I was glad they couldn’t jump. If they could, our friend would have already been swarmed over. But now, their attention was drawn to us, and the small spikey monsters moved at us with the fast, shifty speed I’d attribute to other small pests.
A trio of them skittered my way, two perfectly round and greenish brown, about the size of a melon. The third was tall and oblong and covered in gashes and warts, very much like some sort of gourd.
Two days ago, I might have been in trouble. But now, I was a different man.
I swept my bludgel out in a clean arc. Not only was it long enough to hit them well away from me, but the weight and force of my blow crushed the first one completely and swatted the other two away into the cornstalks. I knew that I’d hit them so hard, they would not be coming back.
Two more skittered close. They were fast and almost caught me by surprise, but unlike them, I could jump, and boy, did I. Momentarily forgetting about my new [Speed] card, I jumped back away from them and found myself sailing out of the clearing and tumbling over corn and cacti, one tearing a hole down my backside! The cactus spines didn’t tear the skin, thankfully, but did tear my pants, exposing my undergarments for all the world to see.
But there was no time to worry about that. I dashed back to the fight, lest I leave Nell to get overwhelmed. She, unsurprisingly, was well in her element. Her scythe twirled around her with deadly precision. She was a gray blur of steel and death, and I found myself thinking she looked like a tornado for a moment. It was a thing of beauty. If I’m being honest, she probably could have handled this entire swarm by herself, like some sort of fruit-slicing ninja, but I wasn’t about to sit by and watch. What kind of man would I be if I did that?
I was back in the fray so fast, my stomach did a little lurch. I knew I wasn’t as fast as I could be—or would be, once I leveled up the card, but I was still quite a bit faster than before. I could run as fast as the most naturally talented sprinter in the world. Which was pretty damn fast, and it felt otherworldly to me.
I still needed to get a handle on my turning and stopping, but I knew I’d get the hang of that eventually. For now, I allowed myself to sail over the earth, and as I approached the closest Cactimite, I gripped my bludgel tight, wound back, and swung. The cudgel connected with the monster’s side and knocked it out of the cornfield in a spray of thick green blood and white liquid. It sprayed my face and arms and the ground, but I didn’t care.
Two more scampered after me with surprising speed, but my senses were so heightened that it didn’t scare me. I swatted one away with the follow-through of my bludgel. The second one was on me before I could get my bludgel around, but no matter. I kicked it with the tip of my steel-toed boots. My [Speed] helped a bit there, too, giving my kick more force, and it obliterated the Cactimite like a mustachioed man smashing watermelons with a big mallet. The monster’s guts covered my boot as the shattered bits of its outer body flew through the air.
I swatted one more away, and Nell came out of her spin and cleaved a final Cactimite in two. And just like that, it was over.
Nell was feeling so good, she plucked up a small one and drank the insides raw, the white liquid spilling down her chin and chest, then she tossed it aside with a loud victory yell. I personally didn’t like raw Cactimite juice, but plenty of people did.
None of the slain monsters had any fragments. It was a shame, but they weren’t the most dangerous monsters, so the lack of loot wasn’t unexpected. I thought maybe the large pumpkin-sized one might, but no luck.
With small swarm monsters, it was always a safe bet that the queen would have a fragment, and if it was a large swarm, then some of the soldiers would too. But only the large one could be a soldier, and it held no loot. That was fine; the main goal was to save the man, after all.
Nell sheathed her scythe, the blade folding neatly into the staff as she strapped it on her back. Her face and body were covered in green-and-white Cactimite bits. I wasn’t much better though, so I didn’t say anything. She ran a finger through her pink hair, smearing it with thick green blood. We’d both need a bath soon. Ideally, I’d prefer not to arrive in Mushyon Ridge looking like a mess, but sometimes that’s just the way things went. After all, people in the Badlands were always fighting monsters and bandits alike, so you were bound to get dirty, and there wasn’t always a river or pond to clean yourself in.
“You okay there, stranger?” Nell asked the man. “You can come on down. The danger is done and gone.”
The man still swung around the scarecrow, his weight bending the center pole more than the thing was likely designed to withstand. I could tell it was going to break or topple at any moment, but I didn’t put in the effort to make him stop. Best to leave drunks to their own devices so long as they weren’t in true mortal peril or doing something dangerous to someone else.
Sure enough, the base of the scarecrow snapped, and he and it fell and hit the ground hard. Or at least, I thought it ought to be hard, but he was still filled with drunken glee and pain resistance. All he did was laugh and laugh, and it was actually a pleasant sound. I could only shake my head. The man was lucky we’d been there. What would he have done without us? Granted, his axe looked sharp, and I bet without the inhibition of the alcohol, he’d have probably handled the creatures just fine himself.
Nell shook her head, a look of disgust passing over her face. “Unbelievable,” she muttered. She had no patience for drunks. Given how her father treated her and her mother, it wasn’t surprising. She was fine with drinking at the saloon back in Barrowdown, so it wasn’t like she was a sober goose. She just didn’t like people drinking too much.
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I went to the man’s side and offered him my hand. “What the hell is an old sod doing all the way out here and with nary a pack or nothing? You wander all this way on your lonesome?”
The man took my arm, and I hauled him to his feet. He was heavy, but he wasn’t dead weight, and he did help the process. As soon as he was on his feet, I smelled the alcohol wafting from him. His cloak looked muddy and filthy, in desperate need of a washing, though the man’s face wasn’t exceptionally dirty.
