[IC] Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

[Gardevoiran]

@KRIEEEG
"... what?"

Stride walked forward and casually took a seat, he noticed his clothes were changed to a more formal set of attire, with a futuristic suit covering his torso. He also noticed his neck was split horizontally across, with visible muscle tissue revealing. It looked very gross and probably could make a lot of elves and humans vomit, but it looked badass as hell. The elf noticed the tankard of top-notch beer as he took a sip of it before talking to the pale man at the end of the table.

"... 'ello mate. Who're you?"

[KRIEEEG]

@Banana

"Ohh, I go by many names. But they are not important. Call me Tim if you need a name, it will do just as good as any.", the man had a croacky voice, and his tone would go up and down in random points of sentences like the voice of a teenager, "What is important is YOU. Why are you here? What is that on your neck? What do you remember? Do you want to go back? Who do YOU think I am? Those are the important questions!"

The tiny man looked almost confused by the half elf's interest on him. He could sense big events were tied to this elf, but the ropes making the connection were slowly losing it's grips on this one's soul. Maybe his path was a lie? The Old Lady wouldn't have reclaimed this one if it weren't for a good reason. Or maybe she just wanted to go back on her investment.

No matter the answers, this was just too much to think about right now. The small man picked up the mug in front of him and chugged all of it in one big gulp. As he rested the mug back on the table, it was filled to the brim with beer.

[Gardevoiran]

@KRIEEEG
"The closest thing I can remember was having a conversation with a spider about going for a contract I had with a man named Yashar... then our local powerhouse of our group tried to... kill... the... spider... and I got in the way..."

Stride felt his neck, and then remembered his past and began retelling it.

"Have you ever been to the Elven-Human region? Down south in that region was my hometown, and it was strictly against the intermingling of races and the babies they made. I had a bad roll and this happened, and I was haunted by everyone for it. Constant plaguing with life about how I was never going to be helpful and how I was just doomed and to be killed..."

Stride's eyes teared up at these thoughts. He wiped his eyes as he gulped a bit of the beer down.

"I went to a college for magical aptitude, and began to excel to the top of my class at it. During this time, I was aloof of a war that caused death to countless humanlike races and monsters alike. I felt like I had to choose a side after this war, and I went to the monsters. It seemed right because of how I was treated like a kid, an abomination, so I imagined I could relate to them about it. My first day in town, I heard a man call for assistance, claiming there were countless riches to be rewarded. I went to his tower in the town, and touched one of his staves he kept in his room where he did business. I was cursed to drool excessively, and I'm glad that didn't carry over here into this place."

Another swig of beer was had, as Stride kept speaking.

"Later, after we settled as a small group on this quest, I tried to recruit a spider for our group, and the resident Orc of our squad was afraid of spider, so he tried killing it with a swift blow of his axe. I got in the way, trying to save the life of the spider. Unfortunately, I think my head was taken off as a result."

Stride put his cards down on the table, and began to look at the man in front of him.

"To answer your final 2 questions, I'd love a second chance to go back and be with this group. Honestly, even though one of them killed me, I'd like to think that's a good trait for him, and I want to think of whoever's on this team as a brother... and that ogre was nice. As for who you are... hm... I'd say you were Death, am I assuming correct?"

[Turbowraith]

Upon being handed the strange magical bauble, the Skeleton felt an unspeakable wave of rage wash over him. Judging by his experience on wizards, it was surely a trick to bind him to his will, making him serve as a personal bodyguard till the wizard's death-

"...give you instructions on what to do and who to kill."

To hell with that. The orb would do. Though, his potential outburst was amplified, once the Skeleton processed just what the mage had said. "Rest of the crew." Crew. That means other creatures to work with. Now, one needn't be the brightest tool in the shed to figure out that lovely ol' ARGH wasn't exactly a team player, or that being in the proximity of one or more sentient and nonsentient creatures was enough to drive him into a murderous frenzy, incomprehensible fury, and perhaps even beyond that. Needless to say, the very idea was enough to make him snap. Yet, instead of any chaotic outburst, the undead creature simply stomped the ground with his massive boot, and turned around, beginning to make his way to said tavern. Though he remained silent the entire time, the pulverized pavement in the shape of his boot mark more than testified his mood.

