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... but the Exchange Rates are Murder! [IC]


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Regarding Dead Head through the concealing cloud as the undead hero crept up behind him, then turned back to the cultists. The mention of Travis' assault marked the end of his patience. "I. Bring. Doom," he intoned in a tone like gravel being crushed in impossibly strong fists. The cloud of inky mist suddenly burst forward, washing over the robed men, blinding them. The lone standing speaker felt a merciless blow on his throat that continued down to pin him on the stone floor.

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"Y-you... are... not..." the head cultist choked out from under the Midnight mass.

Trevor heard several thuds, as of a shovel coming into violent contact with a cultist's skull. He only heard three such sounds, though, so there were still others up.

Two metal creaks from the passageway beyond the ritual chamber echoed throughout the cavern. A massive form emerged from the left passageway, at first appearing to be a particularly large lion. But lions have neither green scaled limbs, not great curling ram's horns! It leaped towards Trevor, jaws open wide to deliver a terrible bite, but the teen of terror easily avoided its (comparatively) clumsy lunge!

"Got a bunch'a deaders comin' up th' right passage, man!," Dead Head called out. "They's the hungry type, too. I'll see if'n I can hol' 'em off!," he called as he ran down the passage.

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Another blow silenced the cult leader's croaking protests as Midnight turned his attention to the massive beast. His thought process accelerated even as his perception seemed to slow, tactical decisions made more quickly than the thoughts could be formed into words. He pushed himself backward even as the chimera pounced, sliding along the rocky floor in the three point crouch before leaping upward, erupting from the edge of the inky black cloud training smoke like a demon appearing from sulfur and brimstone, candlelight reflecting dimly off of the silver knuckleduster on his raised fist in the split second before it came crashing down squarely between the monster's curling horns.

The young man used the force of the blow to propel himself back into the air and over the chimera's back, landing smoothly behind it. Violently crossing and uncrossing his forearms before him, he released a pair of long, thin blades which immediately snapped into segmented hooks at his practiced movement, sliding further out of his coat's sleeves to reveal twin chains. At once he was moving again, spinning in a tightly controlled whirlwind of slicing attacks that bit at the enraged beast's scaly limbs and fur covered back.

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Dead Head ran down the other passageway, running smack into a pack of nearly a dozen ghouls. Like him, they were obviously long-dead, but their teeth were far sharper, and the exposed bones at the tips of their fingers made for very nasty talons.

"C'mon, fellers, ya don't wanna be doin' this," Dead Head pleaded, trying to reason with them. "Ain't no need ta-"

The ghouls hissed and sprang upon him.

"Right, gotta do this tha hard way."

He pressed forward, making short jabs with his trusty shovel. The corridor was too cramped for him to swing, but it was also too cramped for them to gang up more than two at a time on him.

Midnight's opening blow stunned the chimera, and his hooks bit deep into it, but it was still up. Hurt, badly hurt, but up. It turned quickly and fixed the hero with burning red eyes, and breathed out a cone of fire!

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Even as searing flame rolled past the great beast's toothy maw, Midnight swung his chain hooks down as one, digging them deep into the chimera's back, then sprang forward with a herculean pull. The movement sent him arcing though the air over the fiery cone while tearing through scaly hide until another quick tug dislodged the wicked barbs, metal links clattering coldly among pained roar. Landing smoothly on the creature's back, the black clad vigilante swung his arm out once more, sending a chain in a curving trajectory as the chimera rear backward, easily keeping his balance as the hook rounded the other side of his foe's head a snatching it out of the air before securing it on a massive ram-like horn. Leaping back to the cave floor, he pulled tight, the line cutting off air flow through the gargantuan throat.

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Dead Head jabbed and jabbed his way up the corridor, until it opened to a chamber with even more of the ghouls. Bad news, they could now swarm him from many directions. Good news, he now had room to swing his shovel in wide arcs, taking out many at a time.

The beast twisted under Midnight's chains, but the young hero kept a tight rein on. Sputters of flame rolled out its mouth, but Midnight kept pulling the chains tight... and it fell.

Around the time the beast fell, Dead Head came back up the corridor, covered in stuff Trevor tried not to think about. The other cultists were out, and Travis, conscious and looking up at his grandson, calmly waiting to be unchained from the altar.

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With a soft tinkling sound, the hooks straightened and retracted up Midnight's sleeves as the young man hurried to his grandfather's side, quickly doing away with the elderly man's bonds. "Alright?"

Travis stepped off the alter with some difficulty and minor assistance, snorting derisively as he did so. "Ones who came to take me in worse shape than I am," he told his protege calmly. "Nice work."

Supporting his grandfather's weight, Midnight moved back toward Dead Head and the passage out of the caves.

"Any idea what this was about?"

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Dead Head looked around at the unconscious cultists, then back to Midnight. "Don't look like these folks'll tell us, but I got another way ta find out."

He dashed down the corridor where the ghouls had been. Trevor heard him talking, as if carrying on a conversation with someone, but heard only pauses instead of a replying voice. Soon enough, he came back up to the main chamber. "Dead'uns says they was workin' some sorta 'ritual'a transference,' planning on stickin' that critter's soul," he nodded towards the felled chimera, "inta the body'a yer friend there. Sez there's other cults 'round the city doin' similar, but none'a them knew 'xactly where. None said who was head honcho for this, though... but I don' think it's jes' some wacked-out cultists switchin' 'round spirits fer laughs. Man, I got a bad feelin' 'bout this."

~fin~

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