This choice: Pretend to obey to get close, fight the creature head on! • Go Back...Chapter #8Pretend to obey to get close. by: Unknown Your mind is screaming at you, asking questions that can't be answered.
What if he sees through your act? What if he's a stronger physical combatant than you? What if you've been exposed to his scent for too long already?
You wonder if he can hear your heart beating in your chest; you're pretty certain it's echoing through the entire mountain range at this point.
Is the sheen of anxious sweat giving your intentions away? Is it true that monsters can smell the scent of your fear?
The truth is that none of it matters. You filter out the noise of your fears, and you focus on your goal.
Your heart doesn't slow its breakneck pace, but your body never hesitates; you take one step closer, and then another. You walk towards the monster with a relaxed and steady gait. Your ears focus on the sound of his wings, and the memory of their position.
From what you've seen, each backstroke brings them up to the same position, and every downstroke carries them in the same arc. It seems to happen automatically and without thought; hovering there to him must be like standing would be to you -- completely habitual, automatic, and predictable.
It's easy to hit a target if you know where it will be, and monster or not, your village's steel is harder than bone. You're going to have to put up with the stench of his toxic toes for a moment longer, but after that...
In the wake of being toyed with, you allow yourself the satisfaction of your anger. You visualize your weapon ruining one of the creature's wings. You can practically feel the impact of your rod and the crunch of the delicate bones. It's hard not to speed up your pace.
You've covered most of the distance by the time another gust of warm air washes over you. You expected the smell to be stronger, but you vastly underestimated how much it was diminishing over the distance. This wave of air is accompanied by a wave of nausea that leaves you dizzy and swaying. The moist heat feels like it clings to your hair, your face, your mask. It feels like it's waiting to seep into your nostrils and flood your lungs; like it's intentionally smothering you into submission. (MP - 5)
Your reaction to his scent is completely involuntary, and not at all subtle. You're worried your revulsion is going to give you away. Instead, he laughs as if he had expected your reviled groans and glazed over stare. His laughter resonates in your ears and echoes in your head. Instead of the anger you expect to feel, you want to laugh with him, even though he's laughing at your pain. You want to apologize for your rudeness. (MP - 1)
"They aren't that bad, are they?" His nostrils move with his breaths as he sniffs at the air.
Thankfully, your unwelcome mirth fades away, when he speaks again. Anger quickly fills the void it left behind.
You force yourself to wear the foreign, jovial smile that crept across your face in order to keep up the charade. Your teacher would be ashamed if she saw you now, and you feel pangs of guilt. You feed them to the flames of your anger.
It was going to feel amazing to hit him.
For the first time since your training began years ago, you understand the full extent of the threat of a monsters' scent. You wrestle your consciousness back from the smothering grip of his noxious aroma and find that you've instinctively stumbled to within striking distance of your target.
Though you planned to strike his wing on the backbeat, your timing is off. You're unwilling to test if you can remain conscious through another concentrated lungful of his feet, so you abandon the plan and bring your rod down in a flashing arc towards his nearest wing.
The creature yelps in surprise and you feel the force of your blow reverberate up your weapon, into your wrists. (Monster HP -2) You don't feel the break you had hoped for, but he whirls into the earth, giving you time to reset your feet and strike again. Your rod flashes, finding light in spite of the cloudy night. It connects with a meaty thud and a yowl of pain as he pushes himself up to his hands and knees. (Monster HP -2)
He rolls to his back, but you waste no time, you bring the weapon back up and drive down with adrenaline-fueled anger. This time he catches the rod with his feet. Before you can curse yourself for letting anger get the better of you, his clawed digits wrap around the weapon and he yanks you forward with powerful legs.
Your body lurches off balance, and you feel yourself start to fall. His free foot reaches up to grab your throat, but you twist away. His claws shred your mask and dig into your cheek underneath; blood begins to well up and bead along the scratch. (HP-1)
His inhuman screech of triumph pierces the night, and you realize the implications of what had just happened. The winged beast pulls back his wings, unfurling them awkwardly in pained and panicked fits along the ground. He raises his shoulders off of the ground and you hear the air rushing towards you before you can see the edges of his wings in your peripheral vision.
Well, fuck.
Current Status:
HP: 23/30
MP: 76/100. (5 can be regained from restful sleep. )
Gold: 0
Inventory/Equipment:
Steel Rod -- Held by both yourself and your opponent.
Tattered Foot-Scented Cloth
Foot-Scented Traveler's Clothes
Traveler's Boots
Glowing Pendant - - Grants 50 MP if your MP would hit 0.
Monster's Status:
HP: -4, Mildly Injured.
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