Realm of Monsters

“Rhian!” Stryg screamed.

He could only watch as the dire root-bison pulled him away from Rhian. He lost sight of her as the herd of bison ran down the hill, dragging Stryg with them. The dire bison’s horn had stabbed right through the hood of his cloak, hauling him by the cloak’s clasp and cord.

Stryg gripped the cord in an effort to stop it from choking him. If he pulled hard enough he would rip the clasp’s cord, but he would fall into the rest of the stampede. Their hooves would trample him to death. But, if he did nothing he would be choked to death.

Stryg slipped his right hand between the clasp’s cord and his neck to give him some space to breathe. With his left hand he gripped the dire bison’s fur. He closed his eyes and tried focusing amidst the cacophony. He imagined the spell he needed, it would be larger than any spell he had ever cast before. Fortunately, the anger for the focus was already there.

“Fuck you, bison!”

Grey mana rose from his heart and surged through his veins, into his left hand, and into the dire bison’s body. Stryg focused all his attention into the advanced grey spell. It was meant to drain stamina, one of the easiest energies to drain, still the size of the target made the spell complex. Stryg did not even try to absorb the stamina into himself, there was no need to make the spell more difficult. Instead, all he needed was to exhaust the dire root-bison.

Stryg grit his teeth as he felt the weight of the advanced drain magic. The amount of mana flowing through his arm was overwhelming. He shouted in defiance, refusing to release the spell.

The titanic beast groaned as its breath became laboured, its gait slower. The dire root-bison shook its head in an effort to get rid of Stryg, but the goblin held on tightly, his entangled cloak helping him to stay on. 

The dire bison’s legs wobbled, it tripped over itself, and tumbled to the ground. Stryg ripped off the cloak’s cord and used the momentum of the tumbling bison to throw himself on top of the dire creature. He thrust his fingers into the bison’s back, his claws stabbing through its hide and into its flesh.

The dire bison moaned in pain, but it was too tired to shake him off. The other bison smashed into their dire kin, but the animal was too large and heavy to be pushed away. Though, it did not stop the rest of the bisons’ horns from slicing across the dire beast. The creature’s sides were torn to shred as the rest of the herd ran past, their horns dragging away bits of muscles and organs with them.

Stryg stayed above the dying creature, holding on for dear life as the stampede rushed past. His ears rang with the blaring noise. Stryg squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to endure the pain. Eventually, the sounds of hooves lessened until they were eclipsed by the high pitch ringing sound in his ears.

He opened his eyes to a sight of black and silver. The grass was outlined with thin silver lines, but they were mixed in with soft brushes of gold. Life energy, left behind by the bison, touched each blade of grass, healing its trampled form and raising the entire field of grass back to its original shape. 

Stryg finally understood how the root-bison were responsible for keeping Dusk Valley’s hills and plains green. He looked down at the dead dire root-bison below him. Save for its back, the rest of the creature had been torn and trampled to shreds. Its corpse was a mixture of pulverized meat and bone.

Stryg tried ignoring the bloody smell and looked around for Rhian, but she was nowhere in sight. He tried listening for her voice, yet the ringing in his ears was too loud. The scent of dead bison filled his nostrils, he would be unable to sniff her out either.

He cupped his hands around his mouth, “Rhian! Where are you!? Rhian!”

Stryg looked around, hoping his eyes might find her. He caught sight of someone shifting through the grass down-hill. Save for colors of light, everything else seemed black in this world. He couldn’t make out the color of the cloak nor the obscured face of the individual, but he recognized the crest etched on the back.

“Clypeus?” Stryg tilted his head.

He had assumed the vampire was still at the top of the hill behind him. Stryg followed the direction of the cloaked figure. Clypeus was running towards a bush. Stryg’s eyes widened as he saw what lay behind the bush, a feasting monster. It was a serpentine-feline creature 12 feet long. 

“Seregulus,” Stryg muttered in shock. “Clypeus, get away from there! Run!”

Clypeus could not hear him, he was too far. The vampire walked right into the seregulus’ feeding ground. 

