The glory of vanquishing one's foe in as skillful a manner is the goal of every warrior.  They wander the lands in search of valiant deeds to perform, wrongs to right, damsels to rescue and rewards and honor to claim.  Of course, having a grand legend is of no use if nobody knows about it.  So it was that a group of warriors had gathered in a small town 's tavern, to swap tales of heroic deeds.

  The first regaled his fellows with the tale of his rescuing a fair maiden in distress, trapped by the many maws of a particularly fiendish Gog.

  "What most, lesser skilled warriors," he spoke, "fail to realize is that the tentacles of a Gog afford it a nearly impenetrable defense against short-bladed weapons.  The tentacles parry most inexpert strikes, you see."

  But this warrior, he went on to speak of his great cunning and skill as he used his trusty spear to work around the tentacles and pierce the heart of the beast itself.  The red-haired maiden was most grateful, he claimed.  She kept going on and on about the Gog and asking how it was he managed to defeat it.  Surely she was chronicling an epic ballad to sing his praises.

  The next Warrior told his fellows the tale of his latest rescue of a damsel in distress.  A swift Gargoyle Fiend had the poor lass cornered in a dank cave.

  "Those wings," he explained, "they give those fiends unparalleled mobility.  Your best strokes will not find the vital spots of that demon so long as its wings still flutter."

  This warrior went on to explain about his mastery of the Wind Blade, the one technique that can master the winds themselves.  Proper use of this skill quickly grounded the Fiend.  With its wings rendered useless, the monster was easy to cut down.  The damsel was also most grateful, proclaiming his glory in the face of those wings, her green eyes focused on his with deepest gratitude.

  The last warrior told the tale of his latest rescue.  A poor green-eyed and red-haired damsel had the unpleasant misfortune of crossing paths with a Fomorian Horror.

  "The stench of these Horrors," he explained, "is just too much for most lesser warriors to bear.  Tears in their eyes prevent any useful strikes being landed on what should be the easily targeted bulk of these behemoths."

  The secret breathing techniques he had mastered, explained the warrior, enabled him to hold his breath longer than most men sporting full plate.  With such magnificent skill at his disposal, the Fomorian Horror was easily decapitated.

  The poor damsel, he said, was crying and hysterical.  She was going on about ruining something or other...  Probably some stray blood from the arterial spray of the Horror ruining her dress.  But her gratitude was plain, and so the warrior had moved on to more glory.

  As the three warriors continued their drinks, shouts and cries rose up from outside the tavern.  The three went outside to see the commotion, and walked straight into a full melee.  A red-haired alchemist with thick glasses over her green eyes was ranting and raving as mad wizards tend to do.  The guard of the town was being tossed about by her enforcer... A flying beast with the body and rank odor of a Fomorian Horror, the wings of a Gargoyle Fiend, the many tentacles of a Gog, and the head... was obscured by a knight's helmet.

  The tentacles of the monstrosity were parrying the volley of arrows the guards were volleying.  The stench and speed of the beast was more than a match for any of the swordsmen who managed to avoid the Gog maws while getting into range.  Seeing the beast, the three warriors simply looked at each other, and smiled.

  The three of them dashed to the rescue, the spear of the first entwining the Gog tentacles long enough for the second to get close enough to use his Wind Blade to ground the beast while the third sucked in a mighty breath and once more decapitated the Horror as it was forced to ground as his feet.

  The alchemist stopped mid rant as the helmet of her creation arced through the air, landing in her hands.  As the warriors approached her to finish their work, the red haired alchemist tossed a jar of Blue Powder in the air.  The resulting smoke screen enabled her to escape her just rewards, to plot and tinker once again with yet another lesson added to her vast learnings:

Problems are easy to overcome when dealt with piecemeal.