The Desert is Cold in the Dark [Dark Data]

[Jim Raynor]

The empty catridge plopped into the sand, its bullet casings spread all around. Jim grabbed another from his back, shoved it into place, and reloaded his rifle. Despite the long, steel spikes that the Impaler spat into the possessed statue, it had done little but decorate its already ornate surface with bullet holes and cracks. Somerled's amazing manipulation of the weather may have knocked out the extra threat of those spider-man creatures, but perhaps he had used a lot of energy in that move. Jim wasn't sure what else the skinny man could do, and he sure wasn't expecting what he saw, so maybe there was more to come.
 
A loud boom behind him scared Jim's thoughts straight out of his head. He spun, rifle poised at the disturbance, as a wave of dust and disturbed sand rushed over him. As it cleared, Sun Ogong cheered and celebrated among the ruins of the downed statue, its body shattered into fragments from the fall.
 
"How in the hell did ya do that, son?" Jim asked.
 
Ogong grinned, hopping from foot to foot. "I pushed him over! He just broke!"
 
"The bigger they are ..." Somerled said.
 
As if furious with losing their attention, the remaining statue grumbled, a sound like an avalanche of rock scraping and scratching, and pointed its thick, blunt sword at them.
 
"Don't think this one's gonna fall for the same trick," Jim said.
 
The living sculpture stamped its foot and lashed out with its curved sword stone.
 
"Move!" Somerled shouted.
 
Ogong hopped adroitly out of the path, and did Somerled.
 
"Jumpjets!" Raynor yelled. The two rounded exhaust ports on the back of his CMC-400 armour angled downwards and a burst of orange flame launched him in a leap as the sword slammed into the sand. A long divot in the ground appeared as the sword ascended.
 
"Geez. Gotta move faster than that," Jim said to himself, having felt the wind of the sword help catapult him away.
 
Raynor stared at the indomitable statue as it raised its stone blade from the earth. The monkey boy managed to scatter one of these monsters by sending it teetering over. How did he even get up there?
 
"I climbed it!" Sun Ogong said when Jim questioned him.
 
"Yeah, with a little help from me," his staff said.
 
Obviously still pumped from his recent victory, Ogong could barely stand still. "Let's do it again!"
 
"Let's try a less dangerous way," Jim said. "One that don't involve scalin' a ten metre cliff face that can crush you with a sword."
 
Jim primed his grenade launcher and fired three shots in quick succession. The projectiles exploded in a puff of fire and smoke on impact, but left little more than surface charring and small cracks in the sturdy sculpture.
 
"Hmm. Need more firepower."
 
Another mouthless roar preceded the next attack. Both swords swung down at them like a rocky mockery of a guillotine, both falling on either side of the group, hoping to catch at least one of them escaping the danger zone. The three scrambled, dodging another opportunity to be flattened as a spray of sand and dust washed over them.
 
"Everyone alright?" Jim asked as the veil settled.
 
"Yeah, I'm fine," Somerled said.
 
The absence of a chirpy voice furrowed Jim's brow. "Kid? Where are you?! You OK?"
 
Mirthful laughter reached his ears, quickly quietening. Jim snapped his head up, peering through his visor as Sun Ogong clung to one of the rising swords, apparently loving his free ride. "I'll get this one too, guys! Woo!"
 
"Kid! Get down from there!" By the time Jim muttered his demand, Ogong was too high to hear it. "Shit. We better get that thing's attention if he's gonna have a chance."
 
Somerled nodded. He sprinted across the temple grounds, waving his hands and jumping up and down. "Hey! Down here!"
 
Instead of taking the bait, the horned statue kept its eyeless gaze on the tiny creature scampering along its sword.
 
"Oh shit," Raynor mumbled. "He's noticed him." At the top of his lungs, he screamed, "Kid! Get the hell off that thing now!" He lifted his rifle and fired barrages of spikes into the living stone, hoping that he could draw its ire to him.
 
A grating of rock on rock boomed from the sapient sculpture. With surprising fluidity, it shook the sword that Ogong clambered over, forcing him to hug it tightly. Back and forth he rocked, as if the monkey boy were some unwanted substance befouling the rune-inscribed weapon.
 
Dammit, he's not gonna hold on much longer. "Somerled! Can ya do somethin' with the winds? Maybe catch the kid or somethin'?"
 
Murdoch frowned, then straightened up. "No."
 
"Ah."
 
"Guys!" Sun Ogong shouted. "I want to get off this ride now!"
 
With one forceful flick, the statue dislodged the monkey boy from the sword. Soaring through the sky, Ogong shouted, arms and legs flailing. Murdoch sprinted into the distance, keeping his eyes on the flying monkey boy the whole time. Raynor followed, but Murdoch threw a hand up.
 
"I've got this!"
 
Somerled increased his pace and jumped onto his knees, skidding through the sand with arms curled before his chest. Sun Ogong screeched like a banshee as he plummeted downwards and into the moving form of Murdoch. The two collapsed and tumbled in a mess of limbs and dust until they came to a rest.
 
"Heh, that's one hell of a catch, Somerled," Raynor said.
 
The grating quake of the statue's roar snapped the terran commander's attention to where it belonged. The obsidian behemoth approached, its footsteps shaking the sand beneath Jim's feet, gripping the stone swords as tall as him.
 
The kid killed the other one by makin' it fall over, Jim thought. But I ain't climbin' no walkin' brick wall, and the kid's trick won't work a second time. If only I had something with enough force to ...
 
Something clicked in his mind. Swann had been working on a test routine for a long while, but he always needed an alien eye to help with the finishing touches. Karax had examined the experiment and made a few final touches to it, but there hadn't been time to field test it before Jim ran off to Coruscant. They hadn't given it much thought since. Well, what better time to test than in the field? "Adjutant! Activate Project Hellfire!"
 
A series of beeps sounded in his suit. "Authorisation code required," cooed the adjutant.
 
Jim grit his teeth. "Diamondbacks are better than Vultures." If I live through this, I'll be makin' sure Swann pays for that.
 
A pleasant ding reacted to Jim's words. "Authorisation code accepted. Executing Project Hellfire. Stand by ..."
 
The CMC armour hummed and vibrated in a way Raynor had never felt before, as if a weak stream of electricity coursed through it. The lights inside flickered, and the servos that controlled his limbs went limp. As darkness filled the cabin, Jim rose the visor. It lifted halfway before his entire suit grew heavy and he tipped over.
 
"Shit!" Jim said, only able to see the black feet of the approaching statue as they rose and fell. "Adjutant! Adjutant, bring all power back up! Cancel Project Hellfire!"
 
It stayed quiet in his armour. Grains of sand danced before his eyes at the statue's footfalls.
 
"Adjutant!"
 
A deep hum echoed within the suit, quickly crescendoing as lights and beeps signalled the reactivation of the armour. A moment later, Jim pulled himself back up only to see the goliath sculpture directly above him, swords poised to strike.
 
"Project Hellfire activation successful," the adjutant said.
 
"What?"
 
Jim spotted what he hoped he would, but didn't think would be possible. A long, rectangular rocket launcher lay in the desert sands beside him. The Hellfire missile pod from a Goliath combat walker.
 
"It worked!" Jim yelled, snatching the weapon up and kneeling. As he threw the missile pod onto his shoulder, he asked, "what happened?"
 
"I needed to shut down the CMC-400 power source in order to successfully complete the execution," the adjutant said. "The energy required to activate the terran-protoss warp field was immense. I will make a note of this for Chief Engineer Swann's knowledge."
 
"Perfect," Jim said, lining up his shot. He focused on the right knee as the two swords hurtled down towards him, and pulled the trigger.
 
A salvo of eight missiles screamed from the launcher, smoke trailing behind them as they swerved and weaved around each other in a cluster. A moment later they connected with their target, vanishing in a blazing plume of fire, the shockwave knocking Raynor onto his back. The knee joint was obliterated, sending chunks of etched black stone into the air like shrapnel. Unbalanced, the statue tipped over, following the momentum of its sword strike.
 
"Move!" Jim shouted as he struggled to his feet and legged it as fast as his suit would allow. An ear splitting crack strangled the air and Jim felt the earth move, staggering his run. He slowed and turned, taking in the segmented ruins of the last living statue, its unnatural life lost among the sands. A single leg still stood upright, the top of the thigh ending in an irregular, jagged stump.
 
Somerled and Sun Ogong walked over, both the worse for wear after their collision, but otherwise fine.
 
"Last one is down," Murdoch said. "Let's get in that temple."
 
Jim retrieved his Impaler rifle and saddled it in both hands. "If those damn things can't stop us, nothin' in there can either."

1595 words.

Jim used Tier 1 Super Attack - Hellfire Missiles. (3/4 SP remaining)

Second statue is rubble. Time to go in the temple!

[Nebula]

Sparks jumped from Nebula's conduits and consoles as Somerled's rain pattered softly on the parched ground, running in rivulets across the ancient stones. Cart-fulls of darkchips lay scattered and unattended, their operators blown away by the downburst or fled to pursue more urgent tasks. The black obelisk loomed over the scene, crackling silently as injured darklings attempted to extract themselves from damp sand and fallen debris. It continued to shoot intermittent arcs of black fire into the sky, and every time it did the sodden grit rumbled - but no fresh dust-storm arose. For the moment, the necropolis was quiet. 

Unopposed save for a few quickly-defeated attempts at interception by lone darkling raiders, all three Liberators hurried through the central plaza, past abandoned trucks and and equipment, converging on the ramp that would grant them access to the temple at the heart of the complex.  
"Ya know," said said the monkey-boy, "these guys are dumb. With such huge stone buildings, I'd have put some doors on them or something. Like, great big decorated slabs that I could close if I wanted to keep people out- Then we'd never get in!"

Jim and Somerled stared at him for a long moment, and then turned and sprinted up the ramp. 

Sun Ogong frowned. "What'd I say?" 

Above them, a pair of massive stone doors, exactly like the monkey had described, began to grind closed. He yelped, rushing to catch up - and passed the other two half-way up the ramp. 

It was a cinematically close call. Servomotors whined, boots thumped and bare feet slapped against ancient, rain-slick stone as the Liberators raced to make it through the rapidly narrowing gap. The monkey somersaulted through the breach, followed by the gasping weather-spirit, and finally the temple doors put yet another scrape on the battered bulk of Jim's armor as he barely squeezed between them. The two slabs met one another with a hollow, echoing crash, and an enormous cloud of dust.   

The Liberators took in their new surroundings. Before them lay a vast hall, two stories high and hung with rotting tapestries woven in purple and gold. Darkened doorframes loomed against the engraved stonework, leading off into other parts of the building. A ring of waist-thick columns supported the ceiling, and a series of black marble steps led up to a bronze dais at the far end of the room. Once, a golden idol to some faceless many-limbed entity had held dominion there, but this had been shoved aside, and now lay in a tangled mass of broken sculpture, piled in a far corner. In its place stood a thick metal ring six meters in diameter, standing on-end, and not quite touching the surface of the platform. It was as dark as the Obelisk outside, and inlaid with elaborate golden circuitry and pulsing violet engravings. At its center, a rippling violet window into another space glowed, its shine casting the entire space in starkly sinister black-lit hues. 

The only other source of light was the many pairs of glowing red eyes, peering at the Primes from the shadows and blaring crimson curiosity from the cowls of a line of silhouetted figures who stood backlit by the otherworldly glow of the Nebula stronghold's gate.

Final obstacle before the gate! One more challenge!

You've reached the gate leading to Nebula Space in the Dunes. It's watched over by a dozen corrupted priests. Formerly the clergy of the deity this temple was built to, killed and reanimated to serve Nebula's purpose instead. They are accustomed to the dark of the temple's interior, and will not be hampered by it. They function in two units of six, each of which have the following statistics as a group:

Stats:
ATK: 3
DEF: 4
SPD: 2
TEC: 3

Proficiencies: Physical Strength, Ranged Proficiency, Debuff, Area Attack, Ranged Materialize
Powers: Survival, Hive Mind, Disassemble, Phasing, Teleportation (Basic), Enhanced Senses (Basic)

Both groups have sharp, clawed fingers. One group has distorted mouths, full of huge teeth, which impart a poison that can numb and slow targets struck by it. The other group has large, sickle-blades on their arms. Both groups are capable of firing bolts of magic and dark energy. One can summon pillars of magic from the ground, the other can cast wide-area hexes and debilitating effects to weaken and hamper enemies. Both groups can clamber on and over walls and the ceiling like spiders, without difficulty.

They are fierce and savage, and will use everything they have to to keep you from reaching the portal. Your objective is to destroy them all, or get past them and through the portal. You are free to choose.

Damage Report:
-- 1 point of damage for everyone, from superficial injuries and wear and tear from being battered around

Everyone has six days and may make one post, up to 2000 words each, to overcome this last obstacle. Happy hunting!

