NationStates Jolt Archive

Look at the wall behind you... *TCG turns and sees* You're it.

*Jocabia takes a vial and pours out its contents on TCG. It washes away the mud and TCG begins to grow back to her normal size. He hands her a towel and sticks out his hand*

May I help you up?

*she looks at him with surprise, and takes the offered hand and help to get up. she towel-dries herself quickly*
That was an incredible aim. i was so small. i'm impressed.
*she offers him a warm smile*

*she looks at him with surprise, and takes the offered hand and help to get up. she towel-dries herself quickly*
That was an incredible aim. i was so small. i'm impressed.
*she offers him a warm smile*

*Jocabia grins* It's not my first time throwing things at a shrunken human who was a Goddess until someone stole their essence. *Jocabia winks*

*Jocabia grins* It's not my first time throwing things at a shrunken human who was a Goddess until someone stole their essence. *Jocabia winks*

*she laughs softly and kisses him lightly*
I like it when we have fun. it's nice to know we still can, under these circumstances.
*she winks back*

*she laughs softly and kisses him lightly*
I like it when we have fun. it's nice to know we still can, under these circumstances.
*she winks back*

Well, I promised the boys a feast after the trap was sprung so I have some work to do. I'll bid you good morrow, m'lady.

*Turns to leave*

Men? Let's go!!

Well, I promised the boys a feast after the trap was sprung so I have some work to do. I'll bid you good morrow, m'lady.

*Turns to leave*

Men? Let's go!!

*she bends over, makes a mudball and throws it at his back*

*she bends over, makes a mudball and throws it at his back*

Just as the ball is about to hit Jocabia in the back Sven reaches behing Joc and catches is. He wags his finger at TCG as Joc and company slowly disappear into the sunset.

Well, we should get started on it.

Well, we should get started on it.

Do you mean our trap? Yes we should because i am it. and that was a pretty elaborate trap, i must say.

Do you mean our trap? Yes we should because i am it. and that was a pretty elaborate trap, i must say.

Why thank you. Do you know when you will be finished?

Why thank you. Do you know when you will be finished?

LOL, i meant Joc's trap. we haven't even begun to make ours.. have we? have you sent me something?

LOL, i meant Joc's trap. we haven't even begun to make ours.. have we? have you sent me something?

No, I should get the equipment.

No, I should get the equipment.

Why don't you take the lead and set up the trap, Zat?

ooc: i'm off Zat. make it good. either now or when some other castlemates join you. good luck

Alright. Now for the equipment. Let's see, projectors, "mist"...

*exits the castle to get items*

*she strolls around the empty castle, caressing the stones, feeling the emptiness. she sighs. the emptiness echoes in her. she visits the chambers of each of her mates, cradling memories like so many precious flames to light the way. the warm the heart.*

Outside the castle, a ferocious storm howls through the ramparts, tearing great stone blocks from the ops of the gnarled towers and walls. Lightning flashes electric blue through the clouds and in great forks, searing the ground and splintering trees like toothpicks. A solitary figure moves through the turbulent landscape, a man on horseback trying to escape the wrath of the weather.

Hard sleet smacks into the walls of the castle, the lanscape...indeed, everything either unable to move inside or stupid enough to be outside. The thunder rattles the thickest of windows, the thinner windows having imploded soon after the storm began. Rivers are bursting their banks left, right and centre, turning the great floodplain outside the castle first to a mudbath then to a growing lake. The moat of the castle has reached its highest ever point on the castle walls. The drawbridge is buffeted by the windswept moat, licking its wooden unerbelly like a great, writhing serpent. The heavy drawbridge is repeatedly lifted from its downed position, groaning with the force of the water. Still, the solitary man makes his way to the castle, the poor horse often swimming through newly-laid reservoirs of rainwater and melted sleet.

Not far from the castle a great lightning bolt, forked like an upturned tree, smacks into the earth next to the rider. The surge of electrical energy superheats the sodden earth and passes a current through the horse and man. The combined force of the electric shock and the exploding earth forces the pair far from the site of the blast, permanently stopping the horse. The man lies dazed, half-floating on his back in a growing puddle. He awakens and crawls from the cold water, soaked to the skin and charred from the shock. He is lucky though - the castle is only a hundred yards away.

The injured figure staggers the distance at a slow pace. It is apparent his arm is broken, shattered from the fall from the horse. His features contort into a twisted, painful face as he falls on the arm. The scream is lost amongst the howling of the wind, a sound like a pack of monstrous wolves baying for the blood of humanity. He picks himself up with his useful arm and continues to the drawbridge. By now, the moat repeatedly flows over it and the great wooden beams are splintering under the immense force of the torrent. The man falls again and cannot get up - he has to drag himself across the bridge by his fingernails. The water washes him all over the surface and the short journey takes time.

Eventually, he reaches the doorway to the castle and drags himself up by the doorknob. A lightning bolt sears through the sky and, against all logic, misses the tall castle and pummels the collapsing drawbridge. The water soaking through the wood is instantly boiled and the drawbridge explodes. The great oak doors burst open with the force and the man is hurled through, his back peppered with splinters the size of tent pegs and a large sliver of wood penetrating his left thigh right the way through. He lies there in the entrance, mewling in pain before he blacks out.

Soon afterwards, the storm abruptly ends and the water subsides. The man comes to and removes the rain-sodden cloak he was using, tearing it on the wood fragment in his leg. Shock prevents most of the pain, but some seeps through. He lets out a howl and yanks the sliver from his leg, blood issuing forth like a bloody torrent. He stops the external flow by stuffing some of the cloak inside the wound. However, it also stops bloodflow to some of his leg. Without the hooded cloak, the man is now recogniseable as tribes - at least if anyone was around to recognise him. He limps to a sofa, dragging the useless leg with him, and collapses. Half a bottle of Single Malt sits beside the sofa, which tribes uses to both cleanse his wounds and as a painkiller. He falls into an uneasy sleep, unable to go for help...

OOC: Can I get an update here?

"Some storm," Jocabia says to no one in particular. His men have left him for shelter to wait out the storm, but Jocabia continued onward. His armor is weather-beaten but he appears no worse for the wear, save the weary look upon his face.

In the middle of a brilliant blue sky, the sun bombards the back of the armored man. A small amount of steam can be seen rising from Jocabia as the water in his armor evaporates into the hot, dry desert wind. Jocabia needs rest and shade but the latter isn't available for miles and without it the former would be the kiss of death.

Jocabia wills his legs to carry him forward. "One more step," he tells himself over and over like the hook of song for which he can remember no more words. He tries to whistle but the moment he purses his cracked lips the water is sucked from his mouth, swelling his tongue.

"TRAPS!" he hollers out to desert heat, "Mother nature wins the game!" Jocabia starts to laugh a raspy, hollow laugh that would have chilled the soul of the most hearty hero if any would have been around to hear it. He drops to knee momentarily and then slowly rises back to his feet and continues his steady, aching gait.

