What’s coming? I ask Sirocco sharply over the Bond, at the same time sending out a warning feeling to my other two Bound. The bird sends me a picture of a running creature snapping at the heels of the herd. The picture is blurry, though – I don’t know if that’s because it’s fast or because Sirocco’s not focussing enough on either its details or on sending a clear picture to me.
Fenrir confirms her message at the same time, his own image that of a much-larger silhouetted figure running past him. Evidently, it chose to ignore the lizog for now; why, I don’t know. Because it doesn’t see him as a threat? Because it doesn’t feel he’d offer enough meat to make the fight worth it?
By this point, both River and I have closed ranks, our spears in our hands, the other ostridocuses – bisonisans – ignored. As the last of the herd moves past our sightlines, we are able to see what’s chasing them.
Though Fenrir’s perspective is affected by his own short stature, the creature is big. Its shoulders are level with my own, above even River’s. On top of that, it has a long neck putting it at least a head taller than me if they stand up completely straight. It has four limbs, but only runs on two of them: the other two are flightless wings which nonetheless play a role. I watch as it flaps its wings to add speed to its strike at the bisonian in front of it.
Its jaws are long and toothy, its tail surprisingly weighty: I would have imagined it to have a tail more like Sirocco or Bastet, but it turns out that it’s more like the prey it’s chasing in the tail department. Its skin is scaly and barely feathered except on its wings which have a bit more plumage. In fact, it kind of looks like an allosaurus if the dinosaur’s small front legs had become small wings instead.
It chases the bisonisans towards us. I grip my spear more firmly, prepared to defend myself. It gets closer and closer, its jaws opening.
And then it’s past us.
I exchange a dumbfounded look with River even as Fenrir trots up to us, having been following the newcomer at a safe distance. Turning my head to watch the predator continue snapping at the heels of the bisonian herd, I dare to use Inspect Fauna on it, hoping it’s not too far out of range.
My hope proves to be in vain, though: clearly my Inspection Skills have quite a short range. Since the whole group of creatures are now practically out of sight, I just shrug and stoop to check on the creatures we’ve killed. I got two; River managed to get three. Five bisonisans are likely to be enough meat to satisfy us for a couple of days at least so I reckon that this hunting trip can be considered a success.
Just as I’m starting to tie the feet and tails of the bisonisans to a couple of long branches I have in my Inventory, I hear a familiar sound of thudding. It’s a bit like thunder, except there aren’t enough clouds in the sky for a storm. Plus, the sound isn’t coming from the sky above, but the forest in front of us. And it’s the same noise I heard only a few minutes before.
As I look up, I realise what’s happening: the whole load of bisonisans are running at us once more. Why?
“Sirocco, what’s happening?” I ask urgently. She takes off from the branch on which she’d perched herself and skims over the top of the herd of frantic prey animals. She sends me a picture which looks rather like the one she sent me earlier: the new predator chasing the bisonisans. The only difference here is that there are three of the creatures.
Suddenly I realise what must have happened. While we were strategically driving the herd of bisonisans towards the hunters waiting for them, the other predators must have been doing exactly the same thing. That would explain why the predator ignored Fenrir and us, and was only snapping at the heels of the bisonisans rather than actually properly attacking them.
Which means that we’re about to be overrun by bisonisans and their hunters at best, or caught in a pincer move between these hunters and any which might have run ahead of the herd to catch them a second time at worst. Neither of which sounded like a good position to be in.
“We need to get out of here,” I tell my Bound urgently, eyeing the swiftly approaching line of bisonisans. Apparently, I don’t need to tell them twice: before I’ve even fully got the words out, they’re all hurrying off to the side.
I run after them, pushing to my fastest speed to make it past the line of charging prey-beasts before they overrun me.
Succeeding – by the skin of our teeth – apparently doesn’t mean we’re out of danger. The hunters are apparently less keen on just letting us be observers this time. Oddly enough, they seem to decide to give up on the chase. Are they that territorial or do we somehow look like better prey than the bisonisans? The three of them approach us, their heads down and hissing menacingly. As they stalk towards us, every inch of their demeanours is that of menace.
I send a quick few messages to my Bound and take hold of my spear in a grip which my memories tell me is an appropriate one for combat. With any luck, I might even get levels in my spear-wielding Skill. I also take the opportunity to cast Inspect Fauna – this time they’re within range.
Kiina
Tier 2 Beast (evolved)
Special abilities: Unknown
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Health: 920u
Mana: 100u
Minimum Willpower recommended to Dominate without other impacting factors: 45
These intelligent group predators are a dominating force in their local territory. Forced to migrate into areas with lower Energy density due to their previous territory being overtaken by an explosion of aggressive flora, these Beasts are hungry for both meat and Energy.
Close message? Y/N
Interesting…. A moment before the hunters come in range to strike, I decide to change the plan. A bit, at least. Sending a mental message to my Bound, we prepare for the attack.
As the kiinas approach, Sirocco flies at their heads, raking at their eyes. She’s careful not to get too close to their toothed maws, but then her purpose isn’t to really do any damage: she’s more of a distraction than anything else.