[Dr. McNinja]

Ogong grimaced.

"Would you believe that we are the last vanguard against invaders that took out the last wave of guards?"

Twelve horrible mouth things hissed in rage.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," the monkey sighed, twirling Yeo Ee Pil in his hand.

Before his friends could retaliate, he ran forward towards the group of sorcerers with the disgusting teeth, staff held tightly behind him, ready for swinging. His charge was interrupted, however, by a volley of toxins from the priests' mouths. Ogong stepped to the side lightly to dodge the attack, hoping Somerled and Jim had already begun their assault. Fortunately, Jim was already opening fire on the other group of priests. Ogong was unsure what Somerled was doing, but hopefully the storm monster was being helpful.

Ogong swung his staff, which was in full complaint mode now. Apparently Yeo Ee Pil didn't think this fight was serious.

"I'm just saying, you swing me at these frankly gross faces all day, and-"

Ogong smacked a priest in the face while shifting his weight to narrowly dodge an incoming toxic bolt. "This really doesn't feel like the right time for this."

"You have to remember, I used to be a person before this," Yeo Ee Pil grunted as its butt-end was shoved into the chest of another priest, "And even now I'm still the ultimate weapon. All I want is some more respe- PFFMMM!"

Ogong had jumped up into the air and jammed the weapon inside one of the priest's mouth. He then spun it around, clubbing the side of the priest's head with his staff.

"See, now, that's EXACTLY the kind of ill treatment I'm talking about."

Ogong's eyes widened. Yeo Ee Pil paused.

"What is it, Ogong?"

A giant pillar composed of purple energy was rising in front of Ogong as the pair watched. The monkey briefly emitted a tiny high-pitched shriek at the sight of a huge magic pillar.

"...yeah, time to regroup with your friends, monkey."

"That seems like a distinctly good idea."

Ogong yelped as one of the pillars spawned under him, pushing him upwards and putting him on the course to being inevitably crushed. Gripping the staff tightly, Ogong rolled on to his side and off of the pillar, letting it crash into the ceiling uselessly.

Ogong kicked off of the side of the pillar towards his allies, casting a spell all the while.

"Taewuhrah! HWA!"

The fireball jolted forward, pausing the poison-spitting priests' advance. Ogong landed deftly at Jim's side. The marine was still blasting away, stopping only to shove a tiny little metal object into his rifle.

"For a second, I thought we might be safer inside the temple," Somerled snarled, "These fuckers just don't quit."

"Neither do we," Jim shouted over the deafening sound of his rifle. "Those pillars hurt?"

"Nah, pretty squishy actually. Though I still wouldn't recommend going on a ride."

"Alright, here's the pla-"

A dozen magical projectiles, containing a darkness that even Ogong's... limited arcane senses could detect, simultaneously hurtled towards the trio. Jim crouched to try and dodge most of the blows, as did Ogong and Somerled. All three were hit by one or two of the blasts, however.

Ogong groaned as he felt the darkness wash over him. He wasn't sure if he could win this fight anymore. He was just a kid, after all... and not even a human one. He was just a monkey playing wizard.

"What the hell is this stuff?" Jim coughed.

"Shit, we really can't take another hit like that," Somerled wheezed.

The trio were actually barely affected physically, but their pessimism began to get the better of them as the priests began circling them, charging their next barrage of spells. The six with the sickle-arms cast some sort of spell, making the ground glow a strange pink color. The sandstone warped as hands reached upwards, snatching at the heels of the Liberators. Ogong watched as his teammates practically allowed this to happen. Eh, who cares? So was he.

Yeo Ee Pil smacked Ogong in the head.

"Get yourself together, ape!" the staff hollered, "You know magic! Cast some spells to get us out of this sitch!"

"I don't know any helpful spells," Ogong muttered.

"You knocked down a giant titan stone statue with a high-five," Yeo Ee Pil retorted, "I think you can handle these dorks. Come on! Get up!"

Another barrage of dark energy washed over the trio. Ogong collapsed into a supine position. Yeo Ee Pil tried to push him up by pulling on the monkey's hood.

"Get up. We got this far, little punk, don't let me down now."

"I'm too... weak..."

The staff flinched. "He's admitting he's weak? That's not good."

"Face it, stickling," Somerled groaned, "It's over. We've been captured."

Yeo Ee Pil snarled. "Shut your face, I wasn't talking to you."

Yeo Ee Pil smacked Ogong again. "I said, get up, you lazy monkey!"

Black fog washed over the Liberators, making them weaker and weaker by the second. Ogong's magical staff groaned and placed itself in the monkey's hand.

"Listen, kid, I'm putting a spell into your head," the staff hollered, "Use it."

The spell appeared, like an old memory, but one that couldn't possibly have belonged to Ogong. It was a time long gone, a time since before time, before anything really made too much sense and even before magic existed. Ogong's mind felt like breaking even trying to comprehend the effect.

"Word Magic?" Ogong scoffed, "Are you kidding me? I can't even cast regular spells right."

"Just fucking do it!"

Ogong flinched at the sight of the ancient weapon of yore swearing. The staff did not seem to mind.

"Well," Ogong stammered, "I-It's not like I can cast it in this environm-ment anyway. It's too... Ugh."

Yeo Ee Pil started glowing. "Listen, those dark bolts might have let you down, but they ain't doing jack-shit on me. Don't worry. I got your back. Like always."

Ogong lifted himself slowly, using Yeo Ee Pil as a support. The staff grunted, but resisted the urge to whine about it. Ogong stuck out his right hand and began to speak.

"Words of Power, need my-"

"Heed," Yeo Ee Pil corrected.

"Heed my call," Ogong nodded. Two shaky arcane circles, one on top of the other, appeared above his head perpendicular to the ground and it glowed ominously. "Hehn-dehl-lyuh-la, ji-gu-yuh."

The circles flashed, and two characters etched itself into them simultaneously. The top character seemed to cast dust everywhere, and gave the impression that it not only could not break or bend, but would willfully resist all attempts of it, inevitably unmovable as a given. Yet the bottom character was the soul of movement, a vibrant energy that was looked like it could shake imaginary things into reality, and real things into the imaginary, inevitably unmovable as a given. The existence of two such concepts within the same plane was a paradox - one that you could not give up on, as it consumed your spirit and life in a war that ravaged your very being. These were not just words - they were thoughts, metaphysical beings that defined humanity, and every sentient being who ever contemplated something had poured a little of their soul into forming this idea. That was what raged through Ogong as he tried to channel the spell.

Even the priests, undead and mindless as they were, had figured this was a process they should probably stop. But they were not ready in time to halt Ogong's casting.

For after eight seconds of mental warfare, he succeeded. His eyes snapped open, and he knew the power of the tongue.

"Jump," he mumbled, arcane energy swirling around him, "Now."

His two teammates snapped out of their stupor and prepared to leap as high as they could.

"JI!" he cried, the battlefield for an instant appearing to be dust, mud, sand and fertile soil all at the same time.

"JIN!" he cried, and the battlefield was nothing but movement.

With a glowing fist, Ogong slammed the floor, bending the solid purple sandstone to his will. The rock cracked as it rolled, unnaturally and without grace, like a businessman who had avoided emotion for 50 years was now trying to breakdance. Because they had heeded Ogong's warning, Jim and Somerled, though they were the closest beings to Ogong, were unharmed. As for the evil priests, they were flung into the air like feathers after one killed a bird. Simultaneously all twelve priests felt the earth shatter beneath their feet, and then felt nothing beneath their feet at all. They flew into the air, the impact shocking their otherwise terrifying faces.

The ripple wreaked havoc in the structure of the floor, flinging all of the priests away. Ogong's two teammates stared at him in shock as the monkey hopped on one foot excitedly.

"THATWASSOAWESOMECANWEDOITAGAIN"

"Said the kid who, I quote, 'can't even cast regular spells right,'" Yeo Ee Pil snapped back.

The priests slowly clambered to their feet. Ogong returned to his fighting stance, preparing his staff for another attack.

"I'm better now. Let's go kick some creepy mage butt."

"That," the staff said, somehow rolling his eyes despite not having any, "was the pinnacle of eloquence."

1610 words. T1 Super Move - Earthquake used.
Remaining Order Points: 8 out of 11

[Jim Raynor]

Jim stared at the cracked tiles around their feet. How'd such a little guy manage to do that?
 
"Geez kid. Remind me not to get on your wrong side."
 
The inhuman hissing of the priests redirected Jim's attention to where it needed to be. While the shockwave had displaced them, none of them seemed badly damaged, rising to their feet. The red of their eyes flashed beneath their charcoal hoods, their long and spindly arms raised in preparation for their next attack.
 
"Ogong, you seem to know a bit of magic," Jim said, his rifle trained on the priests that slowly advanced on them, his barrel flicking between each of the dozen. "What was that ... malaise before? I didn't wanna shoot 'em. I didn't wanna do anythin'. That ain't like me, 'specially in a life or death situation."
 
Sun Ogong held his magic staff at the ready. "Some sort of dark magic. Nothing I know how to do." He shuddered. "Or would want to know how to do."
 
"Great. More hocus pocus. Don't suppose there's any way to stop it?"
 
"You have to fight real hard. That's how I broke out of it."
 
Jim humphed. "Guess killin' 'em's the only way to be sure."
 
Even in the blackness of the temple, a deeper ebony rose from the priests' gnarled hands. Thin, wavering tendrils of the darkest smoke swirled about. The sight drew Jim's gut tight. He had no inkling what they were planning, but it wouldn't end well for them.
 
Jim's mind raced for a plan. Outnumbered, blocked off inside a foreign temple, and in the dark, the odds weren't with them. But Raynor had been in worse scraps than this. There was a way through, and he would find it. He sweated as the priests skulked forward, their crimson eyes blaring in the shade of their cowls, like tiny flames set against the midnight sky.
 
Inspiration struck.
 
"Don't mean to point out the obvious," Jim said. "But that spinnin' ring over there's probably a gateway to wherever we need to be. And these fellas are gonna stop us from gettin' there if it's the last thing they do."
 
"So what are you thinking?" Somerled said. "Sounds like you have a plan."
 
Jim chuckled. "Not so much a plan as a hail mary, but it's the best chance we got." He looked to Sun Ogong. "Kid, you still able to conjure up some fireballs?"
 
The monkey boy nodded. "Mmhmm."
 
Jim flicked the switch on his C-14 Impaler rifle. A new cylindrical attachment lowered from the bottom of the weapon. "Good. I'm bettin' that these creeps ain't use to seein' the light. I'm thinkin' we should reintroduce 'em."
 
Ogong smiled. "I like this idea. I'll hail Mary too!"
 
"Once they're good 'n' distracted, attack," Jim said. "Take as many as you can, but focus on gettin' to that portal on that dais back there." His two allies nodded. "OK. On my mark."
 
One of the priests made an inhuman snarl and thrust its hands forward. A freakish black bolt of energy raced towards Jim. He ducked in time as it sailed over him, then jumped up and pulled the trigger as three grenades arced towards his foes.
 
"Now!"
 
"Taewuhrah! HWA!"
 
Sun Ogong birthed a ball of flame in his hand and hurled it at one of the priests. The brilliance of the fire lit up the entire temple, ephemerally exposing the cracks and blood that littered the walls and floor. The priests immediately halted their spellwork, the unworldly black steam evaporating from their hands as they rose them over their blood red eyes, screeching.
 
The fireball connected with one of the priests. His tattered robe instantly lit up, the hungry flames draping over him. A piercing shriek left its lips as it crumpled in a blazing heap. The other priests shuffled away from the pyre of their fallen member, the heat and light distressing to their cold and pallid skin.
 
Somerled managed to utter "Good hi-" before Jim's grenades erupted, ripping the sandstone apart and filling their ears with a cacophonous boom. Tiny pebbles fell over them as they recovered from the shockwave, a shroud of smoke blocking the view of the evil priests. Their voices were not so easily hidden; judging from their terrified and enraged screams, they were alive but ticked off.
 
"Let's go!" Jim shouted above the ringing in his ears. "Stay near me!"
 
Jim charged into the curtain of smoke and burst out the other side with his two allies in tow. Two of the priests had been caught too close to the blasts and lied in bleeding, twitching piles. The rest were disoriented, stumbling about and grabbing onto the temple walls and columns for support, trying to right themselves after a sensational overindulgence of their senses. Jim saw the metal ring in the distance, the purple etchings throbbing to an unheard beat, and the velvet tear in space at its centre.
 
"There!" Somerled pointed to the dais.
 
The trio sprinted towards their only chance at salvation. Three priests stood between them and their objective, quickly snapping out of their befuddlement. Their heads jerked upwards at the sound of their footfalls, and they growled like something approximate to a wild bear.
 