After several hours, he comes upon a large puddle of water that hasn't yet evaporated because it is shielded from the hot sun and the dry wind by a wall of stone. "A place to rest," his dusty mind can barely find the words to form this thought. He lays on his belly and drinks a long draught directly from the puddle. He sits up, shakes his head and then vomits polluting the water, and the ground he is resting on. He desperately tries to calm himself and then he takes another drink of the now foul water, slower this time. He carefully sits back up and concentrates on keeping the disgusting brew in his belly. After a few tenuous moments pass, he feels his nausea pass and he leans down for a second long, slow drink. He leans back against the stone and finally gives up fighting the fatigue that has plagued him for half a day.

Jocabia closes his eyes and darkness overcomes him.

*watches Joc play soldier in the sandbox*

awwwww.....isn't that cute

*she hears the storm and feels Tribes near. He always knew how to make an entrance, but this time, he was injured. she goes to him and finds him snoring on the sofa. she takes the single malt away, and heals his wounds. she has peasants transport him to his chambers. she cleans him up and lets him rest...*

You can play another day...

OOC: Um, didn't you lose your healing powers?

<snip>
Soon afterwards, the storm abruptly ends and the water subsides. The man comes to and removes the rain-sodden cloak he was using, tearing it on the wood fragment in his leg. Shock prevents most of the pain, but some seeps through. He lets out a howl and yanks the sliver from his leg, blood issuing forth like a bloody torrent. He stops the external flow by stuffing some of the cloak inside the wound. However, it also stops bloodflow to some of his leg. Without the hooded cloak, the man is now recogniseable as tribes - at least if anyone was around to recognise him. He limps to a sofa, dragging the useless leg with him, and collapses. Half a bottle of Single Malt sits beside the sofa, which tribes uses to both cleanse his wounds and as a painkiller. He falls into an uneasy sleep, unable to go for help...

*she hears the storm"s wrath and calls on a few relatives to quiet things down.. amazing how much they ignore on of them when said being has no powers... but she can be a pest and they finally acknowledge her and her request. she feels Tribes nearby and grins. he was always one to make dramatic entrances... she goes to find him.

And find him she does, unconscious and bleeding. what the hell happened to him? she approaches him carefully and takes the bottle of single malt away. she looks over is wounds and shakes her head. she'll need some help, but knows that after her tantrum, no help will be forthcoming. she sighs and gets the first aid kit. she stitches what she can, cleans other wounds and binds them.

She jerks a few sleeping peasants with her foot and orders them to take Tribes to his room on a stretcher. she follows, cursing Joc for his resourcefulness and Mercury for his lack of progress. she gets Tribes to bed and closes the door*
You can play another day, Tribes...

*<snippage>

She jerks a few sleeping peasants with her foot and orders them to take Tribes to his room on a stretcher. she follows, cursing Joc for his resourcefulness and Mercury for his lack of progress. she gets Tribes to bed and closes the door*
You can play another day, Tribes...
Tribes, now patched up as best the powerless Chocolate Goddess could, fitfully slumbers in this familiar yet strange bed. He jerks about, mutters curses and screams, all whilst dreaming. If anyone knew - indeed, could ever know - the content of his dreams, they too would scream. Whenever a peasant has asked of the dreams, tribes has 'removed' them, and whenever an equal in the castle asks, he simply laughs it off as too much ale. The inner turmoil which powers the horrific visions, memories and bloody snapshots of his past would have reduced a lesser mortal to insanity. Tribes himself is beginning to suffer the effects - before all this, he was a peaceful man - but the signs are hidden in this violent place.

Still he slumbers, troubled but as close to peaceful as he can manage. His torso, wrapped in the bandages soaked in his own blood, shows the wear of these last few years. His physical condition would be described as toned, were it not for the countless scars covering his skin. These latest ones will not be noticed distinctly, but simply change the overall effect created by the scar tissue. Even without her divine healing abilities, the Goddess is still an excellent physician. She has even managed to partially close the gaping hole in his thigh, although his leg will never fully recover without divine intervention by a deity still granted their power.The wound still oozes viscous blood whenever pressure is applied, the result being a blood-smeared bed linen. The rest of the wounds, however, ceased to bleed some hours ago. He will survive and recover almost completely (notwithstanding the leg) unless infection takes hold.

After over a day of rest, tribes groggily wakes from his twisted nightmare. He no longer leaps out of bed with fear, nor does he search the shadows for his enemies, but his only conscious signs of fear are there - he reaches for the knife he keeps with him, although it is not here in this bed. Finding it to be very late in the day, tribes decides he must have slept for too long. He goes to wash, glad of the castle walls that surround him. He will be safe from the many enemies he has made in the time he was away from the castle. Once clean and ready for action, he moves out into the castle, expecting some sort of welcome.

The castle is empty, and has begun to fall into a state of disrepair again. "She really is high maintenance" tribes thinks, uttering a mirthless laugh into the echoing halls. He sits by the dying embers of a fire, reclining on the leather couch. As always, a drink is on the table nearby and someone has left a book. He sits and reads, waiting for his castlemates arrival. Eventually he falls into a doze - surprising, since he has slept for almost a day. A trap of some sorts, perhaps? Who knows...

Jocabia reaches up and grabs weakly onto a barely protruding rock on the side of the cliff. One of his feet slip, but Jocabia maintains his hold and pulls himself upward. The edges of his dingy white shirt are stained red with the blood from his hands. With a sharp eye, one can discern the path taken by Jocabia up the sharp rock face. After what seems like weeks, Jocabia finds himself on an outlying, rock platform.

After resting for an hour, Jocabia continues his arduous journey. He wills himself to continue, but almost once in every minute the thought occurs to him that he need only let go and he will never feel pain again. He knows that this would not do, however. He has promises to keep.

From the ground, Jocabia is invisible behind the clouds.

"Why do I always have to be so clever?" he suddenly cries out. "How could I not know it would take this to reverse my deeds?" He laughs suddenly. "Looookiiiii," he yells upward.

Jocabia's rippling muscles are hidden by his armor, but they are straining with their last effort to pull his weight and the weight of his accessories up to the craggy top of his destination.

He stands weakly. "Loki? Loki, I know you're here, doggonit." Even in his weakened state, Jocabia is fully aware of the danger of mod rocks.

"I figured you'd be here soon," Loki appears behind Jocabia.
"Give it to me, Loki. You've had it long enough." Jocabia pulled himself completely erect. He looked worn, but when standing straight Loki nearly disappeared in his shadow.
"I'm not through with it yet. She is very powerful."
"That wasn't the deal. I said you had to give it back when we were done." Jocabia's face hardened and he looked menacing.

