The Claws of Glora stood firm as the psychic drone slid from their mind as the attacks lessened for a moment. The rats seeming to try and assess the effectiveness of their assault. Taking a moment as the flocks and swarms descended upon her, the gnoll’s eyes narrow and her decision is made. The frenzy fowl needed to die first. The blood of the previous swarms and flocks, and her own exposed wounds were whipping them up into a mad state.

The white, long necked demon birds honked with the furry of the nine hells and flew towards the gnoll without any hesitation. And the gnoll dashed in to meet them. Claws flashed; beaks opened wide to display multitudes of razor teeth. And the dance began. With the source of fresh blood so close, the birds rushed forward, attempting to bowl the monk over.

Nearly fifty birds flew, tackled and dove into the massive frame. Their gaping beaks opened wide but did not meet anything more substantial than fur and light grazes of skin and flesh. But from the remaining swarms, they began to converge and fill in the remaining gaps of air and light around the gnoll.

Buzzing scarabs, slithering and squirming magots, honking hell spawn and whispering and mind stabbing rats all swarmed, trying to attack and rend any scrap of skin, morsel of muscle or bead of blood. Beating back the waves and tides of creatures was no easy task for the monk. It required all their focus and skill. Redirecting lunging bugs and beasts, sending them skidding into the churning storm of flying creatures. Their teeth and claws barely noticeable weapons. Scarabs were crushed and destroyed as they tried to cling and burrow into skin. Maggots failed to even move fast enough to climb and attach to the bare feet of the gnoll. And even the rats’ psionics seemed of little use as their attempts at domination and commands were brushed aside like a drunken man’s slow, lumbering fist.

But the weight and variety of numbers in the blending swarms made it extremely difficult to land or deal serious injuries to any of them. Bugs would slip between her large claws; rats would sense the fear and pain of the other swarms and retreat before they met serious damage. And the frenzied fowl would only grow wilder and harder to deal with as the death of their kin drove them deeper into their demonic honks and bellows.

Scarabs would repeatedly attempt to drive and dig into the exposed back of the gnoll, only to be met with spin that scattered their swarm and dispersed their attacks. Rats would screech and howl into the mind of the gnoll, sending words and broken phrases of command to batter at their mental focus. Only to be rebuffed and crushed when one rat tried to approach too close. While the fowl seemed to grow so mad that they began to attack the air and bodies littering the sands. Commands from their controller were either being ignored or confused by the psychic rats. But none of the creatures seemed capable of harming the gnoll in a meaningful way. Beginning a slow, devastating grinding down of their numbers.

Over and over, the same cycle began to repeat. Attack after attack from the swarms barely required effort to be repelled, parried, or countered by the monk. But the monk’s attacks only would kill a handful of creatures at a time. When the numbers of these swarms were higher than before. It was a true grind of attrition and will.

The first of the masses to fall completely were the fowl. They were creatures of frenzy that would devour and pursue anything that they deemed to be pray, until the last of their flock was dead. Next were the maggots, their disease riddled bites could ruin much of the gnoll’s chances to defeat the swarm if they could successfully infect her. And to achieve this faster, they withdrew a red painted sling bullet and threw it instead of with their sling. Sparking a large, echoing explosion in the midst of the bug swarm.

But in that same moment, the explosion threw just as many of the creatures into the gnoll as were burned and blasted away. With barley time to partially deflect the members of each of the remaining swarms, managed to dig in and violently rip or tare into the monk. The scarabs finally managed to burrow in and lodge multiple of their kin under the skin and fur. The rats managed to bite and claw their way onto her legs and with direct contact, pumped violent, discordant psychic thoughts and images into the gnoll’s mind. While the maggots managed to bite and cling onto the feet of the gnoll. Seeking to burrow in, but only tore free small patches of fur.

With a guttural growl, the gnoll ripped through and eviscerated the maggots next. The rats and scarabs continue to harass and bombard them with mental images and burrowing into the back of the gnoll. Her claws retracted and she began to crush, stomp and sweep the maggots into their version of the afterlife and hell. Removing them from the contest as the rats seemed to grow better and more determined to bombard them with bites and direct mental and physical assaults.

But with the extinction of the maggots, the rats were the next major threat. They psychic stabs were threatening to break their focus and concentration. The grind and dance of barely effective attacks began once again. Rats are killed one by one. Snatched from the air, or stomped into the sand as they lunge. As the numbers of the rats fall below half, the largest of the swarm launched a surprise attack. One biting into the ankle of the gnoll. Staggering her for just a moment for two more to lunge and deliver powerful psychic and physical stabs that drew a pained grown from her throat.