"No time! Take 'em out!"
 
Sun Ogong was already in mid jump by the time Jim uttered the obvious. Yeo-Ee-Pil slammed into the priest's jaw from the side, expertly guided by the monkey boy, and dropped the target like a sack of bricks. Somerled threw a knee forward, driving it into the next priest's stomach, and followed up with a sharp backwards smash of his elbow into the priest's skull. The last dark minister stood in front of Jim and screeched as the bayonet deployed from the terran commander's rifle sliced easily through its desiccated skin and exploded out its back. Shaking the dying creature loose, he rejoined his allies in a mad sprint for the portal.
 
With a handful of steps left to take, Jim felt his body slowing, like the air around him was thickening. He pressed forward, hoping to power through whatever effect was befalling him, but the more strength he applied against the unseen pressure, the more resistant it became. Soon even lifting his foot inside his armour was a chore, which then became an impossibility. His entire body was frozen mid lunge, left leg on the ground, right leg bent at the knee. Both Sun Ogong and Somerled had suffered the same fate.
 
"No!" Jim said through clenched teeth. The violet light of the portal spilled over the dais. "We're ... so ... close!"
 
"What ... happened?" Sun Ogong strained. "It's like ...  I'm stuck in ... rock!"
 
"I think ... those guys ... might know," Somerled said.
 
Jim craned his eyes about and spotted the reason. The remaining priests stood with arms raised. Dark light suffused their clawed hands as they chanted some unknown and grating language. More magic. Great.
 
"Heh. I'm ... outta ideas. Anyone ... got any ... bright ones?"

Words: 1,173

Jim used: Grenade Launcher, Bayonet
Sun Ogong used: Fire: HWA

Six of the twelve priests are dead. Six more remain and have frozen us in place with a combined spell.

[Summer]

Somerled strained against his invisible bonds, left foot stuck mid-stride. Every muscle clenched and contracted with his monstrous strength, but no matter how much he tried to push forward, he got nowhere. A small tick of annoyance sprung up in his chest. It had been a long while since he’d last found himself in a bind like this, something he couldn’t just force his way out of. It hadn’t been a fun experience then, and he had to say, it still wasn’t.

“This isn’t.. something you can brute-force... Somer,” his mouth opened of its own accord, his other half rasping out his his entirely useless two cents right on cue. His body suffused with warmth, as the little bit of irritation he felt immediately sparked into a fully-fledged anger.

“You say that... like... I don’t already know,” the storm spirit growled, teeth clenched as he could barely muster up the strength to speak. Every inch of him strained even harder against the mystical force, his newfound fury still not getting him anywhere.

“Then why... are you wasting... your goddamn energy?” Sonny snapped back as harshly as he could.

“Why don’t you... ask yourself that,” he seethed, electrical adrenaline coursing through his body.

“What doe-”

CRACK

A resounding boom reverberated through the temple’s interior, cutting off his other half as his left foot crashed into the ground with a brilliant flash of light. Stone shattered beneath his boot, and the magical bindings holding the trio in place faltered for a moment. With a powerful heave, Somerled swivelled on his feet, turning to face the group of magicians, another electrical pulse swelling up inside him.

“Keep doi-”

CRACK

Before the echoing thunder had gotten the chance to die down, before Jim could even finish his sentence, Somerled’s right leg erupted in a powerful flash, rocketing forward in spite of the hex. Once again the spell wavered, and the monster strained against the weakened bonds, pushing off the ground with his right foot and springing forward a meter, yet another pulse rising up. His mouth opened up into an unintelligible shout as he ground to a halt yet again, words drowned out by the thunder’s reverberations.

CRACK

His left boot crunched the tile below in another monstrous step. Amidst the rolling thunder came the loud report of gunfire from his side, and the bonds that had simply been loosening up until now gave away completely as hot lead slammed into three of the magicians. With an inhuman and inaudible roar, the monster lunged forward, brandishing his bullwhip as he charged them. The darklings lurched backwards, lips desperately flapping as they tried to regain their bearings, and one by one their spells fizzled out.

The storm spirit lashed out with his whip, the leather-plait scouring deep into the face of one foe, ripping a ragged opening in its cheek. Somerled shifted his eyes slightly to the side as it began to stumble backwards, face contorted in pain. With another, quick swing of the arm, he struck out at one of its allies, and with a magnificent crack, the leather tore open a wide wound from its temple to its right eye. He shifted on his heels, eyes quickly darting over to where the third should have been, only to see it shuffling back as well, magical flames licking over its body.

Throwing a quick thumbs up over his shoulder to Sun, he brandished his weapon again, lunging forward. Electricity began to course through his body once again, as the whip struck true, wrapping around the neck of the first darkling he’d attacked. With a quick jerk of his right hand, he sent the beast stumbling back towards him, the leather binding around its neck falling loose as it did.

CRACK

A fourth strike echoed through the enclosed room, as his left hand shot forward and met with the head of the magician. Flesh and bone gave way beneath his fist, sending a jolt of pain up his arm that was almost nullified by the pure electrical adrenaline coursing through him. The limp body of the beast ragdolled back from where it came, crashing into the ground and rolling to a halt. Somerled took a step forward, throwing a quick glance to his left as he snapped the whip vaguely right. The three that the soldier had opened fire on had apparently just fallen apart. Black scarabs scurried along the ground indiscriminately where they had been just moments before, and the monster faltered for a moment.

Teeth sunk into his right wrist, which he’d extended too far, and a furious scream rose out of the spirit’s throat, still inaudible over the reverberating thunder and gunshots. He whipped his head back to face the twisted being, yanking his arm back, dragging the darkling stubbornly biting him along. His left arm rocketed forward, and his thumb and forefinger stabbed right into its eyes without resistance. At once, the beast’s jaw loosened up, fangs sliding free from the holes they’d punctured, head jerking back in an attempt to escape the monster’s grip.

Somerled gritted his teeth and slammed his right hand back down, impaling his palm and the darkling’s jagged fangs, a faint jolt of pain coursing through his arm, quickly fading away. He closed his hand firmly around the jaw, and after strengthening his grip on the inside of its eye sockets, he yanked his right arm back, muscles straining against the beast’s physiology. After only a mere moment of tearing, its upper and lower jaw split with a tremendous crack. Somerled slipped one finger out of a gouged eye, swivelling his hand around to keep a good grip on its skull, and plunged its severed jaw through the empty eye socket. The magician fell limp, and the storm spirit released his grip on it, allowing it to slump silently onto the ground.

All at once, the squall of energy and adrenaline that had been driving him forward left him, and Somerled slouched, a barely-audible sigh escaping him. With the cacophony of guns and thunder gone, only a loud ringing in his ears remained, which would likely continue to drown out noises for a while, he figured. With a quick, clumsy movement, he transferred his whip over to his left hand before turning his right hand palm up, giving it a quick, cursory look over, with a few experimental flexes. Despite having far too many new holes in it, each with inordinate amount of fog rising out of it, there wasn’t any pain to it. Another sigh escaped him as he straightened back up, and he threw another quick glance all around him.

Jim and Sun both scurried about at around the middle of the temple room, chasing down the hundreds of beetles scuttling around in every which way, desperately trying to find some place they could reform. Somerled couldn’t help but giggle at the scene. Sure, they were what remained of one hell of an annoying foe, but the image of two people hunting down beetles so seriously just got to him. With a smile on his lips, he started forward. Hell if he was gonna let these guys reform and cause them even more trouble.
 

1200 words exact
Somerled used a whole lotta Lightning Strikes and his bullwhip, Jim shot people, and Sun fired people.
3 magicians remain, currently disassembled and hopefully never to reassemble.

[Nebula]

After a minute of chasing bugs, it became apparent that they were wasting their time. “Come on,” grunted Raynor. “Into the portal.”

They piled in, disappearing one after the other …

… Into a new world. The heat hit the party almost immediately. Even Jim’s nicely air-conditioned CMC didn’t help. The air wavered and sizzled, bright to the point of making it difficult to see.

“Blazes,” Raynor choked out. “It’s like bein’ in an oven.”

Ogong wafted at his face with both hands, tongue out and hopping. “The floor!”

Somerled stepped after them, assessing the monkey’s bare feet. “Bad luck. Should’ve brought shoes.”

They were in a tight corridor of stone, running about thirty metres forward before splitting in two. There was no sun, no lights – yet the air was bright, as though it itself was emitting heat and light.

Before any of them could so much as step forward, a figure stepped out of the corridor ahead of them.

Stepped out onto the ceiling.

Somehow, despite the angle, his wide-brimmed hat didn’t fall off. A leather mantle sat above two sets of arms, adorned with a shrunken skull and small bone trinkets. Beneath – or rather, above – the hat, his face was an off-white skull, fixed in a perpetual grin.

He didn’t say a word before aiming two pistols forward and opening fire.

The group ducked, but they couldn’t dodge in such tight quarters. The bullets ricocheted off the walls, denting Jim’s suit and grazing the other two.

The skeleton gunslinger laughed, and it was a hollow, mocking thing. Then he turned and ran, long strides carrying him quickly back the way he’d came.

“Why you …!” Ogong rushed forward, only to find the ground beneath him fall away.

Luckily, Jim was on hand to snatch the monkey back before he plummeted into a pit of spikes. “Careful!” yelled the ex-marine. “He’s baitin’ ya!”

You find yourself in a booby-trapped labyrinth, harassed by the Dusted Gunslinger. He’ll pop up frequently and generally try to make your lives a living hell, never letting you get close enough to hit him. You can try to attack him, or ignore him and try to progress through the labyrinth – either way it’s going to be annoying.

The labyrinth isn’t strictly Euclidean and designed to be as confusing as possible, including making its non-Euclidean nature not immediately apparent until you find yourself coming back to the same room despite walking in the same direction. You may find yourself going upside down across the ceiling of rooms you’ve been in before.



Proficiencies: Physical Strength, Ranged Proficiency, Area Attack Proficiency
Powers: Survival, Burst Movement, Basic Enhanced Senses, Super Speed, Stealth, Advanced Super Jumping
Moves: Revolvers, Mirage, Sand Toss, Caltrops, Wall-Walk
Super Moves:
Base stats
ATK: 3
DEF: 1
SPD: 4
TEC: 5

Pistols: The Dusted Gunslinger holds a seemingly endless supply of six-shooters, which he discards after use, and may throw at you just to be a bitch.

Mirage: The Dusted Gunslinger can create illusory images of himself, that look and act real until you make contact with them. He’ll frequently leave one of these behind while stealthing away – the only telltale of which is a slight shimmer around his appearance. Difficult to distinguish when the air is already shimmering hot, but not impossible.

Sand Toss: A dirty move, the Dusted Gunslinger tosses or kicks sand at your eyes. He’s a sonovabitch.

Caltrops: The Dusted Gunslinger drops caltrops. Sometimes these stick to the ceiling before falling.

Wall-Walk: The Gunslinger can move on walls and the ceiling, ignoring gravity.

Feel free to make up new moves! These are just some examples.

You have 8 days and up to 2000 words each, which may be split into any number of posts (though I recommend two posts each of around ~1000 words).

[Jim Raynor]

The floor before Jim tumbled into an impenetrably dark abyss, its base stuffed with flesh-piercing spikes. He clutched Sun Ogong in one hand, his pistol instinctively in his right. The maniacal four-armed skeleton danced away down the hallway, somehow sticking to the roof while he cackled like a lunatic, the sound of its voice echoing in an unsettling way.

"Anyone gettin' the feelin' we're just walkin' into one trap after another?" Jim said as he dropped Ogong onto solid tile. The monkey boy instantly yelped at the scalding floor and scrambled onto Jim's shoulder. "Woulda been nice of the doctor to let us know just what we were gettin' into."

"He probably didn't know," Somerled replied. "I wouldn't have predicted two stone statues would come to life, let alone this."

"There's no going back now," the monkey boy said. "Well, there is ... the portal's still open. But we're here to stop the bad guys!"

Somerled peered into the spiky pit. "Sure, but we have to get past this first."

"Heh, no problem. I got this," Jim said. "Kid, hang on tight. You too, Somerled."

Somerled grabbed onto Jim's free shoulder. "What are you planning?"

"Adjutant, activate jump jets!"

The orange flames flowing calmly from the two exhaust ports on Raynor's back angled down and exploded in ferocity. The three blasted into the air in a huge jump, arcing over the spiked pit with ease. Jim landed in a crouch on the other side, the impact shaking his companions loose.

"Aw! You could've told us you were doing that!" Sun Ogong said, scrunching up his countenance. "I would've held on tight!"

Jim raised his visor and cocked an eye. "Isn't that exactly what I told you to do?"