Suddenly, Loki was behind Jocabia, lashing out with a dagger, laughing a hyena's laugh. Jocabia stood as still as a statue as Loki appeared and disappeared around him, slashing at his face, arms and torso. One moment, Loki disappeared, the next he was in Jocabia's arms, his face red as a beet, crying and begging for mercy.
"I was only playing," Loki pleaded. "I wasn't really hurting you."
"Playing?!?" Jocabia's voice sounded like thunder on the mountaintop.
"I was going to give it back. Honest. I swear," bleated the little god, his face begins to become hues of violet.
"I will pop you like a zit if I don't see it before us both the ground this instant." Jocabia moved and Loki was dangly at arms length by his neck. Loki made some motions with his hands and a moment later a irridescent ball lay at the feet of Jocabia.

Jocabia threw Loki to the ground. "I'm a patient man, but I keep my promises. You'd be wise to do the same."
Loki rubbed his neck. "You didn't have to be so violent. Why must women always come between us?"
"I keep my promises." Jocabia picked up the irridescent ball and held it above his. "Game's over, my Goddess. Tend to your followers." Jocabia's hands came together and the ball disappeared.

Jocabia collapsed on the mountaintop.

"I keep my promises and I was always your champion."

His eyes closed and darkness fell upon him again...

<snip>

"I keep my promises." Jocabia picked up the irridescent ball and held it above his. "Game's over, my Goddess. Tend to your followers." Jocabia's hands came together and the ball disappeared.

Jocabia collapsed on the mountaintop.

"I keep my promises and I was always your champion."

His eyes closed and darkness fell upon him again...

*she walks around the castle, pondering her next move, when suddenly, she falls to her knees, crying in pain as a searing light surrounds her. although it only lasts a few seconds, it feels like an eternity to her. when all grows dim, she feels different. her powers have returned. she also knows what has occured. and the price.

With a low cry, she transports herself to the mountaintop and gently cradles the fallen Joc in her arms. she bows her head and caresses his lips with the Kiss of Life to replenish his lifeforce.

She looks around for Loki, for she has been wanting to... speak to him very much. she sighs. but now is not the time. her Champion's needs must come before her revenge. she gathers Jocabia closely to her and transports them both to her chambers in the castle. she covers him and lights the candles with her thoughts. she smiles sadly. what price... she shakes her head.*

My dear Jocabia, you were always my Champion...

*she closes the door and goes in search of Tribes. she finds him, asleep, book in hand. she lays a glowing hand on his leg to mend the oozing wound.

she straightens and feels a great wariness grab hold of her. she stumbles to her pile of tassled pillows and falls promptly into a restless sleep. *

Tribes wakes, feeling a change in the aura of the castle. Something has returned which has been lost, something held dear to a great being. Disorientated from the sleep and completely out of synch with the world, it takes tribes' addled brain some seconds to come to terms with what it is - the Goddess has her powers. His leg is still wounded, but he staggers from the leather couch, falling on the cold stone floor as the gangrenous leg emits a foul stench. It oozes putrid mucus now, as well as the ever-continuous flow of blood. He has little time left, and the Goddess has left this place for another's needs. Tribes can feel his bodily functions failing, one by one, as his strength begins to evaporate. He barely has enough strength to haul himself back onto the couch, falling unconscious even as he pulls himself up. Even at this late stage in his life, his body is wracked with pain. At least his impending death will free him from the agony, as well as the memories. How nice it would have been to atone for some of those horrific events, but no matter - at least it'll be warm where he's going. His vital organs begin to fail him, and soon tribes has to remember to force himself to breathe. The world goes dim, and tribes falls unconscious, appearing asleep as the face, twisted in agony, releases and reveals his recogniseable features. His lungs stop filling, his heart stops pumping, and the brain ceases function. At last, it is over.

At least, that would be true if the Goddess had not returned from tending to Jocabia about five seconds earlier. Having teleported to her own bedchambers, tribes did not see the spectacular light show that always follows the Goddess' arrivals. The irridescent blue-green aurora that envelops her as she arrives is an amazing event that should be witnessed by everyone, if only for one time. After gently placing the resting Joc in her chamber, she moves silently through the castle, as is her wont, and attends to tribes.

Gently laying her beautiful hand on his wretched and vile thigh wound, that same irridescent blue-green glow is emitted from her palm, flowing across her fingers and into the wound.The glow of the life-force penetrates the wound and flows through the bloodstream - tribes' veins and arteries temporarily glow with the healing power of the Goddess, and will do so for some time. The heart, still after his body's demise, begins to pump once more, slowly and rhythmically. This further pushes the flow of power through his veins, forcing it into his tissues. His chest slowly rises and falls as the stale, dead air is replaced and oxygen reaches the blood. Tribes twitches lightly as his nervous system jolts into life, and higher brain function returns. The wound then seals and leaves a small white scar, testament to the painful event. Even with her healing power, tribes' leg will never fully heal, as though nature wished to constantly remind him of the chain of events which led to it.

The goddess relaxes and the flow of healing power stops from her hand. The effort would have been stretched to her full potential even if it were only Tribes, but healing Jocabia and Tribes has meant true strain - the Goddess has had to draw from her own life force to replenish theirs. The fatigue sets in soon, and the revamped Goddess staggers to a pile of pillows and collapses, just as tribes awakes. He stands, glowing in the darkness, stronger than he has ever felt. He has seen the afterlife in that brief time he was dead. He knows what is in store. However, the memory quickly and mysteriously fades, and with no conscious Royalty to relay the info to, all is soon lost. Some will resurface in dreams, which tribes will chalk down to an overactive mind, but fragmented memory will always persist. Feeling revitalised and fitter than ever, tribes sprints off in search of a new task. But not before making sure the Goddess, his savious of countless occasions, is safe and well. He bends and kisses her forehead, silently thanking her for her selflessness. Then, he departs.

OOC: Why the hell are none of us online at the same time anymore? Bah.

*Jocabia slowly opens his eyes and it takes several moments for the dimly lit room around him to come into focus. He realizes instead of looking up at the sky he is looking at the ceiling. Or more likely instead of explaining his predicament to Elvis again. Once his brain rousts itself from the heavy slumber of several days he realizes he once again back in the castle, transported by the goddess, no doubt. He feels, well, functional. Usually a healing from his goddess leaves Jocabia with a strength and energy he feels at no other time, but this time Jocabia can barely raise himself up.*

Shoot, Loki's poison.

*Loki often poisons his daggers with a substance that would make a god sick and kill the average human. Fortunately, Jocabia is not the average human.*

What's the matter, Loki? You needed a head start? *Jocabia shouts to no one in particular.