Placing the orb in a pouch hanging from his kilt, the bony beast made his way to the market's fringes. Halting for a few moments, he mentally prepared for what would come next. The bazaar was as filthy, crowded and noisy as before. Perhaps even worse. Monstrous creatures of all sorts swarmed it, creating hideous (and highly obnoxious) waves of bodies. Just the sight the Skeleton needed to see, after learning that he had to cooperate with a group. To say he'd be fuming would be an understatement.

Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, he entered the sea of bodies head-on, walking slowly. At first, he did not react to the numerous monstrous denizens bumping into him, but as time went on, and with the help of an ever-constant ruckus, rage-induced twitches turned into violent jerks of the forearms, which turned into elbow strikes, and eventually evolved into a full-on frenzy. Plowing madly though the crowd, all whilst screaming profanity every inch of the way, he began leaving a trail of caved-in skulls and spilled vital juices, that, due to the natural chaos of said market, was barely noticeable from a good few feet away. Finally leaving the swirling mass of idiocy, he seemed to be near his objective. The tavern was just around the corner, and the crowd had finally cleared. Having returned to his normal pace -he had left the bazaar for a minute or so- he heard a gurgling cry, one he had heard before.

"'Ey! That's him! Get 'im boys!"

The ghouls he had pursued earlier. The bone-biters had returned, and in a small pack this time. Finding safety in numbers, they lunged at the Skeleton, who appeared to have frozen in place, unaware of the magnitude of wrath they were about to unleash.

***

When the Skeleton found himself before the inn, there was little to signify that such a structure was ever there. Still holding onto a ghoul, his fingers shoved inside it's eye sockets, and through ichor-seeping holes in its' skull they hand made themselves, he scanned his surroundings. Two strange bugs, one greater than the other, an ogre, a goblin and an orc with a massive beast were somewhat facing each other, while what seemed to be inn-dwellers were fleeing the site. This was apparently the "crew". Infuriated, he swung the ghoul over his head and smashed it against the ground, the sheer force from the impact making it explode in semi-liquefied giblets.

"ARE YOU THE BUNCH OF CUNTS THE WIZARD HIRED?"

It was official, this day could not get any worse.

[Pikmin Eye]

Bob was staring at the destruction of the inn, not out of sadness it was gone. He was more focused on all that loot that will not be claimed by anyone now. Still, with everyone here and the spider asking once again what they were supposed to do since the only person with a clue of what to do is dead. Bob was considering asking if it was too much to just go to Yashar and ask him personally. They were hired by him, right? His thoughts were destroyed by distant stomping. Oh great, is that another "group member" or someone mad they burned the inn?

He didn't have to wonder very long as the ground shook with the force of a ghoulish skull shattering upon the ground. Was that a skeleton, and did it kill a ghoul? The time for questions was not now as the skeleton spoke one sentence. He was hired as well by Yashar? This day was about to get a lot worse. Bob still decided that only he was qualified to introduce the supposed group he was a part of. He didn't make any sign of moving towards the towering skeleton that looked like it was about to strangle anything that got to close. Instead, he yelled from a distance he deemed safe.

"Don't tell me, you are also joining this group? I didn't know the standards were so low that even common monsters with even the faintest signs of intelligence were allowed. This is starting to look like the cannon fodder team. My name is Bob, that's Stink the Orc. We also have a giant spider over there. Those two giant beasts are not that important, seeing as they are as bright as the Ogre. Also, the entire inn was destroyed by Stink and the spider. So, we already lost the elf guy. Do you have a name, or should I just call you Rage?"

He grinned at the names he came up with quickly. That should teach them for having the reaction time of an Ogre. Now to back away slightly from Rage before he starts a rampage on everyone here. This mission must have been important if he let the first things that responded to do this. Still, they didn't even start the quest. The elf died already and it looks like more are about to follow suit.

