IABD 28: Battle Against the Beasts

Matthias Stonebreaker strode toward the herd of gnoles, his cloak billowing behind him.  

His tentacle writhed from his shadow.  

His eyes were pure ice. 

The young greatfolk towered over the beasts. 

With hoots and shouts, the antlered creatures scrambled from the treetops and rushed from the underbrush, antlers sweeping, fur bristling, claws flexing as spittle ran down fangs and elongated jaws. 

His eyes never left the monsters as he raised his spear, falling into a fighting stance. Muscles brimmed with power, the shadow tendril lashed the ground, cracking against stone. 

“It’s easier if they don’t run.” Matthias whispered, concentrating on his life force, moving it around his body in the Way of Stone. He focused his intent on intimidating his opponents, making them hesitate. 

Most animals—even in greater numbers—would have hesitated at his towering size and the unnatural thing rising from his shadow. These gnoles were already driven by fear: the fear of their master far eclipsed any reluctance they felt about facing this large opponent. 

His eyes sought the biggest gnole and found it, over a head taller than the rest, older and much heavier. Its antlers rising from its skull swept high in the air, forming a magnificent, barbaric crown. The gnole charged ahead, leading the others on long, loping strides, howling loudly, its tongue lolling over a dripping muzzle. 

A twitch of Matthias’ muscles sent him springing forward, his spear thrusting. 

The steel spear tip—empowered by his Tower and intent—drove at the leader’s gaping mouth, exploding through the back of its head, showering the gnole behind it in a fountain of blood. 

With a growl, the young greatfolk raised his spear in the air—the gnole was now impaled on its haft—swinging its lifeless body to the side. The Way of Stone poured life energy into Matthias’ arms, swelling them with power. 

The spear and gnole corpse blurred, the dead body launching at the line of creatures, falling on them. 

The impact was like a stone tumbling from a mountaintop, striking gnoles, breaking through the press of bodies, crushing flesh and bone; gnoles screamed, flying through the air in limp piles. 

Screeches and raging arose from the rest of the herd. They swarmed him, more surging from the trees. Shaking the ruined body from the tip of his spear, Matthias raised the weapon again, backing away from the monsters, landing a flurry of strikes on them. 

Each time he thrust his spear, a gnole died, adding to the trail of dead, twitching monsters landing in his wake as he backed away. His tentacle whipped around, caving in skulls and shattering bones, keeping the creatures from flanking him. 

Yet, more came rushing from the forest. 

He cursed, realising he’d been mistaken; the trees were dense in this valley, and after tracking the gnoles’ trail for days, he’d miscalculated their number. 

“I was wrong,” he muttered. ‘There’s more of them than I thought. Doesn’t matter, though. I’ll just keep fighting.’ 

He kept backing toward a cliff-face, the herd yipping and shrieking after him. His back hit the wall, and he dug in his heels, driving his spear forward, piercing gnoles still coming at him, his tentacle sweeping side to side with full force, crushing gnoles that slipped past the spear. 

Bodies piled up. 

Still, more gnoles came: if he stayed where he was, they would overwhelm him. 

Calling upon the Way of Stone, Matthias poured his life force into his head and legs, trusting his chainmail to protect his upper body. With a roar, he lowered the spear and charged. The monsters came on with zeal, heads down, slashing with their antlers, looking to gore him… 

…and found their natural weapons deflected by the greatfolk’s body. 

Antlers skidded harmlessly off his chainmail, claws barely grazed his skin’s surface, and fangs cracked against his hardened legs. His empowered thighs fueled a headlong charge, propelling him through the horde like an unstoppable juggernaut. As he moved, the tentacle swept around, lashing the monsters trying to attack his back. 

Every blow from the shadow-tendril shattered antlers and broke skulls, his massive form bowled over monsters caught in his path, his feet crushing them like grapes. 

Impacts shook his spear as the weapon skewered gnole after gnole, keeping some stuck on its haft as he cut through to the other side of the herd. 

Trampled bodies piled behind him, bearing witness to the fact that Matthias Stonebreaker had passed that way. 

Gnole numbers were fewer, less monsters emerged from the forest, and of those, most watched him reluctantly. 

He snarled, tossing the body-choked spear aside, drawing his sword and warhammer. The Way of Stone poured power into his arms, and he waded into the fray, both weapons swinging. 

Each swing was wide and measured; his sword cleaved through three and four gnoles at a time while the hammer crushed anything addled enough to come within its reach. 

