RP:Ambush in the Oasis

~Part III of Arc:Chaos in the Nameless Desert

Cecilnezuto looked upon the oasis and remembered how he had helped an Elder Sand Wyrm once. It was that Wyrm that granted him the armour he now wore, for aiding in the removal of a Chaos Shard withing the dragon's body. As he washed the blood from his face at the oasis, he'd keep an eye on the lass that stood with them, noting that her companion had, oddly, vanished. Keeping his blade up, he stood and went near Guyon, looking about them as he pondered that figure they slew.

Guyon approaches the water slowly, still wary of another attack. Stopping just shy of the water, Guyon looks around and notes Cecil coming towards him. "How's the wound?" Shaking his head slightly he mutters to himself "Wha' the hell was that?" Looking around, the centaur remembers his first discovery of this place. “M’first time in these lands, I was n’arly dead, stumbled across this place and recov’red here.” A deep sigh and Guyon turns to the elven woman. “Where ‘as your companion gone teh?”

Ymheshphilun drew up near the water. Ah, at last. He needed a bath to get all this sand out of his body. He wished that his illusion could go swimming, but wearing full attire in the water would look weird, and he had no idea how to remove articles of clothing, if it was even possible. "He's off scouting the area," she said. "Probably looking for more of those monsters." She sat down at the water's edge, staring at it.

Cecilnezuto would watch the elven woman sit near the oasis and speak to Guyon, "The wounds fine, my friend. I've had worse, but if not for the bloods in my veins, I would be much worse for wear. I, too remember this oasis, I once helped remove a curse from a Wyrm here, that is how I recieved this armour. As for that...."thing", it seemed as if it had no life to it." Pausing and sighing, he grabbed a ration from his pack and ate it before continuing, "Whatever it was, it was not a part of the balance, it was an abomination."

Guyon nods slowly "Yes. Som'thing is not quite right here." The centaur turns to observe the elven woman, more suspicious of her now than he was when they first encountered her. Turning his eyes back to Cecil, he continues. "We will rest here for the night and head out tomorrow; there is something deep within this desert that is unnatural. It must be found and destro-." Guyon's comment was left hanging as a shrill screech filled the air around the caravan. Cantering to the very edge of the oasis, Guyon spots a dark mass moving in quickly from the south. Turning his human torso back towards Cecil he yells "Prepare yourself!" Drawing his bow and several arrows simultaneously, the Hunter notches three and sends them into the dark mass that's rapidly approaching. Two figures fall and one stumbles, but the rest come in, in waves. One figure takes a leap at the centaur landing on his back, while another dashes awkwardly past and takes aim for the elven woman. Two come swarming in from the side and make for Cecil, while the rest- nearly twenty or so- stay back several feet. Guyon bucks viciously trying to throw the berserker off his back, but fails to remove him completely; the hooded attacker draws a small dagger from his cloak and stabs Guyon in the side. Howling the centaur bucks even harder, this time throwing his attacker off. The figure hits the ground with a thud and moves to scramble away when Guyon rears up his equine body and brings it down with deadly force on the berserkers frame. Bones crack as Guyon’s weight crushes the attacker.

Ymheshphilun looked up suddenly, having several attackers running up to him. Well, only one it seemed was coming for him now but there would be more. He wondered if these beings knew fear. He knew that the others would--this illusion was distracting. The woman vanished, replaced with the massive, obsidian form of the giant centipede. As the attacker probably shifted his position to accommodate for this new entity, Ym blasted forward and attempted to seize it in his claws. He would not only squeeze with all his might but bite down on it and twist, trying to rip the assailant into multiple pieces and possibly eat some of it.

Cecilnezuto would watch as the attackers poured forth and was ready when two charged him, he'd whisper an enchantment and launch a fireball into the face of one, as he spun and cut down the second one in a fatal blue streak. Noting that the woman was now replaced by a....bug....he muttered obscenities, knowing he and Guyon were right to be cautious. For now, though, it seemed to be aiding them. Looking over to Guyon, he noticed that, as he bucked from the stab he'd recieved, that another attacker was coming in from behind the centaur and appeared to be aiming for his legs. Whispering his spell once more, he aimed his blade, hurling it as a boomerang at the figure, watching it slice through one attacker. As the blade hurtled through the air at the one sneaking up on Guyon, Cecil released his fire bolt at it, causing it to leap back......right into the path of the sword's return flight. Catching his blade, he spun in a slash, making sure any would be attackers faced the same fate as their brethren. (ooc Btw, Cecil's original class is spellblade, hence the fire bolts and such)

