Fulk The Duck
Chapter One: Our Man Fulk
“Get out of the way!” Fulk cried, waving the women and children toward the safety of their huts. The urgency in his voice echoed throughout the village, igniting a frenzy of motion amongst the people.
Several men with spears rushed to form a line beside him, their faces set with grim determination. Shouts and panicked cries filled the air as people scrambled to find shelter. The atmosphere was charged, thick with the realization that something was terribly wrong.
A man in tribal wear, his face painted with the symbols of his ancestors, joined the line. His eyes were fixed on the opening of the village. “That’s a big cat…” he muttered, his voice laced with unease.
Fulk thrusted his spear forward, his stance firm as he taunted the unseen predator. “Leave, you beast!” he yelled, his knuckles white as he gripped the shaft of his spear.
But before anyone could react, there was a blur of movement—a flash of fur and claws. The man next to Fulk suddenly jerked, his head severed from his body in a gruesome arc. Blood sprayed into the air, and his head flew like an exploded watermelon, landing with a sickening thud behind them.
Fulk stared in shock, unable to avert his gaze from the horror before him. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The realization hit him like a horse kick—this was no ordinary predator.
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The other men wavered, fear gripping their hearts as they witnessed the sheer power of the creature they were up against. Fulk could feel the weight of their fear, but he knew he had to stand his ground. He raised his spear again, his resolve hardening.
“Hold the line!” he barked, his voice cutting through the terror that had settled over the group. “We can’t let it through!”
The men tightened their grips on their spears, their eyes darting nervously toward the darkness where the beast lurked. They could hear it now—the low, menacing growl that reverberated through the village, promising death to anyone who dared stand in its way.
Fulk’s mind raced, searching for a strategy, anything that could give them an edge against this monstrous foe. But all he could do was hope that their courage—and their spears—would be enough to fend off the terror that had come to their village.
A dreaded roar rang out, sending chills down Fulk’s spine as the massive paws of the beast began to emerge from the darkness. The only thing visible beyond the shadow was the creature’s teeth, gleaming like knives in the moonlight, and the hot, rancid breath that escaped them.
Fulk’s focus narrowed, his vision tunneling on the monstrous foe before him. The world beyond the village entrance faded away, leaving only him and the beast locked in a deadly stare.
For a fleeting moment, panic seized him. He glanced left, then right, searching for the men who had stood beside him just moments before. “No way... They left me,” he whispered, the realization sinking in like a stone.
Before he could fully process his abandonment, the creature let out another earth-shaking roar. The force of it rattled through Fulk’s entire frame, and in that instant, he felt the world slip away.
With a deafening smack, the beast struck. Fulk didn’t even have time to react before his head was smacked clean off his shoulders. It hit the ground with a wet plop. His lifeless eyes, still wide of shock, stared blankly up at the full moon.
You have died.
Reincarnating you into a…