Something cracked behind their backs. Somerled was the first on his feet. "Guys, the floor's collapsing! Move!"

Jim fired a glanced behind him. The tiles were snapping off with loud crackle and plummeting into the ever-widening spike pit. The next two came loose and Jim bolted to his feet, sprinting as the floor collapsed behind him.

Sun Ogong had already taken off, moaning with every step on the red-hot floor. Somerled kept up a surprising pace, and Jim lumbered in last place. The booming of his metal footsteps blotted out the cracking of the tumbling tiles, and he wasn't about to stop and take stock of his progress, so he had no idea how close the tiles were to being literally ripped out from under his feet.

Somerled was the first to reach the divide in the corridor. He spent a fraction of a second deciding before dashing into the left side. Ogong screeched in after him.

"Come on, old girl, show me what you got! Jump jets!"

Jim felt the familiar shudder in his back as the temporary jetpack activated, but his next step landed on a tile already slipping loose. His breath stilled in his lungs as the terrifying sensation of falling wrapped over him. He went to shout, but a great force threw him forward and he sailed over the tiles. He watched as each individual square broke off and plunged into the pit, cracking and splintering on the spikes below. The pace was roughly keeping up with Jim's flight.

"God damn it, don't I have any steering in this thing?" Jim yelled as he headed straight for the hallway on the left. Sun Ogong and Somerled saw the airborne marine and darted inside. Jim crashed and rolled at the doorway's entrance, sparks flying from his suit. The inertia ran out and he came to a halt.

"Jim! Are you OK?" Ogong asked.

Jim grimaced as he stood up. "Yeah, I'm fine. Landin' was a bit on the heavy side."

"Let's go. We don't need that skeleton creature ambushing us again," Somerled said.

Jim's orange visor clinked back down, revealing the painted white skull. "I got the feelin' we'll see him again whether we want to or not."

The trio entered the next room. Still the air shimmered with an impossible heat and a luminance that made no earthly sense. Ogong quickly hopped back on Jim's shoulder, likely foreshadowing his mode of transportation inside the temple.

The room was empty except for a row of obsidian statues against both walls on either side of them. The sleek rocks were identical matches for the singular black menhir that crackled with creepy energy and shocked the sword-wielding statues to life, though they were many orders of magnitude smaller and no black lightning zapped around their surfaces.

"Heh. Functional and for decoration," Jim said as they marched through the room.

"Guys, something's not right," Somerled said.

Sun Ogong spoke up. "Yeah, I feel it too."

A polarising chill suffused the air, chasing the scorching heat away for a split moment, and returned in full force. Each obsidian rock had morphed into a four-armed skeleton, each hand gripping a grimy revolver. That hideous, empty chuckle reverberated off the featureless walls.

"Guys!" Sun Ogong shouted. "I see dead people!"

Each skeletal gunslinger aimed their barrels at the trio. Jim's hand hovered over his right leg, ready to draw his Impaler rifle from the cavity within, but it wouldn't matter. Five sets of four pistols on the left and the right would mean that if he was lucky, he could mow down three or four before he and his allies were peppered with bullets from all angles. His shield could only block from one direction too.

"I think we're in a tight spot," Jim said, eyes darting between each enemy.

Bony fingers curled on the triggers and pulled. A cacophony of bangs boomed inside the room. Jim waited for the lead to sprinkle through his flesh, but nothing happened. He frowned as each skeleton laughed hysterically and vanished in a puff of smoke.

"It was ... all a mirage?" Sun Ogong said.

"What kind of sick joke was that?" Somerled added.

Jim seized his Impaler rifle and cradled it in both hands. "Let's go, boys."

[Dr. McNinja]

“Fantastic,” Ogong grumbled, wiping sweat off of his brow, “It’s even HOTTER in here.”

The sweltering heat made Yeo-Ee-Pil feel unpleasantly warm to the touch, like grabbing a metal bar that was in the sun too long. Ogong poked the floor with the staff, where the skeleton was moments before.

“How the hell did he do that?” Jim muttered.

Ogong shrugged, not really listening. Yeo-Ee-Pil had gone silent again. Creating illusionary copies of yourself was easy. Even Ogong could do it. But this twisted maze was something else entirely. Ogong tried to remember his master’s words on Calligraphy Magic that could change gravity itself - but those were Four-Figure Power Words. There were very few, extremely powerful sorcerers who could pull off magic like that. If this was true, the three of them were out of their league. Sorcerers like that could undo the universe and still run a marathon afterwards. Well, obviously the universe would be undone and the marathons would no longer exist-

PING

Ogong frowned. This place was freaking him out. Now strange noises were just scattering around.

PING PING PING PING

A shower of pointy metal objects about the size of coins showered en masse from the ceiling. Ogong raised his casting hand.

“Caltrops!” Somerled warned.

“Wind! POONG!”

Nothing happened. The arcane circle failed to appear and the caltrops continued to shower them. Jim gently bent Ogong’s head so he was facing downwards, the caltrops sprinkling and bouncing off their backs harmlessly.

“What happened just now?” Somerled asked.

“I don't know,” Ogong winced, “Something's blocking my magic, I guess.”

“That's just dandy. You should hang back a little, kid.”

“Hey, you benching me?” Ogong snapped, “I took down one of those statues all by my selvsies. I can take care of myself.”

“You had your magic. Now you're just a monkey,” Somerled scoffed.

“I said...”

Ogong punched a wall as hard as he could, sending cracks up the wall.

“I can take care of myself.”

Jim and Somerled glanced at each other. What the hell was this kid? Somerled spoke first, his sneer hiding his approval of the monkey’s strength.

“Fine. But seriously, buddy. Shoes.”

“It's fine. I don't mind warming my feet.”

“Wasn't talking about the floor.”

Somerled pointed at the caltrops, which sank Ogong’s heart. Now he had to hang on for dear life on Jim’s armor. But so did Somerled.

Jim sighed as all three arrived at the same conclusion.

“Alright, climb on.”

Ogong gleefully chirped, hopping once more onto Jim’s right shoulder. Somerled climbed Jim’s back. Jim grunted under the weight of his teammates.

“This might get bumpy,” the ex-marine warned.

He stepped forward. The combined weight of the armor and three Primes smashed and bent the caltrops out of shape, emitting a satisfying crunching sound as tiny metal shards bounced up from the floor.

“Haha!” Ogong chuckled triumphantly, “Your little metal thingies are no match for Jim’s metal armor!”

Ogong’s ears perked subconsciously. The monkey recognized the warning and looked to the side, where a giant caltrop was tumbling from out of nowhere.

Ogong hollered in terror. Jim looked at what the kid was looking at and immediately stepped backwards to avoid it. The metal scraped past Jim’s armor and disappeared, leaving only the telltale scream of metal scraping stone.

“What,” Somerled panted, “the fuck.”

Ogong stood on the shoulder, causing Jim to stagger a little. “It just disappeared.”

“Sounds ‘bout right,” Jim muttered, “Listen, let's just get what we need and get right out of here. I don't plan on staying here any longer than I need to.”

“Hang on,” Ogong mumbled, “I see something on the ceiling…”

The monkey stood on his tiptoes to analyze the strange mark on the ceiling. The sandstone walls were now completely featureless without the statues, except for this one tiny etching on the ceiling. Ogong squinted to see it better, but it was still too high up.

“Gimme a lift?” the monkey said.

Jim grumbled, “This doesn't seem too important,” before lifting the youngster up with his hand.

Now Ogong could see it perfectly. It was a carving of a skull, jaws mockingly wide open, surrounded by four hands making finger guns. The carving was tiny - no wonder he could only see it up close.

“He left a little portrait of himself,” Ogong reported.

“You mean that bony lil’ bastard?” Jim grunted.

“Yeah. I wonder why...”

Ogong brushed it with the back of his hand. Then he fell. That was the okay part. What was not okay was the direction he fell.

He fell up.

Ogong screamed in confusion as he tumbled towards the ceiling, as if gravity had flipped. He landed painfully on the base of his neck. Rubbing it, he brushed dust from his sweatpants and looked up at the floor, into the bewildered eyes of Jim and Somerled.

“The hell did you do?” Somerled snapped.

“I touched the, uh, the carving!” Ogong stammered, “and then I just kinda, uh. Fell? Up?”

The monkey quickly glanced around him, realizing that only he was flipped upside down. He tried to jump back to the floor, but he just fell back up to the ceiling.

On the third jump, a panel slipped out from under Ogong and he fell into the ceiling. Yelling, Ogong wildly grabbed at the narrow tunnel he was falling through. Weirdly enough, his keen simian senses did not find anything for him to grab so that he might slow his fall. Instead, he plummeted straight down. Well, upwards.

“Sideways,” Ogong noticed, as he crashed directly into Somerled.

A panel in a nearby wall had opened, somehow dropping the monkey off at the side of the room despite the fact that Ogong had fallen in a straight line. The storm spirit grunted as the monkey collided with him. Gravity had still not returned to normal with Ogong, however, and the monkey fell once more to the ceiling.

"Now what?" Ogong grumbled.

Google Docs says it's 990 words. Ogong is now stuck on the ceiling.

[Summer]

“Now what?” Somerled repeated, reaching his right hand into his coat pocket with a grimace. “Now I’d say you’re shit outta luck. This is gonna make it very easy to get separated.” He closed his right hand around the handle of his whip, the mere action sending jolts of pain up his arm. That numbing venom would have been useful right about now. “Catch.” With a curt order, he dragged his weapon out of his coat and snapped it upwards.

“Wha-” Sun began, only to have his question cut off as he made a desperate swipe for the end of the whip, jumping for it and grabbing hold just before it got out of reach again.

“Now we’ve got a tether,” the storm spirit stated monotonously, switching it over to his left hand. This way he wouldn’t have to deal with the constant pulling and stinging.

“Thats nice and all,” Jim broke in, turning away from the two and heading towards the end of the room, “but let’s get moving before our little friend decides to pay us a visit.” Somerled and Sun silently stepped after him, keeping a wary eye out for any more tricks or taps. The soldier ducked around a corner, followed quickly by the tethered duo, and at once, the tension of the bullwhip loosened up, and the two were standing side by side.

“Well.” Somerled stated, raising an eyebrow as he turned to look back at the corner they’d just rounded, still keeping pace.

“That works too,” the monkey dropped his end of the whip, starting forward again. The monster hummed a note of agreement, casting his gaze downwards as he wound his bullwhip back up. Silence fell amidst the trio, disturbed only by their relentless treading. Somerled kept an ear out, the only thing keeping him from running into walls, as he slowly and carefully returned his weapon back to his pocket.
Shoving the leather-plait back into his left pocket, he lifted his head back up, sandy brick and stone filling his vision once again. His mouth fell into a frown, his eyes darting around his immediate vicinity.

“Guys?” He called out, lonely voice echoing down the corridor, drowning out his steps. With a careful sidestep, he spun around, keeping his pace up as he walked backwards down the hallway, casting a quick glance backwards. No allies in sight. “What do you make of this, Sonny?” He asked, hand darting back into his coat to hold onto the whip he’d just pocketed, as he spun back around.

“No comment,” the sun spirit barked out two words before falling silent again. Somerled gritted his teeth, keeping a wary eye out. He didn’t know what was going on with his other half today. Why was he being so fucking obstinate? Cautiously continuing on, he rounded a corner and...

BANG

A single shot rang out, and the monster instinctively pressed again the wall. A metallic ricochet pinged out behind him, kicking up a plume of dust, and ripping the bullwhip out of his pocket yet again, he kicked forward. The dusty, four armed figure that took a potshot at him hung from the ceiling, backpedaling rapidly as it revealed its other three hands from behind its back, each holding a new pistol. Somerled lashed out with the whip, just in time for another two shots to ring out, a burst of smoke emerging from each of the revolvers. Stone chipped off the adjacent wall and floor, one bullet rerouted and the other slamming into the stone beneath his feet.

He struck out with the whip yet again, face contorting with rage and mouth opening up into a monstrous roar as the gunslinger danced just barely out of range. Two more plumes of smoke erupted from the barrels of the guns, and two bullets slammed into Somerled, one hitting his right foot, and one his left hand, both of which exploded in pain. The storm spirit faltered, ears ringing as he stumbled forward, and with a maniacal laugh barely audible over the resounding gunfire, it skedaddled down the hallway before disappearing around a corner.

“FUUUUUCK!” A scream of pure, unadulterated rage echoed down the corridor, shaking the very dust out of the bricks, and the monster charged, heavily favoring his uninjured foot.

“STOP!” His own voice exploded out his mouth, an action that wasn’t his doing. With an awkward gallop, the spirit slowed for a second, just long enough for four more gunshots to blast out from just around the corner, four bricks exploding beneath hot lead, right about where Somerled would have been had he kept charging. “Jesus christ, I know you’re stupidly suicidal but holy fuck would you stop to think for one goddamn second.”

