fandomhigh | True Heroism! The Olympian Way! Session 7. Period 3

For today's final, Hercules again directed the class into the Danger Shop.

"We have done many things, fought dragons, rescued kittens, designed outfits. But this class is also about the Olympian way, so today we go to the great deeds of Olympic heroes. And I don't mean those of Jesse Owens, whose deeds were that of legend as well."

He grinned as he gestured to what lay ahead of them. In front of the class was a big wooden door, the kind one would normally expect in front of a dungeon. But surely they'd done a dungeon already?

"Ahead of you lies the mighty labyrinth, that which Theseus conquered," Hercules said. "Ah, but you are thinking, 'Hercules, why not one of your own triumphs?'. Those I am saving for my fall class. This... this is a classic. You should be happy I did not pick Icarus! Though... Warren here would be at an unfair advantage, there." He laughed.

"The task is almost sheer elegance in its simplicity," Hercules said. "Get to the center of the labyrinth, where there is punch and pie."

He pressed open the doors to the labyrinth.

"Oh, and there is a minotaur in there. And some trolls. And a few goblins. Just to make it interesting."

He laughed, and gestured for the class to enter.

"I shall see you at the center!"

[ooc: ~~OCD first, por favor~~ Open class! Woo!]

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"Feeee, Fiiiii, Foooo, Fum!" growled the minotaur with the really big club.

It was very possible Hercules had gotten his stories mixed up when getting the class together.

"I smell... chicken?"

It was stomping towards Warren with a menacing, slow pace.

"I was just called a chicken by a giant cow," Warren intoned, taking a few steps back from the minotaur. And, of course, the minotaur's club. "Really? Do you have any idea how many hamburgers I eat in the span of a week, pal?"

His wings were still folded tightly at his back. There wasn't any sense in using them here, at least not yet.

His fingers were flexing, though. And he wasn't taking his eyes off of the minotaur or his club if he could help it.

"Bull!" The Minotaur roared. "To call me a cow is udderly wrong!"

Why yes, Hercules made sure the monsters could banter.

"And so, as an expert, I call bullcrap on that threat! Chickeeeeen!"

Really, what good was a monster if it couldn't banter, right?

"You're an expert on crap? I think you need to consider maybe picking up some new hobbies," Warren shot back. Oh, yes, he was getting a bit riled up at the 'chicken' taunts. He wasn't poultry, dammit! "I hear cud-chewing is all the rage with most bovines these days."

"I'm more of a fan of bloodchewing!" the Minotaur bellowed, and that was when it hefted its large club and swung it at Warren.

Warren's wingtips smacked hard against the walls of the labyrinth as he launched himself up, obviously not aiming to fly, but flapping all the same in order to get some decent distance on the leap he'd just made.

"Blood isn't chewy!"

If his leap just so happened to have him flying straight at the creature's face, and if he was holding out those clawed hands so that he could get himself a firm grip once he got that far, so what, right?

"It is if you prep--OH GOD MY FACE!"

Warren had quite literally taken the bull by the horns, and done a bit of flesh damage on the way.

"Get off me you overgrown pigeon!"

"You started it!"

Yes. Yes, it was going to degenerate into this. This, and hanging on for dear life, because Warren hadn't really thought this through very well.

Story of his life.

"Apologize for calling me a chicken!"

... Yep. It had totally degenerated into this.

"You apologize for calling me a chicken!" the Minotaur retorted.

In a scenario right out of a Tom and Jerry cartoon, the Minotaur swung up it's club at Warren with all his might.

You know, in a trajectory right at his own head.

Oop, large club. Warren's wings smacked the wall again as he flung himself out of the way, going for a tumble on the ground behind the giant cow and then scrambling to his feet, in case that club happened to hit home on the carry-through.

He wasn't exactly in the mood to find himself totally buried in bull.

And with a mighty wham, the Minotaur clocked itself in the skull with its club.

"Who turned out the lights..." it muttered, before falling over backwards.

True Heroism! The Olympian Way! Session 7. Period 3

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