On a normal day, the sewers was a patrol given as a sort of passive-aggressive punishment. Nobody fancied ending their day smelling like sewage and rotting everything, and aside from a few monsters and the occasional opportunist scoundrel or desperate orphan, there was little to do down here. However, tonight was no normal night, and the opportunist scoundrels were sure to be abound down here during the fireworks to avoid the crowds, though if Siana had to tell herself the truth, it was still a punishment. Whether it was for herself or Prichard, she couldn't be sure -- she was sure it had to have been Prichard's doing, for her superiors rarely disciplined her and if they did, they did so with harsh words, not a crap assignment -- but so far, they had only run into sewer rats, and it was beginning to get a little dull.
Prichard, however, made the mistake of announcing this out loud, and with a gloop of a roar, Siana's blood froze. Flan. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
She had faced them before, and so she could have told Prichard before he went charging off towards the creature not to: physical attacks, given their gelatinous nature, was useless, and he'd just as soon lose his weapon and suffer a couple of blows from them. She could have told him this, but he did not give her the opportunity. With a superfluous battle cry he charged, and after one hit that didn't seem to affect the flan at all, the creature retaliated with tentatcles that seemed to ooze into being from the rest of its body.
Siana rolled her eyes, but at the same time, she worried. Even if Prichard had brought his crossbow, neither of them had the appropriate skills to dispatch the creature. Siana had tried over and over again to perform her latest technique, but it was magic-based, and her attempts to perfect it had always fallen short. Did she dare try it now?
Still, she had no choice, and Prichard wasn't giving up, swinging his sword wildly at the thing and doing only a little bit of damage at a time. Very well, then. She had more at her disposal than a flawed technique, and if they had to hack and slash all night, then that was precisely what they would have to do.
Then, the flan rose to a height twice as tall as Prichard and opened his mouth wide, and then Prichard was--well, not precisely gone, for she could see exactly where he was: inside of the flan. "Oh, not today," Siana growled as she launched herself forward.