“Hm...” The storm spirit hummed, pressing himself up against the wall just before the corner. “...Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Just calm the fuck down,” Sonny sighed, “If you die, I die.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Somerled whispered, leaning out to peer into the room beyond. There stood an opening suspiciously devoid of anything, no statues, no hieroglyphs, no gunslinger, and strangely enough, no floor. “No sign of him. Bet he went off to disturb the others.” With no word from his other half, and no comment on the gaping abyss that was supposed to be the ground, he inched around the bend and towards the crevasse. He vaguely wondered how he was supposed to cross this. The other hall was a good dozen or so meters on the other side, and the waas no platforms or anything he could catch with his whip. Letting out a small hum, he stepped back a few paces, and picked up one of the rocks the gunslinger’s bullets had dislodged. With a weak, underhand throw, he tossed it into the room, and watched placidly as it turned around right in midair and clattered onto the wall just beneath his hall.

“Gravity’s fucked. How nice,” he muttered, taking a few steps forward. “Hey, how much you wanna bet that this kills me.”

“Don’t eve-” his other half’s protest cut short as the spirit kicked forward, flinging himself into the room, and right onto the wall.

“Looks like I win that bet,” he said, and set off into the abyss below.

1044 Words. Everyone's separated

[Jim Raynor]

Jim wondered if suffocating heat wasn't the default atmosphere of anything that existed in the Endless Dunes, regardless of how much sun it baked in. This temple could be anywhere, since they managed to arrive in it through a rip in space and time, but surely it was somewhere in the sizzling desert. Jim dropped his visor and his marine armour started pumping refrigerated air through the cockpit, though it would take some time to stop his sweat glands from working overtime.

The fog on the inside of his visor cleared away, and Raynor found himself in a square, featureless room.

"Uh guys, this room looks exactly like the others. We ain't stumblin' into no exit by pure luck. What's the plan in gettin' outta -"

Jim turned to finish his question, and faced an empty hallway.

He clasped his rifle with cold, steel fingers, his eyes darting around the room. No one was nearby. Jim lifted his weapon, preparing to fire.

"OK guys, very funny. You can come out now."

Jim knew he was alone. How he had ended up flying solo so quickly and surreptitiously was beyond him, though. Surely he would have noticed if the floor opened up, or they were walking on the ceiling. That walking corpse must have had something to do with it, but Jim hadn't seen that bony prick either.

As the sweat simply beaded on his skin instead of streaming down it in rivulets, he noticed movement on the other side of the room. His barrel gravitated to it, and he stood staring down the end of another rifle. Its owner, bulky and covered in black steel plates, similarly trained his weapon on Raynor, immobile except for the almost imperceptible movements of an organic creature holding something steady.

"This ain't a game, Chuckles," Jim said, assuming he was addressing the skeleton gunslinger clad in thick armour, but his voice came back at him twofold, as if there was strong echo in the room. "Now cut that shit out!"

He took a step forward. His adversary copied the motion exactly.

Jim loaded the chamber with a quick yank, as did his enemy. "One more bullshit move and I put a bullet in that bony head of yours. Understand?"

Again his own words rang from the imposter.

Jim moved quickly, gun never leaving its target, charging for his enemy. The doppelganger copied him identically, as if Raynor was running at a mirror. The terran commander pulled up short of colliding with his foe and furrowed his brow. Was he running at a mirror?

He lowered his rifle, and his twin followed. Jim bent down, trying to see around, but his copy imitated him. This was getting frustrating. Maybe it was just another mirage to infuriate or intimidate him, like the sextuplet that fired empty six-shooters at them earlier?

Jim cocked a fist and punched. His friend used the same arm and threw the exact same attack, though since two right fists had been unleashed, neither side had time to block. Both Jims absorbed the hit and stumbled backwards, managing to keep their footing.

"Well, you ain't no illusion," Jim said as his clone repeated his words. "Or hologram. They don't tend to hit hard like that."

Two hisses accompanied the dual raising of the orange visors. Jim expected to see a replica of his own face, but instead a weathered skull, its jaw hanging in mock laughter, stared back at him.

"Right, enough of your crap." Jim tightened his grip on the Impaler rifle and his index finger hugged the trigger. The weapon rattled a salvo of spikes in a flash of light. The undead trickster shed his armour as the bullets panged against it, embedding in the plates as they tumbled onto the sandstone floor. The discarded armour disintegrated into black ash and scattered in an unseen wind.

The skeleton illusionist plucked four revolvers from thin air and spun them on his finger, weaving his arms in and out without colliding any of the guns. Without stopping his initial party trick, he started tap dancing at the same time, his bony feet clacking on the temple floor, with other inadvertent clicks sourced from his tendon-less bones grinding against each other.

Jim clenched his teeth, a vengeful heat rising in his chest. This bastard was pissing him off, but he knew he had to keep a calm head to succeed here.

The Impaler rifle roared again. The skeleton cowboy had somehow predicted it, and gravity changed for both of them as the bullets screamed from the gun. 'Falling' towards the ceiling, Jim's aim abandoned him and the spikes found homes in anything but his target. He crashed against the roof, his new floor, while the skeleton alighted on chalk-white feet with ease.

Jim rose to his feet and hastily aimed his weapon. "Let's see how you go playin' with gravity without a head!"

Laughing, the bony apparition jumped and somersaulted, landing on the 'roof,' or the old floor. Jim felt the gravity shift again, his bulky armour rocketing 'up' like a punctured balloon. He slammed hard into the ground, the collision scaring the air from his lungs.

Raynor stood again, watching the skeleton dance away down the room and through the doorway. His derisive cackle followed him the whole way, leaving a trace of itself in his absence.

"I know this is a trap," Jim said to himself. "But there ain't no other way."

The terran commander took off after the western-themed undead, hoping that his comrades were doing better than he was.

Just keep a cool head.

934 words.

[Summer]

Oppressive silence fell over the dungeon, the once rhythmic, if hollow, tapping of Somerled’s feet fading away as he came to a halt. His eyes flicked lackadaisically over the featureless brown stone, as the last, lonely echoes of his footsteps bounced away into the room that opened up in front of him, empty and boring. The monster vaguely wondered if they were trying to kill him through attrition, if not sheer boredom. Seven more hallways, each exactly like the one he’d just emerged from, connected to the barren room. Three on the left, three on the right, and one on the far side, faintly visible through the veil of darkness.

A frown fell across Somerled’s face as he slowly shifted his gaze from one branching path, to the next, and so on. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his mind that this wasn’t a trick, trap, or puzzle of some sort. He swung his right foot forward, taking a slow and calculated step into the room, followed by a limping step as a weak jolt shook through his left. The question was, what was the trick to this room? His gaze sharpened, and the half-assed searching he’d done before turned intense, scanning over every brick he could see.

“Sonny,” the storm spirit said, voice ringing back in dull echoes. “Let’s get some illumination in here.”

“Ah, time for me to shine!” His cheery other half responded. Somerled felt the tell-tale sign of Sonny beginning to borrow some of his power, a mental drain that slowly wore him out. Brilliant sunlight cascade out of the storm spirit, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid form. “Allow me to shed some light on the situation,” the glowing silhouette spoke. Rather than solidifying into the form of the sun spirit, he remained a pure light body, radiance spilling off of his ethereal form and illuminating every corner of the room.

“Thanks,” Somerled said, stepping away from the burning body and closer to the center of the room. “Do you think you could walk down one of these hallways for a couple of meters?” he asked, not eyeing any single one in particular.

“So if it’s a trap I can take the bullet instead of you,” the light spirit stated, silently stepping up to his more corporeal half. “Sure, it’s not like this body’s permanent. And I like getting shot at anyway.”

“Could you stop taking the words out of my mouth and making them worse?” Somerled growled, keeping his eyes on the wall ahead so he didn’t blind himself.

“Only when we’re not on the same wavelength anymore, Summer,” Sonny responded cheekily, as his non-existent footsteps carried him to the middle left hallway. The light slowly began to fade from the room, returning to its usual dark, but still supernaturally bright level. Somerled continued to scan over the room, casting an occasional glance to the hallway his other half went down. The cone of light beaming out of the entrance slowly became more steep, as the source casting it got further and further away. Another cone of light crept into the corner of his eye, a vague brilliance that spilled out of the top right hallway entrance.

BANG

A lone gunshot echoed out from, a dull ringing coming from the passage Sonny had wandered down, and, if he listened closely, faint aftershocks from the other one he was eyeing. Slowly, the reverberations calmed down, and after a few seconds, the radiant form of the sun spirit emerged back from the hall he came from.

“I got shot,” the silhouette stated matter-of-factly as he came into view, entirely unharmed.

“So you did,” Somerled responded dully, crossing his arms and gazing down, falling deep into thought.

“Looks like you’ve got an idea?”

“Yes,” he said, glancing back up at his other half, squinting. “How the hell are you seeing?”

“Magic.”

“Ah... Anyway, that’s not the point. I’m gonna need your help on this.”

“Too bad.”

“So what I’m going to need you to do,” the storm spirit continued on, ignoring his other half’s rejection. “Is walk into these hallways one by one. Only one leads out of here, the rest wrap around. If you cast a bright spotlight down each one individually, we’ll be able to tell which ones lead out and which ones loop by the shadows they cast.”

“Smart,” the sun spirit said, the light of his form sloughing off his body, revealing a blonde copy of Somerled. The small drain on the split spirit’s energy became much more noticeable.

“Let’s just hurry it up.” With that, he turned and ushered his other half from one hallway to the next. Sonny beamed a powerful burst of sunlight down each one, shining light on which connected to which. Quickly, the options were whittled down, and soon the middle right hallway was revealed as the only one without connection. His job complete, the sun spirit dissolved his body, flashing out of existence with one burst of light, and once again they were one fragmented mind inside one whole body. Wordlessly, he set off down the dark hallway, hoping he’d find his allies again soon enough.

859 Words

[Dr. McNinja]

Ogong turned a corner. These endless dark sandstone hallways seemed to go on forever. Still shaken about being upside down, Ogong shuddered as he felt the cold blast of air.

"What the hell?" the monkey exclaimed.

Black steel appeared out of nowhere. Ogong tried to step back, but he was too slow. The mass of metal clapped around him, wrapping him in it. The monkey yelped as the world went dark.

"This ain't a game, Chuckles," a familiar voice threatened, "Now cut that shit out!"

Jim's voice was twofold, as if two Jims were speaking at once. The surreal audio effect freaked out Ogong, as did the sudden prison that held him still.

"Hello?" Ogong cried out, "Jim? Is that you? Get me out of here!"

Ogong's prison responded by jerking his left leg forward.

"All right," Ogong muttered, "that's weird."

His arms were yanked upwards, his body forced to mime cradling an object of some sort, his right index finger poised to squeeze something. His left arm jerked backward and forward, as if it were moving something on this object he was cradling.

"One more bullshit move," Jim's double voice continued, "and I put a bullet in that bony head of yours. Understand?"

Ogong was confused. He could not see Jim, and neither could Jim see him. However, it seemed that Ogong was the only one who could hear both - well, all three of them.

And Jim, both of them, were pissed.

Ogong's right hand was suddenly forced into a fist. The monkey grunted as his punch flew forward without his consent. He could feel the metal pressing against his elbow, inconsiderate as to whether the monkey's joints were ready. It was painful. More painful, almost, was the nearly identical right hook smashing into the metal covering Ogong's face. As he felt the punch rattling the prison, he felt his own punch landing on something hard. Jim muttered something, and some of Ogong's cage opened, allowing him a tiny sliver of vision. Jim was opposite him. The restraints were a copy of Jim’s armor, which was emulating the original. Which meant that if Jim started hurting the doppelgänger for real...

On cue, Jim lifted his rifle. “Right, enough of your crap.”

Ogong yelped. “Jim? Jim? That’s not Bones you’re looking at-”

Jim opened fire. Ogong had never been on the receiving end of this rifle thing before, but it was terrifying. He couldn’t even see the bullets flying past him, but they were all he could hear. He tried to crouch into the cage a bit more, but as the bullets ricocheted off of the fake armor it seemed to wither away back into the shade. Ogong used the opportunity to scamper off down a hallway.

The room he was in was quite large in comparison to any of the rooms they had been in, comparable in size to the room with all of the statues, but even bigger. This room had four big pillars, forming a large diamond in the center of the room. The pillars were inscribed with the same symbols that Ogong had climbed on those statues earlier, but smaller and more subtle. There were even some pictures. It depicted regular humans in a row, bowing down to an object. To Ogong’s discomfort, the closer the person was to the squarish thing, the more monstrous they appeared. It reminded him of the Mystic Thousand-Word Gate, the tablet that sealed the 108 demons all those millenia ago. That was in his old world, though. Whatever this was, it was worse.

