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Septette Arcubielle A great, jagged sinkhole comprises the entrance to Armoroad's labyrinth, though the word 'sinkhole' does not do justice to its natural beauty. The sun shines straight down into the vast chasm from above, filtering through the leaves of exotic and beautiful trees and the mist cast up by the countless waterfalls. Entire rivers feed into the hole, lending it the appellation of 'Waterfall Woods', but it never fills up or even becomes waterlogged. Just how deep does this place go?

     Despite the roar of the waterfalls and the chirping of songbirds, the forest itself feels deceptively calm. Its air of history is only enhanced by the clearly chiseled marble blocks, now crumbling or fallen, that dot the interior. Were they built in a cavern whose roof collapsed, or did they plummet down from the surface when it caved in? Regardless, they seem almost as natural as the trees and vines that grow over them now, their edges softened by water and time.

     For all this natural splendor, subtle signs of menace present themselves. Strange rodent-like creatures peer out from crevices with glinting eyes, distressingly large birds circle overhead warily, and every now and then a hush falls over the sussurrus of the insects in the grass as even they feel the chill of an ancient fear.

     The most obvious lead for anyone wanting to head deeper inside are the talon-prints that are gouged into the soil, larger than human footprints and deep enough that they seem to have been dug in viciously or else pressed upon with great weight. The path they take is direct and purposeful, not like the meandering of a grazer or even the uncertain tracking of a predatory beast, and leads towards a descending staircase cut into the marble several hundred feet away...
William Pauwel     The first thing that adventurers do when they reach Armoroad for the first time is to join a party. The labyrinth is a dangerous and treacherous place, and one of the ways to protect yourself is through sheer numerical superiority. A party can watch one another's backs, shore up one another's weaknesses and enhance strengths. Wandering into the labyrinth alone is an excellent way to get yourself killed. Indeed, there is normally a guard stationed right outside the crevasse who ensures that nobody does anything so foolish as to enter on their own.

    Unfortunately, William Pauwel's luck is approximately terrible. He materializes from the geomagnetic pole with a spring in his step and a smile on his face, and utterly no idea what he's about to get himself into. Especially since he decided to arrive right when aforementioned guard has decided to take an early lunch break. The first floor, he reckons, shouldn't be that bad; he's hardly the first explorer to take a look around, after all. If this place is anything like the ones back home, that means the first floor has probably been cleared of anything too dangerous!

How wrong he is.

    The first thing he notices as he steps foot into the labyrinth is how clean the air is. One does not typically expect to encounter a forest upon entering a sinkhole. The ruins that he's become so familiar with are nothing like this; they're claustrophobic, entirely manmade mazes rife with danger at every corner. That, at least, is something that hasn't changed overmuch. The atmosphere of this place, even so close to the surface, buzzes with menace and the sensation of hundreds of eyes crawling across one's back.

It sets him on edge. He reaches back and unlimbers his weapon of choice: an oversized, overpowered handcannon of a gun. Its barrel slides open as he disengages the safety and begins crackling with electrical arcs.

    Even with danger thick in the air, he can't help but notice how... beautiful this place is. The roil of rumbling waters fill his ears like the hiss of static, filling his sensory backdrop with natural white-noise. For now, all he needs to do is to focus on his surroundings and everything should be fine, right? The Solano has the advantage of range; if anything comes for him, he might just be able to snipe his problems away. So long as he notices danger approaching.

Which... might necessarily be the case.
Septette Arcubielle As he proceeds through the lush, garden-like labyrinth, Will's surroundings grow steadily more foreboding. In scattered places the ground or walls are charred or spattered in blood, with the mangled but largely whole bodies of monsters lying nearby: whatever killed them clearly didn't do so for food.

     Stranger still, the manner of their deaths seems to indicate distressing resilience: one small purple rat was cut neatly in half, but the trail of viscera between its upper and lower bodies indicates that it crawled nearly twenty feet away before succumbing. The other monsters have similarly excessive injuries; among the side of the grisly trail are a fearsome-looking deer with its skull entirely pulverized and something nearly human-sized that was burned to an unrecognizable crisp.

     As all of this is sinking in, a cacophony rises from somewhere on the other side of that staircase: the unmistakable clang of metal striking metal, and an eerie frenzied shrieking like a large beast in pain. Seconds later, a horned quadruped with blue fur and wide red eyes bolts up the staircase, its coat still on fire and with deep claw marks on its flank- the thing must be eight feet tall at the shoulder, and its antlers look wickedly sharp. It hesitates for a moment on spotting Will, then howls again and lowers its head to charge...
William Pauwel     There's something to be said for experience in the field. Will is not by any stretch of the imagination an old hat at this sort of thing yet. He's survived a few expeditions, but largely by the assistance of the people around him. But he's picked up a few things- just enough to know that Shit Ain't Right.

Nothing that can get literally cut in half and still have the wherewithal and vitality to crawl almost two dozen feet can be described as 'right.'

