the confirmation I needed to know that my ploy was working. Like the action games of the old world, this would be a battle of patience and attrition where I used the enemy to damage objects in the environment in the hopes of unlocking the next stage.
I just needed to repeat this. My goal was to wear it out and, at the same time, potentially destroy future opponents that could be born from the stone.