Ogong noticed another passageway away from the room he was just in. He crouched behind a wall, gripping his cheek in pain.

“Seriously, why does everything hurt so much now?”

“Maybe you’re just being a wittle wussy,” Yeo-Ee-Pil teased.

“Thanks,” Ogong nodded, “That was the supportive comment I wanted to hea-”

A brilliant flash of light washed over him, making him cover his eyes. Ogong peered up, noticing the light rolling in from the other passageway. As suddenly as it appeared, the light disappeared, leaving Ogong’s eyes to try and adjust to the relative darkness. From where the light had come, Somerled Murdoch strolled through, gripping his arm.

Ogong could not see him.

“Oh, hey, kid,” Somerled nodded, “Good to see you again. Where’d you wander off to?”

Ogong stood up, walking straight through Somerled to peer around the corner. Jim appeared from the first passageway, his armor battered and his gun raised. If Ogong didn’t know better, he’d say Jim had been thrown about the room several times.

“Oh, hey, Jim,” Ogong called out, “Still can’t see me?”

“Jim?” Somerled muttered, “Kid’s lost it. He isn’t here.”

Jim, meanwhile, was trying to get the attention of the storm spirit, waving his armored hand in front of Somerled’s face. They didn’t know each other very well, but Jim reckoned that Somerled wouldn’t put up with this. Which meant this wasn’t a prank.

“What kid?” Jim wondered to himself, “Is he saying Sun’s here?”

Ogong jumped up wildly. “Yes! I’m here! I’m right here!”

Somerled glared at him. “Calm down, Ogong, he can see-”

Then all three Liberators realized exactly what was happening.

“I can see and hear Somerled...” Jim murmured to himself, “and the kid can see and hear me.”

“But I can’t see Somerled,” Ogong groaned.

Somerled ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, Ogong. You can’t see me, but I can see you, and you can see Jim.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “That’s what I just said, Somerled.”

Ogong scratched his head. This was a whole new type of headache.

939 words.

Okay, if it isn’t clear, Jim can see Somerled, Somerled can see Ogong, and Ogong can see Jim. But Jim can’t see Ogong, Ogong can’t see Somerled, and Somerled can’t see Jim. I hope that makes things clearer.

[Nebula]

Y’all are insane. You took this idea and … jeez, you ran with it. Seriously, great writing all.

Forgot to add damage last time, so damage for this round will total at 4 each. (around 2 each for the last two rounds)

The skeleton’s hollow laughter echoed across the walls of the giant, four-pillared room in which they stood. Now that the trio found themselves looking around for the origin point of the laughter, they could see that it was built for something big.

Sand drifted across the floor to the centre of the arena, as though pulled by magnetic force. The warriors watched with trepidation as it began to pool. Words weren’t needed, but Jimmy nonetheless elucidated what they were all thinking:

“Aw, shit.”

The brightness was almost blinding at the centre of the colosseum where the sand had started to pile up, as though it had been the source of the constant, debilitating ‘darklight’ all along.

And then there was this asshole.

The gunslinger appeared from a slot in the stone wall behind them, raining down a hail of shots as it flipped overhead. Even as it did so, it split into three of itself, each cartwheeling outwards as they shot more bullets.

The trio split, ducking and rolling between buckshot, swearing as it grazed their arms and legs. There were staircases around the room that lead to an upper area, free of sand, that seemed to almost be a viewing platform (if any part of this labyrinth had a definite or common-sense use). It had a bridge across it, which they stopped on, only to view the mound that was forming in the sunken ‘arena’ below.

“Was there this much sand in the room before?” questioned Ogong, though he already knew the answer to his question.

“No,” said Somerled. “This must’ve been spread throughout the whole labyrinth.”

The gunslingers cackled on cue with their realisation, even as the mound continued to grow, splitting into three. But unlike the gunslinger, these three mounds were not identical. The one in the middle, had formed a hard face, almost like a tiki totem in appearance. The outer two had formed into two giant fists, each equal in size to the head. Any one of the mounds could have dwarfed the warriors.

And as if to prove that, one of the fists suddenly raised up, as though lifted by an unseen force, and lurched towards the bridge upon which they stood.

Darkloid time, baby.



DESERTMAN.EXE

More of a force of nature than a combatant. It might seem at first that Desertman.exe cannot be damaged, as it has powerful regenerative capabilities and doesn’t seem to care that much when parts of its face or fingers go missing. But it’s mortal, and can be destroyed with enough damage. That will not be easy, however.

ATK: 7
DEF: 10
SPD: 2
TEC: 1

Powers: Survival, Advanced Regeneration, Malleability, Dissassemble, Shapeshifting, Mimic

Moves:

Monster Mimic
Sandman creates a sand-version of one of you, still attached to himself and only copying the general shape of you in order to use your abilities. These are crude imitations based on Sandman.exe’s limited imagination, and so you may find them to be … lacking or outright dumb. You may even question “why would Sandman.exe copy a silly gun when he can just smash”. But listen. I never said he was smart.

He may also create a giant version of one of you, if this occurs to him. Basically, Sandman’s powers are largely limited by his imagination. As the fight goes on, he may gradually come up with “smarter” ways to use his abilities.

As with the Dusted Gunslinger, feel free to innovate and build on what I’ve put here. You did amazingly well with the last round, so I’m looking forward to seeing what you come up with!

Oh, and the Dusted Gunslinger is still here. He’s used his SP to form two physical copies of himself as assists, but they’re only half as strong as the real one. He might make more, or he might use his SP on other ventures … depends what he feels like.

You have three rounds. Each round lasts four OOC days. You have one post per round, which may be as long as you like, but please, no gargantuaposts. Around 1200 words is about my limit.

For my own purposes, this means: Greg, this round ends on the 28th, at 6am GMT.

[Dr. McNinja]

"Er..." Ogong glanced at Jim. "Now would be a REALLY good time for you to see me, Jim."

Somerled nodded. "Jim, wherever you are, tell Ogong to talk to me."

Jim chuckled. "I get it. Kid, talk to Somerled. I'll talk to you."

"But I can't see him," Ogong replied, uncomprehending.

"What?" Somerled wondered, unsure of what Ogong had heard.

"Somerled didn't hear yo-"

Jim grunted as the sandy beast in the center slammed him into a wall with the back of its "hand". The marine cocked his gun and started blasting wildly in the direction of the creature. On cue, the gunslingers vanished from view, startling Ogong and Somerled.

"Where the hell..." the storm spirit began, before a skeleton jumped on him from behind. Cackling the whole time, the Dusted Gunslinger smacked him repeatedly with the butt of his pistols, like a demented skeletal drummer.

Ogong, noticing the punctures riddling the creature's body, assumed incorrectly that Jim had his situation under control, even if he was being crushed by a gigantic column of sand. He decided to help Somerled, whom he assumed was the invisible figure getting the shit beaten out of him.

Right as Ogong was about to leap to Somerled’s assistance, another figure jumped onto Ogong's back. Unfortunately, Ogong was not nearly large enough to hold his Gunslinger's weight, so unlike Somerled, who was still valiantly attempting to throw off his annoying opponent, the monkey was simply thrown backwards in an awkward, bony wrestling throw.

The monkey chief groaned and flipped to his feet, carrying the skeleton in the momentum. He swung the staff where he expected it to land. To his exasperation, the Gunslinger was once more demonstrating his ability to screw with gravity, landing deftly on the ceiling instead of tumbling to the floor.

Ogong rolled out of the way as the Gunslinger fanned the hammer of his gun, missing all save one. That shot had landed purely by accident on Yeo-Ee-Pil, provoking a pained scream from the ancient weapon. Ogong made tickling motions with his fingers, trying to speedily form a fireball, cutting mental corners this time. He had to save Somerled from a pistol-induced concussion, after all.

Before Ogong could let loose the projectile, the Gunslinger unceremoniously chucked his expended pistol at Ogong's face, leaving an L-shaped mark on the monkey's forehead. The Gunslinger seemed to find this incredibly amusing, gripping his ribs and chattering with laughter.
A bullwhip cracked as it wrapped around the skeleton's throat. Ogong couldn't see it, but he heard it. The Gunslinger and Ogong simultaneously turned their heads to Somerled, then back to each other. Ogong grinned and waved gently at his opponent.

The Gunslinger went flying as the storm spirit yanked on the skeleton's neck. He was on a collision course with Somerled, who promptly bent over to expose the skeleton on his back. Both Gunslingers stopped cackling, their eye sockets seeming to widen in fear somehow.

In a clatter of bones, the two copies collided, allowing Somerled to throw off his own. Still recovering from the repeated blows to the head, he started jogging towards Ogong, who was now sprinting towards Jim.

Ogong jumped in the air, gripping one end of Yeo-Ee-Pil with both hands. He swung down as hard as he could, letting the staff come down on Desertman's arm with incredible force. The sand puffed anticlimactically in response, but Ogong's strength seemed to divide the column in two.

Ogong cartwheeled forward and hopped at the end, advancing rapidly on Desertman's position. Desertman, in response, stuck out its tongue. The sand was wet enough that it could've been mud, but it was far stickier than any earth reasonably could be. Ogong landed squarely in the middle of the tongue, his face planted in the gross mud.

Desertman stretched his tongue, sending Ogong flying to the ceiling. He then swallowed the monkey whole, sending Somerled to a panic.

"Shit!" the spirit yelled, "Jim, he just swallowed Ogong!"

Jim, finally free from Desertman's grasp, kicked off the sandy fingers holding him in place and aimed his gun again. Blasting the approximate stomach of the beast, Jim grit his teeth, stressed. He had grown to like the kid and dammit if he was going to let him die.

"MMRRMRRA! HOO!"

A gigantic grey hand reaching upwards erupted from the inside of Desertman, flinging chunks of sand everywhere. Ogong was in the center of the explosion, his hair a light brown from all of the sand.

Ogong jumped forward, landing next to Jim.

"You okay, Jim?" the monkey asked.

"Kid asks if you're okay," Somerled called out to the marine.

"Yeah, armor took most of that," Jim coughed.

"Jim says he's fine," Ogong told Somerled.

Desertman roared, its arm reforming more rapidly than Ogong would have liked. The two skeletons untangled themselves and now stood menacingly unamused at each side of the Desertman.

"Our turn," Jim muttered.

"Jim says it's our turn," Ogong nodded, grinning wide.

"Damn right it is," Somerled smirked.

“Tell Jim to make that shield thing,” Ogong told Somerled.

Somerled repeated the orders. Jim promptly reached behind him and opened the wide force field. Ogong lightly hopped up on Jim’s shoulder, ducking behind the shield.

“Alright, let's see if we can do this. You remember Bal-sah, Yeo-Ee-Pil?”

“Punk, I remember every spell that ever existed.”

“Rhetorical question. Help me out?”

The staff glowed more than usual as Ogong summoned more Word Magic.

“Here goes nothing,” he thought.

Two arcane circles appeared above Ogong’s head again, one on top of the other.

“Words of Power, heed my call..."

Ogong squeezed his eyes shut, filtering out the pinging noises from the Gunslinger’s revolvers. He felt the arcane energy drain his body of his life, but he had faith in Yeo-Ee-Pil.

“Sswah-rah...” Ogong muttered.

The circles flashed brightly, Chinese characters etching themselves into the centers.

Unlike the spell for Earthquake, this word was merely two symbols which meant the same thing pinned together. There was actually very little difference between the two characters, but the subtle linguistic difference was incredibly important, lest the letters morph into one jangly magical mess.

The first: “bahl”. It meant “shoot”, but it was the force and the suddenness of an arrow that was released by the archer.

Then “sah”. But this was more than the concept of a shot, it was the direction - outwards.

Ogong struggled to keep the distinction in his mind, Yeo-Ee-Pil supplying his own memories to assist in the clarification. In his mind, he held images of him holding the magical staff prior to throwing it for “bahl”, and images of the staff flying from a bird’s eye view for “sah”.

“BAHL-SAH!” Ogong howled, his right hand glowing furiously.

He formed this hand into a finger gun, which flew sparks over Jim’s armor. Suddenly, Ogong’s thumb snapped forward, and the hand was thrown back, carrying the monkey with it. At the same time, a bolt of pure kinetic energy launched forward, carrying forth sheer momentum. It pierced Desertman and burrowed straight through the sandy monster.

Ogong lay on the floor behind Jim, exhausted.

“Yyyyou take over now,” the monkey muttered.

1198 words. Sorry for the novella! I got carried away.

Used Hand: Soo and Launch: Bahl-Sah.
7 out of 11

[Summer]

A massive hole opened in the cheek of Desertman, as a blast of pure force tore a ragged hole through it. Sand rained over the Liberators, and the monster silently reeled back, not out of pain, but just from the sheer power carried by Sun’s attack. Somerled grinned as he watched the beast get its bearings again, and whipped around to face the fallen monkey.