While the three kiinas are momentarily distracted by the flying threat, Fenrir, River, and I attack. Fenrir goes in to bite at one of the kiina’s legs; River and I both move in with our spear, going more for the kill.
Of course, when we’re dealing with a creature which is taller than me, that’s easier said than done. On the other hand, it’s not a giant salamander, either. Without any real idea of where its heart might be, and with its head far too mobile to make a target, getting a kill in a single hit seems unlikely.
We both aim for the chests of the two kiina, hoping that perhaps it will contain their hearts or lungs or other vital organs. I purposefully don’t aim for the centre of the chest, the slight ridge under the scaly skin indicating that there is probably a chest-bone protecting the vital organs there.
My recent practice with a spear comes in useful, as does my increase in Dexterity, allowing me to hit almost the exact area I was aiming for. Twenty points in Strength is no joke, either, even if more than half of them are in Endurance rather than Power. My spear sinks deeply into the kiina’s chest, wrenching a screech of pain out of it.
Sirocco forgotten, it swipes at me with its wing. I wasn’t expecting the blow and barely manage to react in time to raise an arm to protect my face. I’m knocked off balance, my spear falling from my hands. My arm explodes in pain but I don’t think it’s broken. At least, I don’t feel the nausea which had accompanied the agonising pain when the crocodile broke it.
However, whatever the kiina has done has clearly damaged it in some way as when I reach to grab the spear still stuck in the kiina’s chest, I struggle to fasten my grip around its shaft. It doesn’t help that the kiina’s movements are making it swing in and out of my range. With my right hand mostly out of action, using my bow is also removed from the list of possibilities. Maybe I should have started with that instead of my spear, but too late now.
Here’s where Flesh-Shaping has its drawbacks: with Lay-on-hands I’d already have been pouring healing magic into my arm, hopefully bringing it back into the fight within a short time. With Flesh-Shaping, I’m unable to apply sufficient focus to even start the healing process. But that’s life and if I spend too long mourning could-have-beens, I’ll lose my future.
So, using my non-dominant hand, I pull out my mace from my Inventory. The spear stuck in the kiina’s chest is hampering its movements – a plus in my favour. Approaching it, I bash the wing that swings at me and then the toothed maw which tries to snap at my face.
My blows feel clumsier than they would have been in my right hand, but far more fluid than they were at the start of my time in this world. I start to get in the rhythm of defending from the alternating wings and bites, my mind searching for a way to break through the deadlock. It’s not doing damage to me, but I’m not doing much damage to it either. With my spear in its body, it’s not even bleeding much, though the weapon must be causing a significant amount of pain.
Then the kiina changes tactics. Where I’d got used to two wing beats and then a bite, the kiina suddenly claps both wings together behind me, and then lunges forwards. A trap! I realise as I automatically try to dodge backwards and am stopped by the barrier of the wings.
On the other hand, it’s also an opportunity. At the last moment, I drop my mace and summon my knife out of my Inventory. Using my damaged right arm to deflect its toothed maw sideways – not without gaining more injury to that limb – I lunge forwards and bury my knife in its throat. Using my eight points in Power, I yank at the blade viciously, opening as wide a wound in its airway as I can.
When it tries to flinch away, I step with it. This close, it can’t do much: its wings can’t bend that far, nor can its mouth reach me when I’m so close. It tries to lift one foot, maybe to kick me away, but that just puts it off-balance and easy to tip over sideways.
Once on the ground, I throw myself on top of it, stabbing with my knife until it stops moving, though it continues to twitch. Looking up, I see that River has dealt much more skillfully with his opponent. Although he’s not quite done yet, the kiina looks to be on its last legs – well, leg. It’s limping fairly significantly.
Fenrir, however, is still attached to the leg of his own target which, instead of trying to attack, is now attempting to run away. Since this kiina is also limping, I have to guess that at some point Fenrir chose to switch legs. Having two mauled legs is a significant injury to a bipedal creature. I almost wince at the thought.
I’d hoped that Fenrir would be able to keep the third one alive – that’s why I asked him to do his best to subdue it rather than kill it. I knew that we’d most likely have to kill the others; that River has managed to lame his own opponent rather than kill it is testament to how much more skillful he is with a spear than me.
But now the battle is pretty much done, I move eagerly over to River’s opponent. The lizard-man trips the kiina so that it falls heavily to the ground. For a moment, I feel a moral qualm. Should I do this?
They attacked us, I remind myself. We would have been perfectly happy just to get out of the way of the kiinas’ hunt, but they’re the ones who clearly decided that we would make better prey than the bisonisans. They’re the ones who broke off their own hunt to come back to attack us. The law of the jungle is brutal.
I’ll offer them the same choice as I’ve done before, I decide. I know that the snake attacked after but it paid for that. I feel guilty enough over coercing River; I don’t want to add to that guilt with another Bound.
My moral qualms quietened, I crouch and grab the toothed muzzle as it bites at me. The kiina is strong, but it’s already exhausted and at the end of its rope. Looking in its eyes, I invoke my Skill.
“Dominate.”