"The Quest changed," Dawn growls through gritted teeth. The kite shield form of her armlet isn't doing a bad job of blocking the Berserker's attacks, but a dedicated shield would probably work better.

"We definitely didn't see this coming," Victoria adds, trying to lessen the impact of tardiness. "First, there was a pack of Gnolls that attacked us and the vardo…" She deflects several arrows with her shield and fences a Rogue with her iklwa. It's long enough to keep him at bay and the oversized blade opens deep gashes from the fast attacks.

Oops. That might have been our fault for not rooting out the rest of that hunting party's tribe. Still though, those lower level monster's shouldn't have been a problem for any of our well equipped and battle hardened group.

Sandwiched between Dawn and Vic, I use my Reach to keep us from getting swarmed by the circle of Rogues and Berserker. Mordecai's HP drains quickly due to Shadow Toxin's double the normal poison time and paralyzing effects and Richter delivers the coup de grace with a point blank burst of arrows to his face. I guess my friend didn't appreciate the water torture.

"Second," Dawn continues, "We had to call down the air team to help with the main problem." A Smite imbued Thunderstruck to the Berserker's knee causes him to buckle and Dawn follows it up with another to his jaw. The burst of light from the impact is accompanied by a sickening crunch. Giving her weapon a small twirl as the Berserker's head sways away from her, she performs an almost three hundred and sixty degree winding swing and slices the Half-Giant's head clean off.

"I thought the Paladin and his flunkies were the main problem," I ask, trying to fit her words into my mental puzzle. I catch a Rogue coming in from our side with a Roundhouse Kick, sending him flying. I cast Arcane Bolt at the spot where he would hit the ground. He lands hard on his side, taking both bolts to his back.

[You deal 130 kicking damage!]

[You deal 65 Arcane damage!]

[You deal 65 Arcane damage!]

[You defeated Unknown Rogue!]

"They were." "They were."

Dawn and Vic both respond at the same time and a chill runs up my spine. What could possibly be worse than these idiots?

The answer comes in a deep and deafening growl that echoes throughout the bowl shaped clearing. Several shorter, less threatening roars and cheers join in like a cacophonous chorus.

The remaining Rogue and wolf-less Ranger stop fighting to look around for the source of the noise. Their lack of battle discipline proves their undoing and we opt to pummel them into submission, binding them with conjured rope. The idea to return the favor and throw the blue hoods over their heads crosses my mind, but I let the thought pass for now.

Instead, Dawn motions for us to run back to the ravine, "They're keeping the vardo from escaping."

We chase after her.

I scoff, "You guys can't handle a bunch of Gnolls? Sonny took on--"

"Not Gnolls," Vic interrupts, stowing her iklwa in exchange for her Thunderstruck. "The dungeon boss found a way to escape the cave."

"What? Seriously?" I ask, not knowing what else to say in response.

"It's a big boy and it's got a lot of fodder minions," Dawn tries to explain, but the vardo is already in view. Defending it on foot are Victoria's soldiers. In the roofless cabin Conner, Elsbeth, Serenity and the reserves fire well-aimed arrows and bolts of magic as fast as they can. Kona and Rachel swoop in, providing aerial support with their own Spells and Skills.

My eyes dart around at the chaotic scene, taking in as much as I can as fast as my brain will allow. At more than thirty feet tall, a creature stands in front of the only exit, swiping at something in the air. Its lower half is the black hide body of a large, muscular, six legged horse, pawing at the ground and crushing keg sized rocks with ease. The upper half is the monstrously built torso of a humanoid. It looks like a tower of cobblestones shrink wrapped in greasy grey leather, patches of short hair similar to the kind found on it's equine lower half. Four arms are flailing after it's flying tormentor, the second set of arms seemingly sprouting from the armpit area of the first set. The head and face are a vile collection of features; no hair or eyebrows, jaundice yellow pupils, bulbous nose, pitted fangs jutting up from the lower jaw and sticking out of it's mouth.

>Scan[This creature once stalked the area for it's favorite foods, the flesh of its goblinoid brethren. After chasing a tribe of Goblins into the dungeon, the core infected the Centogre, increasing its size, intelligence, and mutating it further. Using these to it's advantage, the Centogre practically "domesticated" any of the goblinoid races it finds as a food source and also uses them to defend its new home.]

