Trulda climbed down on her rope from the tree she’d been hiding in as fast as she could. This dumb shepherd’s son had baited the shraal into position for Skorr’s all-or-nothing rope swing attack. And Skorr had been knocked out and seriously hurt, as expected. Ulmenglanz had reached him and pulled him into a halfway protected area between some of the most giant trees and was using her healing magic.
Now, he was stuck in a swamp hole. Idiot sheep herder! What did he expect would happen? Of course, the giant lizard had smacked him around.
She reached the bottom of the tree and started running. Only to immediately reach the muddy ground. Around the larger trees, she could see thick roots sticking out of the swamp, so she started jumping from root to root. They had prepared some routes to reach strategically important points in the ambush area, but Weylan had been thrown at a location they had not prepared to reach.
She could not take the shortest route but had to search for a way while avoiding getting stuck herself.
The growling of the second shraal echoed through the trees. Clouds shrouded the sun, and the air was cooling down. Mist started to rise, swirled between the trees and began to obscure her vision.
Trulda’s heart thudded as she bounded from one slick root to the next, her boots skidding dangerously on the damp surfaces. Finally, she reached a massive, twisted root that arched up like a natural bridge over the swampy water. From there, she scanned the clearing ahead. Weylan should be somewhere nearby, she’d seen him fly in this direction.
The body of the first shraal was still there, half-sunken in the swamp, its enormous bulk making it impossible to miss. But where was Weylan? She couldn’t spot him, at least not right away. Then, through a break in the clouds, a few beams of sunlight filtered down, glinting off something on the swamp's surface. Ice. That had to be from Selvara’s attack spell.
The mist here was thicker and full of shadows. Shadows that moved with the rhythm of the wind that shook the branches. Except for a spot in the middle, where the shadows stayed still. The shraal now also came into view on the far side of the clearing.
Its eyes blazed red from fury, and its limbs tore at the trees it passed, gouging deep claw marks into them. Its bellows of rage were already getting hoarse. Its head swinging back and forth searchingly.
Trulda gulped. As a berserker, she knew how berserker rage looked, and this was like looking into an angry mirror. Granted, a mirror that made you five times bigger, more furious and that added scales and long teeth and claws, but… she got a grip on herself and looked for a way to reach the monster before it found Weylan. And it would find him. According to its current search pattern, if you could call it that, it would just keep combing the swamp with its claws until it found its target. Skorr, the actual killer of its mate, had been pulled between the trees by Ulmenglanz, so he was much more difficult to find. But if the shraal continued moving in the same direction, it would stumble right over Weylan.
Trulda pulled her weapon from the improvised back holder she’d secured it to. The belts and strips of leather came loose, and she held the two-handed woodcutter axe. Her lute club would have been almost useless against the leathery hide of the giant monster. Therefore, one of the villagers had spent most of the night sharpening his axe. It would probably hurt the beast, but Trulda doubted that she would manage to kill it with one stroke. One hit was all she would probably get since the improvised weapon would surely get stuck in the monster's hide.
A strike at the monster's head would have been ideal, but there was no way to reach that high. She’d have to wait for the beast to bow down to her, but the shraal would rend her with her claws long before she came into reach of the head.
She grit her teeth, her pulse quickening. There was no other choice. She had to draw the shraal’s attention, get it to focus on her instead of Weylan, and hope she could land that single, decisive blow before the beast tore her to pieces. Or lure it away. She’d come back from death if it came to that.
Bracing herself, Trulda leaped from the root, landing with a splash in the muck. The shraal’s head snapped toward her instantly, its eyes gleaming with malice. It was coming for her now.
“Come on, you ugly bastard,” Trulda muttered under her breath, gripping the axe tightly in both hands. “Come and get me.”
The shraal’s eyes locked onto Trulda, and its roar shook the very air around her. With terrifying speed for a creature of its size, it charged. Trees cracked and splintered in its path as it thundered forward, its massive claws leaving deep furrows in the swamp. Muddy water sprayed everywhere with each heavy step.
Trulda roared in defiance of her enemy, her eyes lighting up with bulging blood vessels. Her activated rage let her pulse race. She barely managed to keep standing, but running deeper into the swamp would make her an easy target. Here on the edge, the ground was hard enough for at least some maneuvering.
The shraal towered up before her, swinging its arm in a wide arc. Trulda bellowed and dropped backward just in time, splashing into the shallow mud that cushioned her fall. The creature couldn’t stop its momentum, its claw slicing harmlessly through the air above her, and its massive feet thundered past on either side of her while its body blotted out the fading light.
At that moment, beneath the monster, Trulda seized her chance. Using every ounce of strength and channeling her Barbarian Smash feat, she swung her axe with all her might. The blade cut through the shraal’s exposed belly, slicing easily through the thinner skin. The monster's own forward momentum helped, driving the axe deep and cleaving its abdomen wide open.
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A torrent of steaming entrails spilled out, swinging down and wrapping around her in a grotesque cascade. Blood and viscera splattered across her face and arms, but the rage coursing through her veins made her indifferent to the mess. Her revulsion drowned beneath the wave of her berserker fury.
The shraal roared again, this time in agony, its monstrous form stumbling forward as it tried to gather itself. It curved, managing to stomp on Trulda with its hindleg. It pushed her deeper into the mud, and the air was pressed out of her. Her vision faded for a moment. A noose of steaming innards caught on her axe and pulled it out of her momentarily weakened hand. She looked up dazed, only her head still above the mud. Unable to move, she stared blankly at the monster that turned to attack again. This time, she had no weapon, no plan and no way to evade.