[KRIEEEG]

@Banana

Seeing the dead half elf take his questions that seriously and spill out his entire life story was both boring and amusing to Tim. Mortals never failed to bring a smile to his face. They always took things so literally, even the magic inclined ones. "Death? Me? Hahahaha! Boy, you really need to learn a thing or two about this place. First off, Death? She's a crazy ol--

Before the pale little man could finish his sentence, a door opened itself in the back of the inn. A tanned woman, with brigh white hair came through with and, with her, a comforting cold breeze. As she came closer to the table, Stride was able to see her better. Her hair seemed ethereal and was contantly moving, even when she stoped. Despite her pointy ears, her facial features clearly showed she had no relation to any races known to stride. Her face was long with protrudent bones. Her eyes slightly bigger than the eyes of a human, but they were all white, with grey patterns all across. Despite the unusual features, she was beautiful in a way that was hard to describe.

As she came close enough, Stride was able to notice that her light blue robes were translucid and that, if he focused on it, he'd be able to see her body underneat. Before he could dwelve more into her appearance, she begun to speak "What were you saying, Tim?" Her voice was sweet and melodic, and she sounded almost playful. The emphasis she put on "Tim" clearly showed that she was amused at the name chosen by her assistant.

"I am the one your kind would call Death. Although you can call me Shalana, it's the closest to my real name that your kind can pronounce. What have you guys discussed already?" She asked with a pleasant smile that showed her sharp teeth.

[Gardevoiran]

@KRIEEEG

A series of attempted words escaped Stride's mouth as he attempted to speak. So he was dead. That's just a shitty day already, but now he's speaking face-to-face with THE Death. Some necromancers would quiver at the thought of this, hoping they could even see her in person, but most (if not all) never saw her.

And here he was, looking at her himself. Stride finished stumbling over his words as he managed to speak again.

"N-Nothing much aside from a quick summary of my life."

Stride was terrified. Even if he was in complete safety, he was face to face with the one person who decided if he rose back to life or stayed dead. He tried to calm down and show that he was brave enough to ear his life, but he couldn't, as he started to sweat a very small bit.

"Many apologies, miss Shalana. It's just I never thought I would actually be talking to death itself."

Stride took a deep breath and spoke once more, his coat starting to change to a color more suited to him, which was a shade of crimson, unsurprisingly.

"So... why am I here...?"

[Turbowraith]

Nervous twitches began to manifest at the Skeleton's right hand as the scrap-clad goblin began what seemed to be an introductory monologue. His rage was growing hotter and hotter by the second, partly from the goblin's voice, which the Skeleton deemed extremely vexing, and partly by it's attitude. Then, it happened. The tinker asked for the Skeleton's name. Perhaps this was a sort of mental tripwire for the reanimated barbarian, since his silent, simmering fury turned into an all-out psychotic frenzy. Clutching his knuckle dusters with excessive force, he began walking at an increasingly fast pace towards Bob, screaming in a barely coherent manner:

"NAME?! NAME?! NAME?!"

Whatever unnameable force surrounded the skeleton began to react along with his mental state. It flared up, swirled and coalesced around his bony form, producing an effect that would surely be highly noticeable to any spiritually-attuned creatures that happened to be around. Slowly gaining more and more speed, he swung his hand back and prepared a punch that would surely send the green git flying backwards if it connected.

[6slyboy6]

Right after the Inn collapsed and the dust settled, silence befall the group. It was a pretty weird sight consudering all the weirdos gathered around, but for a good minute there was just the bustling of the passer bys, some who were already familiar with such events in the city, and some who took it by surprise. Nevertheless none of them stayed for long, and those who tried soon got scared away by a large skeleton approaching the Inn. Grox let out a painful groan as he stood up to investigate the weird creature. Sure he has seen skeletons before, but not ones this big. Well maybe he seen ones much bigger, but not alive for sure. He stood up as the sjeleton finally introduced himself, and was ready to answer when the irritating gob git decided to speak up. And oh man, it made the mistake of calling him names. Grox put his hand on his axe, ready to chop off the goblin's head any given second, but it seemed like the skeleton had the same idea. "Yu git don call me Stank! Now suffa!" Grox launched forward to grab the goblin by its arm, holding him in place to let the skeleton hit. He felt no guilt in losing another member of the team. Whether he realised it would get him more loot, or his inner hatred for goblins kicked in, he made sure to have a tight grip on the creature until the skeleton would hit him.