Out of sheer luck, the creature had yet to notice Clypeus, though it would only be a manner of time. To Stryg’s surprise, the vampire did not run away. Instead Clypeus stood still, frozen from fear. The vampire was doomed. Stryg should just walk away, it was probably too late...

“Ah, shit! Shit, shit, SHIT!” Stryg jumped off the bison carcass.

The long grass’ height obstructed his view, but he had a general idea where Clypeus was. Stryg pushed through the grass and ran towards him.

“Clypeus. Clypeus, get out of there!” He whispered as loud as he could.

Stryg hoped the vampire’s ears were decent enough to hear him and that the seregulus’ ears were poor enough to not. 

He ran past the bush and came upon the clearing. The cloaked Clypeus was on the ground, the seregulus above him, its mouth salivating over its stunned prey.

Stryg did not hesitate. He jumped at the seregulus and kicked its feline skull with all his strength. The beast recoiled in pain, swiping its heavy paw out in retaliation. The sharp claws narrowly missed his leg. Stryg rolled and landed next to Clypeus. He grabbed the vampire by the cloak and dragged him up, catching Clypeus in his arms.

Something seemed off, but Stryg had no time to reconsider the situation. The seregulus hissed and pounced at them. Orange mana flooded Stryg’s body, his veins darkened, agility magic taking hold. He kicked backwards, dodging the beast’s attack.

Stryg turned around and ran, the agility spell hastening his sprint. He did not bother looking back, he could clearly hear the grass shake as the beast slithered silently through the ground.

Stryg glanced down at the vampire in his arms. “I could really use your green magic right about now. Stone or flora spells, I don’t care which. I just need you to focus, dammit!” 

The cloak’s hood slipped off. Maeve’s wide eyes stared back at him.

“I-I’m not a mage,” Maeve stammered.

“What the fu-”

The seregulus’ tail whipped out and smacked Stryg in the back, sending him flying in the air. His pain-stricken body watched as Maeve slipped out of his arms mid-air. Out of sheer reflex he reached out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her towards him. He spun around, caught her in his arms, and landed on both feet.

Pain flared in his right leg, the muscles beginning to cramp from the spell’s duration. He was not ready to handle the full-body agility spell for long periods.

Maeve took deep short breaths in fright, “Thank y-”

Stryg dropped her with a hard thud. His hands shot out and caught the seregulus’ teeth right as it tried snapping his arms off. The weight and force of the beast slammed him to the ground. Its claws tried swiping at his torso, but his agility enhancement held. He scrambled on the ground, dodging the attacks as best he could, while holding down the seregulus’ wide open mouth.

Stryg screamed in strain as the seregulus’ jaw started to close on his fingers. Its green eyes stared at him hungrily. Its twin long fangs dripped with venom, eager to sink into his flesh. The seregulus’ long serpentine tongue flicked out and slathered his face.

Stryg released the agility spell, grimacing as the claws cut at his torso. He sucked in a deep breath and sent orange mana into his mouth. Bright flames whistled past his lips and spiraled into the seregulus’ open maw and down its throat, searing the beast’s innards.

The seregulus threw itself to the ground and thrashed about, scratching at its own throat. It spun on the floor for a few moments, before laying still. Wisps of smoke wafted up from its slack-jawed maw.

Stryg stood up shakily, his shirt and cloak were torn to shreds. The seregulus’ golden claws had managed to dig into his sides. The pain echoed in a dim part of his mind. His vision blurred, his consciousness fading. His legs buckled beneath him. Two small pale hands caught him.

“I’ve got you,” Maeve whispered.

He weakly lifted his head, “...you.”

“Don’t talk, your injuries are extensive,” Maeve gently lowered him to the ground.

Maeve bit her lip. The scent of a hybrid’s blood was strong to a vampire, even intoxicating if drunk. She shook her head and tried to focus.

“We have to slow the bleeding,” she said.

“G-get… away,” he muttered.

Maeve sighed, “Fine, I guess we’re really doing this. Good to see you again, asshole hybrid, remember me? I’m the bitch vampiress. There, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let me help you.”