*Jocabia stepped into the light and could see his skin was slightly off-color and he looked sort of swollen. He twisted his head and heard the joints crack. Anger flashed across his face and he back to move with a purpose. As he passed through the doorway he smashed his club-like hand against one of the bricks of the doorway and it shattered.*

Looks like the game didn't help, either. All I did was pick a fight with a goddess and almost get killed by a god, again. *He laughs. Oddly, the only creature to ever successfully kill Jocabia was one accidentally created by he and TTOL in a past adventure. Somehow, had he died this time, Jocabia suspects he would not have fared so well in heaven.*

*Jocabia passes into the main room in search of Tribes. He seeks his help righting the wrong that had been done by Loki. This time, Jocabia would not look the other way. Even gods must sacrifice for their wrongs. He looked at the pile of pillows and saw TCG peacefully sleeping there. He thanked her, silently, and then continued his search for TTOL. Jocabia knew as always he could count on his godess's help, but he knew bringing out the Goddess too early in this fight would send Loki into hiding for a very long time. No, Tribes was the man for the job. But would he want it. Jocabia looked at the ground and could see that Tribes had been healed by the Goddess as well and his footsteps left traces of her essence. Jocabia began to follow them.*

*she opens her eyes with great effort. Tribes and Joc are both about. she can feel them and her heart is made lighter for it. she tries to move and rise from her restless sleep, but she trembles and falls back down. having divine powers wrenched from one's core is an ordeal, but getting them back in an instant is even more disturbing.

she shakes her head and, concentrating, she opens her hand and a little bottle appears. she takes a few sips and with a deep sigh, she falls back to sleep*

Jocabia has been tracking Tribes for ten days. He's sun-ripened, dehydrated and hungry, but he seems to be gaining on Tribes. Tracking him slowed after the first couple days when the effects of TCG began to wear off of Tribes' tracks.

Jocabia is moving as fast as he can with Loki's poison still coursing through his veins and was just barely gaining on Tribes. TTOL is moving very fast, but where could he be going. They'd already travelled across half a continent.

Finally, Jocabia slowed, stopped and finally took a seat against a rock. He pulled a hunk of meat from a pouch on his waist and began to eat and debated whether to continue chasing Tribes. He wasn't sure he could catch TTOL unless he wanted to be caught.

Jocabia has been tracking Tribes for ten days. He's sun-ripened, dehydrated and hungry, but he seems to be gaining on Tribes. Tracking him slowed after the first couple days when the effects of TCG began to wear off of Tribes' tracks.

Jocabia is moving as fast as he can with Loki's poison still coursing through his veins and was just barely gaining on Tribes. TTOL is moving very fast, but where could he be going. They'd already travelled across half a continent.

Finally, Jocabia slowed, stopped and finally took a seat against a rock. He pulled a hunk of meat from a pouch on his waist and began to eat and debated whether to continue chasing Tribes. He wasn't sure he could catch TTOL unless he wanted to be caught.
Tribes has been following Jocabia for ten days, since Joc left in search of him. Tribes had set out prior to Joc leaving in order to follow some tracks left by an otherworldly being, but had turned back after only 6 hours as he was much weaker than he thought. It must have been TCG's healing power - perhaps the length of time without it sapped some of her divine ability to wield such awesome power, and as a result the full effect was lost on tribes. For those six hours, though, he had felt as a God himself. In fact, he'd set out in the fittest state he'd ever been in. However, once the effect of the powerful healing had worn off, tribes was once again ravenous. The tracks continued onward, but tribes stayed put and rested. It was about then that Jocabia had appeared.

Instinctively, tribes had hidden behind the closest object - a slightly flatulent, but on the whole good natured, cow. The cow, unperturbed by any human presence, had simply stood and unintentionally acted as a covert spot for tribes. Jocabia, who had fooled tribes into deliciously comic (but definitely deserved) situations such as the old oh-look-you're-reincarnated-as-jockstrap-material ruse, had stopped at the sight of a disturbed patch of grass. Tribes shamefully hid, fearing random acts of intense payback after all the nut-crackings he'd dealt to Joc in the past. Watching from behind a swollen udder, tribes waited for Joc to continue on his way. Strangely, Joc continued on the same route as the strange tracks - he must have assumed Tribes was leaving these tracks. It made sense of course - the tracks were humanoid and they left a distinctive, irridescent blue-green shimmer in each area of marked earth, much like that eminated by the Goddess' healing effect - but they were not his. Tribes followed Joc.

Ten days passed. Ten days of tribes testing his covert tracking skills on Jocabia, who (thankfully) never appeared to suspect a thing. Ten days of near-constant travel, with little respite or replenishment of supplies. Ten days of the fastest tracking tribes could stealthily manage, and it was taking its toll by the tenth day. His feet blistered from the odd walking style of assasins, his thighs cramped from the constant half-crouching walk he'd assumed, his nerves near shot from the stress of the tracking, fearing reprisals for his following of Joc. Eventually, after those ten long days, Joc slumped on a rock and dragged a thick hunk of salted meat to eat. Tribes picked this moment to reveal himself - why not? He was tired too, and felt that any backlash from his sly followings was no worse than the sores he felt. Stepping out from his hiding place (the very rock on which Joc rested), tribes revealed himself, battle ready with his kinjal drawn. Joc did not look up immediately, concentrating hard on his meat. Before he looked up, tribes spoke:

"Hello, Jocabia. What are we following today, then?"

Moving as sleekly and quickly as he could, tribes moved to push the blade to touch Joc's throat - not blood was drawn, but a swift jerk would have finished Joc off. It was at this point that Tribes felt a cool sensation against his inner thigh - Jocabia was holding a pointed dagger there, ready to tear the femoral artery at the first pain. Joc replied, quietly but with meaning.

"I have a proposal for you. Listen carefully and you shall not feel the blade. It involves our true enemy - the Gods."

long time no see...
can't stay long be i'll drop into the castle tomorrow.

Jocabia smiled a weak smile

Jocabia: What can you do that hasn't been tried countless times before?

He sheathed his weapon and watched as TTOL lowered his weapon

Jocabia: I'm sure you noticed that game several us were playing that inspired me to even the odds by removing our Goddess' power, yes?

TTOL: Yes, of course. I'm well-aware of how you mistreated the Goddess.

Jocabia: It was a game. She's no worse for the wear. I am, however. I gave her essence to Loki for safe-keeping, but apparently due to some old ill-feelings he didn't want to give it back. We battled and I won. Sort of. He's poisoned me, TCG has her essence back, as you well know.

TTOL: Wait, Loki's poison? How are you still alive?

Jocabia: Let's just say I wasn't completely unprepared. However, I think Loki has gone too far this time. I have a feeling he's planning to go after the Goddess while she's weak. I can't let that happen, but I can't fight the Gods alone or even with my troops. I need your help.

TTOL: My ass. You're trying to trick me again.

Tribes ducks a couple of mod rocks

Jocabia: It's particularly because of our history that I'm requested your help. You're proven to have ingenuity, fortitude and most importantly you're, shall we say, durable. This is no game, but I fear this time it's us or the Goddess. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'm looking to rend Loki limb from limb as payback.

Tribes sat down, laying his sword next to him and rubbed his temples

TTOL: Wow, I don't know what to say.

He shook his head as if trying to force the idea to work itself into his brain.

Jocabia: I'd be lying if I told you this wasn't dangerous. Let's just say we may be going to see Elvis again, and this time he may not be in such a good mood.