[Slam, Stomp, Pummel, Rock Slide, +Hellbent Roar, +Grim Larder]

Swarming out of the dungeon itself are dozens of Shadow Goblins, several Shadow Hobgoblins, and a handful of Shadow Orcs, which Richter mis-identified as Trolls. The Goblins are annoying to say the least and the larger Hobgoblins shouldn't pose too much of a threat. The Orcs, however, are over ten feet tall and their underclothed and overweight bodies belie their immense strength. Usually they're armed with tree branches or clubs and the smaller of its species would wield knives, sabers, spears, or axes but we're lucky enough that the Centogre chooses not to arm its "livestock."

The lone figure in the air capturing the full attention of the giant monster is none other than Sonny, surfing through the air and effortlessly dodging the clumsy attempts at her life. She deftly leaps over hands like king-sized mattresses, landing back on Meteora. All the while, she plays strings of notes on what looks to be a reed flute, probably the one we got so long ago that no one's cared to pick up just yet. Each pass she makes near the Centogre's head or chest is marked by shallow cuts that dribble dark red, viscous blood.

With my rainbow bar topped off I shout to Dawn and Vic, "Where do you need me?"

"Help Sonny shave some of Handrew's HP while we move the vardo out of harm's way," Dawn replies.

"Hand… what?" I ask, not getting where the word even came from.

"Dawn can't pronounce Centogre," Vic responds with a chuckle in her voice.

I run past them as they turn to help the soldiers around the vardo, "You can say that name, but not Centogre?"

Dawn vents a bit a frustration by cleaving a Goblin down its shoulder, "Shut up, Kingsford!"

"You used that one already nevermind you can't hear me," I say mostly to myself as the distance and din of battle make it difficult for my reply to be heard. On my way to the growing figure of the Centogre, I slash at Goblins and trade blows with a Hob or two, conserving my MP and SP for the upcoming ordeal.

Aside from the intimidating and sweaty figure, the first thing that hits me upon approach is the rancid smell of rotting meat and acrid body odor. The pungent, nose crumpling air around it fills up my throat and I gag on reflex.

[HP regen wait +10 seconds! HP regen -10HP!]

It appears the smell around this creature is also an Ability that hampers the natural regeneration of HP. "Probably a Feat or an Aura Skill," I mutter as I get within range, releasing three dainty, one foot wide, blue glowing bubbles from an outstretched hand. I let them lazily float towards the monster, seeing how its hooves are stomping around indescriminately. I cast Assassinate, reappearing above where the horse and ogre parts meet, and hit it with a Critical Stab and Echo Strike.

[You deal 82 slashing damage!]

[You deal 30 slashing and 47 Arcane damage!]

[You deal 39 water damage!]

[You deal 39 water damage!]

[You deal 39 water damage!]

Though the exploding bubbles only deal about half the damage they're supposed to, my slashes are reduced to aggressive tickling when you consider how much HP this thing has left.

"Physical attacks are no good, Ardy," Sonny calls out, trying not to bring too much attention to me, "I had to switch to this flute to deal psionic damage." Interesting, as a Bard I was wondering if she could--

The body below me shudders and I have to stumble around to keep my balance. A deep growl builds in the monster's torso. I take it as a sign of something about to happen and I desperately hit it with Arcane Bolts to distract it.

[You deal 40 Arcane damage!]

[You deal 40 Arcane damage!]

Shit.

The Centogre raises its four fists in the air and lets loose a thunderous roar, a wave of yellow energy speeding away from it like a tidal wave.

[Debuff gained! You are Enfeebled!]

Not really seeing what the Debuff did to me, I look around and notice I'm dimly glowing grey, as are other members of my party. I wonder if they, too, feel as if vast amounts of energy is being drained from them. The Goblins, Hobs, and Orcs, however, have a feint red aura and are fighting more aggressively than ever. It must've been the last Ability, Hellbent Roar.

Dawn's voice comes in over the party command, instead of the Whisper Cuff, and speaks to the whole party at once, "Enfeeble lowers your weapon attack damage by twenty percent and it looks like all the hostiles are stronger by the same amount. We've moved the vardo near the outpost and some of us will be joining the boss fight."