[Pikmin Eye]

Bob's smile was quickly turning to horror. The skeleton seemed to have reached a new level of anger. He took the time to back up, but it was still not far enough. He had one choice at this range to get out of here. Fire the cannon on his back and accept whatever happens next. Given his distance it could give him precious seconds before he would find out how hard the skeleton can punch him. This was a good plan in his head, but he missed one detail...

The large orc didn't like his master level of nicknames, and was grabbing his arm. It was a solid grip and now the skeleton was heading towards him, looking to see if Bob would explode into tiny pieces from just one punch. Still, he had a few backup options. The crackle of electricity told him just what he needed. The battery didn't die out and it was ready. With a thunk on his chest, sparks flew off of him. The entire armor electrified, hopefully enough to make the orc let go. This plan wasn't Bob's only one as he was desperate to not die to such odorous monsters.

The only other plan was just as crazy of an idea. The rather large cannon on his back taunting him. Laughing at him for not using it sooner. If he could have just reached it... Wait a second, he still had a free hand. He fired the cannon on his back. Normally, it was enough to send him flying, but he had no idea what would happen since an orc was also holding him. Best case scenario is they both go airborne, or even force him to let go of the genius goblin inventor. Worst case scenario, they both go boom and that might be enough to get out of there while the smoke was clearing. Today was a good day for testing the power of his jet pack with unaware passengers.

[Oraculum]

Ah, splendid. Just as it seemed that the destruction of the inn had finally given pause to these assembled savages' murderous tendencies, a new monster, apparently angrier yet than all of the previous ones collectively, had appeared. Not only this, but the goblin had, in a display of suicidal foolhardiness which drove Khri'zhatt to vigorously strike himself upon the snout, to both provoke it and stir the orc's momentarily sedated drunken bloodlust once again. And to say that the goblin had at first seemed to him the comparatively least insane member of the group who still physically had a head over his shoulders... At least the two brutes were, for the moment, focusing on the instigator of this new degeneration, who, it seemed, had not even been prepared for a retaliation to his taunting.

Noticing that the goblin, caught in the orc's grip, had begun to panickedly fiddle with his equipment in a manner which surely betokened no good, and had an overwhelming likelihood of ending in a large explosion of flames, scraps, fried green flesh and bones, Khri'zhatt himself began to grow rather alarmed. Knowing the green pests as he did, it was doubtless a matter of seconds before this one condemned to a fiery death everyone in the immediate vicinity - which happened to include him, Khri'zhatt. This was not at all a satisfactory turn of events; in fact, perishing to a goblin's machinations, however involuntary, was one of the last things he was planning to do that week, or at all, for that matter.

He hurriedly began to look about for some means of protection. Scurrying away swiftly enough was out of the question due to the wound inflicted by the orc's chain-hook (now, seeing him explode would have been far more enjoyable). Ordering Thrik to crouch over him would not do, either, as, besides there being a substantial chance of the lumbering beast crushing him, he was not certain the umber hulk's carapace was strong enough to withstand what would come flying out of the sizzling pile of metal. The only apparent solution was to find something to cover himself with. Pity that the inn's doors had all been either destroyed or buried under the rubble... Just then, his eye fell on the elf's still headless corpse. It might not have been of much use in the case of a large detonation, but it was soft enough for stray shrapnel to embed itself in it, and besides, had the elf not already shown himself willing to take blows for him? "Thrik, fetch!" he commanded. The umber hulk reached over with its horridly long arms and, seizing the corpse, held it as a shield before itself (or as much of itself as the relatively diminutive form could cover, at least) and its master, bracing for the presumedly incoming blast.

