The imp snorted slightly, "I wouldn't expect you to help."

"Can't trust a fairy to do anything nice unless you trick'em first," Winn raggedly agreed. Still hunched over, he pushed his hands against his knees with a grunt to straighten up. "Anyhow, okay, look, I know how to make golems," the boy sighed, "and I know how to stop them, too. We just aren't prepared to do it yet, but we can be quickly."

Daniel didn't know the first thing about making or unmaking golems, but he did know they came in several flavors, and they could be animated by magical or technological means. How to tell them apart was completely beyond him. He nodded to Winn, "Well, I can think of one way to stop it... but your way would probably be more efficient. What kind of preparations do we need?"

Uneventfully as having walked the whole of the way there, the waifish witch touched gently down on the ground next to the Fabricator, however fashionably late to the party. She was neither as taxed as Winn, nor as unphased as the other party members; Rhiannon merely looked grave as she deliberately ignored the boisterous fairy, and cut straight to the point.

"What do you need, Winn?" Was all she asked, markedly unconcerned with whether or not it was something she'd actually be able to assist with.

"Hey!" Came a voice from above.

"Hey," called the imp again, "you said there was a problem. You," said the imp, "You said there was a problem. You said there was a problem. What was it?"

"Can you stop talking long enough for me to say?" asked Winn, glaring up toward the Source of All Impudence.

"Golems are much easier to deactivate than they are to destroy," he then went on to explain, more to the others and the giant boy than the imp. "With a golem like this, though, we still need some manner of brute force."

He began fiddling with the device in his palm again.

"Its head—if you can call it that... Well. Its 'head' has a protective outer layer, like a helmet," he explained, stopping every once in a while to gesticulate—perhaps some sort of nervousness or habit. "If that can be removed, the glyph that dictates the golem's function will be exposed, all open for tampering. From there, we can alter or destroy the written character, and basically... turn the golem off."

He shrugged.

"The issue is that we're dealing with an animated heap of semimolten slag. It's probably got at its heart some sort of out-of-control thermal defixio for power, so it's running hot, dangerous. Too hot to touch. We can't ask our... our big friend here to just go and grab it by its head, 'cus, well that'd just be cruel."

He held his hand out, palm down. A long, glowing shape formed, morphing and changing as he concentrated and tried to focus it into a definite, purposeful shape.

"So, we do the civilized thing, and give him the right tool for the right job, annnd... the rest of you fight hard to try and give'im an opening."

As Winn explained how and where they needed to strike, Daniel listened intently, meanwhile trying to figure in his head he could proceed to accomplish it. Of course, the act of prying off the golem's helmet was unfortunately a task that would be more efficiently given to someone else.

Guess he would have to be part of Team Distraction. It's a shame about that molten hot slag thing, or Alex could just use his talons to pry off the helmet. Well, no point in worrying about non-existent scenarios.

"Well...before we do this, will we be able to find out who animated it after deactivating it?" He said before reaching to the saddle holster behind him and pulled out a rifle. He pulled back the bolt on the rifle to ensure it was loaded before pushing it back into it's closed position.

"She's right," came a perhaps unexpected concurrence from the witch. "Regardless of whether or not that information will be available to us, the fact remains that the creature is currently withholding potential leads from us -- leads I presume we still want even if we can't know who else does."

And, with that, Rhiannon shook out her parasol, turned on her heel, and was gone in a flurry of blond hair and tweed.

There was silence from the 'bove, before the imp's voice called down sulkily:

"…It'd better be something he can use with burned hands."

The white mountain hunkered down to get a better look at the process.

The imp descended on the flag rope, and approached the boy.

"So," she said, "what are you going to do once he," she nodded over her shoulder at her companion, "grabs it or whatever: scratch out the spell?"

"Something like that," Winn answered vaguely, too focused to say much else by that point.

The elongated, glowing shape sheared off one shallow, angular cut, and became vaguely blade-shaped; a full, metal-tang grip protruded from the tail of the intangible model, and was quite long. An edge formed, narrowing to an only moderately sharp edge. Whether this was a matter of practicality (as sharp edges were fragile, and it was going to be used against a metal monster) or imprecision (as Winn was not equipped for fine work, nor seemed particularly good at it) was up for debate. A few round holes then appeared nearer the base and spine, as did a groove down the back, presumably to reduce weight.

At once, the shape became actual, hot, smoldering steel; the hardened core, which also formed the edge, appeared first, made of the hardest material, and the outer layers and spine (which composed the softest, most flexible part) followed, and quickly cooled. The weapon continued to hover as a new glowing image spiraled its way around the bare tang like a snake, then formed thick black rubber grip, the likes of which appeared of the same grade used for truck tires. It would be something gentler to paw with tender mitts than a raw metal surface, anyway.

And thus the tremendously-scaled weapon, a burly, pointy, simple giant's shiv, was complete. It turned to stand on its end, then dropped, jabbing its blade's tip into the hard ground, where it then remained standing like a pillar nearly half the huge boy's height, ready to be seized at his leisure.

Watching a fabricator work was always an astonishing sight. It was like magic, but limited to the creation of metal, it seemed. If Daniel ever had a good understanding of how it worked, precisely, it was lost now. But as the Giant's Knife wedged into the ground, he realized it was just about showtime.

He looked down over the cliff to where the slag beast was. Making it's way through the harbor now.

"Hope I can get it's attention," He said aloud, but it wasn't really directed at anyone. He snapped the reigns, and Alex took to the air; only to swoop down toward the harbor; coming in from behind the golem. He drew the rifle forward, holding it steady with the same hand that was gripping the reigns, and fired. He promptly lowered the gun to take control again.

Sadly, however the golem seemed to have some level of awareness of it's surroundings, because it reacted to Daniel's incoming presence. Not fast enough to stop him from firing, and if the shot did any sort of damage, it did little in the way of slow the animated amalgamation down. It swiped at the attacker as he pulled up. Alex was nailed in the underbelly and was sent spiraling out of control. Daniel bailed so he wouldn't get crushed under the weight of a giant half-beast as they both hit the ground rolling(well..Alexander did more of a slide, but Daniel rolled).

Guess he got it's attention. At the very least, the slag golem slowed from it's previous sprint to a lumbering stalk.

Indeed, the golem was delayed, and then slowed, but that would hardly give their large, snowy ally the opening he needed to give their plan a fighting chance. The slag monster forged resolutely on toward the harbor, as though merely having paused to bat at some irksome, but ultimately insignificant fly.

There, the witch met it. As understatedly as one could do such an extraordinary thing, she stood on precisely nothing at all, some four or five feet above the serene, placid waters, its mirror image in temperament. Perfectly still as she patiently awaited her quarry's approach, the girl drew in a deep, steadying breath, and her steely gaze leveled on the oncoming mass of fire and metal; her lips moved simultaneously to her rising arm, which pointed brazenly at the golem.

An opaquely solid wall of water leapt from the waves seemingly at Rhiannon's command, rushing limitlessly skyward for a moment or two before abruptly changing direction, and surging forward to meet the chimera head-on.