/- Ym's change into his natural form comes as a shock to the attackers, as the one who charged at him met his fate in the centipede's claws. Surely the creature wouldn't mind consuming the humanoids. Guyon snarls as the blood begins to fall from his side; forcing the pain into the back of his head, Guyon moves towards the other attackers, only acutely aware of Cecil's fight with his own antagonists. Turning to face the oncoming horde, Guyon sees, out of the corner of his eye, that the elven woman has been replaced by a large centipede. Smiling to himself he can only chuckle as the dark mass looms directly in front of him. Grabbing a fistful of arrows from the quiver at his side, the centaur notches four and aims loosely at the berserker troop. Several of them fall, and still others press in, forcing Guyon to takes steps backwards towards the edge of the water. Three press in from the side towards Cecil while an even larger group forms to take down the now present bug. Swords and daggers pepper the berserkers’ hands, while others have lances and spears.

Ymheshphilun snarled at the large wave of attackers coming for him. Perhaps a display, to ward them off. Turning his body, rotating his head towards the onrushing horde, the centipede sprayed a vile, black, sticky liquid at a wide angle. He also sprayed strands of webbing from his limbs, and aimed these into the black goo. The reaction when the two met was a small explosion and massive beam of sticky fire that blasted over most of the attackers in front of him. This may not stop them but it would certainly slow them down, or at the very least impair their visibility and confuse them. Following this attack Ym barreled into the wall of cloaked figures like a freight train, spreading his main crushing claws wide, trying to bowl the attackers over.

/- The horde of berserkers continue to press in, though a large number of them fall victim to the centipede’s black spray. Tumbling into each other, the attackers are left even more dazed than their usual state of disarray. As the webbing comes into contact with the black goo, an explosion decimates almost a quarter of the attackers; but the others are relentless. The three who have targeted Cecil have now moved closer, dangerously so; aiming for his legs and arms the berserkers with spears launch their weapons at their target. As the centipede bowls into those rushing him, another wave creeps up from behind, their swords drawn in the attempt to injure the creature’s numerous legs and hopefully vital body parts. The chaos of the ambush only adds more urgency to the air as a group of five press in on the now cornered centaur, their daggers and swords all pointing directly at his body.

Cecilnezuto watches as three of the attackers encircle him, as others throw their spears at him. From his current stance, after that spinning slash, he knows he can't counter it all at once and raises his shield to block one spear while the other cuts a fresh gash in his arm as it passes. Cursing at not having been better prepared, he eyes his attackers and rushes them. As he hit their ranks, he bashed one with his shield, a loud crunching noise sounding as it connected, where it hit Cecil didn't know, for he was focused on another attacker that charged at him as he slammed his shield. This attacker was easily dispatched, as the fool ran full force onto Cecil's outward blade. It was then that Cecil's sword got stuck...possibly wedged in bone. Letting go of his weapon for the moment, he'd recover himself as the third attacker stood and stared. Panting slightly and blood running down his sword arm, he rushed the attacker, spinning and slamming his boot into it's face before seeing Guyon and the bug were both in the same situation as he was.

Guyon attempts to get his back hooves out of the water, but to no avail. Forced into the pool, the centaur snarls in anger, his distaste of water evident on his face; however, the attackers pressing in on him were more prevalent than the liquid he now stood knee deep in. Attempting to race his attackers, Guyon grabs several steel arrows out of his quiver and shoots them into the foremost of the berserkers, taking the first two down and injuring a third. One of the non-injured berserkers charges in on Guyon, his blade aimed directly at the centaur’s stomach. Dropping his bow, the Hunter reaches for a blade he keeps at his side. Wary to draw it, but unable to exercise caution, he draws the blade. The sound of grinding metal is heard as it is pulled out of its sheath and is wielded in front of the centaur. Glowing an eerie and pus-colored green, the blade gives off an aura of sickness as he swings it downward in an attempt to ward off the blow aimed at his stomach. He succeeds, but only slightly as the attacker’s blade slices into his knee. Slouching slightly from the attack Guyon is too distracted to notice the fifth and final attacker racing around his side in an attempt to jump on the centaur’s back.