The sky darkened suddenly and lightning tore through the air striking a nearby tree, splintering it. The flash temporarily blinded both Jocabia and TTOL. As their vision cleared they found themselves looking up into the eyes of two male arachnids, huge, creatures with the body and legs of a spider and the torso of a human. Their skin was black and thick, and their bellies dragged against the ground when they walked. Each arachnid had a huge leg raised with a pointed foot pressing into the soft part of the neck below the adam's apple. Tribes and Jocabia slowly raised their hands above their heads. They noticed that there was no less than six of the arachnids' brothers and sisters behind them.

The arachnid at Jocabia's throat spoke first.

A1: Jocabia. We've been looking for you for some time. You'd have done better to just die in the fight with Loki. We are going to make this suck.
A2: Now, you've dragged your friend down with you. Mom only sent us for you. But, hey, the more the merrier, we say.

Jocabia began to chuckle. His laughter slowly rose until it echoed off of the surrounding rocks gaining speed and intensity until the arachnids in the background became uneasy and began marching in place out of nervousness. Tribes suddenly found it funny and began laughing as well and the pair sounded quite insane. The arachnids were not amused.

Jocabia (through peals of laughter): Two things. One, arachnids have slightly acidic blood. Two, do you know how arachnids are like snowmen?

Tribes (trying to keep a straight face): I'll keep that in mind. No, how are arachnids like snowmen?

Jocabia: They both got snowballs (spoken this sounds like "they both gots no balls"). You're going to have to think of another attack.

Jocabia and Tribes erupted into laughter again. The two arachnids at their throats looked at each other and, as they did, Jocabia placed his hands against the rock and slid them upward into some sort of glove that looked very much like the paws of a bear. In a swift movement, Jocabia swiped with both hands and shreaded the leg that was at his throat. As the pieces fell to the ground, blood spewed from the wound and etched Jocabia's armor.

Jocabia rolled underneath the same arachnid and swiped at again releasing his entrails onto the ground just after Jocabia rolled out from under him. The arachnid never made a sound. Jocabia kicked the sword laying next to TTOL and Tribes caught it in midair

The sky darkened suddenly and lightning tore through the air striking a nearby tree, splintering it. The flash temporarily blinded both Jocabia and TTOL. As their vision cleared they found themselves looking up into the eyes of two male arachnids, huge, creatures with the body and legs of a spider and the torso of a human. Their skin was black and thick, and their bellies dragged against the ground when they walked. Each arachnid had a huge leg raised with a pointed foot pressing into the soft part of the neck below the adam's apple. Tribes and Jocabia slowly raised their hands above their heads. They noticed that there was no less than six of the arachnids' brothers and sisters behind them.

The arachnid at Jocabia's throat spoke first.

A1: Jocabia. We've been looking for you for some time. You'd have done better to just die in the fight with Loki. We are going to make this suck.
A2: Now, you've dragged your friend down with you. Mom only sent us for you. But, hey, the more the merrier, we say.

Jocabia began to chuckle. His laughter slowly rose until it echoed off of the surrounding rocks gaining speed and intensity until the arachnids in the background became uneasy and began marching in place out of nervousness. Tribes suddenly found it funny and began laughing as well and the pair sounded quite insane. The arachnids were not amused.

Jocabia (through peals of laughter): Two things. One, arachnids have slightly acidic blood. Two, do you know how arachnids are like snowmen?

Tribes (trying to keep a straight face): I'll keep that in mind. No, how are arachnids like snowmen?

Jocabia: They both got snowballs (spoken this sounds like "they both gots no balls"). You're going to have to think of another attack.

Jocabia and Tribes erupted into laughter again. The two arachnids at their throats looked at each other and, as they did, Jocabia placed his hands against the rock and slid them upward into some sort of glove that looked very much like the paws of a bear. In a swift movement, Jocabia swiped with both hands and shreaded the leg that was at his throat. As the pieces fell to the ground, blood spewed from the wound and etched Jocabia's armor.

Jocabia rolled underneath the same arachnid and swiped at again releasing his entrails onto the ground just after Jocabia rolled out from under him. The arachnid never made a sound. Jocabia kicked the sword laying next to TTOL and Tribes caught it in midair
Thrusting the sword into the second arachnid's knee-joint, severing the hydraulic bloodflow to the leg. It immediately crumpled under the weight of the giant spider, forcing the arachnid's soft-tissue torso briefly within range of the sword. However, the seven remaining legs quickly took the strain and raised the great body up high again. The other major problem came from the sword - the hard exoskeleton of even the weakest point of the arachnid section was strong enough to blunt and bend the sword. It had perhaps two, maybe three uses left in it before the blade became little more than a crumpled wreck - even now the sword looked little more than origami tinfoil in comparison to the sleek, black chitin cuticle of the spider. Dropping the sword for now, tribes tried to think of alternate attacks against the octopedal foes.

All the while, Jocabia fought in the background against the other, smaller childling arachnids. After watching their older brother collapse in a puddle of his own entrails, they were furious. What the smaller centaur-like spiderlings lacked in size and strength, they gained massively in strength in numbers and ferocity. Their underdeveloped bodies lacked the layers of chitin that had made the adults so tough, and Jocabia used this small fact to his advantage. By separating out one spider from the group, Joc found he could tear off appendages. The main trouble came from the separation - the siblings, having survived through the process of arachnid cannibalism found in most spider nests, had formed a strong bond. Luckily for Joc, the lightning strike that had brought these demons had also converted a large tree into flaming splinters. The spiders, like all other creatures, feared fire and Joc wielded a torch-like branch to great effect. As he slowly tore his way through the limbs of the younger members, tribes continued to avoid the darting attacks of the older spider.

It was a strange experience, being locked in a battle of both wits and agility with the full-grown spiderling. While the younger spiders threw simple menacing taunts to catch Jocabia, the older spider played with tribes as it might a gigantic fly, ensnared in its web. "I can keep you alive for weeks, you know" it whispered, somehow penetrating the din of battle with its laquered voice, soothing yet menacing. "I can drain your blood from your veins to almost the exact drop, determining whether you live or die. Your main problem would be thirst" it crooned, lashing out with a useful foreleg and tearing the shirt from Tribes' chest. "I will offer you others' blood to soothe your thirst. Of course, pride and self-disgust will prevent you...initially. As the days go by and you lose a little more blood, the though will gnaw at your very soul. Until one day..." It lifted itself and bore down upon tribes like a rearing horse, all mid-sentence, "...you give in to but a drop of another's life-blood. Then I own your soul and so my mother, the Goddess spider, owns it too, in your own personal Hell. In the remainder of your life..." the arachnid whipped a leg at head height, almost catching tribes' head, "...you will be utterly degraded, less human and more beast, and all in total submission to me. Your last words will be 'I love you' as I drain you dry." All the while, tribes fought with the problem of killing this abomination.

The idea came just as Jocabia punched a hole in the soft chest of the last younger spider, dispatching it with the effortless ease of the true hand-to-hand warrior. It slumped among its dead brothers and sisters and finally released Jocabia to help the entrenched Tribes. "What's taking so long!" Joc called to Tribes, laughing at the meagre attempts on the spider. A jet of webbing soon wiped away the grin. Even with the indiscriminate firing of the sticky web, the remaining spider glued Joc's legs together. A brief profanity was met with a hail of mod rocks, although Joc was sheltered by the tough abdomen of the spider. Aware of his complete vulnerability, Joc shouted to tribes, "Please tell me you have a plan!"