When the brute ends its roar I also unleash my own Ability, streaming water, lightning, and fire magic at the massive back.

[You deal 39 water damage!]

[You deal 39 lightning damage!]

[You deal 39 fire damage!]

Even though I get the full three seconds worth this time, getting the same set of notifications three times, it's still a drop in the bucket in terms of damage. "Shit, those are no good either." Since I don't have any psionic Abilities, I test other elements to see if I can find another weakness. So far, no good. After thinking, the only other Element I have left is poison in the form of Shadow Toxin. But, before I get the chance to use it, the Centogre bucks hard and wildly, sending me crashing to the ground.

[The ground bludgeons you for 62 damage!]

[Debuff gained! Dislocated Shoulder!]

I painfully roll off of the shoulder that broke my fall and, sure enough, it's just hanging limp and burning with pain. I try to move it, but it's almost as if the thought itself sends jolts of misery shooting across my shoulder. I hiss through my teeth, using a Blink Step to move away from the stomping hooves.

I go the full fifty feet and find myself in a relative calm area, only having to fight three unlucky goblins and watching a few of the others making their way to the Centogre. The monsters go down without much fuss, even if I am temporarily one armed. I even get a crazy idea, grabbing the last one by it's fuzzy, dark grey head and bashing it's skull against my shoulder, popping it back into place.

[Debuff removed!]

[You deal 77 bludgeoning damage!]

[Shadow Goblin deals 14 bludgeoning damage!]

[You defeated Shadow Goblin!]

I would argue that I did that damage to myself, but I wouldn't know who to send that minor complaint to or if they would care in the slightest. The pain lessens and I apply First Aid several times to get my HP back up and to get my shoulder back in business. I withdraw my Bolt Master's and Hedge Mage's Rings. I'm tempted to slip them on but decide to place them into my Storage Bracelet, since neither would really help in this fight.

I go through the Storage Rings, but find only materials and remembering I placed all the good stuff in the Bracelet. It's the only thing one keeps on them upon death and the thought makes me wish I put more into it. I wave my hand in the air, opening up my Pocket Dimension and popping a screen next to it. The only thing in it is my Rucksack. Shit.

I look back at the battle at hand. Dawn, Elsbeth, Kona, and Richter surround the massive creature in a half circle, giving it a wide berth. Sonny joins Victoria, Conner, and the other soldiers in defending the vardo from the diminishing army of goblinoids. Rachel is with them as well, since her Mantle of the Raptor timed out, she won't be able to use the wings for the next twelve hours. She's flinging magical blades at the incoming horde, instead of mixing it up amongst them.

I Analyze the Centogre and a tinge of dispair slips into my heart. The beast is still at 3957/5109HP. How is that even possible? Sonny and I have been dealing damage to it non-stop and the others are out there now hitting it with every Spell they can cast. Nothing seems to be hurting it and the Hellbent Roar dropped us down even further in the damage dealing department. That's probably why Vic and the other Skill users are at the vardo, instead of wasting their efforts on the brute.

Once again, the beast raises its hands and lets loose a thunderous noise. We brace ourselves for the effects of the Debuff, but to our utter suprise and horror, something entirely different happens.

All of the fodder stop their assault and begin convulsing on the spot. A horrible, wet, tearing sound fills the area and a gurgling laugh erupts from the Centogre. One by one, its minions' bodies tear in half, the missing halves filling in with a dark gooey substance. It has to be the Skill, Grim Larder. Just by the name and what is seems to be doing now, it must double the creature's food source, which also happens to be its army. It's a disgusting, yet super efficient use of a Skill.

Some of the ones closest to it are scooped up and unceramoniously eaten in fast, gorey bites. Black blobs of flesh and blood litter the ground around it, before pixelating and disappearing forever from my vision, but not from my memories. I watch in disbelief as the Centogre's health climbs up to 5017/5109HP.

Not only that, but the vardo is being surrounded by a doubled and refreshed army of goblinoids. Most of our MP and SP are shot, though mine are nearly topped off since they got a chance to regen after fixing my shoulder. But, none of my Spells or Skills were effective against the boss and there are too many goblinoids for me to take on in melee range. They're stronger than the Stalker horde, making it so we can't make a repeat performance.

