Unintercepted by any other member of the party, the flying arm struck Amulak right in the face. The force of the blow was almost enough to knock him right over, but once again, his investment in his defensive stats paid off, [b]receiving only 58 damage[/b]. As he shook off the dizziness from such a high-speed impact, however, the man felt a strange weight on his face, followed by a sudden inability to move his jaw. The oni’s arm, detached from his body, had wrapped its massive hand over Amulak’s face and now gripped it there. From the putrid stump, something wiggled beneath, but the mage couldn’t make out what it was before him.

And the hand continued squeezing, tighter and tighter, until Amulak could feel his jaw begin to creak, his teeth begin with crack.

If the mage had been expecting any assistance however, it was unlikely that he’d have found it. With Klein skirting around the rampaging oni to assist Magpie with the three further away, it was up to Ames to take on the two that came at him. Raime, for all his dextrous arrow-slinging, still lacked the power needed to inflict any significant damage to the monsters, nor did he have any tools for stopping them in their tracks. His four arrows shot past Ames’s head, three sticking into one oni’s skull and one other deflected by his horn, but they did not pierce through. No doubt, just as the scout’s agility and accuracy were superhuman, so was the onis’ own resilience, regardless of whether they were dead or alive. It came down then, to Ames’s own capabilities.

Power surged out from the core of his body, through his arms, into his sword, and with a burst of light, the warrior’s weapon sliced into the first monster’s legs, sending them toppling forward…right onto Ames himself. Momentum was conserved and his opponents had no fear. The legless one bodyslammed into him, and was enough to topple Ames over. He may have been a warrior, but he had distributed his stats evenly. Against the physically-focused behemoths that he faced, Ames had neither the might to match them, nor the versatility to outskill them at the moment. The warrior was pinned down to the ground by one, while the other oni leapt up into the air and delivered a two-footed flying stomp right on Ames’s skull. The Battlerider’s Cowl, made of tougher fabrics than the fashionable wear of the real world, prevented the toenails of the pale-skinned monstrosity from tearing into his flesh, but the sheer impact of the blow was enough to stun, and with pain set at 40%?

It felt just like being curbstomped in real life; such was the agony that would’ve accompanied such a blow. The warrior’s health [b]dropped 118 from the combined attacks[/b], and if he couldn’t find a way to escape the situation, there would certainly be more to follow.

Magpie, perhaps due to her own commitment to raising her strength or perhaps just because she only had to worry about a single oni, had much more success in her endeavors. Grasping either side of the monster’s head with a grip strength easily beyond half a ton, she shook past the disorientation of having her own head bashed in and through the mask of blood, the brawler bent back and did exactly what she had planned to do. With the snapping of rotted tendon and muscle, the twisting and cracking of bone, the head was raised up high, splattering gore over Magpie’s face. There was a sense of elation there, a sense of accomplishment. She may have been a STR-focused bonobo, but feats like this justified the validity of her build, at least for now.

Then, Magpie heard something burst, right up against her own torso.

Looking down at the headless oni’s chest, she saw it: dozens of wriggling, black worms, tearing out of the desiccated corpse’s flesh and launching themselves right at her. She had entangled herself already to the monster, lacked the ability to get out of the way with expediency, and within an instant, countless pinpricks of pain lit up her navel, [b]37 damage dealt for the 37 worms[/b] beginning to burrow themselves into her. Another meal. Another host.

And as for Klein, rushing in to take on another oni?

His fist swung through the air, smashing into the one-armed oni’s head, cracking the skull beneath the flesh. There was no feedback though. No head movement, no acknowledgement. The oni looked at him with its dead-eyed glare, and then…

…Klein found himself upside down, half his vision gone, jaw strangely loose, and his whole person hanging from the broken branches of the [i]second[/i] tree he had crashed through. Amulak, below him, struggled with an animate arm around his own head, while in the distance, he could see the body of bull-lifting oni begin to glow ominously with a golden aura.

What exactly had happened to him?

His mind could still not process it, but there was one thing for certain: [b]he was missing 263 HP[/b].
[sub][@Shovel][@Searat][@Psyker Landshark][@OwO][@Yankee][/sub][hr]
The crystal was cool to the touch and vibrated slightly as she pawed at it, but other than that, did not respond to Ari’s movements. Zhi-Toren was also still as Ari explained more and more, but her eyes were filled with a curious intensity. Occasionally, they’d flicker with a blue light, only to be blinked away moments later. Finally, the woman folded her hands on the table, right as a waiter came up with their order. A glistening pile of syrup-drenched pancakes was placed before them, as well as some truly insta-worthy bubble tea, held in handcrafted glassware. She motioned briefly for Ari to start eating, and then said, [b]“Ari, what would you say to an offer to join my guild? I could put in a good word for you to management just based off what you’ve told me, and the sense of responsibility and determination you have reflects well on your character.”[/b]

With an expert flick of her knife, she cut a star into the first pancake and transferred it over to her plate.

[b]“Anyone can gain levels, after all, but, in Horogi especially, so few are willing to [i]explore[/i], and even fewer are willing to explore without seeking treasure. That, my dear, makes you unique. And [i]that[/i] makes you desirable.”[/b]
[sub][@Greengoat][/sub][hr]
The Gakui-Re clan’s recruitment office was ostentatiously decorated and wholly distasteful. Longcoats emblazoned with vaguely inspiring mottos were framed, while paintings of the King of Brigands, a ruggedly handsome man with a sick fade, a skull mask, and a [i]goddamn[/i] motorcycle was plastered everywhere. The merchandising available for the sole Superior of the Gakui-Re clan was certainly intense, ranging from pillows to fans to all sorts of clothing in all sorts of sizes, and the clash of vibes, from fanclub to gang of criminals to elusive Robin Hood-types was almost disorientating. Adding to the confusion were the other paintings present to advertise what exactly the Gakui-Re had to offer. Stampeding horses against a sunset, juxtaposed with a motorcycle gang racing down switchbacks. Cozy wild life in yurts, juxtaposed with drunks living it up in bawdy taverns. Perhaps this had to do, in part, with the ‘freedom’ espoused by the Gakui-Re clan, but on the other hand…this really just felt like someone took all the things they thought were cool and jammed them into one messy collage of an office.

And of course, sitting cross-legged was the bulky Rien known as Gan’Bol, who looked at Calace, picked his nose, flicked the booger off to the side, took a hearty swig from his gourd, and said, [b]“Sorry girl, our rides have height restrictions. Come back after you've grown a couple more feet, ye?”[/b]
[sub][@Haha][/sub]