"I'm working on it," lied tribes, well aware of his plan. The mention of acid blood, even weak acid, had set wheels turning in his mind. The acid presence was more apparent now, as the blade used to strike down the now-useless foreleg was slwoly corroding. This particular area of the castle fief was rich in Sodium Bicarbonate mines - in places, it even lay on the surface in super-saturated pools. Even the weak alkali would react fairly exothermically with the spider blood, if dosed quickly and in high enough concentrations. Even though the resulting reaction would be incomplete, high concentrations would force the reaction forward and heat would be produced. Tribes took the sword and led the fight towards one of the open bicarbonate pans. Once at the edge of a large pool, tribes balanced upon its edge and pushed the fight until the spider teetered on the edge - a quick nudge briefly immersed it, and its open leg wound, into the pool.

After clawing its way out, the spider cackled at tribes and swiftly swung a leg across his chest, forcing him to the floor. "Ha, you think you can drown me!" Cried the spider, triumphant in its moment. "Those pools are not deep enough to drown even my dead siblings, let alone...me..!?" The spider faltered as the alkaline solution that had slipped into its veins reacted with the acidic blood. Its body temperature rose and the spider staggered over to tribes. Slightly stunned, tribes maintained his hold on the blade, fighting for consciousness. The spider slipped forward onto its useless leg and, with its core temperature rising rapidly, failed to immediately stand. Taking this small opportunity, tribes thrust the blade into the spider's mouth, penetrating the palette and skewering the brain. It twitched violently then swiftly fell, dead.

After running it through with the blade once more, tribes clawed his way across the ground towards The helpless Jocabia. He cut the organic bonds surrounding Joc's legs and dropped the sword, fighting with himself to stay awake. "We're going to need more people" he gasped, then promptly collapsed and lay, sprawled on the salty ground.

Joc dragged tribes to a clear patch of barren ground and lay tribes out neatly. "Yes we are, my friend" he whispered, "Yes we are".

OOC: If you're going to continue to write that well expect my responses to take much, much longer. You made my writing look like a first grade book report. "The book was good. It was about Encylopedia Brown. He is smart. He wears brown pants."

IC:
Jocabia leaned down and smelled the wound on on TTOL's shoulder. It was clean, no poison. "You'll live, my friend. You'll just need some water and a good meal. I knew you were a good choice. What you lack in brute strength, you make up for in resourcefulness." Jocabia continued to tend to TTOL's wounds. Minus the bloodletting, all wounds were superficial. Jocabia stepped back and decided to give him some time (as much as could be afforded) to rest.

Jocabia sat against a rock and picked up an apple to munch on. "Not good," he thought, "Not good at all. Arachne is greek. We aren't just dealing with nordic gods anymore. This is going to be a war." He scratched his head and put the apple to his lips. "Wait, apples don't grow in this part of the country." Jocabia walked over to Tribes and replaced his testicle. "That's huge. That boy needs some action." He giggled and sewed TTOL's sack back up. "That'll be sore. You're going to walk funny for a bit."

Jocabia sat and rested again. He could barely sit up, but he wasn't sure it was safe to leave themselves unguarded. The poison was taking its toll. They needed to get back to Goddess soon. He cracked his knuckles and summoned all the stregth he had left. He had work to do.

He began to dress the arachnids. He spent two hours working on the exoskeletons and then he carried his work over to Tribes. He removed TTOL's clothes. On his chest he scratched the image of a rampant bear standing on two legs with claws raised in an aggressive pose. He reached into his pouch and pulled a powder out and rubbed it into the image on Tribes' chest. The result was a blue tattoo. "This will give you strength, friend," he said quietly. Then he gently adorned him in the new armor.

Next, Jocabia hunted a couple of small rodents and prepared them in a fire. He placed a plate of food next to Tribes. Then he collapsed into the dirt.

Just then Tribes opened his eyes. "Kick him in the balls," he screamed. Tribes sat up and stretched his overworked muscles. He looked down at the plate and began to pick meat off the plate and nibble on it. Then he lifted a flask of water and drank an entire liter without taking a breath. He coughed and shook his head to clear it. He notices the armor he's wearing and then the prostrate Jocabia. "Are you okay? You look dead."

Jocabia rasped, "Goddess can't stop the poison she can only fix the damage to my body. I've got to go see her again. I've got nothing left and we're in trouble."

"What can I do?" queried Tribes.

"Take me to the Goddess. It's my turn to rest." Jocabia's eyes closed. His breathing was impossibly shallow and his color was unearthly.

Tribes stood up and hefted Jocabia onto his shoulder. He nearly buckled under the weight, but he willed himself forward. He grimaced under the strain of beginning the trek, and then settled into a steady pace. "Rest, old man. When you open your eyes you'll be looking upon the pulchritudinous visage of our Goddess."

*She had been lost in a nightmarish maze and restless slumber for days, barely moving, barely breathing, battling inner daemons... enduring the taunting... She had seen many a face in her incoherent dreams, none of them had been friendly or open.

It was finally dawn. She woke as the sun's rays warmed face, chasing away the last of the monsters and ghosts, consciousness finally bubbling to the surface of her tormented mind. She slowly opened her eyes, enduring the stabbing pain of the light, which was far better than the smothering darkness she had known. She was out. She turned to her side and silent tears fell from her bright eyes. She wept. For although the memory of her hell was quickly slipping away, she was left with a great sense of dread and immesurable loss.*

Tribes stumbled across the desert. He played games in his mind to keep himself pressing forward. He imagined kicking Legless Pirates in the coconuts. This increased his speed temporarily but eventually the body began to outwit the mind. "Just one more step," he told himself repeatedly, "then we will rest."

Jocabia began to twitch on his on shoulder and Tribes fell to a knee with a force that shattered his patella. He heard from somewhere deep inside his body howling up at his determined mind, "you clearly don't have a clue what you're doing. Get out of the way. We're driving." And with that, TTOL slumped to the ground dropping Jocabia on his brain box before slamming his own torso into the unforgiving turf. Jocabia seized for a full minute before coming to a rest next to Tribe.

The two lay in the noon sun, exposed skin sizzling like bacon in the heart of a fire. Steam rose from the two bodies, the desert air a thief and moisture gold. The desert seemed to assess the fate of the recumbant pair and placed its Grade A Grim stamp upon their overexposed foreheads.

On the horizon, one could see, were there anyone to see, a wave of white cloth that washed across the shimmering sand. As it came closer, the wave broke into many small waves and eventually the forms of humans became visible, all female. In the center of the group of women was a woman taller than the others, more matronly, and though the entirety of the group would make Helen hide her face behind a veil, she stood out for her beauty. Had Jocabia and Tribes been able to reach that line called consciousness they would be battling once again, each striving to be the first to kiss her toes while tears streamed down their cheeks at the vision before them.