    Will's eyes linger briefly on the other corpses- the broken and burnt body, the colossal deer with its skull turned into powder. There aren't any robots to worry about- no giant guardian machines with impenetrable barriers, or swarms of stinging gyrocopters. These are hazards of a different breed entirely.

He's briefly thankful that none of them are covered in coral.

    But then there's a noise- the unmistakable cacophony of heated battle. Will hefts his weapon and takes aim down the corridor in time to see... One of those deer. Unlike its fellow, this one is completely and entirely alive.

    Barely, maybe. It's battered, bruised and burnt. But it's still clearly strong enough to mount an attack. It's huge, its antlers are sized to match. If it decides to charge, there's little that he'll be able to do to stop it, but...

Even giant deer can't charge without any legs.

    Will takes aim for the creature's forelimbs and opens fire. Three bolts of crackling, superheated plasma streak through the space between he and the giant deer. If he can take out its mobility, then dealing with it should be like shooting fish in a barrel! Or... Like shooting an immobilized deer in a forest.

Either or.
Septette Arcubielle The frenzied beast at the far end of the corridor evokes many descriptors, but 'graceful' is not among the first to come to mind. Even so, as it hurtles down the narrow path towards William, the Ragelope shows astonishing agility: it kicks off of a rock to dodge the first bolt, juking to the side and seeming to hang in the air for a moment as its body twists around the projectile.

     Then it stumbles, for just a moment- and that's enough time for the other two bolts to strike home. Its lower foreleg is flayed by the first strike, now held together only by burnt sinew and bone. An instant later, the second hit connects with its right 'knee', cleanly destroying the joint and forcing it to collapse to the floor.

     The Ragelope's sides heave as it gasps for breath, and it twists its neck to look Will in the eyes. One might expect to see panic in the monster's expression, or at least some glimmer of pain- but its gaze only betrays a smoldering rage, and the kind of raw malice that usually escapes dumb beasts.

     An awful cracking, grinding sound comes from the monster's legs as it forces them to move despite its injuries, and as it staggers to its hooves again the jagged broken bones cut through its skin. It sways unsteadily, the very act of standing seeming to have drained the last of its stamina, and then crumples for the last time as whatever dreadful rage had carried it this far is finally extinguished.

     But there may not be time for celebration. From down the stairwell comes a sound that might be familiar to William from his own world: the hissing of hydraulics, the clanking of heavy metal footsteps on stone. Whatever reduced that proud beast to the state he found it in is on its way...
William Pauwel     There are great manyt things that don't exactly reflect well on one's survival in a situation like this one. One of those things is 'giant monster deers that don't want to stay dead.' Will's breath catches in his throat when that immense thing evades the first of his shots. Fortunately, the other two find purchase, tearing into the thing's legs.

That doesn't kill it. Of course it doesn't- this thing is some kind of terrifying devil-deer, why would having its legs lopped off kill it? Will watches in stunned silence as the thing rises, hearing the awful sound of bones grinding against bone in defiance of anything resembling natural biological processes. He only regains his wits when the thing crashes, finally, to the ground.

Is it really dead?

He doesn't take any chances.

    Another trio of shots surge out from the Solano into the colossal deer's head. Double tapping is always a safe policy when you have the ammunition to spare. The Solano has as much to give as Will needs to take.

But the deer's defeat doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet. Something makes distinctly mechanical noises not far ahead. He makes an uncomfortable sound deep in his throat and takes aim down the corridor the deer lept from. If whatever that is is still able to move after fighting that monster, then...
Septette Arcubielle Those implacably steady footsteps resound heavily, growing closer. As she ascends the steps, the robot's head becomes visible first- her visage would almost appear human if not for her glowing lavender eyes and triangular metal ear-fins. But as more of her is revealed, she looks less and less human: exposed ceramic collarbone, hollow ribcage with a pulsating crimson core inside, clawed hands and taloned feet. Two red-hot curved blades protrude from her forearms, still sizzling as the blood on them boils off.

     The menacing machine comes to a halt at the top of the staircase, and regards William with an unreadable and unchanging expression. She makes no move to disarm. Though her size is unimpressive, if he looks closely, he might notice that she appears entirely undamaged by her encounter with the cervine creature...
William Pauwel     If there's anything Will knows how to deal with at this point, it's machines. He can spot a deadly killer robot at several dozen meters, and that thing coming up the steps from below definitely fills out almost every single bulletpoint. From the exposed ribcage to the glowing energy core at her heart, to the enormous, superheated claws on her arms.

If it didn't have a vaguely human face, it'd be easy for him to just straight up try to snipe her exposed, throbbing heart.

Unfortunately, as has already been established elsewhere, Will is a massive sucker for things that look like cute girls.

    Doesn't mean he's dumb, though. He hefts the Solano, its barrel aglow with coruscating energy. "Don't move!" He calls, "Not another step, y'hear?" It looks like he'll... At least give her the chance. On the case that she's not actually a killer robot.

His chances aren't exactly the best.