[6slyboy6]

Grox laughed as the puny goblin tried to escape. The tiny guys attempts to get free were pathetic, and Grox was ready to see the guy get beaten by a giant skeleton. However he didn't anticipate that the goblin was some sort of a mechawizurd. An intense shock ran through the arms of teh big orc as the suit got electrified. His hands gripped the armor even harder, bending the alloy it wa samde of. He let out a painfully loud groan jsut before the electricity stopped. Grox's hands were still gripping onto the goblin, more because they were shocked, and he couldn't move them, rather than because he wanted to. This sort of mechanical sorcery was exactly what grox hated and avoided. He considered it unfair TBH. Small things with the power of a battleaxe or something even bigger. He bent forward to look teh goblin closely in the eyes and made sure to shout right in his face. If he was electrocuted, let the bastard go deaf.

But the goblin didn't seem to give up a struggle and in a last dich effort triggered some weird thing on his back. At first it was nothing, a quite sound like something heavy but soft hit the floor. But then with an enormous boom the cannon fired on his back, leavign an explosion behind. Grox still couldn't let go of the goblin, and he pulled himself towards the goblin to avoid damage to his arm. The tiny git launched into the air, until grox's arm couldn't extend more, and then pulled the orc up too, with a less hasty speed. With no Inn to speak of any more, the two could fly uninterrupted without the ceilnig to worry about. However this magical flight lasted for about 2-3 seconds, as the two slowly began to fall down. More like pummeling towards the ground really. As they were already a good 7 meters up in the 7 meters up in the air, the only reasonable and possibly non lethal joice to Grox was Woggha. "Dum git com 'ere"

For teh giant beast it was only a step to take and it was already within arms lenght of Grox and Bob. He held out his hand to catch the two before they fell, making sure to get a thright grip on the gob. Grox jumped down from Woggha's hand, and looked up at Bob who was now hanging by his cannon as Woggha was holding him up, laughing. "Yu git gun mad? Ye crazy thingzies coulda killed us both! Woggha dun let im go till he cries fo mercy!"

[Pikmin Eye]

How did it get to this point? Bob was in the not so gentle arms of "Woggha". His plan failed and he had to stop and think what went wrong. Talking to the skeleton was where it started. Stink joined in and wanted to see him get punched. Electricity was counter productive to his escape attempt. The jet pack did exactly as he wanted. The brief moment of being in the sky, and the feeling of joy that they were going to crash into the ground. There was one detail he missed in this great idea. The oversized beast that was Woggha catching them both. Stink got out of it and that lead back to his current predicament.

Now Stink thought this was the point he would beg for mercy. That is not how this works, and he can prove it. Being held again was giving him another idea. If electricity got him in this situation, surely it will get him out of it. He still had the Sword of the Gods with him. No one was expecting a goblin to do something this brilliant. "You think this is good enough to stop me? You forget I am The Grand Royal Doctor Maxwell the Third! All of you shall bow down before the might of my inventions!" He knew where his sword was and he had both arms free. Time to smite the dumb beast holding him. While it would have been just as good of an idea to simply detach the cannon and flee. This thing was worth more than the silly idea of going without it.

The battery was still going and he was mad. Time for round two of his armors true purpose. It sparked and he grabbed his sword. While the idea of a goblin holding a sword while hanging from a beast might have been hilarious. The fact that now the sword was shooting lightning was not. Most of the lightning hit him, being the genius in a full metal armor. The only benefit was that the lightning did a good job recharging his battery in a loop of energy. He had no idea where the bolts would go, but once again assumed this was still the best outcome possible. He cackled with glee at the blatant disregard for his or anyone's safety that was close to him. His suit was electrified, adding to the amount of damage such a small creature was capable of dealing out.

The overcharge on his battery spewed out smoke at an alarming pace. The goblin was quickly being engulfed along with Woggha in a cloud of foul smelling sulfurous smoke. He only had time to swing once blindly at the beast, adding more electricity to the situation. Best case scenario was surely this could kill or stun the dumb beast. Worst case is he just made everything more angry, but with lightning added.

