monsters and men

Sylen squinted, but said nothing, when the noble angrily stated he’d brought more than one bullet; he’d been stripped of his things, not a pouch or satchel on him, save for the gun holster itself, and the pockets to his very tight pants. If this noble had brought ‘more than one’ bullet, that probably meant ‘two’.

Sylen turned away, fully intending to let the noble ramble on without him, when there was a shifting in the undergrowth, a shiver of the pine bed beneath his feet. Immediately he began to lock the bolt to his crossbow, already having swung it over his shoulder; a moment or two later the nobleman stopped, noticing it too.

Sylen didn’t move. He looked down, gaze flitting over the sodden earth, searching for any clue of what might be lurking there. More leaves rustled— but when he looked to them, there was nothing there, even as they moved. He felt his brow knit as he tightened his grip on his bow.

It only took a second or two for him to realize what was happening.

He threw himself to the side, crossbow arm holding the weapon out, snagging the noble’s shirt with his other hand rather than giving verbal instruction; in the same moment the ground burst a few meters away, damp soil and dried needles exploding out in an array of muck as a heavy-clawed, thick-pawed creature, with slick skin and eyeless head, tore from the earth and let out a high-pitched shriek.

The sound was mind-numbing, and though Sylen winced, he focused enough to let a bolt fly; it struck the creature’s pale hide, and black ichor spewed from the wound on impact. Its jaw gaped as it seethed, and its iron teeth glinted in its growl. It dug a hand-like paw into the dirt; Sylen froze still, but the noble behind him stepped back in fear. As soon as the noble’s heel hit the ground the creature flung itself toward the pair, hurtling like a falling boulder, and Sylen shoved the noble aside as he followed quickly behind, out of the monster’s path.
Their footsteps began to wobble as the creature veered, a sharp right hook in their direction, almost elegant in its arc; quickly realizing the issue, Sylen leapt forward, free hand grabbing at a branch and the toe of one boot scraping against dry bark. He heaved himself upward in a quick hop and adjusted himself amidst the branches as the monster tore through the earth below.

The monster lunged forward and pounced onto the noble, who was shrieking, as he had been for the last thirty seconds; Sylen cocked the crossbow and let out a flurry of bolts to the back of the creature’s neck, black ooze splattering outward like watered grease.

The monster shrieked again, its shrill yowl harsh enough that Sylen began to feel faint; but he kept his nerve, fired again into its blank face. It reeled back, spluttering and hissing, revealing the now scratched-up noble who had been the victim of its outrage for the briefest of moments. The wounds were unfortunate, but treatment would, quite obviously, have to wait— as would a delicate touch. In the moment the monster turned back, Sylen swung downward, hanging onto the branch with one arm and ankle, and grabbed the noble by the shoulder of the dumb frilly shirt, forcing as much strength as he could muster into his arm to lift the idiot up into the tree as well.

As soon as Sylen drew the man upward, he released his grip, muscles yanked to hell and back, his arm now a bit limp; he left the noble dangling on the branch, bloodied chest pressed against the bark.

“Climb up,” Sylen hissed through his teeth, muffling a wince, rolling his aching shoulder. “It can feel you on the ground.”
Before the noble had time to complain, Sylen kicked against the man’s boots, making him squirm in fear and wriggle up onto the branch as well. Sylen leaned back, panting, back of his head thumping against the tree trunk.

The creature snarled down below, smooth face twisting back and forth as it searched for the two of them; though its nostrils flared, it growled in frustration, its paws sifting across the top layer of soil and finding nothing to inform it of their whereabouts.

Sylen immediately lifted a finger to his lips, brow pulled tight, and glared at the noble. They may be above ground, but noise wasn’t going to help, and this man seemed to make a lot of it.

The monster snuffled a bit, nose against the ground, let out a short wail as it pawed at the dirt; Sylen held his tongue, chest heaving with muffled breaths, as he watched the monster struggle. As quietly as he could he dug through his satchel, fingertips brushing against a smooth cylinder; he withdrew it, quietly spun its lid until he could slide it open, and withdrew a black, barbed bolt, oily and slick, and locked it into his crossbow. One hand still clinging to the tree to keep his balance, he shut one eye, lifting the bow to his chin, and fired.

The creature shrieked again, that same mind-wrenching sound, like shattering glass and a whining dog; its skin boiled around the bolt, and it reeled back, muzzle straining to tear the bolt out, only cutting its tongue on the barbs each time it tried and failed. The creature’s dark blood bubbled from the wound and dripped slowly down its hide, and the monster became sluggish, its bloodied drool beginning to bubble, too.

Sylen pushed a boot up against a different branch, nestled himself in to lock another, regular bolt into his bow, and fired into the creature’s head, just to put it out of its misery. Moments later the monster collapsed, form falling limp against the forest floor.
Sylen closed his eyes, let his shoulders slump, head lolling back, his following sigh tinged with an underlying groan. He ran his tongue over his molars, tilted his head back forward, then slung the bow over his back and hopped down to the ground, wandering toward the monster’s corpse. He nudged it with his boot; it moved, but only by way of him pushing it. For good measure he kneeled by its head, withdrew his hunting knife, and severed the spinal cord in the back of its neck. He wiped either side of the blade off on the knee of his pants and rose back up, glancing toward the tree.

“You can come down now, if you’re feeling like it.”