[color=f26522]Magnumus Agoston, Centurion.[/color]

Level 3 - (23/30) EXP 
Location: Lumbridge, Land of Adventure
Word Count: 599


[hr]

Centurion had chucked.[color=f26522] "If only, Linkle. Ryu bested me aswell. I suppose you are a bit more charismatic and kinder than I, if his senses were restored with words alone. Only a bit, though,"[/color] He said sarcastically, smiling. After a while, Linkle got an upgrade, and Centurion nodded in approval and finished the rest of his meal.

Just then, the monarch of the crew, (unless one counted Bowser), Princess Peach, arrived inside the Adventurer's Guild. There was combat to be had, and evil to be vanquished. The entire world was hostile, and needed to be smote or restored. It was hardly like his campaigns of old, where movement needed to be carefully considered. The placement of the enemy's army needed to be predicted and guessed at. The path of least resistance to their goal needed to be realised and then taken advantage of. Here, in Galeem's world, that was not the case. Slaying enemies granted them additional powers, and the enemies were everywhere. One could not travel from the cauldron to the pantry without stumbling upon some warped creature plucked from it's forgotten cave. Since any creature slain was another boon gained, "quests" were a valuable investment. Everyone had to power up in order to become powerful enough to defeat Galeem and it's lieutenants. 

Thus, a newly refreshed Agoston slammed down his now empty mug of ale, made sure his gladius was secure in it's sheathe, and marched out the door with the rest of his comrades. Finding his old drill kart, the armored man stepped, a little more clumsily than before, within the driver's seat. 

He followed the rest of his fellows to their destination. As they neared their destination, they dismounted. They began their ascent. Centurion was quiet, his eyes narrowed, scanning the environment for potential attackers. That, however, would not be necessary, as once they reached the top their foes made themselves quite apparent.

The beast itself was intimidating for sure, but the things around it, it's allies, were what shook Agoston to his core. Horrific, twisted abominations of people, along with some alien creature that that was terrible to look upon. The Thing from the Stars. Suffering incarnate! For the first time in a long time, Agoston felt fear began to creep into his heart. It felt unnatural- Centurions did not become afraid. So what was this? Perhaps, Agoston thought, it was some kind of fear enchantment? 

Steadying himself, the Centurion unsheathed his gladius and pounded the flat of the blade against his forearm. Engaging [color=f26522]Phalanx[/color], his comrades around him would gain a bonus defensive shield against attacks that manage to hit them. An extra layer of protection. 

[color=f26522]"[i]Audaces fortuna iuvat![/i] Fortune favors the bold!"[/color] He shouted to his friends, hoping to help maintain their courage, and his own. With that, he leaned forward and charged, his feet pounding on the dirt and stone. The fear made him angry. Centurion wanted to kill the Thing from the Stars and prove his worth. 

Thus, Agoston charged for the nearest undead farmhand, determined to carve a path directly to the Thing from the Stars. The Gladius surged forward, plunging into the heart of one of the sickly humanoids. Using it as leverage he slammed his fist, newly enhanced with a boxer's technique, into the side of the things temple, trying to shatter it's skull. Gathering momentum, the Centurion began his rampage, trying to cut through as many husks as possible. If he succeeded, he would reorient his efforts upon the Thing from the Stars, hoping to calm his quivering heart by stilling the heart of the terrible, shrieking abomination.