But the monk did not waver. Crushing, slashing and directed slashes. Until the near three hundred rats were whittled down to barely five. Without a single moment of hesitation, as blood trailed their steps and whirls, the final rats dropped one by one until the final two were held in the hands of the gnoll. One was crushed and sliced as claws curled in on it. And the other had its very ki and lifeforce drained to refuel the gnoll. Finally, finally, the rats were done after delivering massive damage that left them staggering and faltering as their mental defenses were constantly under assault. Leaving only the scarabs to remove.

The mind-numbing buzzing was finally silenced, as the gnoll reached back and painfully crushed and extracted the remaining bugs who had burrowed into her flesh. Her body spasmed in pain as she had to crush them directly over her spine where they had burrowed completely into her flesh. With the last of the enemies dead, the doors began to open again. As she panted, pain and open wounds slowly leaking her life blood.

The throbbing in her skull was making it hard to focus as barely twenty minutes had passed. And the gnoll was second guessing if they were going to hold off on the potion in ten minutes or not. It was going to be difficult to make it to the hour mark, but she steeled her nerve and with the steadiness of her monk teachers and mother. From the depths of three doors came beings not of flesh, but magical life and iron. From the left came a third flock of flying creatures. But instead of feather and flesh, they were composed of leather and parchment. Living books numbering in the one to two hundred.

From the right were a series of flying and floating weapons with no wielders or users. Four large halberds and a matching set of flying knives slipped under the opening door and began to dash towards the monk as they moved to the center once again. And from the central tunnel came two forms of full plate armor pushing two slowly rolling ballista. The two sets of armor stepped in front of the ballista and began to slowly approach the gnoll.

The Claws of Glora let out a low sigh and pulled their sling from their shoulders. And extracted three plane lead bullets. With the release of their breath, the monk would erupt into sprint that eclipsed both the flocks of flying foes. Her movements followed the trail of the bullets as they zipped through the air from one release after another. The projectiles slammed into and ricohed between the two suits of armor. While the third glanced off and left barely a mark. The other two however, left deep indents into the armor. With her body bent low, ki coursed through her limbs before she leaped up and came down on the two suits with claws extended. The suit on her left brought its shield up and managed to redirect the strike. While the one on the right lost its head, the helm completely ripped from its set and straps, knocked clear and came to a stop once it crashed into the wall beyond.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Before the suits of armor could mount a retaliatory strike, the hundreds of books came crashing in like a hurricane of paper and ink. Their strikes were light, but innumerable. The suits of armor both attempted to charge and slam themselves against the monk. Crushing them between their metal weight. Only to be side stepped. When suddenly, the flocks of books separated, divided as if cut by an invisible blade. And creating an opening for the animated ballista to unleash their bolts enchanted with fire.

The monk ducked down, letting the burning projectiles scorch the air above them. Only for in that moment, for the floating weapons to erupt from the flock of books to fly and circle around them, unleashing nearly a dozen slashes and stabs. Forcing the gnoll to deflect and knock the blades and knives off their arcs. Barely missing with inches to spare.

Making a split-second decision, the monk lunged with their arms extended. Both arms sinking deep through the chest and crushing the central runes that brought the sets to life. Pushing the now lifeless armor forward, she intercepts the knives as they sought to pierce her chest. And spun to meet the halberds. She plucked one from the air and slammed its wooden shaft against the floor. Sending a long crack up it before she needed to let go of it.

The monk plucked the two of the leading books of the flock, and used them to beat away the dozens that tried to overwhelm her defenses. When the book flock opened again, separating to either side of her, she ducked yet again, barely missing the ballista bolts yet again. Bringing the captured books up, the gnoll intercepted a speeding dagger that was aimed at the nape of her neck. The halberds and knives spun around her in a wild dance, but none threatened her seriously.

Whoever was controlling or instructing the halberds were not experienced with them, the gnoll could tell as they grasped the shattered shaft once again. And with a mighty swing brought it down with a horrific creaking shatter on another. Breaking the one in their hands and leaving the struck weapon in a similar state as the first.

Just as she was preparing to knock away the books once again, a click and then twang of the ballistae had the gnoll throw themselves to the side, dodging the flaming bolts, but throwing themselves directly into the flock of books and remaining halberds. With a sudden spring up, the monk began to deflect and catch the books, knocking the long weapons out of the way, shattering one with barely a flick of their claws to shift its line of attack. The knives followed soon after but had difficulty finding their target in the mass of dark brown leather and fur.

With barely a moment to breathe from fending off attacks, the gnoll began to focus on the blinding flocks of books. Ripping them from spine to parchment with a whirlwind of claws. Their makeup barely offered any resistance to her strikes. And in moments she had opened enough space to breathe just for a moment. Shifting her stance to full standing height, and turning her side towards the ballistae, she dodged between their enchanted bolts. Leaving not a hair on her fur singed.