The matron guided the women to either side of the declining duo and, on her command, they produced a two large woven stretchers on which to place the two. The stretchers matched the elegance of the attending women, one depicting a hero locked in battle with a much larger arachnid and the other a man trudging across a desert with his friend slung over his shoulder. Each tapestry told a story that seemed a thousand years old if one did not know better. Jocabia and Tribes were placed on the stretchers and the women bagan to move forward in unison. The matron moved to the front of the group and commanded them to hum.

"Yes, Minerva" was the uniform reply. Minerva bagan to sing and as she did Jocabia and Tribe's nightmares of beasts and demons were replaced with wonderful dreams filled with waterfalls and nymphs. And thus continued the odyssey of the two men, as each mile brought them closer to the castle.

The song of Minerva was as such:
"Arachne once, as poets tell,
A goddess at her art defied,
And soon the daring mortal fell
The hapless victim of her pride.

"Oh, then, beware Arachne's fate;
Be prudent, Chloe, and submit,
For you'll most surely meet her hate,
Who rival both her art and wit."

waking up after her crying spell, she gets up with new resolve, things that are to come locked in her unconscious.. but still she feels the days ahead will prove difficult. she steels herself and goes to her chambers to wear the proper attire. she comes back down to the main hall dressed in an iridescent chocolate brown toga gown, with gold, setting off her bronze skin.

she feels a "cousin" near... Minerva.. bringing in her lost boys. she shakes her head and meditates to prepare for their arrival...

The somber procession made its way to the castle with Minerva singing all the while. Tribes dreamt of bumblebees, rainbows and Legless Pirates doing cartwheels in a kilt. A smile occasionally flashed across his otherwise lifeless face, usually when LP was upside down in the visions. Jocabia fantasized of the many games he'd played over the years, of the friends he's made, of the creamy skin of a goddess and of that wonderful feeling one gets once a really large bit of methane gas escapes their body.

The parade made it's way through the castle gates where they were met by an obviously worried TCG. Minerva motioned to her minions to place to two heroes on the soft grass of the courtyard. TCG leaned slowly down and placed a hand on the head of Tribes, the other rested on his abdomen. After a brief time, his minor wounds were healed. He would just need a bit more rest to deal with the exhaustion of defending and then carrying Jocabia. She motioned for Tribes to carried inside She then did the same to Jocabia, but the damage from the poison was extensive. After a half an hour, she stood up and dusted herself off. She again motioned for the warrior to be moved. His strength would return soon and it would be several days until the poison would begin to affect him again.

TCG surveyed herself. Losing her goddesshood didn't seem to have an effect on her abilities to heal and what it took out of her anymore. She was relieved as she was certain that skill would be required more and more frequently in the coming days.

She looked around and noticed she was alone in the courtyard with Minerva. The women stood facing each other expressionlessly.

Outside the castle, as the Goddesses healed their heroes, a large area of bushes mysteriously moved forwards under cover of darkness. This was no mere patch of enchanted foliage, though - a great invading force, which had stealthily crept towards the castle, was hidden beneath the branches. Although watched only by some owls and nocturnal beasts, the 3rd, 6th and 7th battalions of Koljada and her theocratical scouts were almost completely silent, save for the rustling of leaves and the odd barked whisper of a command. Occasionally, sections of the scouts would seemingly shift through 500 metres in an instant, checking the surrounding area for spies and dispatching any would-be witnesses. Once clear, the majority remainder of the armed force would join the scouts just as quickly, jumping through three dimensions but controlled by the fourth - time.

For the commander of this tremendous fighting force, Koljada herself, was none other than the Goddess of time. She surveyed the infinite expanse of time, repairing rifts created by overzealous sorcerors of all times and travelling back and forth as she pleased. However, her immense power to manipulate the time fields was limited. Though she could move herself through time, change its perception to mortals and Gods alike and remove chaotic ripples and tears, she could not directly influence the lifelines of mortals. This great power - which she had once wielded - had been removed by the creator after she abused it maliciously to her own gain. For forgetting her place as a servant of the creator, she had been temporarily stripped of all power aeons ago, only recently having most power reinstated. Through this act, though, she had found a loophole. As long as her troops only moved into the near-future or close past, she was allowed her manipulation. The act would normally be scrutinised by Gods unfriendly towards her, but her strength of followers and the current situation left her relatively unwatched. She moved for her advantage to crush the threat of these would-be heroes and gain power and favour amongst the court of the Gods.

Until recently, she would never have considered this course of action. However, her following had strangely grown over the last year. With all Deities, their power relied upon the actions of mortals - powers waxed and waned with the number of followers, as shown throughout the millennia. The Greek Gods had been at their height along with the Ancient Greeks, receiving a second chance upon their assimilation into Roman culture. For Koljada, the masses of followers flocking to her cause had meant she had grown from her enfeebled state of only shifting herself through time to being able to slow time around over 4000 soldiers, allowing them to pass through space without time passing, at least for short distances. The instantaneous, covert movement of this army had left it undetected for their three-day travel to the castle. And now, they had arrived.

Inside the castle watchtower, the skeleton night watch - so depleted in numbers of late - stood a lazy guard over the castle. They had a man roughly every 1000m of castle wall, walking the lonely watch. Not nearly enough to catch the arrival of the covered battalions, even with their size. It took 3 minutes for a guardsman to even come into range of the battallion, and a good half an hour for one to notice how truly odd it was. The area around the castle was usually barren, caused by the huge expenditure of magical energy within the castle walls (and a few of the more explosive traps set). The guardsman credited with the discovery was unusually sharp for a lowly member of the castle staff, realising that the bushes were both unusually placed and unnaturally arranged. He would have accelerated through the ranks of the Reject Royalty's Armed Forces, had it not been for the arrow puncturing his throat as he cried the warning.

The castle soldiers, small in number but highly trained, knew the procedure. The message soon reached the ears of the Chocolate Goddess in the form of a messenger. He found her in the courtyard, seemingly conversing with another, unfamiliar woman of equal beauty without actually moving her lips. A look of concentration was on both their faces, only broken by the messenger's arrival. She glanced up, her features bright and alert. Before the messenger spoke, she interjected:

"She's has arrived, then."

"She, Supreme Goddess?" quavered the man, a devout follower of CG.

"Yes, man, she. The commander of the forces bearing down upon the castle as we speak, Koljada." There was a slight rumbling in the background as a large section of the moat passed immensely rapidly through time, layers of sediment builing up and then hardening to rock against the castle walls. The Goddess dismissed the poor, confused messenger to rouse the castle forces and turned to Minerva. "She will breach the walls soon, probably over the hill she has just built against the wall. We must prepare, cousin."

Minerva looked at the Chocolate Goddess reproachfully and spoke without speaking, telepathically. "You abandon our way of communication. Have you abandoned us?"

