The family soon realised that, if they didn't join in, Quentin would find himself dead at the hands of the fiends. While Stan wasn't entirely sure if it'd be much of a loss, they collectively decided it was only right to get involved.
Plus, Dipper was the one holding the crystal. Quentin hadn't bothered to pay much attention to that minute level of detail.
Pacifica was less than happy at having to run directly into a pretty damned intimidating gaggle of geese - but between that and letting her family go it alone? She figured it was a pretty obvious choice.
Ford hoisted Mabel up onto his shoulders. Stan donned his brass knuckles. Dipper held Pacifica's hand and smiled as reassuringly as he could (while having a very minor panic attack) - and, together, the Pines ran head first into danger.
The chaos that erupted was immeasurable. Immediately, they were met by a force that felt like a fine, goose down pillow - without the pillow. More like goose down attached to a brick wall.
The world seemed to slow around them as they plunged into the flurrying clouds of feather and goose phlegm. Beaks flew, biting, nipping and gnawing at the Grunkles' sleeves and legs as they attacked the intruders, their fists flying into the birds' throats with wild abandon while Mabel kicked and headbutted any that happened to travel 'high'.
Pacifica stared as Dipper led ahead of her - the dork who had woken the entire situation up was now taking charge; taking a heroic stance against the consequences of his actions, fearlessly storming in with his arm over his face and his head bowed, pulling her through the crowd as he ran towards the wreckage of the golf buggy.
Worryingly, getting to the buggy meant slipping between the legs of the Gooseliath, but, for now, Pacifica was concerned at the fact that a goose was now chewing on her hair - something she met by hoofing it in the stomach with her heel.
She caught up slightly to Dipper and held onto him. It'd be a… kind of romantic, loving experience if it wasn't for the demented ganders assaulting them.
They were soon caught up to Quentin, who was now holding an unconscious fowl in his teeth as he pummelled the birds away from his vicinity, his suit torn and tattered, his limbs and face covered in bruises and unmistakable goose bites.
"Go on without me!" he said dramatically, falling to his knees - his voice slightly muffled by the animal throat currently held between his teeth. "The gooseliath is targeting me! Probably because I punched it."
"We aren't abandoning anyone, Trembley." Ford replied, determinedly toe-kicking a particularly large goose between the legs. "Move!"
Unfortunately, the tree goose was not just a creature of vicious nature - it was one of durability. Pacifica briefly wondered if they even had bones and internal organs, considering the amount of abuse they seemed fully capable of bouncing back from.
Within time, the light at the end of the feathery tunnel became clear; they burst through the final few troops and found themselves hobbling towards the webbed feet of that almighty gander, staring up in awe at the sheer size of the creature.
The gooseliath stared down at them, its glassy dark eyeballs scanning the area in a sinister, emotionless gaze that felt unpredictable.
The birds flocked towards them, the Pines no longer blessed with being so quick at hedging an escape. The creature craned its neck down towards them, beak wide open, intending nothing more than swallowing up those humans within its midst.
It was Dipper who opted for a powerslide and skidded between the creature's legs - leaving the rest behind.
"Pacifica! Come on!"
"But - but my uniform!"
"Forget the uniform, think about them!"
She glanced at the older men - and Mabel - beating the daylights out of the overgrown ducks, and took a deep breath.
"Fine . But this comes out of my paycheque!"
She took a step back and ran towards the creature, still trying to swallow her fear for the feathered menace, and skidded on her back, straight into Dipper and the mangled, twisted wreckage of the golf cart before them.
The gooseliath paused in confusion and began to adjust itself - now fully locked onto the strange miniature humans who had used its legs as a tunnel.
Dipper was already throwing away shrapnel and debris, trying to find the wiring and switches that led to those cheap headlamps with shaking hands and an enormous grass stain up his back.
Pacifica looked at him, battered and beaten as he was, then down at herself - really, not much better off.