"Shit," I curse to the wind, my claws digging into my palms as I clench them tightly, "What do we do?"

"We fight," a young male's voice says from behind me and I watch as someone I've never seen before bounds past me wearing large and complex looking gloves and boots over his arms and legs. The Centogre bellows as shards of ice hit it in the face.

"What'cha waiting for, Ardacen? An invite?" I feel a hand slap me on the back as a cloaked figure in a cowboy hat steps up beside me.

"Whoa, Brandy?" I ask, tipping my hat up, revealing more of my bony face to her.

"Yikes. What happened to you?" she says with a smile, mirroring my actions with her own wide brimmed hat. "Nevermind. We can chat later."

She aims her magic pistol at the boss and fires four times in rapid succession and a gossimer thin veil of frost covers the barrel, puffs of what look like snow are falling around her. She flicks the revolving chamber open and dumps out the frosty casings into her storage bracelet. After withdrawing a ring of metallic blue bullets from storage, she reloads, and flicks the chamber closed which shakes the frost off her gun.

She withdraws another weapon in her off hand. It looks like a coil of brown, patterned, leathery rope with the head of a sleeping cobra dangling at the end of it.

"Hey!" I exclaim, recalling the Kiss of the Sidewinder I gifted to her on our first meeting, "It does look great on you!" We start our run towards Dawn and the others.

"You have no idea how many times this thing's saved my ass. Stupid gun don't always work right, you know?" She fires three quick shots and abruptly stops. We take a quick glance at it and see that the end is capped with ice. "Damn, not again," she says in resignation, stowing it in her holster with a satisfying schwiff.

Wanting to get a few hits in as well, I shoot my two bolts of Arcane energy in the shape blue skulls.

She lets out an impressed whistle followed by, "Aint'choo full of suprises. Wouldn'ta pegged you for a caster type."

"Wouldn'ta pegged your brother for a melee type." I gesture over at him with my head. Currently, he's assisting the group near the vardo by punching, smashing, and smacking the various creatures with massive, steampunk, iron contraptions on his arms. He squats as low as he can go with the leg bracers and launches into the air, landing momentarily on a few goblins with a wet crunching sound and sending out waves of concussive energy.

"He loves robots, but he missed out on the Machina race," Brandy rolls her eyes as she explains right as we arrive on the scene.

"Dawn, this is Brandy. We met in the desert. She wants to help." The sentences are spaced by short gasps for air, but she seems to understand what I mean.

"Agree to the invites," she breaks her attack long enough to send Brandy two messages and I can tell the gunslinger accepts them without hesitation.

"Things aren't looking good though," Dawn says, moving and keeping a fair bit of space as the monster advances with each stomp of it's hooves. All the lacerations and abrasions on the Centogre are gone and it's slowly rubbing the ice from its face as if waking up from a long nap.

"We need DoTs," Dawn mutters under her breath, but I still catch it.

"You think Poison will work?" I ask, tracking the Centogre's movements. It looks vaguely annoyed at the tiny creatures hitting it with bolts of magic and flying weapons. Before Dawn can answer, the boss rears back on two pairs of its legs, hooves kicking and spraying dirt. They begin to glow yellow, but no one knows what it means. Dawn shouts for everyone to move away and brace themselves, but it's too late.

The legs come down with a thunderous crash, sending a tidal wave of rock and dirt in an ever expanding crescent away from the point of impact. In a knee jerk reaction, I Blink Step above the wave, like one would in the water at the beach. The others aren't so lucky. They've avoided taking any damage from the boss so far, even having enough time to regenerate any lost HP from the goblinoid horde, but this is one big hit. I land awkwardly, but luckily take no damage.

There's no time to nurse wounds as everyone forces their bodies up from the ground, flinching as they brush dirt and rubble off of themselves. No one died, but everyone is bleeding heavily from multiple places. I cast Healing Breeze on Dawn, bringing her out of her daze from losing so much HP at once. She gives everyone else some Healing Light love as they each chug a Health Potion. Dawn explains that everyone is spaced too far apart for Sanctuary, so I catch as many as I can in a group with a few well placed Healing Breezes.