"Now is not the time, Minerva," spoke the Chocolate Goddess harshly, "You must prepare your handmaidens - much blood shall be spilled this battle. I shall rouse Jocabia and Tribes; without them, this castle may be lost this night." The pair parted to their separate tasks, the sound of battle cries and clashing swords already filling the castle halls. Jocabia and Tribes had not been rested long enough, and would surely be weary for battle. However, without their battle knowledge and combined strength with the Chocolate goddess, all hope would be lost for the Royalty. The Goddess accepted this fact unconditionally, knowing that she herself must be on full readyness for the coming fight - Koljada was a difficult foe, even with her limited abilities. The spartan-like castle soldiers could only hold off the massive attacking forces for so long unaided, then...the trio would be truly tested.

As Minerva set about her work, she became distracted enough to stop protecting the dreams of Jocabia and Tribes. Tribes woke up immediately and found the sleeping place of Jocabia. Without Minerva, Jocabia had fallen into feverish dreams. Jocabia shot from the bed tackling Tribes and just pulling the fatal blow as he became fully awake and realized that he was attacking his friend.

"I'm sorry, Longton. That poison has a crazy effect on my dreams. I take it we met up with the Goddess. I feel much better. Thank you so much for getting me here," Jocabia looked directly into TTOL's eyes as he said that last bit.

"Um, Joc, I didn't. I barely made it halfway. I have no earthly idea how we got here. You know I have to thank you for fixing me up after the battle with the arachnids." He rapped on his armor, "and for this. Soldiers are racing around. Seems like they're preparing for this war you were talking about. They said someone named Ko - lee - yada, I think, is coming?"

"Shoot. SHOOT! If they know she's coming then she's already here. Listen. I need to go talk to TCG. We can't have more than 1000 troops. You take them out the back of the castle and prepare to attack the left flank on my signal."

"Joc, I'm no general."

"Don't worry, my young friend. We can't win this one, anyway. I just need to buy some time till I figure out a solution. And I've seen you in action, there's little doubt you'll think of a way to make your troops as effective as possible."

"What's the signal?"

"Tribes, there's always time for a cliche. You'll know the signal when you see it."

Jocabia raced to the main room where he ran into... "MINERVA?!?!" Jocabia bowed low before Minerva and jumped into her arms. He was completely overwhelmed by her presence.

"Jocabia, you didn't think I'd leave you to roast in the desert, did you? Besides Arachne is kind of my fault. There's no time now, though. I'm taking my ladies and we're going out to meet the army of Koljada."

"Minerva, I know you're a far better tactitian than I will ever be, but can you trust me with this one? I have a plan."

"Let's here it."

A minute later, Minerva led her troops to carry out their part of the plan. She giggled as she left the room. She was looking forward to the battle, even though they were hopelessly outnumbered.

Jocabia then met TCG in the castle courtyard. After a brief meeting TCG took her place in the oncoming battle. All was prepared.

...

Koljada stood in front of her troops with a hand in the air. The battallions formed a wedge, and just as Koljada's hand dropped and her troops began to slam a ram against the castle doors, she saw a small band of vikings come charging from behind the castle.

"You fools think you can stop the Great Koljada?"

Twenty-five enormous Vikings lined up in front of a laughing Koljada. They were decked out in armor and pelts. Their swords gleamed in the moonlight as each Viking held them pointed at Koljada and her troops. The Vikings snarled and nearly to a man a tooth or two could be seen missing amidst unkempt beards. Suddenly a strange sound could be heard coming from the Castle. A rhythm, heavy in bass. The central Viking in the line steps forward. He sticks his sword in the ground in front of him and takes his left hand and places it on his right shoulder and then crosses his right hand over to put it on his left shoulder. He tilts his whole upper body to the left and back and begins to speak.

"Don't call it a comeback
I been here for years
Rockin my peers and puttin suckas in fear
Makin the tears rain down like a MON soon
Listen to the bass go BOOM
Explosion overpowerin
Over the competition I'm towerin
Wreckin shop when I drop these lyrics that'll make you call the cops
Don't you dare stare, you betta move
Don't ever compare
Me to the rest that'll all get sliced and diced
Competition's payin the price

I'm gonna knock you out [HUUUH!!!]
Mama said knock you out [HUUUH!!!]"

"Gods and Goddesses of all Creation! Vikings can't rap!" Koljada howled, "That's..." She colllaped. "That's... that's anacronism! Rap and Vikings, in the same place isn't historical." She lifted up to her knees, arms to the sky. "Have some respect for time, I beg of you."

A second and third viking stepped forward and started to dance together... in a waltz. A fourth and fifth joined by two-stepping and several others began to breakdance. Yet another began playing the banjo along with the song. Koljada's protection of her troops was gone and Koljada herself seemed to become paler by the moment and her once robust frame seemed to thin until her clothes dangled from her emaciated body.

It was then that something came flying over the castle walls. Lots of somethings and they were on fire. Koljada's troops shielded their heads and when the first volley landed they began to dance around to put the fires out. A general in the army bent down and lifted up one of the offending items and exclaimed, "It's a nutsack?!?"

The ammunition from the oncoming volleys were the tens of thousands of nutsacks collected by Peechland over time. Tribes, The Chocolate Goddess and Minerva had received their signal from Jocabia.

"As soon as she dispatched the herald and nodded to Minerva, she ascended to the ramparts and touched the soul of her avatar."

Celeste, rouse your brother and the High Council. I want you to do the Elixir Ritual.. and present the drink to anyone at the temples, especially women.
*there was a shocked surprise from her Voice*
Just do it. Anyone that complains will carry my displeasure...

*She then sends her mind searching for an old friend...*
Morpheus, send dreams of chocolate to every woman presently sleeping. I will need their energy...

Far behind the battalions of Koljada's troops a series of torches appeared. It formed a line that seemed to moving at a blinding speed. The battalions saw this and at first became uneasy, then unnerved and by time the fire reached them they were in an absolute panic.

Two dozen creatures stood before the terrified men and dropped torches to the ground. The one that arrived first was larger than the rest. He stood on two legs and appeared as much like a bear as like a man. What wasn't covered in fur was crimson and appeared to coated in wet blood. The beasts' jaws stood agape revealing enormous shimmering white fangs. The beast stopped, seemed to become even larger as he lifted his arms to the sky and revealed impossibly large claws and rippling muscles. He let loose a roar, that sent the smell of urine among some of the more frightened soldiers. Some just chose a direction and bolted, others thrust themselves on their swords and still others looked on in abject terror. The beast's eyes glinted in the unholy light and suddenly it attacked a nearby tree, tearing it apart. The other beasts followed its lead and all of the nearby trees were utterly destroyed in the frenzy. Just as suddenly the bloodlust was turned on the footsoldiers.

The red mist in the air was so thick that had there been observers they could not tell you of the battle only of the chilling screams no mortal would willingly hear.

....

Tribes looked on from one of the flanks and saw the group of torches reach Koljada's forces. "Good luck, Jocabia. May the Goddess be with you!"