[KRIEEEG]

@Banana

Shalana was amused by how shocked the half elf became. She had followed his movements for most of his life and never saw him speechless like he was now. "Take a deep breath and relax a little. There is no need to be this tense." She waited a couple seconds as the elf recomposed himself. His robes turned into it's regular crimson tonality, which denoted how quickly he was adapting to this place. "Before I explain why are you here, I think you should know where is here. This is not the real afterlife, but rather a waiting room. You are not dead..." She took a look at the red scar on his next, "Well, you body IS dead. Your soul, on the other hand, has some energy left. This place will keep your energy level stable so we can talk as much as you want."

Shalana took a long look at Tim. The little man was drinking non stop since she arrived and would soon be drunk. It would be better to have him away and avoid that he spilled more than beer in his drunken dumbness. "Tim, would you give me and Stride a moment alone? Take your mug and go drink in the back." With her small helper out of the way, she could safely go on "Now lets move on to the why part. You are here because I need you. I've been following you for more time than you'd expect and your destiny is closely tied to something I deeply wish. Unfortunetely, you were stu..." For a split second, her face betrayed some distain "uncautious enough to stay in the way of an orc's axe. You are lucky, however. I've invested quite a lot on you, and I'd like to offer you a second chance. The question is: do you wish to go back?"

[Gardevoiran]

@KRIEEEG
Stride stood there baffled. From his understanding, he was tied with this woman from the start with his destiny, and that actually surprised him considering that he always figured he'd die in a tragic way and that'd be his end. Now he's receiving a second chance from Shalana, who was Death effectively. He had two options from what he understood. He could go back and attempt to fulfill this woman's wishes, or probably destroyed as he didn't adhere to what she wanted from him. Clearly, he wanted a peaceful afterlife, so he turned around, removed his crimson jacket, and looked at Shalana with determined eyes.

"Keep this jacket safe, it feels amazing. I'm going back to the realm of the living."

[KRIEEEG]

@Banana@Pikmin Eye@6slyboy6@Oraculum@Turbowraith

"So, you're indeed going back? Good." Shalana was smiling once again, her bright sharp teeth contrasting against her tanned skin. "I won't directly ressurect you, as this is not how this works." Seeing the confused look on Stride's face, she explained "There is too much at stake for me to show my influence directly over you. Some of my worshipers in the town have already received word of your death and have been given instructions on how to bring you back. Thankfully, time works in funny ways when you're dead, so they should arive before too much damage is done to your body, after all, I work with necromancers, not healers." She talked in a playful manner, her voice vaguely reminding Stride of an excited child.

"Now, when you go back I'm going to need you to fetch that book that Yashar wants. You will be facing a powerful group of human mercenaries when you get there and if you die again, I'm not sure I'll be able to bring you back once more, so be careful. I know for a fact that the book is hidden in the last room of the top floor, but someone or something managed to hide what lies inside that room from me. So, once again, be careful." With fluid movements, she crossed the remaining distance between the two of them and gave Stride a small kiss on his forehead. Her lips felt much warmer than anyone could ever expect from Death.

"I'm going to leave now. When that door opens, it will mean that you are ready to return to your body. Cross the door and you will be back to the world of the living, take too long and your soul will lose it's energy and dissipate into nothing." With those last words, she vanished into the air of the inn, leaving Stride with nothing but his refilling mug.

***

"STOOOOOOP!" A feminine voice echoed through the streets. The air around the fighting party seemed much thicker, making movements much slower. Even the lighting from the goblin's armor was slowed down. "Now calm down." Her voice was much more calm now and yet it held so much power into it that everyone was compelled to obey and look towards the source of it.

Into the street it stood a small group of robbed figures. All of them dressed in light blue clothes with their heads covered, except one. She was a small dark elf, her face uncovered revealing a stone cold expression. Even the ones without any kind of magic affinity could perceive that she had a power much bigger than most mortals could achieve. Her words managed to calm down even the Skeleton, who, for the first time in his unlife, felt something close to peace.