"Get in there, Ardy. We'll keep distracting it," Dawn commands with a weak smile. Her expression hardens to steel as she grips her Thunderstruck and hurls it as hard as she can at the boss.

"I'll go too," Brandy says as we run in opposite directions, trying to out flank it. I can hear more gunshots, slower this time, more intent on getting the Centogre's attention.

I find myself back in the saddle again, literally, aiming for the Centogre's exposed torso. "Here goes…"

[You deal 82 slashing damage!]

[Elemental Weakness! You Poison Mutated Centogre!]

[You Blind Mutated Centogre!]

[You deal 30 piercing and 47 Arcane damage!]

[You deal 26 piercing damage!]

"Seriously?" I ask incredulously to the now thrashing boss monster. "I could've done this sooner!" After a Shadow Toxin imbued Critical Stab, I used an Echo Strike and a regular stab of my claws to dig into the grimy skin.

"Hey, Brandy! Eight seconds!" I call out to the gunslinger and she let's out a loud yeehaw, before whipping a planted leg and adding a second, different Posion status to the beast. Together, we're dealing about 140 Poison damage every two seconds. Still, she has to hit it twice as often as I do, since my Debuff sticks around for twice as long as normal.

Soon, the Centogre's health finally dips below the 1000 mark, but by then I've been on its back for far too long. Every bone and joint in my body is screaming. "How the hell do cowboys handle this?" I shout out, every word dripping with misery.

"For one," Brandy responds, "They're never on this long. Also, this filly is a bit bigger than regulations would allow."

I give it one last dose of the Shadow Toxin, only inflicting the Poison, but it's all that needs to be done by now. Unfortunately, my arms are too fatigued to swing hard enough so I could dig my claws into the skin and stick to the monster like a tick. For the second time of this fight, I'm bucked off. My jelly-like legs can't catch me or roll me properly upon landing and I crumple.

[The ground bludgeons you for 64 damage!]

I flop over on my back, just in time to watch a round, black shadow come towards me at great speed.

[Mutated Centogre stomps you for 247 bludgeoning damage!]

[You died.]

[You lose 20% of your total XP]

[-3226XP]

[Would you like to wait for Revival Y/N?]

Horseshit. Well, I'm glad I didn't go out from a huge pile of that falling on me anyway. I choose No, wondering where my body will end up and hoping against hope that I end up close by, or at least back in the vardo.

I can hear Azreal laughing in the darkness and I greetings him, "Hey, Az. Know anyone to die from poop?"

His billowing black robe visible even in the abyss of the space we're in appears before me, "Heh heh heh. Let's just say you wouldn't be the first or the last."

I take some cautious steps forward, but his robe stays the same distance away with no discernable movement, other than the flapping in the magical breeze. "What'cha been up to?" I ask, not knowing what else to say.

"Oh you know," he waves a sleeve and reveals hundreds of windows to Arc, "Watching Travelers. Waiting for company. Good work on the Sonasolaria thing. She looks happy."

I smile at the words and scratch the back of my skull, "Thanks." He waves his sleeve again, dismissing all but one portal. I can't see what's in it, but I know it's mine.

"Due to the rules, I must regrettably send you back to this location," he gestures to the portal and his hood hangs lower than usual, before disappearing in the void.

I can't blame him for following the rules, but still, I grind my teeth as I move forward through the portal.

I sigh as I take in the sights. The sun is rising and people are already going about their business, trying not to stare at my naked figure. Once again, the only thing remaining on me is my Mask of the Grey Wanderer and my Storage Bracelet. Even my rings and necklace dropped. The only good thing about having a cursed item is that it never leaves you, no matter what. I muse on why the other parts aren't cursed, but I cut my thoughts short when I remember I have something more important to worry about.

I shake my head, retrieve the spare piece of three foot square canvas from my Storage Bracelet, and wrap it around myself like a towel. "Oh yeah, these two, I suppose," I mutter as I slip on my Bolt Master's and Hedge Mage's Rings. At least they help me feel less naked. I stroll through a dirt path, hoping to find a Tailor or clothing store here in Ifrix.