“You’re not done yet boy!” He exclaimed, shooting forward and hauling Sun back to his feet. He let out a weak protest, undoubtedly surprised at suddenly being wrenched into the air by nothing. “Jim!” Somerled barked, swiveling on his feet. “I’m going to keep the gunslingers occupied! Hopefully you should be able to focus on sandman!” He released his grip on Ogong and pushed forward, boots skidding on the sandy stone. His eyes darted over the Desertman for a brief moment as he began to charge down the gunslinger’s split selves. The behemoth had finally caught itself, and loomed forward, towards the other two. Sand exploded out from its slowly-rising right hand, likely the work of the soldier he couldn’t see.

A single gunshot exploded into existence from somewhere in front of Somerled, and a bullet slammed into his chest, driving out his breath. He stumbled before catching himself, and he turned his attention forward again, fire in his eyes. The two half-darkling’s cackled madly, standing delicately on either railing of the bridge. Somerled spared a quick glance down, towards the bullet wound, mist rising up from where it had struck. It hit his rib, but it didn’t pierce. A cruel grin crossed his face as he looked back up. It’d take a bit more than their shitty peashooters to take him out.

With a monstrous snarl, he surged forward, charging down the one on the left. The skull-faced demon hopped backwards with a laugh, dropping right out of sight, probably scurrying along the bottom of the bridge to the other end of it. Somerled skidded to a halt and lashed out with his whip, cracking the leather weapon at the enemy on the right-hand railing. A ragged, bloody wound tore open in the darkling’s side, and the monster spun to face it just in time to watch it stumbled backwards off the edge. The spirit sprang forward and struck down with the whip, tangling it around the railing barely in time for him to sail right off the bridge. He righted himself in midair, and just as he cleared the lip, his feet slammed into the face of the gunslinger’s first split. A massive cracking noise sounded from beneath Somerled’s boots, and the half-darkling was thrown clear from the side of the bridge, plummeting into the pit below.

“Not-” Somerled started, before his breath was driven out him, his back slamming painfully into the bridge. “-Today.” He finished with a sharp breath, and dragged himself back up to safety. Cold metal pressed against his forehead as he rose above the lip, and he shouted a short, sharp exclamation. His head exploded with blinding pain, white filling his vision as the point-blank bullet flattened against his skull. The monster’s grip faltered, and suddenly he felt weightless. In a blind panic, his arms shot forward and found glorious purchase on the bridge’s railing. His vision came back, blurry but there, and he stared intensely at his assailant. He could faintly make out the blood-stained side of the second split.

Mustering up all the strength he could, he hauled himself up and over the lip, right hand reaching for the bony face of the gunslinger. The half-darkling reeled back, caught off guard again by the spirit’s leap. His hand found purchase, and his weight carried the two down onto the stone of the bridge. A heavy gasp escaped the gunslinger as it was crushed between the bridge and the monster. Warm metal jabbed into Somerled’s side, but this time he was ready. His arm shot back and closed around his opponent’s bony hand before it could pull the trigger. Electrical energy welled up in the spirit’s other arm as he forced the beast to turn its own gun to its head, its arm straining feebly against his superior might. Three more barrels pressed against the monster in various places, but it was already too late.

CRACK

His left arm surged forward in a magnificent, crackling blaze. Bone crunched beneath the monster’s fist, both his own and the darkling’s. Cracks webbed opened up across his opponent’s face, spawning from the total obliteration of its right cheekbone. Stinging pain simultaneously suffused Somerled’s hand, and the spirit took in a sharp breath. Beneath him, the gunslinger’s split lay still, dazed from the strike. He planted his left hand against the ground, and released his right hand’s grip, changing it over to the beast’s bony jaw. His arms strained as he hauled both of them back to a stand, and he cast a quick glance over to where his bullwhip should have been. Thankfully, the leather weapon was still there, dangling over the precipice.

Dragging the limp assist behind him, he stepped over to the railing and unraveled the whip. His eyes flicked over the weakly-struggling form of the half-darkling in his grasp, and he frowned. Four arms, that’d be tough to tie up. Yet he attempted it anyway, taking precious seconds to wrap it’s two bottom arms behind its back.

“Not so tough when you can’t run, huh?” He mumbled half to himself as he held the gunslinger up by its two free hands like it was a trophy fish. Then again, there weren’t a lot of things that remained tough after he got a hold of them. “Now where’s your master?” He glanced around quickly, searching the arena for their original form.

CRACK

Pain blossomed across his temple as cold metal found its mark, and suddenly gravity shifted. The monster’s once steady stance suddenly gave away and he crashed face-first into the stony bridge. A garbled exclamation of some sort rose out of his throat, and the original gunslinger’s cackle sounded in ears as he suddenly found himself rolling down the bridge, back towards his allies, with the bound assist still in tow.
 

1033 Words
Assist 1 is waaaaay down in the pit. He’ll probably be back though. Assist 2 is bound by Somer and will likely be used as a bludgeon somewhere down the line.
Gravity is now shifted by like 45 degrees for Somer. The bridge is more like a hill right now.

[Jim Raynor]

Damn it. As if he hadn't seen enough sand lately, now it has to come alive?
 
Jim grimaced. The palming from the desert monster had left grains of its hand scratching about in his suit, and there wasn't much he could do to get it out.
 
"Adjutant, could you blow that sand out of my ass?"
 
A metal door slid open on Jim's posterior and a puff of air scattered the sand from his suit before sealing shut again.
 
"Sand ejected," the adjutant said without a hint of humour in her calming voice.
 
"Right, now that I don't have sand stuck in my craw, let's-"
 
A column of sand struck Jim square in the chest and funnelled him into the wall. The collision shook him in his suit, the force of the spray consistent and strong enough to pin him in place. Thankfully his visor had been risen earlier so he wasn't choking on the stuff.
 
Jim flicked his wrist, hoping to rotate out his robotic hand and extend the flamethrower barrel that Swann had cleverly installed some time ago. Whether it was due to the accumulated damage over their adventure or the volume of sand pummelling him against the temple wall, it refused to activate.
 
Finally the barrage stopped and Jim slid to the temple floor. Trails of sand danced and tumbled in organised lines towards a central point, like armies of ants marching back to their hill. It built and climbed upon itself until a golden hand reformed, its grainy fingers flexing.
 
How the hell did they stop a creature made of sand that could just rebuild itself? Bullets could puncture holes in it temporarily, but the displaced grains would just be reabsorbed into the desert monster's mass and fill in the gaps. Water could solidify it maybe, but the shimmering heat that suffused the temple air made it seem unlikely that even a hint of moisture existed nearby.
 
The desert monster's gaping maw yawned open and a grating growl escaped it. Violet lights, buried in the dark of its hollow sockets, pulsed with malevolence.
 
Well, waiting around for the sand creature to drown him wasn't going to save him. Jim climbed to his feet and strafed, firing salvos of bullets into its sandy body to get its attention. The harsh rattling of his Impaler rifle preceded the bursts of sand as they slammed into the desert monster, leaving odd-shaped gaps in its face and fingers. Even as Jim sprinted across the temple floor, the monster bellowing at him, the wounds filled in with sand drawn from its surroundings. It flowed to him like it was a magnet, and there was plenty of the resource to fix any ailment it received.
 
A gargantuan fist crashed two steps to Raynor, rocking the temple. Jim almost lost his feet and dived as the fist came down inches from him again.
 
"Come on, Jimbo!" the terran commander berated himself as the sandy fist brushed past him again. "You've been in worse binds than this! Think o' something!"
 
His eyes wandered above him. Could he bring the temple down around them and crush the desert monster? He shook his head. No, its constituent parts would scatter, but they would no doubt funnel through the cracks of the fallen temple stone and congeal again, unharmed. Other than water, what the hell else could affect the composition of sand?
 
A peal of cackling laughter boomed from nearby. Jim spun as one of those blasted skeleton pricks jumped from nowhere, unloading its six-shooters. Bullets pinged off his armour, each projectile bludgeoning and denting his suit, no matter how small. Jim pulled the trigger on his own firearm, but the undead gunslinger adeptly pirouetted around the swarm of bullets and returned to his own assault.
 
The familiar click of empty revolvers heralded the end of his attack. Jim lined up the creature in his sights, free to aim without the hassle of incoming projectiles.
 
The two spent revolvers spun through the air and smacked against Jim's plated chest. Raynor frowned and lowered his rifle.
 
"Really?" he said. "It's gonna be like that?"
 
The skeleton cowboy chuckled, the sound like bones grinding against each other.
 
Behind him, the desert monster primed another sandy fist.
 
"Maybe you should sit this one out."
 
Flames belched from Jim's suit's back and he skated across the desert floor. He seized the skeleton by its flimsy shoulders without argument, possibly due to the ghoul's shock, and hurled him away. The desert monster's fist sailed towards Jim as he dashed out of its path. Turning, the terran commander watched as the skeleton disappeared behind a solid fist of sand.
 
Jim clicked his fingers and a blue blade of energy burst from his right forearm. He skimmed over the temple floor, past the perpetually oscillating grains of sand, and made a beeline for the desert monster's other hand. With a flourish, the psi-blade pared three fingers like a hot knife through butter. The monster howled as the separated digits exploded on the floor. Blue glowing wounds topped the severed fingers, the ridiculous heat of the psi-blade having melted the stubby tops.
 
The splattered sand crawled back up the hand, but any and all attempts at crafting the appendages failed as the heaped sand collapsed again and again. The desert monster roared in protest.
 
"Heat," Jim said. "Sand fuses into glass with enough heat. Heh. Think I might have a plan after all."
 

908 words. Sorry, kinda running low on ideas.
Jim got punched by a big sand fist. He got free and started shooting, but it barely did anything.
Assist 1 (the skeleton that Somerled threw down into the pit) started attacking, but Jim managed to throw him in to the way of the next swinging fist, buying him some time.
Jim got out his Psi-blade (Special weapon) and sliced off three fingers of the desert monster on the other hand. The heat of the blade turned the tops of the severed fingers into glass, making them impossible to rebuild over.

[Nebula]

Desertman screamed with the severing of its fingers, its voiceless howl sounding more like the screeching of metal-on-metal than anything human.

In the base of the pit, the skele-copy that had taken the brunt of Desertman’s blow faded into nothingness.

Round two. Only one assist and the main Dusted Gunslinger remain. Desertman ain’t too happy about his heat-fused stumps.

Four OOC days until the round ends. That’s Sunday 9th, 2300 BST (British Summer Time)

[Summer]

“What in the fuck...” Somerled mumbled, slowly grinding to a halt as he slid down the bridge. He scrambled to his feet, boots skidding over the loose sand coating everything. The half-darkling bound up in his whip began to struggle as he rose, which the monster responded to with a quick punch to the back of its skull, knocking it right back out of commission. He pulled it back up and grabbed hold of its two free arms again, which still held onto the revolvers, surprisingly enough. 

His eyes darted over to where his allies were for a brief moment. Sand heaped around them, covering just about every inch of bridge around them, but other than that and the giant fist looming threateningly, they seemed to be doing fine. One of the piles of sand shifted just as he moved to look away and Somerled did a doubletake. Too distracted by the giant sand monster slowly lurching angrily towards them again, Sun didn’t notice the smaller sand piles coming to life around him. Which probably meant Jim didn’t either.

“Ah shit...” he muttered, raising the gunslinger’s guns towards them.

BANG

BANG

BANG

A torrent of gunfire exploded into existence as the spirit pressed the darkling’s own fingers down on the triggers, firing off three rapid shots. Under his steadfast grip, the revolvers had almost no kickback, and the three rising sand demons exploded apart. Sun recoiled as the sand around him suddenly burst, his attention torn away from Desertman.

“Be careful around the sand it leaves!” Somerled shouted, aiming the gun-wielding hands towards the ground. The monkey wouldn’t hear his yell, but hopefully Jim would be able to pass on the message. With that said, he lifted his captive’s limp arms, ready to unleash a volley at the sandy behemoth.

Two shots rang out, and immediately the original dusty gunslinger erupted up from behind the railing, two bullets slamming into its chest. It’s multiple arms flashed out as it flipped over the spirit, revealing another six-shooter in each hand. Without a moment of hesitation, Somerled heaved its summon over his head, keeping it between him and his acrobatic adversary. A volley of gunfire exploded out from its many revolvers, and a sizeable number of bullets slammed into the monster’s meatshield. Somerled twisted the assist’s arm unnatural, bring one of the sidearms to bear with a delicious crunch, its elbow now bending the wrong way. The spirit responded to the lead barrage with a single shot, and a bullet pierced into the gunslinger’s eye. An impressive scream rose from its throat, and its perfectly executed flip faltered.