A smile broke across the gnoll’s face as memories tried to rise to distract them. Only to be pushed down, in favor of the lessons those memories instilled in them. To never stop moving. Never allow your foe a clear shot. And remain in a state of constant vigilance and alertness. With barely any expended effort, the halberds’ heavy falls were ducked. The flying knives were slid under and around like they were nothing but a child’s water balloon.

A soft chuckle of amusement escaped the lips of the monk. Her mirth was not the same as the demonic rage that burned deep within. But the satisfaction of a fighter who could see their path to total victory. Without any delay, she threw herself into the fray of the book flock. Killing dozens in a few seconds of furious blows. With barely two dozen books remaining, the bolts of fire were launched without care for the few remaining books. Only for the one of them to be grasped in the hand of the gnoll as it pulsed with ki. They spun with the force of the bolt and redirected it directly into the books beside them. And erupted into a miniature inferno that consumed and set alight the remaining books. Burning them to ash as they collapsed atop the corpses of their once living brethren.

With the two remaining halberds descending upon them, the monk rolled back on their heels. Missing the twin descending strikes, only to release a flurry of strikes on them. Shattering one before she ducked down under the soaring stabs of the knives. When the next pair of bolts launched, and then were avoided, the monk broke out into a wide grin. As the end was near.

The last of the halberd, followed by one of the knives were shattered under the ki reinforced fists and claws of the untouched gnoll. On the next pass of blades, two of the knives were simply plucked from the air and were shattered when slammed into each other. As the final attempted to stab into her stomach, it was plucked as well, and used to deflect the shots for the ballista, shattering under the intense force.

“Oh, oh Madra’s, hehehe, Madra’s Merciful Mound, that was, exhilarating.”

***

Glora chuckled softly as they watched their daughter casually catch and deflect the quickly firing bolts of fire. The pride and joy of the artificer known a Grump Youl, his animated arsenal, was dismantled with ease by the Claws of Glora.

“You’se arrogant cunt... Thats what you’se get for trying to copy my’se designs.” The goblin could tell that the bolts of fire were based off some of their enchanted projectiles, from the same generation of experimentation as the sling bullets. “You’se can make you’se own runes... Didn’t have to pilfer mine and upscale it like that.” They continued to mutter as memories filled their eyes.

Hours upon hours of agility, deflection and dodging training. Two furry children, then three, and eventually five different forms crossing a series of wooden poles and connecting ropes. Glora perched in a rocking chair, a sling shot in their hands, a pile of throwing daggers and axes on either side. And their children dancing across the poles, trying to avoid the eminent pain and humiliation of getting hit by small balls packed with spices and irritating agents.

Dagger would practice their deflection and returning projectile skills. While Tanny would attempt to hide and return projectiles caught by the furry monk. While Spoke would practice their rection casts of spells like shield or swatting them out of the air in a parry. And practicing his casting while moving across difficult terrain. The younglings would practice their martial skills. Though the lass was much, much better at it. With the lad mainly building up his ability to concentrate on his spells despite being under attack.

It brought a chuckle to their lips that drew their children’s eyes from the pit. And Spoke groaned as he realized what their matriarch was remembering.

“Those damned poles...” His voice was filled with the depths of loathing for a task that only those who had been forced to endure more than their fair share of its down sides could muster.

“Yesss, an excellent warm up for training daysss.” Tanny joined her mother in chuckling. Shrugging when her brother tried to stab her with a glare.

“I will not suffer that torture again. I will not.” Spoke began to mutter. Grabbing his rapier’s hilt as if his momma was going to start pelting him with dreaded stink and pepper balls. And all three of them knew that the sadistic goblin was tempted.

But the elderly goblin only smiled and shook their head, soothing their son with a reassuring pat on the leg. But before Glora could speak next, the loud explosion of magical fire and shattering of wood drew their attention back to the pit below.

The gnoll had crushed the last of the animated weapons with its own ammunition. And was walking back towards the center as five stone tunnels began to open. From the dark depths behind them, a series of howls erupted. And from each rushed a pack of a dozen wolves. Each of a different coat color. And to the surprise of everyone, one of the packs was not in fact wolves. They were a pack of silver hyenas.

“Well, ain’t that an interesting choice... But this will be the last of the simple waves.” The goblin let out with a sigh. Knowing the truth within their bones. “The damn pup even destroyed the animated objects in five minutes. Now they’se will have to wait for a potion.” The goblin said with a smirk and rye shake of their head.