She scooted closer to him and dug through the wreck of the buggy, Mabel soon joining them with a wide smile on her voice; though one jarred with a prominently bruised eye. Tires, hub caps, plastic frames and bolts went flying as they searched in the wreck, pulling out the switches and knobs from the mangled dashboard.
"I've got it! I've got it!" Dipper grinned triumphantly as he pulled out one of the headlamps, Pacifica and Mabel followed, pulling out the cheap battery, cable and switch that led to them.
Pacifica tried not to get too excited by the small victory, but couldn't resist giving a broad, happy smile.
They were battered, beaten - but a quick flick of the switch proved they were still capable. Mabel was, of course, ready-armed with craft tape.
They quickly assembled their makeshift flashlight and pointed it up at the gooseliath - only to realise too late what was happening.
With one, swift motion, the bird scooped down its massive beak and swallowed the remains of the cart - switched on headlight, crystal and all - in one big gulp, missing the teenagers by only a couple of inches.
"No! Nononono!" Dipper stood up and shook his fist, bottling up his full vocabulary of obscene words lest he be accused of losing his cool. "You stupid piece of-"
"Wait! Wait!" Pacifica yelped, throwing Dipper back down as the bird hissed at him - shooting out a beam of light from its outsized Jaws. With a fwoom, it struck against one of the cliff top's enormous pines, and shrank it to half of its size.
It reminded Pacifica irresistibly of those schlocky giant lizard movies she had watched With Dipper and Wendy a week or so ago. Just without the giant moth. And, like, shrinking rays as opposed to nuclear beams.
And feathers. Lots of feathers.
The Grunkles froze as the majestic pine was reduced into a sapling - and looked up at the gooseliath as it now turned to face them.
"Son of a bi-"
SCHWOOM
They dived out of the way as the gooseliath bellowed in anger, casting its less-than-deathly ray upon the army of fowl before it.
The effect was predictable and instantaneous. The birds were shrunk to the size of sparrows en masse; not quite affecting the entire army, of course, but more than substantial enough to see their numbers - and threat - decimated. The miniature swans panicked and scattered, no longer listening to the unspoken instructions of their master.
The gooseliath began to panic, and as it panicked, it only howled more. It briefly paused as it tried to wrap its avian brain around what had happened; sadly, its mind only reverted to its default state - rage.
HONK-SCHWOOM
HONK-SCHWOOM
The gigantic bird continued screaming and bellowing, shrinking more of the mighty pine trees and enormous boulders into pebbles and matchsticks, the older men being forced to dodge out of the way of the flailing, scattered light beams. It was coming to a point that the crazed, furious creature seemed dead set on shrinking everything in the vicinity, or die trying.
"What the H are we supposed to do now?!" Stan yelled. "The thing's like a wrecking ball!"
"We need that golf cart's headlamps." Ford replied, grimly. "If we don't get that thing out of the goose, we've no chance of containing the disaster it could cause."
"Not else we punch it off of the cliff!" Quentin chimed in."If this goose is truly such a force to be reckoned with, it should fight like a man !"
Pacifica raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure fighting like a woman would be fine. Just saying."
"Yeah! We have claws, glitter and makeup. We can cause allergies!"
However, Mabel and Pacifica's protests fell on deaf ears. Quentin was already approaching the sinister creature with his shoulders back in his familiar power stance, his suit's tails flapping in the gentle clifftop breeze. The goose looked down at him and cocked its enormous head.
"I challenge you to a duel, gooseliath!" The ex-president yelled, confidently, shaking his fist towards the leviathan gander. "Let us settle this!"
"Did he just call it gooseliath?" Pacifica muttered to her boyfriend, batting a tiny goose out of her hair - just as Mabel was about to stash it into her pocket.
Dipper just nodded sincerely as the 8th and a half president of the United States wandered up to his feathery nemesis.
It was a one on one confrontation.
This was Trembley's last stand.