Seeing the massive creature walking down the hall with its allies, Siris hesitated for a moment, but it was only for a moment.

Siris: Finally a real opponent, your fight is with me!

He shouted this at the monster while pointing his sword at it, although he doubted it could understand him a pointed sword is usually easily understood.

Siris began to charge as the other warrior yeeks attacked his allies, however he could not afford to distract himself and ran forward without further delay.

As he ran he felt a weird sensation as if his fine muscle control felt weaker but quickly after it strengthened back to his usual norm, although this was barely registering in Siris’s head.

The small part of his brain still thinking of his allies and bodily sensations shut down when he was finally in front of the massive yeek.

It roared at the headstrong warrior and lifted its mighty axe to strike Siris down but the tightness of the hall for the beast worked against it as it took extra time to swing its massive axe correctly. Siris took this extra time to break into a sprint, as the red yeek swung the young warrior slid below the massive axe and then immediately stabbed the monster in the stomach.

With a yell Siris used all his strength and pushed his sword to the right, further cutting the beast’s gut until it finally cut all the way out through its side.

The red yeek began to bend over and with a small chuckle Siris began to turn towards the group when he saw the massive axe began to quickly move toward him. He put his shield in front of himself to stop it but the swing was too powerful causing Siris to fly back and slam into the wall.

Barely landing on his feet Siris stumbled in pain towards the center of the hall to keep his balance as blood dripped from his head, his bones and organs not severely damaged thanks to the armor.

The beast was still alive and it was pissed.

Siris: shit..

As soon as Zarif finished off the crumbling wall, the chaos behind it was revealed. More of those cursed blue demons has surprised the other group. As soon as the wall fell, the priest and Siris charged past the merchant and the brute, scrambling over the rubble of the wall. Near as soon as the Priest stopped, he was set upon from another hall. Blast! They have us surrounded.

The merchant thought to yell to Siris to help Idden, but the overly excited mercenary charged off down the far hall into the darkness, shouting. The priest, clutching his side, hobbled away, and despite his wound, cried out resolutely. Zarif was no follower of this man's strange god, but seeing him standing brave despite his near-death inspired the foreigner all the same. Without his companion with him, he latched onto whatever he could to give him courage, it would seem.

Zarif: Etor! On me! Phalanx formation on the hall! Swap spears!

The once-merchant shouted, stuffing as much false bravado and valor into his words as he could, and charged, still gripping his longspear. He reached the hall, stepping in the Priest's own blood, and, tragically, slipped, his pear going wide and to the side of the robed Yeek down the hall. This heavy spear would leave him a sitting duck against these stronger looking yeeks... he hoped Etor had heard his cry. He had but seconds before it was too late

Etor: " This has been a surprising situation. Everyone we have company. Possible ambush."

Some are quicker to action then Etor as he is somewhat slow to relay information. They are pincered from the back and the front. Just then Zarif tossed Etor back his longspear.

Etor: "Yes! No I am more comfortable with the distance. "

The young spearman moves away from the oncoming yeeks from the front and attacks the yeek coming the side but misses.

Etor: "Ack I must be out of practice. We can fight out from this corner. That red thing is a yeek?"

The Hellions find themselves thrown off balance. Flanked, wounded and uncoordinated to top it off. It would require a bit more waiting to find out if, and how much, they would pay for it. Between the theurg's pained spiel pushing them to action and the red bastard's gaze warning them to stay put, Lyun defaulted to simple offense.

He runs ahead, positioning himself behind Siris as he tussles with the massive Yeek ahead. His battle axe sheathed, one hand goes to move the young Hellion out of the way while the other one lobs his hand axe straight for the Yeek's midsection.

As Lyun's axe flies, taking the oversized beast down to flail in its death throes before the battered Siris, Ashür heeds the call of battle, dashing past Zarif, holding off his own lot and Etor both, interposing himself between the oncoming blue spear-yeek and the boy. As like, the scholar gives his meat shield a light tap on the shoulder and a few whispered honeyed words, sending Gesties off to rejoin the fray.

Kastilus: "Quite the calvacade of monsters, eh?" The archaeologist finds himself musing aloud. He does not duck and run for cover despite the precarious situation, nor does he avert his eyes from the dim lit battlefield. Simply gazing on with a cold intrigue.