"We are here to save the elf. You are welcome to follow us if you want. We will take whatever is left of him to our quarters." Looking at the destruction caused by the group of misfits and the angry looks on the face of the crowd outside, she quickly concluded that they were the ones to destroy the only place in the city that offered beer. "You won't last long against all of the city. I'd advise you all to follow us. We will protect you from harm."

With not another word she covered herself with her hood while one of the other figures moved to gently take Stride's body from the claws of the umber hulk. Another one of them moved to take the still drooling head, holding it far away from his body to avoid the drool from reaching his robe.

As soon as the hooded group turned their backs, the air went back to normal and the party was free of it's magical hold.

[Pikmin Eye]

Bob felt time slow down, as a voice rang out over the town. Lightning, the fastest moving force alive, was moving at a snails pace. Whoever this person was, they demanded attention. He felt compelled to look at the group of hooded mages. Of all the things to want, they wanted the dead elf. No one should be worth this much attention, did he miss something? They just calmly walked up and took Stride's body away. The reminder that the town was angry didn't faze Bob. He was more concerned with who these people were. The open invitation to follow was too tempting, it was far better than this group anyways.

Bob was the first to respond, never one to know when to stop talking. He looked at his so called teammates, they were certainly destructive, the only one not reeking of odor or rage was the spider. "Hey spider, you joining or what? You are the only one to not go blindly attacking others. Might want to move before you end up being torn apart by these two. Seeing as you are tolerable, I'll give you that tip." He gave a smirk, now he was getting out of here before someone tried touching his armor again. He gave a small hop, and everything clanked against each other. the poor battery was still trying to keep up, more smoke pouring off his back.

He went to a jog to keep up with the strange mages. Stride didn't matter, just a dumb half elf who challenged an orc. He didn't know the details, nor did he care. Besides, between the two group members and a quickly growing anger from the crowd. Which, he did not destroy, for the record. He would take the strange new people over the current situation right now. He tested his luck more by talking while he walked with the mages. "Hey, who do you think you are to take a dead body? That saliva could be great for science, but you don't see me going out of my way for it. Where are you going anyways? There is nowhere so important you need to slow time just for a retrieval job."

[Turbowraith]

As the Skeleton's fist came closer, inch by inch, to meet with the goblin's face, a borderline surreal turn of events came to pass. The drunken orc that the troublesome ossuary had paid little to no attention to had lunged at his target and began, for some strange reason the Skeleton was not too concerned about, to grapple with the iron-clad goblin. This was not all, however, since the mechanized git had activated an unknowable to the skeleton contraption. Maybe it was his long absence from anything civilized, or his refusal to care about current events, but the undead creature was left rather perplexed, and twice as enraged at the sight of the machine functioning. He was left with nothing to do but scream and shake his fist at the unlikely duo blasting off, and eventually being caught by the Orc's massive beast.

The monster's frenzy still burning high, he began charging at the direction of both the orc and his mount, as well as as Bob, brandishing both fist weapons in a crazed manner. Leaping high in the air, he extended his right arm backwards, while stretching the digits of his left palm, as if he was preparing to grab on to an opponent during his landing. Yet, that landing was, oddly, taking far too long to come. He was, in fact, stuck right where he was, and so was every other creature around. Watching his right fist move slow enough to miss an ant served only to anger the deathless barbarian even further. Hovering there, he began screaming frantically, but even his jaw refused to open.

Through the cacophony, however echoed a voice. A resonating, soothing, yet somehow strange voice. The moment the Skeleton heard it, its' bellowing died down and ceased. Soon after he fell flat on the ground, once the spell had ended, having somehow lost all momentum from his leap. Still on his knees and palms, it turned its' eyeless skull from left to right, remaining totally silent. It was apparent that the woman's voice had evoked some sort of memory buried deep within the tombs inside the skeleton's mind, forcing him to experience a flashback that would probably be long, droning and somewhat boring to describe and read.