* * *
Something red and glistening shot past Trulda. Iron Ma'am, charging straight for the shraal, armed only with a villager’s hunting spear. The arcane knight moved slower than usual, her mana clearly drained, her steps heavy and labored. But she arrived just in time.
Standing her ground between the raging shraal and Trulda, Iron Ma’am braced the spear, determination hardening her gaze. The shraal, weakened by blood loss but still driven by berserker fury, swung its claws with brutal force.
Iron Ma’am didn’t flinch. The claw cut into her armor and tried to sweep her aside, but a slight turn of her body caused the strike to slide, screeching over her armor. She turned back and retaliated with a fierce spear thrust. Unempowered by skill or feat, it barely hurt the shraal. The next claw strike, she parried with the spear. Their combined strength pushed it through the claw. The monster didn’t even notice. It swung its arm to the side, ripping the spear from Iron Ma'am's hand. The shraal pulled itself up to its full height to strike down at Iron Ma’am. Her hands went for her short sheaths, but she’d lost her two short swords somewhere in the swamp during the last fight. Unarmed, she could only cross her arms above her to try to blunt the attack.
Javelins soared through the air. Five of the villagers had finally reached a position where they could join the fight. Another wave of javelins followed. Then a third. Of the fifteen missiles, only five hit. Of those, two pierced the monster's hide. Wooden spears with fire-hardened tips were hardly a match for the monster's hide. Already enraged beyond all reason, it roared and clawed at the empty air.
Iron Ma’am used the moment of distraction to pick up one of the javelins that had landed next to her. Before she could start her attack, the head of the shraal lit up with bright white-blue light. Once, twice, three times. A nimbus was glowing behind it like a halo.
* * *
Trulda swallowed when she saw that. Did the beast charge up some kind of magic attack? A breath weapon, maybe? Then she saw something flying away from behind the shraal, turning invisible midflight. Selvara had finally managed to get into a position to use her electricity touch spell.
The tiny fairy wouldn’t even survive one direct hit, so everyone had insisted she stay out of reach of the monster. The female barbarian pulled herself up and looked around for a weapon. There was none. Shrugging, she put her hand between her breasts and pulled out her two-handed iron mace from the cleavage of holding. The monster was difficult to hurt with blunt weapons, but maybe she could crack his shins with it. She started advancing. She moved only slowly through the thick, muddy swamp, each step a struggle as her boots sank into the wet, murky ground.
The shraal evaded another wave of javelins and kicked at the charging Iron Ma’am, throwing her away.
Then it noticed her and turned around, but didn’t seem to see her. His face and especially his eyes seemed to flicker with darkness… or rather shadows that tried to converge on his eyes. Weylan seemed to have decided to risk his last mana to help with the attack. A glance in his direction showed him standing in the swamp, hands raised, eyes focused in concentration. His shadow camouflage was gone. Why did the dumb shepherd drop his concealment? She hurried to get into attack range to draw the attention of the monster. If it noticed Weylan… or the villagers. Of course. He’d seen the villagers coming into sight, and the shraal had last turned in their direction. Now, he risked his life to keep them safe. She smiled, then readied another Barbarian Smash and whirled her mace at the shin of the shraal’s right forefoot. Leathery hide split, and the bone broke. She continued running along his body, ignoring its bloodthirsty roar. It turned around, limping with difficulty. It followed her a few steps, then stopped. It stumbled. Then fell forward, finally succumbing to its numerous wounds and the blood loss from the stomach wound.
Enemy defeated: Shraal (Monster, level 8):
High XP, awarded to members with the lowest level (Trulda and Ulmenglanz) as per team setting.
Trulda, you can now level up to level 6.
She cleaned up her mace and returned it to her extradimensional holding space.
Skorr came over supported by Ulmenglanz. Iron Ma’am crawled back out of the swamp.
The team and some villagers met at the dead shraal and together managed to free Weylan from the swamp.
Trulda looked at her prompts and frowned: “I don’t see a notice about the quest. We completed it, didn’t we?”
Weylan was still using the spell-focus to remove the mud and dirty water from his clothes and looked up: “The quest goal is to save the village from the monster spawner. We still need to find the shraal’s eggs.”
The barbarian snorted: “And how are we supposed to do that? The swamp holds no footprints. Do we wait for them to hatch and attack?”
Ulmenglanz completed another healing spell on Skorr, then turned to them: “I can use the blood of the shraal to find their offspring. But before we depart, we should loot the corpses.”
Skorr looked at the giant beast's body and nodded: “Their flesh will feed the village for weeks, even if it probably doesn’t taste very good. Looks quite tough. Their skin is thick and will make strong leather for boots or armor. And we have to get the beast cores, of course.”
Weylan sounded confused: “Beast cores? Are those like the coins from Malvorik's monsters?”
Selvara flew down from a tree: “Not at all. The terms are often confused. Monster coins contain the memory and personality of a dungeon monster. A beast core contains the magical essence of a monster. There are many ways to use a beast core. You could use it as the core of an artifact, focus for a ritual or as an alchemical ingredient for some powerful potion. I’d guess a shraal beast core could be used for an earth-swim potion or a rage-inducing drought.”
Skorr followed Selvara's instructions to cut open the skull of the monster and remove the beast's core.
Ulmenglanz, meanwhile, coordinated with some villagers to remove the skin in pieces that were as large as possible. More villagers were appearing, bringing the necessary tools to cut up the meat and transport it. The rest of the village was already busy collecting wood and building smoking huts to prepare the meat.