Ashür: "Like as not, 'twas a Yeek through and through." The desperado replies to Etor besides. In the same breath he utters a word taken from the divines, not wholly unknown to the younger merc's lexicon. With the incantation, and a knobby finger tracing its rune, a sludge of crimson and shadow mire and engulf the warrior two paces to the right, agonizing it just as Gesties hefts that sickle sword for the final blow. Cutting down another of their numbers. "Worship too fervant of any divine is the path to many grotesquities. Pray thee meet not Zuzu's disfigured kindred, nor that our vice-captain loses himself to them."

With the greatest of the abominable creatures' assets fallen, accompanied by a might thump and the crunching removal of Lyun's axe, a wave of discontent washes over the little blue bastards. Quickly becoming near-on surrounded by the oncoming Hellions, brandishing their makeshift spear, the last Yeek remaining between Ashur, Siris, and Lyun absconds deep into the shade further on. A mire that very well could be hiding any number yet more of the rubber skinned monsters. All the mercenaries could go by were the slick patter of feet beyond the periphery.

Zarif too wields the short spear handing to him by Etor with skill, warding off the three Yeeks within from pouring out of their little squalid chamber. Robed in odd furs and poached cloths, the priest of the Petrified God mutters yet more words in its foul and indecipherable language -- like a mixture of guttural groans and high-pitched squeals. Yet it does again seem to have the intended effect, what muscles the squat creatures could speak of seem to strain and engorge with ferocity unmatched, a lust for blood apparent in their otherwise beady and vacant eyes. The thought of what mayhem they could bring should they become more organized. . .
The pair of warriors swap places quickly, allowing for the fresh Yeek to lunge toward Zarif. They exchange blows with their spears, yet no life blood is spilt. The stench of sweat and violent desperation grows.

Siris could feel anger bubbling up from inside him, but not at the yeek or Lyun but at himself for how weak he had been. There are few things he believed in but his own strength was one of them, even if the battle hadn’t been decided yet with how it was going it could’ve gone either way without Lyun’s help

As he gripped his sword harder and focused himself he saw a yeek running away from him and his allies into the darkness. Although he failed against his previous opponent, this time he would be ready. He must redeem myself.

Siris: Lyun!

Siris: …

Siris: Thank you! I’ll handle the one that’s escaping!

Siris yelled this without turning to look his ally in the face, he just focused on running into the darkness attempting to follow the sound of running to pursue the yeek.

Etor: " Yeah Ashur! These yeeks are nothing we can't handle."

Etor froze for a moment. The words Ashur spoke were familiar and he could almost make them out. Similar words were the last syllables spoken in the moments before his Father's demise.

Etor: "Dad?"

The young spearman realizes the words that came out of his mouth and that they were not in any coated language of incantation. He takes off in the opposite direction

Etor: "These yeeks are weird. That magic must make people hear things that weren't actually said. So weird right everyone?"

Lyun: "You, other side."

The brute addresses Gesties, pointing to the east-bound corridor before moving towards the opposite one. His bloody hand axe at the ready, Lyun blocks off the passage in its entirety, hoping to prevent further unwanted surprises.

MISSED! Rats! Gods damnit all! He had sounded so cool and in charge despite his strange foreign accent, ordering Etor to make a tricky maneuver with him. He had less than a second to lament his poor aim before a gnarled spear soared an inch to the left of his eye. The merchant supposed, perhaps, he wasnt the only one here with shoddy aim.

Watching the thief and Etor make quick work of the clumsy Yeek, Zarif plucked the spear Etor had swapped from the young mercenary's back, and readied it again. He'd always been poor with the spear, but one arrow was just not going to cut it here. Come on!

Zarif: Come on... Gods of my father, second time's the charm!

Zarif sprung, lunging with his spear, and this time, it easily found its mark, driving deep into the Yeek priest's chest. The disgusting created screamed something in some unknowable, hideous tongue, and died on the end of his heavy longspear, sliding off the solid wooden shaft, now dripping with its evil blood. Ther merchant smiled with a sick satisfaction as it crumpled to the ground, yellow robes stained with its foul smelling blood.

The rival merc sneers in response to Lyun's command, though only after the brute has turned away down the left branch. Wouldn't want to incite the ire of a man who could heft a cyclops or two across their shoulders. . . Rather than following the tanned goliath's words to the T, Gesties halts himself cautiously just before the path heads east. 'I'm not stickin' my neck out for these dogs.'

Ashür moves forward with a slow gait, trying to focus his haggard eyes to the dark of the ancient crypt. He catches the shadowy form of the brash young one in red dashing on before something catches his eye just beyond the purposefully slow advance of their meat shield. . .