“Thanks, kiddo,” he said at last. His voice had a jovial quality but also a grave one. He wore a bandana around his neck, but as I got close to him, I could see scar tissue peeking out from beneath it. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like he had burn scars. That might explain the gravelly voice and also the bandana. Of course, many people wore bandanas as they were good for keeping dust and grime out of your face while riding. Bandits frequently wore them to hide their faces, so you could never be too careful when you saw someone with one on.
“Are you alright?” Nell asked, no warmth in her voice. The man staggered away from me and giggled. He wiped the fresh dust from his cloak and did a pirouette around the fallen scarecrow with much more grace and precision than someone as sauced as he appeared to be should have been able to manage.
“I’m fine. Fine, fine, fine . . . so fine . . . beautiful lass . . .” He sang those last few words to the tune of a song I didn’t know. Beyond his drunkenness, I didn’t see any blood on him or any noticeable signs of injury. Alcohol could dull pain, so it was possible he was wounded but just too in his cups to notice. I thought it unlikely though.
“What are you doing out here?” I asked again.
He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes as he gazed around at the dead, fallen stalks, the crushed and obliterated Cactimites, and finally, his axe. That appeared to be what he was searching for, because he took a shaky step toward it before gathering his balance and wits and closed the distance. He bent down and grabbed the handle. It looked much too heavy for him. Indeed, he only lifted the long handle up but left the bladed end still kissing the ground.
“Wanderin’ and drinkin’ and enjoyin’ the natural bounty of the Badlands.”
Nell and I shared a look. We had no idea what this man’s deal was. Neither of us liked drunks, though Nell much less than I. I didn’t want to have to nanny this man, but I knew we couldn’t just leave him out here.
“Well, partner, we need to getcha back to the nearest town, alrighty? Ain’t gonna do anyone any good to have you dying out here,” I told him.
But the man ignored me and started to whistle.
I frowned.
“Griff . . .” Nell said, but I took a cue from the old man and ignored her.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re going through, friend, but you can’t be drinking your life away in a cornfield. It’s dangerous out here. I’m sure you can take care of yourself when yer sober, but you ain’t at the moment.”
“Griff,” Nell said again, more forcefully, and I would have ignored her again, but she unsheathed her scythe. I froze. My gaze found hers. I saw the rigidness of her shoulders, the stillness of her body, and the unwavering stare that looked off behind me. And I heard it then: the rustle of cornstalks, the heavy thud of something large prowling closer.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on edge, and goosebumps fell down my arms. As slow as I could, I turned to see what horrors lay at my back, moving my bludgel into a ready position as I did so.
It took all of the self-control I could muster to not immediately scream and curse.
Standing on the other side of the clearing amid a mess of dead Cactimites was an immense beast. It was humanoid, tall and bulky, a bulging belly covered in scars and old wounds. Vomit-yellow skin stretched across its bulbous frame, and it seemed the skin was too small for its body, because it was stretched tight and looked ready to burst and tear in some places. Rock-like growths peppered its arms and torso, and dark blood oozed from some of them, making me think they were not protection but something else.
The worst was its face. Its teeth were fully bared, yellowed and blackened from decay and brown with dried blood. Teeth bared because it had no lips. And those eyes . . . they were huge, uncanny things, jaundiced yellow and straining with tiny black veins reaching for pea-sized pupils that were much too small for the enormous lake of an eyeball. They stared unblinkingly at us, and I could see the murderous intent behind them.
In short, it was the most horrid thing I’d ever seen.
Monster Detected: Fosvellin
Fosvellins are apex monsters, highly durable and strong. They are said to be able to lift whole stagecoaches with ease and can withstand basic blade and bullet attacks. They are some of the most formidable monsters from the Fissures and must be avoided at all costs unless you’re looking for an early grave and a one-way ticket to the beyond. Your only chance is to be quick and unseen, as they rely on hearing more than sight and aren’t particularly fast.
“Gods, no,” Nell whispered, her voice filled with terror as her words trembled on her breath.
I felt the exact same way. My uncle’s bestiary had listed Fosvellins in them. The book listed what weapons you should be equipped with to battle each monster. Creatures like the Bodokins and Cactimites were common and weak with no special equipment required. But a Fosvellin? They were definitely not weak, and neither of us had any of the equipment the bestiary listed as helpful.
I swallowed down the bile that was trying to make its way up my throat. I needed to keep my head. We could make it out of this. I wasn’t so sure about the drunk.
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” I said. I didn’t dare look away from those awful white eyes. “I’ll use my speed to get around it, and I’ll draw its attention. Once it’s occupied with me, you get him out of here. I should be able to keep away from it while it chases me, then I’ll circle back and find you.”
“No way, Griff. That’s insane.”
“You know it’s the only way, Nell.”
I could tell that she wanted to whirl around and shake some sense into me, and I understood the inclination, but she didn’t dare move yet. Neither of us wanted to provoke the monster.
Instead, she nodded. “Okay. Fine. We don’t have much of a choice, but I swear on all that is good, if you get yourself killed . . .”
Somehow, I managed a grin. “Don’t worry. If I die, I know you’ll drag my soul kicking and screaming back from hell.”
Of course, I didn’t intend on dying, but I wasn’t so arrogant to think that this was going to be easy. If it was as simple as having a [Common] level [Speed] in order to defeat a Fosvellin, then they wouldn’t be as dangerous as they were. If it got just one hit in, I was likely dead, but I couldn’t think of any other plan.
We shared one last glance, a move so inconsequential that it didn’t seem to risk provoking that horrid thing. Nell still held that fear in her eyes, but she’d steeled her nerves some. Lips pursed, she nodded at me and gave me all the silent encouragement she could muster. My smile was the only thing I could give back. That, and all of my effort, and perhaps all of my life and my soul.
I was hoping I wouldn’t have to give either of those last two.