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Fighting a cake golem is fun work. -Anonymous

Then someone quickly chimed in that there was a similar fight in a game that was very un-fun, so I went with that instead.

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Spiders? Really? Sindred spun away from a green one's slow moving acid glob and used that momentum to slash through three of the black arachnids scuttling towards her. A quick dash forward and she jabbed the green one between its envenomed mandibles. It curled and fell from its web with a satisfyingly high-pitched shriek. If Corucath the Dread Summoner hoped to prevent her from rescuing the prince, he should have stocked his dungeon with sterner stuff- to a renowned adventurer like herself, spiders were a low hurdle.

The more she thought about it, the angrier Sindred got. Was Corucath insulting her? Didn't he know she was the Lovely Blade, one of the best sword-dancers in all of Westia? She should be fighting rooms filled to the rafters with minotaurs who had fire-breathing snakes for hands. More spiders died as she fought her way to the door at the end of the hallway.

Sindred flung the door open, fully expecting to see another wave of eight-legged assholes to dispatch. Instead, the chamber was empty save for a towering, lumpily-frosted pink birthday cake. She approached cautiously. The candles atop it lit one after another. Once they were all ablaze, the cake lurched from its slumber. Flame-bright eyes opened, and stubby arms sprouted from its sides. Its mouth split between the seam of its layers and then it roared; or it would have roared if it were a fearsome monster. Instead, it made a buzzy kazoo noise that made Sindred smirk.

Some boss fight this was going to be. Like most golems, this cake was slow. Sindred scored a few easy hits on her enemy, but the slashes in its frosting armor resealed themselves as fast as she could create them. And her blade wasn't coming away clean. Unlike blood, the icing didn't run off- it was an increasingly heavy sheath. She needed to end the fight before she tired.

Sindred leapt high and brought her sword down in an angry silver arc, burying it where (hopefully) the golem's brain was located. Yet all this did was provoke another party favor screech from her foe, as well as get her left foot mired in mortar-thick frosting. Now she had to dislodge both herself and her weapon without getting grabbed. Sindred twisted away from the creature's hand, wrenched her blade free only by sinking her other foot into the pink mud, and tumbled a considerable distance to the floor.

Her sticky feet hobbled her movement. Her sword looked and felt more like a club due to the great gob of frosting clinging to its blade. She probably broke her tailbone in the fall. This encounter wasn't going so well for her. How are you supposed to fight a cake?

Sindred was busy contemplating this when the golem flicked its forefinger against its thumb, scraping off a dollop of goo and propelling it towards her face like a missile. There was a wet smack and darkness and breathing difficulties and quickly-blooming panic.

Description
Fighting a cake golem is fun work. -Anonymous

Then someone quickly chimed in that there was a similar fight in a game that was very un-fun, so I went with that instead.

////////////////////////////////////////////

Spiders? Really? Sindred spun away from a green one's slow moving acid glob and used that momentum to slash through three of the black arachnids scuttling towards her. A quick dash forward and she jabbed the green one between its envenomed mandibles. It curled and fell from its web with a satisfyingly high-pitched shriek. If Corucath the Dread Summoner hoped to prevent her from rescuing the prince, he should have stocked his dungeon with sterner stuff- to a renowned adventurer like herself, spiders were a low hurdle.

The more she thought about it, the angrier Sindred got. Was Corucath insulting her? Didn't he know she was the Lovely Blade, one of the best sword-dancers in all of Westia? She should be fighting rooms filled to the rafters with minotaurs who had fire-breathing snakes for hands. More spiders died as she fought her way to the door at the end of the hallway.

Sindred flung the door open, fully expecting to see another wave of eight-legged assholes to dispatch. Instead, the chamber was empty save for a towering, lumpily-frosted pink birthday cake. She approached cautiously. The candles atop it lit one after another. Once they were all ablaze, the cake lurched from its slumber. Flame-bright eyes opened, and stubby arms sprouted from its sides. Its mouth split between the seam of its layers and then it roared; or it would have roared if it were a fearsome monster. Instead, it made a buzzy kazoo noise that made Sindred smirk.

Some boss fight this was going to be. Like most golems, this cake was slow. Sindred scored a few easy hits on her enemy, but the slashes in its frosting armor resealed themselves as fast as she could create them. And her blade wasn't coming away clean. Unlike blood, the icing didn't run off- it was an increasingly heavy sheath. She needed to end the fight before she tired.

Sindred leapt high and brought her sword down in an angry silver arc, burying it where (hopefully) the golem's brain was located. Yet all this did was provoke another party favor screech from her foe, as well as get her left foot mired in mortar-thick frosting. Now she had to dislodge both herself and her weapon without getting grabbed. Sindred twisted away from the creature's hand, wrenched her blade free only by sinking her other foot into the pink mud, and tumbled a considerable distance to the floor.

Her sticky feet hobbled her movement. Her sword looked and felt more like a club due to the great gob of frosting clinging to its blade. She probably broke her tailbone in the fall. This encounter wasn't going so well for her. How are you supposed to fight a cake?

Sindred was busy contemplating this when the golem flicked its forefinger against its thumb, scraping off a dollop of goo and propelling it towards her face like a missile. There was a wet smack and darkness and breathing difficulties and quickly-blooming panic.