A roar that shook the mountains and broke the spirits of our party bounced off the jagged rocks.

A moral-shattering screech shattered the souls of the surviving party members.

Only the three of us in the rear guard appeared undisturbed.

That damn rock is really fortifying our wills, said a disbelieving Robert.

This damn rock is the only reason we haven't jumped off the edge, retorted Ronald.

He was right, I thought.

The monster began swinging its enormous limbs in arcs, sweeping the remaining party members off and to their deaths on the jagged spires below.

I had to act quickly if anyone was going to survive.

From my pouch, I produced my throwing knives dipped in the venom of an ancient cobra.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

A gift from the villagers.

A gift I didn't want to waste this early into my journey.

Another screech, another swipe, and another handful of party members went to their death.

I had no choice.

Snapping out of my hands, I had sent every single knife at the monster with every intention to kill.

They struck, but the initial damage wasn't enough to draw its attention.

The poison is powerful but not immediate.

"We have to distract it until the poison renders it immovable," I shouted as I began my move forward.

"You crazed bastard," muttered Robert as he produced his Great Anvils Hammer and began reading a powerful swing.

"Just give me time, and get ready to jump out when I say so."

"The stone is saying to get it close."

Ronald spoke as he flung the rune at me as I ran towards the beast.

In my hands the rune began to hum and vibrate with power, with a yearning, it wanted me closer to the beast.

Close it is then, I whispered as I sprinted full speed ahead.

A blur in the wind.