Ymheshphilun twisted after his rush, turning to pick up one of the fallen that he'd run over. It was this motion that allowed him to see the beings coming up from behind. Too late--a couple of them were stabbing wildly at his backside already, and if he didn't act fast the others would be all over him in moments. Thus, Ym threw the one he held into the others, knocking them away and pushing them back. He considered his options--he'd tangled them up over there for a few seconds, which would buy him time--time to do what? Burn them again? He could, he supposed. It would help. Maybe. But there were still others all around. No, what needed to be done was flatten them all at once. Ym drew in a deep breath--and screamed. Now this was no ordinary scream. This was one hundred thirty plus decibels of pure auditory overload. It was polyphonic and wailing and chest-blastingly solid and carried all across the area, possibly for miles around. It was tuned to specific frequencies--ones that would reverberate endlessly inside the mind, ones that would hammer on the skull and nerves, ones that would stir up the sand and lower visibility as well. It was almost musical, if only in the fact that it was the complete opposite of what music should be. The powerscream would be felt by everyone--Ym was unable to control who got it, so friend and foe alike would be subject to the deadly sound.

Zedreth ran in the darkness towards the commotion. Something told him he needed to act. Right as he came near the scene, he heard a skull-shattering shriek. He tripped and tumbled to the ground, thankfully out of reach from the enemies. He would recover several moments later, trying to gain enough energy to fight.

/- Those of the horde who were still attempting to get close enough to the caravan were immediately thrown by the scream emitted from the centipede. Groaning and trying to cover their ears, the berserkers trip over themselves and those around them in their desperate attempt to escape the frequency. It takes several long moments before the attackers recover enough to move again, though now their movement is slightly slower; oddly enough, the ones still standing withdraw from their targets. However, the action is only to regroup and come in as a swarm, a wall of bodies nearly insurmountable as a single entity. They surround the oasis in a dark mass of energy and movement, slowly closing in on the caravan. A first wave rushes the travelers, their weapons now seem to have slightly more defined aim. One makes something almost like a dash at Cecil, while three all launch themselves towards the centaur; the final portion of the first wave rushes the centipede, their sheer numbers possibly able to overpower the creature. The rest continue to press inward.

Cecilnezuto was about to retrieve his blade when the scream pierced through the air. He fell to his knees next to the blade and the blade seemed to brighten as if responding to the scream, but there was no clue as to what this reaction would incite. Shaking his head, his vision a little blurred, he'd notice the wave of attackers pouring forth and knew there was no time to retrieve his companion. Cursing under his breath, he rose as fast as he could and braced for the onslaught of attackers. His sword arm still had blood running freely from it and limited how heavy a blow from that arm would be currently. Instead, he met the attackers as they came on with his feet. He'd kick one in the torso and jump from the momentum, seeing his attackers pause below and look up. Spreading his wings out, he would flap them and hover for a little. Weakened as he was from the blood and constant fighting, he knew he could still last awhile, but had no choice other than to weaken himself further and began gathering the mana about him. As his body was enveloped in a crimson glow, Cecil would set his arm and blood ablaze briefly as he swooped down into the wave of attackers below him. As he rushed into them, he used his good hand to launch fireballs in rapid succession, not pausing to see how many connected, as he tore into them with his blazing arm, the flames igniting the nearby figures in a crimson glory. Feeling weaker after that heavy mana use, Cecil faltered and slammed to the ground nearby his blade and panted heavily, the effects of the scream having weakened him more than he thought and muttered curses at not having gauged his mana output better, he'd only lay there and attempt to catch his breath and hope that no enemies pressed in anytime soon. As the area was lit up from the blaze he'd ignited, his blade seemed to extend it's glow over the weakened Knight....

Guyon manages to give one solid swing of his blade before the scream pierces his ears and forces the centaur to the ground. The effect of the blade was unknown to its wielder and unfortunately, was not immediately seen. As the sound penetrates deep into Guyon’s ear drums, the Hunter drops his blade into the water and collapses to the ground in pain. Several moments pass before Guyon is able to stand again, though visibly weakened by the noise ringing in his hears and the blood rushing from his front right leg. “Damn,” he mutters to himself, though he hardly has the time. The horde is closing in and Guyon grimaces, knowing this fight will not end well. Scrambling to find his bow, the centaur is forced to defend himself sans a weapon as a number of the mutant berserkers jump towards him. Rearing up, he manages to place his hoof into the face of one of the mutants. It isn’t until now that the effects of Guyon’s blade become evident. Some of the horde further out double over, their bodies convulsing in rhythmic and painful patterns. They retch onto the sand; green and black bile ooze out of their mouths and noses: they are diseased from the inside out and several collapse. However, Guyon is too busy with the berserkers closer to him to notice. Having stopped one, the centaur attempts to focus on the others, but is only able to divert one. Two land on his back and begin clawing at the Kladruber, their nails digging into his hide, drawing more and more blood. Furios, Guyon begins to buck, kicking his legs high into the air and then bringing his body forcibly back to the ground. One falls from his body while the other clings stubbornly. Drawing a blade, the berserker forces it into the Centaur’s side and leaves it in.