The herd kept dwindling, some backing away from the giant drenched in the blood of their herd-mates. 

He snarled again, filling his lungs. 

His intent now focused on breaking their will. 

Then, he roared. 

The sound seemed to shake the valley, making the gnoles quake, flinching as though they’d been physically struck. Fear of their master was now matched by fear of this red-dripping warrior cutting through them. 

Fear of this giant. 

Fear of this manifestation of death. 

As they cringed, Matthias snarled again…letting it slowly faded. 

“What in the name of the gods?” he whispered, his eyes growing wide. 

In that moment of calm, he finally noticed them; near-translucent masses—no bigger than gadflies—emerging from the shadows of the dead, shooting through the air, swarming into his shadow like bees returning to their hive. 

His jaw dropped. 

 “What is this?” he hissed, looking at the shadow-tendril. It looked and felt as normal as ever. 

A roar suddenly stopped his questioning. 

All thoughts of what had been rising from the shadows of the dead vanished from his mind; an instinctual command abruptly struck his will with the might of a battering ram.  

A powerful order drove him: ‘Kneel.’ 

Matthias shook his head, crushing the compulsion to obey and faced the cave. 

Bellowing from the depths of his chest, he released a cry, intent on copying a tiger’s roar. 

Silence greeted him.  

Until. 

A roar replied, rumbling through the valley. 

Green eyes burned in the darkness and—abruptly—the beast surfaced from its lair. An enormous head appeared, with lips pulled back, revealing knife-like fangs. Orange-brown stripes-streaked black fur, tinged with a golden hue, like melted gold from a king’s crown. Black claws bit the ground, flexing at the end of four powerful limbs that propelled the creature forward as fluidly as water. 

Gnoles backed away from Matthias; their master was coming to challenge the one who had cast so many of its minions into the after-world. 

They had no desire to be caught between them. 

“By the gods.” Matthias said, watching the demonic beast-tiger, now fully outside its lair. “Look at the size of it!” 

Dwarfing most oxen, it looked as though it could tear Matthias in two with a single swipe from one of those paws. And, despite its bulk, its every movement promised a killing speed and mist-like agility. 

Worst of all, were its eyes.   

It was often said that the eyes are the windows to the soul; through those feline orbs, Matthias understood that this creature burned with the soul of a tyrant. A ravenous tyrant. 

A ravenous tyrant that would gladly make him its next meal. 

‘I can’t face it head-on,’ he thought, dropping his weapons, a plan forming. His gauntlets swelled to their obsidian form, spikes erupting from their surface. ‘Keep it at a distance and lure it. Then shoot it and kill it.’ 

His fists rose. 

The demonic beast was suddenly pouncing, a deadly blur of power, crossing the distance between them in a heartbeat. 

He had no time to observe. 

Little time to dodge. 

Those claws were swiping at his right side. 

He poured power into his chain-covered arm, raising it to block. 

The impact felt like his soul was being smashed from him. Chain links split. His arm bones creaked and he flew through the air like he was weightless, crashing to the stones paces away. 

Arm and torso throbbing with pain—dripping blood—Matthias tried to get to his feet. 

The tiger was on him in an instant, its front paws pinning his arms to the ground. 

Sharp green eyes fixed on his, promising a thousand layers of torment. With its prey trapped, it snarled, head lowered…and licked his face. 

Matthias screamed, pouring life energy into his head. 

Scores of miniature spines protruding from the cat’s rough tongue scraped his skin, grazing it; the flesh beneath was spared only by the Way of Stone. 

The tiger rose, licking bloodied lips.  

Its enormous jaws parted. 

Matthias flashed back to Bregindoure and his dream, pinning him down, ready to tear his throat open and crush his skull.  

This time, he was ready. 

His arms were pinned… 

…but his tendril was not. 

The tentacle whipped from his shadow—his life force pouring into it—lashing the beast across the eyes. 

Its yowl raked his ears, like it would shatter his hearing. 

The demonic beast flinched, stumbling back, pawing at its face. 

Matthias leapt to his feet, raising his aching arms, firing a pair of spikes. 

He missed its throat—it was moving too fast—but, struck its jaw and shoulder. The creature’s yowl was louder. He fired again, spikes snapping as they were released from his gauntlets. 

The tiger’s ears perked up.  

It weaved around the spikes like mist. 

“Shit, it’s so fast!” Cursing, Matthias turned and sprinted away. 

