A series of clinks and clanks echoed around the Hall as Kopius quickly removed his arm–unscathed. He retrieved the torch and assumed a type of crouched position atop the statue. The noises came from deeper in the rock, giving them a more subdued, submerged sound. It wasn't sporadic or chaotic; there was a noticeable rhythm as if a winding box were being wound. Kopius, perched atop the headless statue, tweaked and jerked his head at every tiny clang of stone like some bird of prey in search of a meal. He was also ready to pounce from his position and run his happy ass away from any rock golem that might come to life.

The noises moved up and down the hall as if a skeleton key had been put in place and a bunch of goonies were about to get boobie trapped. He raised the torch to illuminate the ceiling to check for any dangling boulders.

Kopius was jerked from his 1980's paranoia when a loud stream of air sounded off to his right. Like an air compressors release valve fully opened the sound filled the space quickly. It raced around as if white noise had taken the form of a raging river, crashing into everything in sight. He nearly shat his pants when the statue he was perched on dipped and began to sink into the floor.

He leaped from his perch and hit the ground hard. His knees buckled on impact as he went into a ragdoll type roll, losing the torch in the process. Kopius lumbered to his feet, tried to ignore his screaming joints and picked up the light source. In a half bent over pose, he lifted the torch to see three adjacent statues sink into the ground as if they were in quicksand.

By the time he was able to stand upright, each ten-foot sculpture had disappeared without a trace they ever stood tall. The ground trembled slightly and was followed by a consistent etching sounds like a child using street chalk. Straight lines appeared on the wall forming two tall vertical rectangles. The lines burst in a flash of light and the wall opened up like sliding doors. Stagnant air fought its way out from space just beyond the doors; the smell of old dirt and dry rock. Kopius used his free hand to swat at imaginary dust particles while his other hand lifted the torch higher to illuminate the newly revealed room.

Just past the newly created doorway was a modest sized area, maybe the size of a large family room. He couldn't tell the height of the ceiling from this angle and Kopius was quite comfortable practicing a bit of voyeurism at the moment. He only let the light of the torch step past the threshold; his eyes could see fine from outside.

The space was empty for the most part with the exception of four pillars surrounding a stone table in the center of the room. There was an object atop the table but the firelight danced too much to make out what it was. Probably another Orb of something-something, Kopius guessed given the object's round silhouette. He considered snuffing the flame and using his Night Vision. He also wondered if he should fetch Cici before proceeding. Neither idea motivated him to move so he continued to stare.

Kopius stepped up to the old boundary of the wall, not ready to step past the entrance. His closer position did nothing to reveal the item atop the table but he did spy something else. Just beyond the door, behind the wall on the right was a slender white sack with black splotches and streaks. It was only a step or two inside the room and Kopius cracked a grin when he could see the outline of a pyramid from within.

With a deep breath and a quick 'stop being a pansy' motivator, Kopius clenched his butt cheeks and stepped inside. When nothing egregious happened he unclenched.

"See," Kopius said with a slight chuckle,"It's not always a trap."

Once inside, Kopius could clearly see the high temple-shaped ceiling, several stone shelves with random oddities, the exquisite design along each of the four pillars and the stone head resting atop the stone table. Its color was familiar; its design something he knew.

Now, neither Cory or Kopius could claim to be a connoisseur of the Arts; they know what they know from whenever they were paying attention. They couldn't tell the difference between Da Vinci or Rodin if you placed their sculptures in front of them. Yet, given that he had spent a day in the cave down the way, it was easy to tell.

The missing head of the central statue, Dashwraths love herself, was cut with such life-like precision that, for a moment, Kopius expected the piece to speak. He shook his head as if to clear an arrant thought only to find himself much closer to the head than before. Kopius looked back to see he was several steps into the room, some 'wtf' thoughts bouncing around in his mind.

A brief shock passed through him when he returned his gaze to the stone head and saw that his free hand was reaching out for the same thing. He didn't move it–hell, he hadn't felt it move. When he went to pull his arm back it hesitated. Before he could throw logic at the problem, Kopius began to reason with himself.

It's so smooth–shiny…I bet it's soft.

It's not soft! A part of him began to protest. It's fluffy.

Fluffy can be soft. We should touch it.

We should feel it.

Grab it.

Take it as our own.

The farther the conversation went the more drunken slur the debate became. Although no one was in disagreement an argument ensued until they started to insult each other's mothers. It was paradoxical, puzzling mostly, given that the mother was the same person.