Zedreth had regained his strength, and jumped to his feet. He saw the oncoming horde, and decided to help, keeping his identity concealed at the same time. He charged forward towards a mutant. He was ducking down while running, his left shoulder in front of him. He blindsided the mutant's calf, causing him to flip right over Zedreth. Zedreth immediatly spun around and released a shot from his suddenly ready bow into the next berserker in sight. Running backwards probably wasn't the best idea, for he bumped into another being as a result. Zedreth quickly spun around to meet face to face with a surprised mutant. The berserker gasped for air when he saw the arrow sticking out of his chest, with the shadowy figure's hand held firm at the end. His grip faded as the being fell to the ground. Noticing that he was in the midst of the chaos, he jumped and rolled of to his side and came to a stop in the shadows of the night. He realized fighting off the horde was not worth it, and he fled into the shadows waiting for a better time.

Ymheshphilun looked around in satisfaction. He'd done it, he'd cleared the battlefield. They were leaving--oh no, now what was this? They were coming back now. This time in force. Ym snarled at the huge number of beings rushing for him--even a good blast of fire wouldn't fell that many. He could scream again, but it was already ringing in their heads most likely--he'd done the mental damage he could do. No, this called for something drastic. Something that shouldn't even be attempted in this place. Something that was going to get sand all over Ym. He hated sand. Nasty, gritty stuff. Almost as bad as snow. but what had to be done, had to be done. Snapping his claws and vibrating in a certain way, Ym slammed his body into the ground and sank like a rock, burrowing deeply in seconds. By the time they'd reach him, he'd be gone. Well, almost gone. In reality, he was digging tunnels below the surface, reinforcing them with webbing and rapidly-congealing spit, the work going much faster than normal since the sand was easier to tunnel through. Then--still below the ground--Ym pulled the plug. His spiraling tunnels collapsed in on him with a roar, the earth exploding with a violent roar, a shockwave blasting out from the center, probably knocking all those gathered directly above the tunnel on their backsides. This was followed by a massive sinkhole, dragging many of those gathered to their doom as the sand blasted out in a second bubbling wave that buried them deeply. Those who remained would likely be shocked or stunned, and Ym would explode from the ground directly beneath them. He would attempt to grab just one and drag him under. Beneath the surface, should he have his prey, he would attempt to force his antennae into the being's skull, via facial orifice such as the ears or nose. He would try to twist the mutant's neck to the snapping point to kill him, then reanimate him with a jolt of energy to the brain. Along with this jolt of energy was a set of instructions that formed a rudimentary personality--the being would be one of Ym's zombies. He would then store the man someplace in the sand and go for another. This process of grab and convert would continue as long as possible--until the foes would get smart, of course.

/- The inner circle of attackers is the first to fall prey to Ym’s sinkhole. Hardly intelligent enough to realize what the giant centipede was doing, several were stupid enough to attempt to follow him; though in the process, they are blasted with the centipede’s spit and plastered to the temporary sand walls. The sinkhole drags a large number of the berserkers into the sand, trapping them indefinitely; the second knocks nearly half of the rest to the ground. Two are unfortunate enough to be directly above Ym as he explodes from the ground, and they fall into his plan of re-reanimation as even more zombified zombies. (oocly.. sorry for that.. they are already zombies… so they’re even more zombies now). Several of the newly made zombies are efficiently stored in the sand, while the unharmed remainder begin to close in once more, this time with a terrifying speed. Five launch themselves at the half-elf draconian, while another half dozen race towards the centaur, leaving the last of the attackers to try and take down the centipede. Their sheer numbers would be, more than likely, enough to disable the travelers at least temporarily. The berserkers’ weapons are mercilessly jabbed and thrown in the direction of the targets, as the attackers themselves begin snarling, seemingly egged on by the disruption of the sand. Their faces warp into an even more hideous sight than before as they close in, closer and closer, quite possibly overpowering even the giant centipede.

Cecilnezuto would breathe heavily as fatigue set in over him. As the glow from his blade poured around him, he felt....well, pretty good, not good enough to fight much more, but good. Also a sense of shielding....He'd sit up and grab onto his enchanted blade, drawing it's energy into himself, as he watched with fading vision, the horde pressing forth. Speaking the words for one more spell, he was going try to take as many out as possible. As he glowed a glacial blue, the Knight would rise and draw his blade from the corpse, tracing a glowing symbol in front of him. As the symbol was formed, a giant pentacle(Wiccan star), he sheathed his blade and placed his bloodied hand in the center, unleashing who knows what at the horde. "...And...I'm spent...." Was all he muttered as he passed out upon the sands, his energy spent. He did not see the wave he unleashed, nor how many he took out with it....he probably didn't even realize what he had just done, since he was so fatigued when he had done it.