Pouring life force into his legs, the young greatfolk raced for the crevice at full speed. He had to get there before the demonic thing recovered. 

He would use its speed against it. 

Reaching the opening to the crevice in heartbeats, he risked a glance over his shoulder. The beast was shaking itself, already recovering, its baleful green eyes falling on him. 

A roar exploded from its jaws, one demanding that he prostrate himself. 

He roared right back, jumping straight into the crevice. 

Howling its rage—blood dripping from the obsidian spikes piercing its hide—the demonic beast-tiger charged behind its young challenger, eyes blazing. 

Matthias kept tearing through the crevice, chest heaving. The trap wasn’t far, but the tiger was closing the distance with horrifying speed. 

He set his jaw, life force burning in his legs as he ran. 

It was almost on him; its hot breath was reaching his neck. 

He rounded the corner. 

The trap loomed ahead of him 

“Now, Dagma!” he screamed. 

Flexing his legs and jumping high in the air, his shadow-tendril grabbing a rocky overhang, pulling him over the trap’s door. 

From above, Dagma shouted. “Arise!” 

Debris, soil and pebbles exploded in the air around the trap. 

The tiger turned the corner, plunging into a cloud of swirling dust, gravel and sand, howling as the particles raked its already stinging eyes. It tried to slow, but was too late, the momentum of its massive body and terrible speed propelled it onward, straight into the trap, slamming it against the back of the cage. 

Matthias shot spikes at the vine keeping the trap door open.  

The vine snapped. 

With an abrupt crash, the door dropped, slamming shut. 

The beast roared, pawing at its eyes, throwing its body against the trap’s wooden bars; the whole cage shook. Wood cracked. 

It would not hold for long. 

Matthias braced himself atop the cage, aiming his gauntlets through the gaps between the slatted roof. He poured his energy into the gauntlets, firing, focusing his intent on bleeding the beast. 

Twin cracks echoed through the valley. 

Twin spikes pierced the monster’s hide. 

It roared. 

As did Matthias. 

He fired again, pouring more of his life force into the gauntlets. 

He fired again. 

And again. 

Exhaustion grew as he repeatedly shot at the monster’s hide, filling it with a growing mass of spikes. 

His and the tiger’s roars echoed each other’s, growing louder. 

The demonic beast-tiger’s grew frantic. 

It began weakening; heavy impacts from the stone spikes drove through its body, blood spurted, wounds multiplied. Soon the ground beneath the cage was washing bright red. 

The demonic beast-tiger kept throwing itself against the cage walls, but, in vain. 

Its struggles weakened.  

The tyrant shuddered, collapsing on its side, chest heaving. 

Matthias dropped to his knees; his energy drained. 

Panting, trying to catch his breath, his eyes fixed on the tiger’s …on the windows to its soul. 

The beast’s green orbs grew dimmer, locking onto his, filling with many things, hate, rage, shock and even fear, and soon, they lost focus. 

Green lights dulled. 

Green lights faded. 

As Matthias looked down on the monster in the trap—the windows to its soul closed—he whispered a prayer to Amon Koth, thanking the god of death for collecting his enemy, and not him. 

“I did it…” he panted. “I killed it. I watched its soul leave its bod—”  

He paused, eyes catching movement.  

Something was rising from the beast’s shadow, another ethereal bead of energy. It soared from the shadow, quickly joining his. 

A shudder went through him. 

“What was that?” he whispered. “What are those things?” He wondered if whatever they were were trying to infect his soul through his shadow. 

He had reached through his shadow to touch his spirit when he practiced his soul-breathing, but the only time his soul had ever been attacked was during his Awakening, and the lightning had to be channeled through… 

…through… 

His eyes grew wide. 

“The soul!” he cried. 

Two ideas struck him at once. 

His mother’s words from the night before ran through his mind “There would be nights when the comfort was worth the noise. Some soldiers even said: Doesn’t matter if beasts hear us! Music soothes the savage beast anyway!”  

“By the gods! I think I know how to reach Bregindoure!” he suddenly cried, looking up for his mother. “Mother! Dagma!” 

The words died on his lips. 

He could see his mother and sister. 

But they were not looking at him. 

Their eyes were focused upward… 

…watching a black carriage racing through the sky. 

###

Author's Note

Not gonna lie, when I was planning some of the fights for I Am Become Death, I was playing a LOT of Hyrule warriors haha.

This was a blast for me to write.

Double post! Cya in 29!