None of these things registered to Kopius as he absently reached for the head. As both hands stretched for the prize, the flame of the torch collided against the unprotected skin of Kopius's arm.

"GODDAMNSUNOFABITCHMOTHAFUKER!!!" Kopius screeched at the top of his lungs;

dropping the torch and clutching his seared arm. His mind instantly cleared of the drunken thoughts. It was as if he had been charmed somehow and had snapped back to reality. He removed his hand to look at the damage and found a scorch mark with peeled back, already blistering skin.

He let out more strings of profanity all while cradling the injured arm, the burn growing more intense with each passing moment. The fire stick rolled along the floor throwing up odd shadows against the walls and it took all the internal willpower stored within his soul to not punt the torch. It said a lot about his growth and budding character, not only as Kopius but as a human being in search of a better self. Instead he stomped down on the unlit end and mentally cursed at the thing.

With the light stabilized, Kopius summoned a healing potion and doused his injury. The pain stopped growing, though choosing to remain intense. The wound itself began to mend. He watched it close and heal, leaving behind a fresh shiny patch of skin. Even with the now phantom pain pulsing in his arm, Kopius sighed in relief. He flexed the injured forearm a few times, stepped off the burning torch and then punted it.

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Petulance, in all of its childishness, will likely be the death of Kopius; that or his random grudges–so odd. For all of his surly, sulky, grumpy crankiness; petulance would be the safe bet. If the Gods were a gambling brood–and they are– 'petulance' as a 'cause of death' for Kopius probably runs even money.

Anyhow, the torch was kicked; he just couldn't let it go. Loose embers flashed to life as they took flight separating from the torch, turning to ash just as quickly. They disappeared, fluttering into the dark. The torch itself lifted off the ground and careened into the furthest pillar, creating another flash of embers. Its momentum caused it to ricochet off another pillar, bounce off the stone head, do a few somersaults mid-air, all ending by spinning across the floor towards the entrance.

Each time the torch crashed into a surface, a miniature explosion lit up the room. Kopius winced when it had hit the stone head. That was quickly forgotten about as the torch came to rest next to the elongated sack lying on the floor. The flame licked at the bag and a few sparks insisted on setting the thing on fire. Kopius moved over and picked up the sock shaped bag before damage could be done, tilted it over and let the single item fall into his palm.

{NX: Item Found: COMA +1 Traceroute}.

A sense of accomplishment washed over Kopius as he admired the other half of his C.O.M.A. It wasn't a feeling he was used to and at first thought he was coming down with a case of the chills. 'Pride' had been a misunderstood and often poorly applied excuse for many of his past actions. Where Cory often thought he was taking a principled stand, it all really boiled down to some form of stubborness, ignorance–or both.

With an actual prideful moment sitting in his palm, Kopius was at a loss. He felt happy, accomplished but struggled to express either emotion. He had done good, but failed to give himself the proper credit. It felt silly, self-serving. This was an on-going issue but needless to say, Cory could have patted himself on the back more often; something Kopius will need to figure out.

"Seriously?" Kopius complained when the other half of the C.O.M.A. took up the last inventory slot instead of occupying the space with the other one. "That's fucking stupid." He finished under his breath.

Kopius picked up the lit torch and wandered over to the stone table. At first he examined the blotch marks of soot where the torch had bounced off the pillars. There was no damage done and the soot marks wiped off pretty easily. Kopius used the cloth sack from the floor to wipe away the mess. Why he felt the sudden urge to clean up after himself was a mystery but that's what he did.

There were only a few spots to clean, a few smudges to wipe down before bringing his attention to the black soot on the face of the stone head. It now bore a resemblance to having a black eye. He regarded the piece with some skepticism. Though he was not certain, Kopius felt the piece had been charming him prior to the burning incident. The feeling of being drunk and unencumbered was eerily similar to his first interaction with Cici. 'Why' it was charming would have been a better thing to consider but his willingness to show some caution was still a good sign.

In an attempt to keep the good times rolling, Kopius relied on some old advice from his grandfather. Papa would say: leave a place as you found it; or better! It was the same philosophy when you borrowed something from someone. Doing the right thing usually meant putting in an extra effort, paying a bit of extra attention. It was polite and considerate. So in the spirit of Papa and 'doing the right thing' Kopius picked up the beautifully carved head and began to wipe it down.

"My pretty!" a deep gnarly voice grumbled loudly from behind.

