Boss Battle: vs. Amygdala
"Sounds like mission accomplished ta me," you say as Ebrietas swoops a bit closer. "High fives all around, then let's head home. If ye find one of the pricks still breathin', take 'im with us."
Ebrietas gives a nod, which due to the sheer scale involved covers quite a bit of distance, and wheels back towards the recon team, relaying your orders. You take a deep breath, then let it out slowly as you survey your path of destruction. The viscera cleanup will be annoying, but at this rate the real task will be pulling all of your leftover bayonets from the roads, walls, and occasionally ceilings after all is said and done. Somebody's going to turn an ankle on one of the things before long.
A victory jig might be excessive; maybe just a quick bayonet flourish and accompanying pelvic thrust will do.
"That's a bit premature, don't you think?"
You whirl to face the speaker, bayonets at the ready. Partway up the nearest facade sits a massive spider with the bald head and extraordinarily punchable face of a man, or possibly a bald and extraordinarily punchable man with the body of a spider depending on how you looked at it. His grin is not so much "shit-eating" as "owner and head chef of an international chain of shit buffets."
"A jorogumo? And here I was thinkin' I'd never finish that scavenger hunt," you reply, scraping your weapons together in anticipation.
"Not quite. The name's Patches, and you, my friend, are fucked."
Wait. Something's coming. Oh no oh no EVERYONE BACK TO THE CHAPEL NOW I'm sorry I didn't see them I'm sorry I'm sorry-
You turn to see Ebrietas diving towards the recon team. A massive six-fingered hand crests the just-visible peak of Yahar'gul's chapel hideout and you feel faint tremors as a familiar lattice rises into view.
"We were hoping you lot'd run all the way inside. It would have made things so much easier," says Patches. "Although with three of the Lesser Ones there and no place to run, I suppose it doesn't make too much difference."
You rear back and hurl a bayonet at him as hard as you can, only for him to burst out cackling as he slips around a corner and lets your projectile smack harmlessly into the wall. You look at the soon-to-be battleground and grit your teeth; you can't eyeball the distance from this angle and there's no telling whether Patches will gut you while you're prepping the teleport. You're going to have to get there on foot.
You rush through the winding streets, occasionally lowering your shoulder and making your own routes through the sub-par brickwork. Patches' skittering follows you along the way, always somewhere out of reach of your munitions.
"My lord went through a lot of trouble for this, you know. He usually leaves things to the Lesser Ones, so you should feel honoured that he's come to handle you personally."
The frankly excessive amount of gore in the Cathedral Plaza nearly makes you lose your footing. Patches leers at you from atop its central statue as you struggle to regain speed after slipping on a wayward kidney. "I think that's about far enough."
The world rumbles like a washing machine with a cinder block in it as a titanic form crashes down behind him. Seven spindly arms unfold as the creature looms over you; you're not sure if this one's different or you just miscounted last time. It's hard to say, considering that this one doesn't have the tentacle beard the other one did.
"Master cleric, I humbly introduce the Breaker of Loran and Lord of the Nightmare Frontier:"
The beasts slams its many hands into the cobbles and casually crushes gravestones to powder in its grip.
"AMYGDALA!"
[] Write in...
Ebrietas gives a nod, which due to the sheer scale involved covers quite a bit of distance, and wheels back towards the recon team, relaying your orders. You take a deep breath, then let it out slowly as you survey your path of destruction. The viscera cleanup will be annoying, but at this rate the real task will be pulling all of your leftover bayonets from the roads, walls, and occasionally ceilings after all is said and done. Somebody's going to turn an ankle on one of the things before long.
A victory jig might be excessive; maybe just a quick bayonet flourish and accompanying pelvic thrust will do.
"That's a bit premature, don't you think?"
You whirl to face the speaker, bayonets at the ready. Partway up the nearest facade sits a massive spider with the bald head and extraordinarily punchable face of a man, or possibly a bald and extraordinarily punchable man with the body of a spider depending on how you looked at it. His grin is not so much "shit-eating" as "owner and head chef of an international chain of shit buffets."
"A jorogumo? And here I was thinkin' I'd never finish that scavenger hunt," you reply, scraping your weapons together in anticipation.
"Not quite. The name's Patches, and you, my friend, are fucked."
Wait. Something's coming. Oh no oh no EVERYONE BACK TO THE CHAPEL NOW I'm sorry I didn't see them I'm sorry I'm sorry-
You turn to see Ebrietas diving towards the recon team. A massive six-fingered hand crests the just-visible peak of Yahar'gul's chapel hideout and you feel faint tremors as a familiar lattice rises into view.
"We were hoping you lot'd run all the way inside. It would have made things so much easier," says Patches. "Although with three of the Lesser Ones there and no place to run, I suppose it doesn't make too much difference."
You rear back and hurl a bayonet at him as hard as you can, only for him to burst out cackling as he slips around a corner and lets your projectile smack harmlessly into the wall. You look at the soon-to-be battleground and grit your teeth; you can't eyeball the distance from this angle and there's no telling whether Patches will gut you while you're prepping the teleport. You're going to have to get there on foot.
You rush through the winding streets, occasionally lowering your shoulder and making your own routes through the sub-par brickwork. Patches' skittering follows you along the way, always somewhere out of reach of your munitions.
"My lord went through a lot of trouble for this, you know. He usually leaves things to the Lesser Ones, so you should feel honoured that he's come to handle you personally."
The frankly excessive amount of gore in the Cathedral Plaza nearly makes you lose your footing. Patches leers at you from atop its central statue as you struggle to regain speed after slipping on a wayward kidney. "I think that's about far enough."
The world rumbles like a washing machine with a cinder block in it as a titanic form crashes down behind him. Seven spindly arms unfold as the creature looms over you; you're not sure if this one's different or you just miscounted last time. It's hard to say, considering that this one doesn't have the tentacle beard the other one did.
"Master cleric, I humbly introduce the Breaker of Loran and Lord of the Nightmare Frontier:"
The beasts slams its many hands into the cobbles and casually crushes gravestones to powder in its grip.
"AMYGDALA!"
[] Write in...
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