Guyon allows himself a small smile and the mass amount of sand that was swirling through the air; being a desert Centaur, the sand didn’t phase him in the least. He struggles however to keep his footing as the sinkhole swallows the vast number of attackers that are closing in. Scrambling for his blade and bow, Guyon unleashes a heavy swing, the sword arcing through the air, unleashing a noxious gas in its wake. The smell is enough to bring the centaur to his knees, though it doesn’t stop him entirely. Re-sheathing his sword, Guyon reaches for a final handful of arrows; he notches and releases them into the still onrushing horde, felling a few, though not enough to slow their progress. Stumbling from nausea and loss of blood, Guyon lands into the pool of water- his blood slowly mixing with the clear liquid. Barely conscious, the Centaur turns his head towards Cecil, hoping to find his companion still standing, though unsurprised to see him fall. He smiles briefly, noting the large number of berserkers that are felled by the symbol that nearly seemed to glow in the sand. A sigh, and the world goes dark for Guyon.

Ymheshphilun burst out of the ground to grab another zombie to make a zombie with, but realized too late that the zombies were absent. On further observation, however, he realized that they weren't absent, they'd just regrouped--and they were coming for him, a lot of them. A good deal of them had gotten wiped out by Cecil's attack, but there were still too many to burn and there was no time to make another earthquake/sinkhole. Thus, Ym had to stop them before they reached him--whoops, too late. They started swarming him, clambering all over his body, stabbing and slashing wildly, nothing ever hurting him that much but there was an occasional flail that hit deeply. Those stung. Ym roared--out of rage more than pain--and did a barrel roll, smashing the attackers off of his body, flinging others away, and trampling still others. Once he was free, he snarled--these foes needed to die, and he thought he had just the idea. He would have to summon the Spirit powers unlocked by Kumorohyou. A purplish glow formed around his head as he turned back to them, a sphere of dark light between his antennae that grew and grew, until it burst into a broad beam of wildly shifting Spirit particles, a wave of devastation that might strip the flesh from the attacker's bones and drain their energy. The biggest problem with this kind of attack? It used a -lot- of energy. Ym nearly passed out with the rest of them upon it's completion. He would, however, have zombies down below to regain energy from later.

/- The combined force of the attacks unleashed by the travelers was enough to fell nearly the entire force of the berserkers; quite a feat considering it was three against several hundred. Only a small number, perhaps four or five, managed to escape the battle relatively intact; they fled the oasis, dragging their mangled and battered bodies back to their place of origin, leaving in their wake, a trail. One that the travelers, once revived, could choose to follow.

Cecilnezuto would stir slightly, openening his eyes and being rushed by fatigue and the aches of what the battle had done to him. Unable to move much, due to the extreme fatigue, he sat up and looked around. There was charred bodies, sliced up bodies, crushed, etc,. He also saw Guyon was out, but stirring and that the bug was likewise in a weakened state. He just sat there as a dizzy spell hit him and tried to recuperate.

Guyon tried to force his equine body into a standing position, but failed; the most the centaur was able to muster was to lift his human torso off the ground. Glancing at Cecil, Guyon attempts a smile, genuinely glad he had not perished in the fight. Wincing, he looks down at his leg, laid open to reveal bone. Guyon closes his eyes and places his hands over his horse-leg, the area glowing a gentle blue: a healing spell. Shaking off the fatigue, the centaur walks slowly over to Cecil and holds his hands several inches over his compatriot's body. Casting once more, Guyon is able, in the very least, to heal the surface wounds. Once finished, he turns towards Ym, shaking his head and chuckling quietly. "I knew yeh were more th'n you seemed," he says. "Thank you," is added to the sentence, the gratitude in his voice clearly real.

Ymheshphilun dragged himself, all limbs on the ground to aid with traction, over to where he'd stashed his minions. He sent out a small infrasonic pulse of sound, and the zombies erupted from the earth, walking over to where Ym was. He placed his antennae on one, and suddenly it went limp and dead, dropping like a ragdoll. He did the same to the others, and was soon almost back to normal operating speed. He thrummed, and vanished--replaced once more by that elven lady. "I'm sorry, you'll have to speak up," she said, watching Guyon. "I saw you speaking to me but heard little." She walked closer, leaving the bodies for now. They could be reanimated in due time. For now, what he needed was a bath. But it seemed that these people wanted to talk.