The initial rush towards this wildbeast was, very importantly, loud and full of threats. We were mice compared to it, and to get a goliath to run away, you must threaten it much, much more compared to something your size. Screaming, perhaps even someone throwing what would be considered a slur, everything. Throwing rocks, but for me, throwing my own body at it was a choice taken.
But screaming did not deter it, as an arm of that thing lifted up, and with all of us too head-in on the height of being able to just say whatever at something that will not understand even the worst of verbal rampage, shot itself down. The seafloor shook again, not enough to cause yet another quake, but enough to deter us back to what we needed to do.
Another leg shot up, this time, much quicker. It has taken notice. It has locked onto somebody. The chatterbox in red did not notice, still swept up in rush. It was the one locked-on, and now, with the leg on the ground again, it was splattered, crushed into crumbs and what is inside. I looked back from my hold on another foot, and so did everybody else, before that awful reality set in. Just as quickly as one could become a sentinel, one could die. And a painful death it seemed, red clouds in the water quickly steaming the area.
But now was not a time to mess around, as it seemed by the trajectory of leg movement that our own screaming was, indeed, enough to make it at least turn the other way from Sugarteara. But with the movement of those legs came other dangers.
For example, that the leg I embedded my claw into was about to scrape a wall of rock. And as it still turned, I was almost crushed between, but more of given the feeling of sandpaper being held down against and pulled all across my body. Exoskeleton nearly torn away from endoviscera, and without any time to respond nor grasp the rock I was pulled against, I fell to the seafloor once again. Paralyzed by such pain, and while the fight still tore and went, I could barely sense the yell of Leader.