Not a moment after, the lovable assortment of bones violently shook its' head and stood upright, returning to his everyday self, and back to normal levels of anger. Making the usual gesture of bashing his knuckle dusters together, he grunted, growled and grudgingly followed the priestess, paying no heed to anything else in sight, be it friend or foe. Though unwillingly, he was moving dangerously close behind the goblin.

[Oraculum]

Just as Khri'zhatt had expected, there was a deafening detonation, followed by a whistling sound, some bellowing and plenty of smoke. However, and this was where his expectations and the turn of events began to diverge, no scraps of metal or smouldering tatters of goblin struck the corpse Thrik was holding. Flashes of unnatural light and an ominous crackling flared and resounded from behind the fleshly barriers, yet, again, no impact ensued. This was mighty odd indeed. Now more curious than alarmed, Khri'zhatt moved to peer from behind the elf's back, twisting his neck in a slightly sickening arch. It was a somewhat uncomfortable position, but he would only have to maintain it for a few moments...

...Or would he? Just as the top of his head emerged from behind the makeshift "shield", and the sight of the goblin, enveloped in a cloud of smoke, being held up by the orc's gigantic beast while being charged by the skeleton became open to him, he discovered with surprise that uncoiling himself was not as easy as he was accustomed to. In fact, he barely seemed able to move at all. Worse yet, his neck, already strained by the effort, was now being compelled by some preternatural force, evoked by someone screaming (for them?) to stop down the street, to twist in the opposite direction - all while being unable to straighten its original posture. The result was, to say the least, unpleasant. Not even the soothing tones of the enchanting voice assuaged it - in fact, Khri'zhatt was fairly irritated by what he perceived was adding insult to injury.

Hooded figures presently approached him and Thrik, releasing the mistreated elf's corpse from the claws of the umber hulk, who was too busy processing the fact he was surprised, or something similar enough, to resist, and leaving the two defenceless, with Khri'zhatt still trapped in his now outright painful position. Thankfully, the other monsters were likewise hampered in their movements, with the skeleton being oddly but safely contained in mid-air suspension. Then, all of a sudden, the spell was lifted, causing his tense muscles to instantaneously spring into concerted action, and thus his head to cartoonishly swivel to and fro before he recovered his bearings. Dizzy, with an aching neck and altogether far from pleased, Khri'zhatt heard the goblin addressing him in what did not appear to be altogether inimical tones.

"That's fairly obvious, isn't it? Bah. I suppose I shall take "tolerable" over what these people" he gestured toward the rest of the party, "have to offer. I'm up." With these words, motioning for Thrik to follow him, he set forth in the wizards' wake, thinking that, whoever they might be, they would probably have a clearer idea of what was supposed to be done than the assembled monsters collectively.

[supertinyking]

@Banana @Oraculum @Turbowraith @Pikmin Eye @KRIEEEG

"......aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
A voice, deeper than any humans, screams as it crashes from the heavens. A large, lumpy, blue creature crashes into a near by house, most likely causing a ruckus. A woman yells, an elven woman, and soon the small blue man is seen backed up to a window.

"I am so sorry ma'am, but..you do look ra-" He begins, before a pan clunks him upside the head, causing him to crash down. "..That could of gone much, much better." He grumbles, standing up, and looking around at the group. ".....Well....I've nowhere else better to go. Mind if I follow you all? My name is Horace. I'm an animator. I make stuff animated." The small blue thing declares, smiling, a large lump on his forehead, a goose egg welling up from the walop of the pan. He pushes it down, cartoonishly. "I myself, as well, am very animated!" He chuckles. He gives off a strange aura. A kind one, one that seeks fun, and friends, not the normal won-ton hate, or malice most monstrous creatures most likely give off, if the party was any example. Someone may think he was no monster at all.

"That hurt like hell, I need to make sure my creations angle me better when they throw me..." Horace thinks to himself. He had just escaped a sticky situation involving a dwarven girl's father, a animated hammer, and some hard to rub off lipstick....and lots, and lots, of ale. This had lead him to create a large golem out of kegs, and had it toss him a few towns over. Thanks to his small size, and plot convenience, he landed safely...sorta, and was now free to travel again.