Ashür: "Curse that damn Scorpion. Siris! You fool!" He manages to shout, albeit a hair too late.

With Siris far enough out of position, and the eastern crevice left wide open by Gesties idea of self-preservation, first another little gremlin dart outward, timing its charge along with the other warrior that the merc chased down. Together they strike with their spears!

Still, despite being caught out in the open, those sickly little bastards' ambush was ablated some. Thanks to his breastplate, the two pointed sticks manage only to find small gaps and drain a handful of blood. In the moment, Siris finds his resolve to retaliate.

Another sticks their gnarly azure head out from the thin hall, surprising Gesties whose eyes had been on Siris. Without time to react, they throw a fashioned javelin from the safety of their alcove. Though it just flies wide over the bald merc's head.

Lyun is met with opposition as well, thankfully his broad shoulders keeping the rats from scurrying out to swarm the younger Hellion further. One dives toward the brute with its spear, some vile mix of excrement and indecipherable substances slick upon the tip. While another Yeek abaft tosses its own javelin over the first.

With no other options left, the last remaining Yeek Warrior toward the beginning lashes out towards the triumphant merchant, hoping to put the human down and leave Salador masterless.

Gesties: "This is for my band you little freak!" Only now, the purple-wrapped Scorpion adheres to Lyun's words, moving up to strike back at the worm that caught his attention.

Unflinching towards Gesties cries of pain, Ashur pressed on, saddling up besides the younger merc. In a fluid motion he both draws his curved blade and deftly cuts forth.

Ashur: "Those wounds will only continue to grow if you should keep charging ahead without thought. If not for your own life, think of the band, _{your family}, your recklessness will put us all in danger. . !" He makes certain those words cut deep though with a hushed intensity lest they draw even more beasts out from the dark. The dark for which the two Hellions find themselves near on isolated from the rest of the group.

Kastilus: "Tarry not, tarry not, dear Hellions, my prize should be only just ahead."
The scholar muses now that the band has all but cleaned up the rear, moving a few steps down the cracked cobbles, gently so, that the soles of his leather bound shoes do not become so sullied in fetid bloods.

Lyun: "Agh..."

His wounds sting to say the least, no point in acting like they don't. Despite that, retreat hasn't yet entered the brute's mind. Still... There are choices to be made. He is not alone in those ruins, and not the only one looking to better himself through adversity.

And so, with a single step, Lyun opens himself up as a choice for the band's two theurgs: rush ahead and get some healing training or stay back where it is safer. The choice is theirs, and he isn't one to make it for them.

Despite the heavy weight of the longspear, Zarif managed to parry the Yeek Warrior's own gnarled spear, catching one of the roughly broken branch points with the tip, and returning a nasty riposte right into the foul brute's throat, spear still dripping with the Yeek Priest's blood.

All around the merchant, his allies were finishing up bouts with the other Yeeks that had poured in from behind the cohort Zarif and Etor had handled. Feeling like a damn hot commodity after that last move, he yanked the longspear out of the now spasming Yeek, strapped it to his back, and bounded down the hall, where Makeen seemed to be struggling to hit true against another fell warrior in the low light.

Zarif: Duck now, swift one!

Zarif shouted out in his exotic accent and he drew back the bow-string. He let loose the arrow, and, thanks to his many nonths travling cross the desert at night, his arrow found true, right between the spear wielding monster's beady, evil eyes. With a clank, its ill-crafted spear hit the ground, followed moments later by the wet crunch as the rest of its corpse hit the rough-hewn stone.

Taking a deep breath, Siris calmed himself as he felt the blood from his two shallow stab wounds slowly trickle down his armor. This wasn’t his first time adventuring into danger but normally he was always abandoned, the most logical solution, but Ashür’s words had made him realize this wasn’t like those times.

The young warrior looks around and sees how the rest of the his allies had not only followed him but kept up with him. Focusing his resolve Siris looks Ashür in the eye before speaking.


Siris: I apologize Ashür, you’re correct…

Without much else to say given the situation, Siris thinks back to his young days of constant training and decides he would be would still be best suited to watch the front so long as he didn’t stray too far. He speaks to his comrade with a serious tone

Siris: I’ll guard the front, even injured I’m more suited for it. As you say we shall advance together.

With his shield up, Siris slowly walks forward while waving his sword, trying to use it to get an idea of his surroundings and to deter and frontal assaults.