Dean could hardly contain his excitement. He had made it. It was shortly after dawn on the third day of hiking from the rocky shrubland, now into rolling grassy hills. He had found civilization.
A short while back he noticed something in the distance. At first, he thought it was the morning fog rolling out, but as he continued, he soon realized it was smoke. He had found someone, or perhaps it was a settlement. He crested the hill and overlooked a wide valley with a creek winding through the middle. Near the bank of the creek was a campsite. It consisted of one of those old-timey ‘Oregon Trail’ type of Wagons with a canvas awning, an A-frame tent set up in the shade of the wagon. A tripod stove was perched over a small campfire and hitched up nearby were two oxen. No, not oxen, Goats. Huge goatlike creatures, they were taller and wider than any goat he had seen before. It reminded Dean of a Takin but about twice the size. Aside from the birds that would soar by far above, small rodent things that would shoot away from sight as soon as they suspected they weren’t alone, the rabbit he ate for breakfast a few days ago, and a snake or two that he had no interest in getting acquainted with, Dean had not seen any of the native animals. He managed to forage a few berries (that he did perform a toxicity test on) which is what he had so far subsisted on. The smell of bacon wafted past as he continued to spy on the camp. His stomach rumbled. As Dean made to get closer to the campsite to investigate further, he caught sight of a tumbleweed rolling by. “Well, isn’t that a cliché,” he thought before the tumbleweed abruptly stopped in front of him. It was oddly…. Threatening. The bush loomed, seeming to grow before his eyes. Similarly to when he had found the 8-point Heavenly herb, and with the Goblin Revolver, his mind was drawn to the shrub, though this time there was little to no pain.
Name: Rumbleweed. | [Your Analytics skill is too low!] | Level: 2. This is a sentient plant-type creature. This monster, like a scavenger bird, feasts upon the remains it finds in its path. Unlike scavenger birds, it will latch its bristles into the carcass and use it as a root system, moving on once nothing remains. Also, unlike scavenger birds, it will target living creatures as prey. [Your Analytics skill is too low!].
Dean took a testing step forward and slowly removed his hat. He could somehow tell it was waiting for its change to pounce. If he ran as fast as he could, and did not stop to look back, he might make it to the campsite where he hoped to find help. Aside from the hostile presence emanating from the thing, it looked like a normal, if very large, bush. But it slowly began to roll forward, and Dean took another step back. If it had not been for Dean’s newly heightened senses, he would not have noticed the second bush stalking up behind him – if a bush was capable of stalking. But a bean? A bean could most definitely stalk.
Dean dove forward in the same moment the two Rumbleweeds made their move. He kicked up dirt as he rolled, barely skimming beneath the monster as it leapt toward him from the front and collided with its brethren which had attempted the same maneuver from behind. Launching to his feet, he bolted down the hillside to the camp. The bushes appeared to have entangled themselves in their initial attack. As a result, Dean had made some decent headway, but a distant memory of watching a video on the web about tumbleweeds reminded him that they can really belt it when they caught a wind. He had no idea how fast a sentient, potentially magical one could go, but he was not going to risk it all by looking back to see.
He really regretted looking back. It was right there, right on his heels. It had combined into a bigger, somehow angrier looking tumbleweed. Once again, he felt a mild twinge behind his eyes as he faced forward again.
Name: Rough-and-Tumbleweed | [Your Analytics skill is too low!] | Level: 5. This is a sentient plant-type creature. Once a humble Rumbleweed, it has combined its strength with another of its kind, permanently morphing into a whole new monster. This creature will now seek out larger prey to sustain itself. [Your Analytics skill is too low!].
It had transformed and levelled up. Dean still had no idea how to check his status window or anything like that, so he couldn’t be certain, but he didn't feel like he was strong enough to take that thing alone. He hasn’t been able to activate [Flow] again, despite trying on several occasions, and didn’t want to waste his precious bullets trying to harm what was, for all intents and purposes, a tangle of thistles. There was no ‘core’ or any weak point that he could see either. He proposed to use Sheila, his knife, but didn’t want to risk getting too close if he could avoid it. Instead, in a moment of subjective brilliance, he thought to lead the creature to the campfire. If he could set it on fire, it might just burst into flames. With no opportunity for a peer-review, nor any better ideas, Dean took an abrupt turn, zigzagging towards the camp. He leapt across the creek before darting over to the fire, narrowly avoiding a lunge from the Rough-and-Tumbleweed. The monster jolted and squirmed as it passed into the creek, giving Dean time to catch a breath and collect his thoughts. It was then that he noticed the sentient shrub was pulsating, its gangly twigs and boughs growing visibly thicker. Its thistles were now sharper and barbed. It was using the creak to strengthen itself. With a flash of realization, Dean understood. Water nourishes Wood.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Dean heard the scream behind him, but he jumped in shock anyway. Stepping cautiously around the firepit, attempting to keep it between himself and the Rough-and-Tumbleweed while it continued to feed off the energies provided by the brook, he managed to catch a glimpse of the one who screamed. It was a young girl, maybe eight or nine, and a young boy next to her, roughly the same age. They had poked their heads out from the partition of the caravan’s canvas covering to see what was going on, and having caught Dean’s gaze, they had sunk back inside with a little yelp. Now Dean had to fight to protect himself and the children. Bringing his full attention back to the humongous bush, the prompt flashed again.