Maeve pulled out her dagger and cut the edge of her cloak in small strips. She paused and stared at her dagger. Nora had gifted her the blade this morning. For the hunt, Nora had said with that foolish grin on her face.

“How in all the bloody Realms was this supposed to help me kill that monster?” Maeve glanced at the enormous beast lying dead next to them.

Was Nora just stupid or had she never actually seen a seregulus before? Either answer did not seem appealing. She just hoped Nora was okay. Maeve ignored the idioitic gift and brought her attention back to the task at hand.

Stryg hissed softly as she brought the dagger towards him.

“I need to remove your shirt so I can bandage you up,” Maeve frowned. 

Stryg raised his trembling hand and brought his claws towards her neck.

Maeve ignored the threat and grabbed his hand, “Your hand is bleeding. Actually, both your hands are. We’ll need to wrap them too. Did they touch the venom?”

Stryg grumbled something under his breath.

“...I guess it doesn’t really matter. I can’t do anything to help if you were envenomed. You’ll just die in a few minutes. So, I might as well bandage you up and hope for the best, hehe…” Maeve winced, What am I saying? “I mean you're going to be just fine.”

Stryg groaned in protest.

“Don’t worry, you won’t die. You’ll be just fine. Let me stop the bleeding first,” Maeve nodded repeatedly.

Stryg’s lilac eyes stared at her as she bandaged his hands.

“I’ve done this a lot, you know, bandaging I mean, not the whole almost-get-killed by a cat-serpent part,” she chuckled weakly. “I’ve had my fair share of cuts and bruises throughout my life, you’d be surprised. Anyway, after getting fixed up by the nurses enough times, I picked up a thing or two.”

Maeve finished wrapping both his hands. She grabbed her dagger and raised an eyebrow, “Now, can I help you with your chest?”

Stryg nodded reluctantly.

“Great,” she grinned.

Maeve slowly and carefully cut Stryg’s torn shirt away. Her eyes were briefly drawn to his chiseled muscles before they widened at the sight of his ribs. Deep gashes ran across his rib cage. Dark red blood was pooling underneath him.

“No…” She paled. 

Maeve cut more strips of cloth and tried her best to stop the bleeding. Stryg silently watched her as she worked. 

Even after she finished Maeve could still see the blood seeping through the makeshift bandages. She sat next to Stryg’s prone form and grabbed his hand tenderly.

Maeve swallowed the lump in her throat, “It’s going to be okay, no matter what happens, I’m not going to leave you. You won’t be alone, I promise.”

Stryg’s pupils widened to ovals as he saw the tears in her eyes.

The grass shook. A deep hiss resounded in the stale air. A seregulus stepped into the clearing. It glanced at its kin’s corpse before turning its cold gaze at Maeve and Stryg. A second seregulus jumped out from the grass behind them.

“Oh, Bellum, protect us,” Maeve whispered.

The seregulusi encircled them, sniffing the air. Their long serpentine tails swished about eagerly.

“Run,” Stryg muttered.

Maeve smiled shakily, “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. No one should die alone, especially not someone who just saved my life.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

“I rather be a fool than a monster.”

“...Help me up.”

Maeve furrowed her brow and nodded slowly. She grabbed him gingerly by the shoulders. She groaned in effort as she pushed his surprisingly heavy body to an upright position.

The sereguli growled at the movement. Stryg hissed back at them.

“Gods, please, protect us,” Maeve closed her eyes in prayer.

“The gods aren’t real, they can’t help anyone,” Stryg coughed. He could taste his own blood in his mouth.

“I believe,” Maeve said resolutely.

One of the seregulusi roared and jumped at them, its claws extended. A red figure burst from the grass, silver blade gleaming in hand. The longsword sliced through the seregulus’ neck in one clean cut. The beast’s corpse slammed to the ground, its head rolling next to it. The other seregulus roared in anger. 

The stranger landed softly on the ground. A crest adorned the back of their red cloak, a depiction of a woman, head bowed, holding a titanic shield.

“Clypeus?” Maeve called out hesitantly.

The figure turned their head. A woman with lustrous golden hair and crimson eyes looked back at them.

“Good job holding out, kiddo,” Gale smiled.