Your arcane ritual has awakened THE SKULL. Its terrible mandibles gnashing, THE SKULL attacks your party on sight. Though you try to flee, it flies in swift pursuit. Unable to outrun it, you are forced to turn and fight!

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They had survived a lot of incidents during their dives deep within the dungeons, in search of loot and treasure, fame and experience. They were flooded… twice, almost ending up in a creepy sarcophagus, surrounded by weird and foul liquid… 

But this? 

This was something new. 

“Rogue, on your left!” Sylvan yelled, having just avoided The Skull’s attack, its teeth almost grabbing her tail and ripping it out completely. A shiver ran through her spine, but she didn’t have much time for respite, either. 

Rogue hissed as his body hit the wall, the harsh cobblestone rubbing against his coat as The Skull smashed the wall next to the Courser, Rogue’s breathing heavy with effort, teeth tightly holding onto the handle of his pitchfork. 

Sereia ran fast, lunging at The Skull, holding her sickle and trying to at least try and crack the bone structure of their opponent’s body (or the lack thereof), but she barely left a scratch on the disturbing creature. What in Galatea's name was that!? 

Cithis’ breathing was heavy. She had to get out of this alive. If she didn’t, Hillcrest would blame themselves until the end of their lives, that they ever allowed Cithis to join the Howlingthorn Guild as their trainee, trying to be one of their most prized mercenaries. The mare swallowed, feeling how terribly and uncomfortably dry her throat was. She felt her mouth shaking in fear, making the blade in her possession tremble. This was bad. This was really, really bad. 

Sylvan ran past The Skull, swinging her tail and making her scythe fly in its direction, the sharp tip lodging in its head, cracking it a little… only for her weapon to fall down to the ground right after, making The Skull target her now, once it saw the Courser being disarmed. 

Cithis jumped in, slicing her blade across the front of The Skull, leaving a thin cut through it, although not too deep. Thankfully, it was enough for Sylvan to grasp her weapon back from the ground, picking up her pace as the party once again circled the attacker, the tipping of the scales moving on one side, then on the other. 

Who was the hunter, and who was the prey? 

“Cithis, on the right!” Sereia was the one to warn the younger Courser this time, and she moved swiftly, bumping into Cithis to push her away, and The Skull hit the wall nearby them, immediately crushing the cobblestone to pieces. 

“Thanks, I think… I thought I was done for.” The mare breathed with effort, nodding her head at the seafoam-coloured friend and they quickly took off again in this deadly race of kill or be killed, the stomping of their hooves against the cold floor echoing across the whole chamber, where the fight was taking place. 

“Can it even be defeated!?” Before Cithis could say anything else, Rogue’s voice could be heard, higher than his usual deep voice. It was the first time he was this emotional over something, and it wasn't a surprise. While during most dangers, he was rather collected and thought logically, this time, he wasn't sure if he would even be able to do so. “What if it's waiting to tire us out, so we’ll be easy prey!?”

Sylvan scoffed, furrowing her fuzzy eyebrows, but she knew Rogue had a little bit of truth in his words. What if The Skull was just taking its time, playing with the Coursers, until they get too tired to fight and become easy victims? 

“We still need to try.” Sylvan breathed out, her long tail swaying in anger behind her, her scythe swinging left and right. “Even if we try to run, it’ll follow us. And it won't be so easy in narrow corridors.” The bounty hunter added. Even if they would try to escape into a narrow space, The Skull would just come crushing right through, and could possibly crush them under the cobblestone, resulting in a similar fate. 

Their hearts were beating fast, eyes opened wide, and a sheen layer of sweat covered their coats. Their manes were moist from the sweat, clinging to their necks, the graciously put up hairstyles disheveled and with loose strands all across. 

Some of their gear was ripped, bodies bruised and dirty from both blood and dirt, proof of their ongoing fight with the terrible monster, one that decided on them as its new victims, toys to play with and crush their spines. 

At least while they were fighting here, they still had a sliver of hope and chance for their survival. A survival would be the true victory and prize of this fight. 

They had to try. They'll win, or they'll die trying, but they can’t go back now. 

Everyone adjusted their grips on their weapons, heavy breathing resonating through the chamber, along with the company of The Skull’s creepy and terrifying sounds, its eldritch head focused on the four Coursers as it opened its mandibles, immediately rushing right at the party.