Name: Thistle-Sage. [Your Analytics skill is too low!]. Level: ??. This is a sentient plant-type creature. In the rare occasion that a sentient plant-type creature can gather enough life-force to gain sapience, it is no longer driven by an instinctual drive to use the flesh and bones of unwitting creatures as its root system. It will now do so for entertainment. [Your Analytics skill is too low!].
The Thistle-Sage lashed out at him, its new vine-like appendages undulating with anticipation. Its main body was now about 15 foot tall and the same around, its previously spindly twigs adjoining into branches that were as thick as Dean’s arms, causing them to look like a living baseball bat with that barbed-wire-wrap-around. He dodged back, easily avoiding the cumbersome strike as it fell short, crashing into the fire. It reeled back from the smouldering coalbed, knocking the tripod and sending the pan resting there along with its contents to the ground. Dean would have to mourn the loss of his potential breakfast later. He burst forward, drawing the revolver he kept tucked in his belt, cocking and firing off a shot all in just over a second. He had never fired a gun before a few days ago, but had since spent some of his down time practicing his quick draw and he thought he was getting quite good. He had only practiced dry firing, as he did not want to waste what little ammunition he had. However, he had heard that dry firing was bad for guns, so did it sparingly in case he damaged the apparently tumultuous firearm.
The projectile had been some kind of birdshot, causing a cloud of splinters to erupt as a few branches were hit at once. As Dean had suspected, it didn’t cause any real harm. He lurched sideways to avoid another swipe from the monster’s tendril which missed his face but snagged on his revolver, flinging it from his grasp. Rolling back to evade a follow-up from the same extremity, Dean deftly snatched a hatchet that laid by the pile of firewood across from the tent and rose back to his feet. Fear began to rise as he realized he would need to get close. His fear rose further knowing he had no idea how to fight without the assistance of [Flow], but he knew he had to protect those kids so he steeled his resolve.
The monster, deciding it would no longer hunker down in the creek, began to heave itself onto the bankside and into the campsite, swatting at Dean as it did so and causing a glancing blow. While Dean’s senses had quite significantly heightened after consuming the 8-point Heavenly herb, his reflexes seem to have only marginally improved. The Thistle-Sage writhed in ecstasy as it finally drew blood. With newfound self-assurance, it attempted a new tactic and launched its elongated barbed mass directly at Dean like a spear. The first stabbed out, and quickly withdrew as it missed by a hair’s breadth. Wary of the new manoeuvre, Dean moved more cautiously after receiving the first hit. As the next attack rocketed out, Dean slipped in the now muddy earth. Quickly rolling over, he felt the rush of wind and thud as he escaped the impending impalement. Rising to his feet once more, he saw the opportunity as it presented itself to him. He lifted the hatchet overhead with a double handed swing, feeling every muscle in his body from his firmly planted legs, up into his tensed core, shoulders, arms and then hands, as he brought the axe down on the grounded limb with a mighty roar.
The creature recoiled, letting out a pained sound, like the cracking of a falling tree but filled with emotion. Enraged, its remaining arms whipping around chaotically, it moved in on Dean in an attempt to overwhelm him. Without the reflexes to match his senses, Dean took a strike to the shoulder, knocking him down and dislocating his right shoulder. He screamed as pain coursed through the entire right side of his torso. The sleeve of his jacket was now tattered and blood ran freely, dripping from his fingers. Another blow struck as he attempted to clamber to his feet, sending him face-first in the bloodied mud. A brambled vine wrapped tightly around his ankle as he began to whimper. He felt lightheaded. The last attack struck him across the head and back. His right hand was numb, and his fingers tingled. He thrashed as the Thistle-Sage dragged him in to its body, enveloping him in its wicked embrace. It hurt so much but he was so tired that it felt distant. He felt guilty he couldn’t help those kids, he had tried so hard to protect them. This always seemed to happen; every time he really applied himself to something, really tried, he’d fail. Time and time again. That’s why he was in that shitty job. That's why he didn’t start his own business. He was afraid he’d fail. That’s why he always said he didn’t want kids. He was afraid he’d fail them. He was so scared to fail that he never even tried any more.
There was another scream and then crying. He wasn’t sure if it was coming from him or not. No, he couldn’t fail those kids. No matter what happened, he would not let them face this fate. With every ounce of willpower and strength he could muster; he pushed forward. He could feel the skin on his left arm flay as he pulled Sheila from its sheath. He pushed forward. He forced his eyes open, the barbs terrifyingly close to his eyes, and he saw it. It was a roiling miasma of coalescing putrid energy. It was a monster core. His knife was pressed firmly against it, but Thistle-Sage tightened its embrace and Dean nearly passed out. It was unbearable yet he pushed forward. The knife was so heavy in his hands, but he gripped it tighter. With a final surge of strength, he pushed forward. The blade glowed as it pierced the core. With a wail so loud it reverberated through Dean’s skull, the monster fell apart, leaving Dean on the muddy bank of the creek. Feeling numb and with a smile on his face, Dean fell into unconsciousness.