CRACK

It’s head slammed against the railing with another wonderful crunch, and the darkling fell out of side, leaving only a new bloodstain to speak of its presence.

“Heh, guess you could say I’m a crack shot,” the split spirit quipped, wresting the revolver from the downed summon. He spun the firearm around his finger like an old cowboy. “Maybe I should get myself a gu-”

BANG

Piercing pain exploded in the youkai’s right foot as a bullet from the six-shooter he spun tore open a new wound. The weapon recoiled right out of his hand and over the edge, and he gritted his teeth, suppressing a scream. A cruel giggle rose up from behind his clenched teeth.

“You think this is... fuckin funny?” The storm spirit growled, his voice high and entirely non-threatening as he tried to speak through a laugh.

“Ahhhh Summer you fuckin idiot!” Sonny’s simple giggle exploded into a full-blown guffaw. Unable to talk through his other half’s fit, Somerled seethed quietly, grabbing hold of his hostage’s neck. With little fanfare, he unleashed another lightning strike into its face, unraveled his whip from its arms, and tossed it over the ledge, all while laughing with a manic laugh that wasn’t his. He limped up to the railing and peered into the pit below. The laughter cut off, immediately replaced by a concerned silence.

“Uh... there’s only one body down there...” The storm spirit whispered. A single step sounded from behind him, and he spun around with as much haste as he could, whip at the ready. A single pair of hands slammed into his back from behind, fixing his screwed-up gravity, and throwing him clear off his feet, right over the railing. Somerled twisted desperately and lashed out with his whip. The leather plait snapped out with a small crack, and caught one of the darkling's extended arms. Inertia struck both of them at once, the spirit’s arm pulled painfully as he was jerked back towards the bridge, and his adversary was ripped right off of the platform, shins slamming into the railing as it went over.

In a desperate panic, the dusty gunslinger’s other three arms dove into its cloak, but before it could grab any guns, Somerled pulled the whip towards him with a mighty jerk. The two combatants slammed into each other in mid air, and the storm spirit released his whip, grabbing hold of his enemy’s throat with one hand, and an arm with the other. He wrestled the wriggling demon, working it under him so that when they hit the bottom, it would at least get it worse than he did.

CRACK

The gunslinger’s chest caved beneath the monster’s weight as the two slammed into the ground. Somerled breathed in a painful breath, a stabbing pain pulsing through his own chest. He slowly pushed to his feet, body aching as he cast a quick glance around. He was now standing on another rather thin walkway, and just off to his side he could see Sun as the monkey glassed a sizeable portion of Desertman’s face with a fireball.

“Uh, what?” He muttered, and shifted his gaze straight ahead, where the ground he should have fallen to now was. “What?” At his feet, the dusty gunslinger let out a rattly groan, and slowly rose to its feet.

991 words.
Somerled’s on a pillar, sideways.

[Dr. McNinja]

“Think I might have a plan after all,” Jim muttered.

Ogong heard him, cartwheeling to dodge a column of sand shooting from nowhere.

“Heat makes glass?” the monkey wondered out aloud.

Somerled smirked from across the arena. “Good thinking, kid! Jim, tell Ogong to make his fireballs!”

Jim nodded, but the gesture was lost within the skull-painted visor. He slashed again, keeping Desertman’s other hand at bay. “Kid! Fireball time! Heat the monster up as much as you can.”

Ogong stabbed the back of Desertman’s left hand with Yeo-Ee-Pil to buy some space. The glassy stumps shattered, making the Desertman growl in horror. He tried to summon sand to repair the fingers, but despite the lack of interfering glass, it seemed that his fingers were permanently separated.

“Oh, that’s cool. Gimme a second.” The monkey stuck out his hand. Arcane light glowed from a ring of energy that hovered in front of the monkey’s palm.

“Alright, heat, heat,” Ogong said, leap-frogging to heft himself over the other pillar-like arm of sand, “I can make heat. Tae-wuh-rah! HWA!”

The arcane circle set aflame, mysteriously igniting. Ogong threw his hand forward, and another fireball blasted forward at point-blank range. It landed in the general bulky body of Desertman. Unfortunately, it wasn’t generating enough heat. Ogong groaned. Focusing again, he summoned the arcane circle again.

“HWA!”

This time, he aimed at the approaching blow from Desertman’s other, unsevered hand. The heat blast made the monster flinch, slowing its swing.

“HWA! HWA! HWA!”

Ogong fired a barrage of fireballs, as quickly as he could. He felt something burning in his head, and he knew that the concept of fire was nearly taking over his spirit. Thankfully, the Sandman finally slowed its movement, its face starting to crystallize under the sustained heat.

“Hwwaaaaagh” Ogong grumbled, stumbling from exhaustion. He just pulled off an incredibly difficult Word Magic, and now he was firing maybe six or seven fireballs in a row. Leaning on Yeo-Ee-Pil, the monkey tried to right himself. The fight wasn’t over.

The Sandman was furious now. Suddenly, its remaining arm stretched and shifted, sand spilling to the ground and reaching up to try and cover Sandman’s face. Ignoring the movement, Ogong left forward, swinging Yeo-Ee-Pil and aiming for the Desertman’s face.

“Monkey! To your left!”

Ogong barely had time to notice the giant sandy club swinging at his face. The collision was teeth-shatteringly powerful and sent Ogong flying to the other end of the arena within half a second and left an Ogong-shaped dent in the wall.

“Owwwwwwww,” Ogong whined.

“Let’s go, boy,” Yeo-Ee-Pil groaned, also recovering from the pain of being slammed into a wall, “We still have a sand monster- FIREBALL”

Ogong dared to open his eyes, despite the comfort in keeping them closed. Noticing the giant column of flames approaching him, Ogong reached up for a handhold. Just in time, Ogong lifted himself above where he was seconds ago, and kicked off the wall to leap over the fireball. It landed in the wall, exploding in a surge of heat. It blew Ogong forward, making him skid across the sandy floor.

Painfully, Ogong managed to lift himself up.

“...HHHWWAA,” the sandy monster muttered.

“Holy shit,” Ogong heard Jim mutter.

Ogong’s eyes widened. Yeo-Ee-Pil made a clicking noise.

“Dammit, I think it knows magic.”

“Yeo-Ee-Pil,” Ogong whimpered, “I think it learned it from me.”

“Bullshit. You couldn’t teach a boy to tie his shoes-”

“That’s ‘cause I don’t know how to,” Ogong replied, “And look.”

Desertman, who was now half stubbornly unmoving glass and half furious billowing waves of sand, held a giant rod in one hand, with two small bulbous cylinders at each end.

“That’s like a sand-version of you,” Ogong groaned.

“Shit,” Yeo-Ee-Pil muttered, “it’s copying you.”

Desertman formed another fireball in his hand and flung it at Ogong. The monkey rolled forward and narrowly dodged the fireball as it whistled past him.

“HHHWWAAA,” the monster repeated.

“Great,” Ogong muttered, “Now what?”

“Try using Poong,” Yeo-Ee-Pil suggested.

“Eh?” Ogong grunted, rolling to the side to dodge another fireball, “That spell doesn’t work here.”

“Exactly,” Yeo-Ee-Pil shouted over the roaring flames, “Just do it! Have I been wrong before?”

“Yeah, like tons of times-”

“OH MY GOD JUST DO IT”

Ogong jumped forward, using Yeo-Ee-Pil as a vaulting pole to boost himself over the next fireball.

“Boo-ruh-rah! POONG!”

He reached out his hand, but nothing happened, as they expected. Desertman similarly raised his own hand.

“POOOOONNNGGG” the monster copied.

Try as Desertman did, nothing happened. Ogong used this opportunity to slip under Desertman’s arm and whip Yeo-Ee-Pil into Desertman’s side, making Desertman crumple beneath the impact. Noticing Desertman’s face was closer, Ogong swung his staff at the glassed face, sending cracks everywhere.

Desertman responded by literally flicking him across the room again.

“Alright, someone else is gonna need to do something,” Ogong muttered.

832 words. Sorry, running on fumes here.

[Jim Raynor]

The desert monster, face glistening with pockets of fused glass, roared in a creaking grumble as it shoved an invisible fighter across the room. Despite the damage they were doing to it, their victory didn't seem any closer. Although losing mass to the glassing of its body, the creature kept fighting with the same intensity, reacting to the pain only with anger and renewed vitality. The temple shook with another of its furious bellows, loosening thin pockets of dust and sand from the wall cracks that showered down upon them.
 
"This ain't workin,'" Jim said to himself. "If we're gonna keep glassin' him, we need to do it full throttle! All or nothin'!"
 
Jim checked the display of his rifle as he clicked the grenade launcher into activation. Four were left in the current cartridge, and he had another full one on him with another eight ready to go, so twelve all up. Eight would be enough to do the trick, he hoped; since all of his shots were separated by cartridges, he would have to rely on his fresh one. There was no time to reload for his idea, so he had to go with his best shot.
 
He ejected the current cartridge from the base of his rifle, stuck it to his back, and sank the fresh cartridge into place. He only had one chance at this, and if it failed ... well, he'd cross that bridge if he had to come to it.
 
"Kid!" Jim hollered, hoping Sun Ogong could hear his voice. "I got a plan! When I give the signal, I need you to shoot a fireball! Make sure you're ready! I'm goin' for it!"
 
"He's ready!" Somerled called out from above Jim somewhere. "He can hear you and he'll make the fireball when you call it out!"
 
Without another word, Jim dashed around the desert monster's head, firing his rifle. One grenade a second burst from the barrel beneath the weapon, each one thudding into the desert monster's shifting head and sinking into the sandy mass. The first couple penetrated without incident, but then the desert monster's attention moved to Jim. Its sunken violet eyes fixed on the running terran commander, and a gigantic sand palm raced towards him.
 
"Not today!" Jim shouted, his jumpjets blowing a wave of flame from his back and hopping him over the swiping palm. Still in mid-air, grenades rained down on the desert monster until Jim heard the familiar clicking of a spent cartridge.
 
His feet crashed on the ground, cracking the tiles beneath. "Kid! Fireball at that thing's mouth, pronto!"
 
The desert monster roared, its mouth yawning wide as an orange streak of fire zoomed inside and vanished into the black.
 
"Perfect!" Jim yelled.
 
The first grenade's timer ran out and an explosion tore a chunk of the desert monster's head apart in glassy shrapnel. Sun Ogong's fireball tickled another of the submerged grenades, expediting its fuse and setting off a chain reaction that roasted the desert monster's face from the inside out. It opened its mouth in a soundless cry as a torrent of flame billowed out, its facade transforming into glass as the popping ordinance soldered and shattered the sand that comprised it.
 
Jim flew across the temple from the shockwave, his back slamming against the weathered stone walls. When he looked up, the desert monster's head had imploded in an irregular jagged heap of glass, its hands losing shape and falling into mounds of sand. The temple groaned and creaked from the explosion, but held intact.
 
"Did it actually work?" Somerled said, inspecting Jim's handiwork.
 
Jim ejected his spent cartridge and loaded in his half-used cache of grenades into his rifle. It wasn't over until it was over, for sure.
 
In their quiet optimism, the hills of sand that once were fashioned into hands funnelled into a central point. Soon the desert monster had returned fully, except there was one fundamental difference.
 
It was at least a quarter of its original size. The usable materials of its hands was all it had to rebuild itself with.
 
"Heh. Might still be an annoyance, but he ain't killin' no one," Jim said, smiling.
 
A loud boom echoed through the temple, rocking the ground. Jim's eyes darted around, looking for the cause. It sounded again, more urgent and violent than the last.
 
"Yeah, keep on guard," Somerled said, obviously responding to something Sun Ogong muttered.
 
A thunderous crack brought burning pain to Jim's ears. He gazed up to see the cause. The temple roof shuddered and broke apart, spilling dust and fragmented sandstone towards them.
 
"Crap! This better not be a cave in!" Jim yelled, though he barely heard his own voice over the rumbling.
 
Raynor ran, sprinting around a sturdy column and peeking out. The falling debris collapsed upon the mini-desert monster, burying him from view. Jim almost took heart from that, until he saw the veritable truckload of sand that rained down from the new hole in the roof.
 
"Ah shit, that ain't good."
 
Moments later, the strewn debris exploded outwards as a revitalised desert monster rose up, his roar more terrifying than ever.
 

859 words.
Jim spent 8 of his 12 grenades into the desert monster, which were then ignited by Ogong's fireball. The resulting explosion almost killed it, robbing it of the majority of available sand and reducing it to a much smaller version.
However, the explosion also compromised the weak foundation of the roof, which collapsed, bringing with it a new source of sand. The desert monster has reformed and is much more pissed off than it was before.