Kopius practically jumped from his own skin and turned in time to dodge a stone projectile. The rock smashed into millions of pieces as it collided with the wall behind him. Two more rocks whizzed past his head as he dove to the side, finding refuge behind one of the pillars. The stone column provided about as much protection as hiding behind the pole of a street lamp. Another rock pinged off the pillar before he glanced past it to see his foe.

"My pretty!" the voice boomed again, coming into view from the back shadows.

Besides the fact that this one was moving, it looked the same as any of the hundred copy/paste golems out in the hall. Its body, made of variously sized and shaped oblong boulders, rolled out–rather than walked–as if it were riding a Segway. The things two leg boulders moved like spinning gears instead of walking, stomping, you-can-hear-me-coming-from-a-mile-away, feet.

"She's all yours man!" Kopius shouted from behind the pillar.

He clutched the head of the statue in one hand and the rag in the other. On a whim, he took the white sock bag and attempted to wave it in surrender. Two or three seconds into its twirl and a well aimed rock ripped the rag from his hand.

"Fuck me," Kopius said under his breath. He glanced over at the exit, twenty or so feet away, while trying to slow down his thumping heart. Another rock smashed into the pillar, taking a small chunk with it.

"My! Pretty!" The monster bellowed a third time.

"Here asshole! Take it!" Kopius yelled, thrusting the stone head piece out as an offering.

When nothing came to rip the piece from his hand, he poked his own head out from behind the pillar. Careful to keep the item between him and the angry golem, Kopius stepped out from his protection and faced the creature. The thing made no move, instead choosing to rock in place, ready to pounce.

Kopius took this as a cue and slowly moved sideways towards the stone table. The head of the golem tilted to the side a few times like a dog wondering what the hell its master was up to. Kopius put the table between him and the golem, figuring any barrier was better than no barrier. He placed the head back the way he had found it and immediately put his hands up like he had never touched the thing in the first place.

"See," Kopius offered, "She's not even my type." A nervous laugh escaped his lips as the two stood there in silence.

The golem, for all of its rigid, expressionless demeanor, appeared to relax. It rolled forward in an unthreatening way and even though Kopius was ready to piss himself, he remained in place. With only the stone table between them, Kopius tried to steady his breathing; Don't let them see you sweat man, he kept preaching to himself.

"My pretty," the stone golem stated in a softer tone.

"Your pretty," Kopius replied with what courage he could summon.

"My pretty," the thing repeated in what sounded more like a loving way as it picked up the piece.

"Yea," Kopius said with a little more comfort, yet unable to put his hands down. "I was just cleaning her up is all."

If the golem were to have facial expressions, Kopius was certain the thing was gushing over the headpiece. It moved the thing around like someone admiring their pet for the millionth time. Kopius took the distraction to start inching his way towards the exit. He wasn't sure which direction the golems' temperament was headed and he didn't want to get involved, invited or trapped in some awkward menage-a-trois.

About the time Kopius had reached the side of the table to back away towards the exit, the spirit noticed the soot stained, black eye on the carved head.

"My. Pretty," the rock golem grumbled in what sounded like confusion.

"Well–yea," Kopius stammered. "I was cleaning it. You saw me cleaning it. That's how this whole thing got started."

"MY! PRETTY!" The thing roared.

"Now hold on," Kopius implored, "That's not what it looks like–"

THUD!!!

Kopius didn't get the chance to plead his case as the rock golem swung its large arm down and across, smashing Kopius in the chest. He flung backwards like being jerked off a pier while water skiing. The whole thing was borderline cartoonish; his arms and legs stretched forward while hurtling backwards–but here Kopius was living it, flying across the room. He flew past the threshold, over the hall walkway and crashed into the opposite wall.

Blood trickled out of his mouth as Kopius strained to put air back in his lungs. He gagged-coughed until a trickle of oxygen made its way in. A few quick breaths and his world came back into focus. It felt like someone had taken a battle-ram and used his upper body as the gate to break through. The fact that his chest hadn't caved in was nothing short of a miracle. If that thing had hit him in the head…

"MY PRETTY!" Crashed and echoed down the hall, sending vibrations through the ground.

It would have sobered up Kopius had he been drunk. Instead, he finished off the healing potion he had used for the burn, unsure of what internal damage there might be. Letting the empty vial plink off the stone floor, Kopius stumbled to a standing position. He assessed the situation as quickly as he could and summarized the charging golem in two groaned words: "Fuck me."

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