Garons Secret Weapon (2/2)

Swaying away before he realized what he was doing, the skill saved him from a rear attack.

And this time the thing was far enough out of the ground that he got a look at it before it retracted.

It looked like a brownish snake. Or perhaps a tentacle. Parts of it shown in the dim light, and he thought they might be teeth or spines or even eyes, but it was gone before he could focus.

Gone for the second but not forever, he knew. He chanted “Riposte,” and started dancing in place, trying to drum the ground and draw attention away from the now clustering group behind him. They were dealing with their own attackers, and from the rate of heals and mends that Fluffbear was chanting, things were in hand.

He was surprised when the ground a bit further away erupted, and the thing attacked downward, splitting his hat and sending a red '38' up. The second stroke aimed for his neck but he parried that, and no damage got through. It was strong, but his armor was good enough to handle glancing hits. He knew that he just had to wait for the right opportunity...

It took a full minute, as the others fought behind him, Apollyon churning up the earth, Dracosnack flaming parts of the terrain to keep it from popping up in strategic sections, and everyone else shooting or chopping whenever they caught motion. It took a full minute of taking hits and losing HP, feeling his hide part and his stitches burst. But he had the measure of it, and eventually it slipped up.

Your Guard Stance skill is now level 26!

Your Riposte skill is now level 3!

He stabbed it clean through with his claws, clapped his other paw over it, and PULLED.

The thing wasn't expecting that. And as he hauled brown, fleshy rope out of the ground he yelled “Buttons! Shoot this!”

BLAM!

Instantly he fell on his rump as all the tension vanished, and he was left holding a bleeding brown rope that had once been a part of something larger.

The thing made no noise, and the wounded part of it that wasn't in Threadbare's paws retreated underground, so quickly that it splattered more blood around the area.

And just like that, the attack was done. Tensed and waiting, the rest of the group panted, staring around... but the ground was still, save for the parts that were on fire, and the stone Apollyon had pulled up to armor himself.

“Mend Golem,” Threadbare said, clambering to his feet.

You have healed yourself for 228 HP!

Your Mend Golem skill is now level 73!

“Wow,” Fluffbear said. “It didn't like that.”

“I think we are dealing with an it,” Glub said, padding up to stare at the thing in Threadbare's hands. “Those were like, coordinated attacks. The timing was way too close. And if it had been multiple things, they wouldn't have all run away when you got one of them.”

“But what IS it?” Fluffbear squeaked, trying to urge Mopsy to go nearer. Mopsy was having none of it though, growling low in her throat and backing away.

“I'm not sure, but it's not sticking around,” Threadbare said. And indeed it seemed to be melting, leaking away into liquid and dripping onto the ground in a mess of brown goo and red blood. “Appraise?”

Skill failed! The target is not an object!

“No good,” Threadbare said. “It's definitely a creature of some sort.”

Whatever it was— whatever it had been, it lost all solid form in a matter of seconds. The puddle left behind offered no clues, and was quite sticky and unpleasant, adhering to Threadbare's fur like chewing gum that had been lurking under a desk and waiting for a victim. It took a full Clean and Press to get it off his paws.

The brown parts of it did remain. Those turned out to be dirt. Whatever it was was sticky enough that it coated itself in earth as it moved through the stuff.

Without answers, the group turned to resume the journey.

“Well, it knows we're here now,” Glub said. “Might as well sing to replenish some sanity, so y'all can do your heals.”

“Sing as we move,” Fluffbear decided. “It can still attack us, and we might as well be covering ground if it's going to be doing that.”

“Glub,” Dracosnack said, descending onto Apollyon's shoulder. “Do your songs happen to restore your own, mmm... pool energies?”

“They used to. Then they didn't. Then they did again. Right now they don't,” Glub said, throwing his hands up. “It could change literally in a second and I wouldn't know 'till it hit me. Nurph keeps getting wishy washy on this shit. Sometimes when I'm right in the middle of stuff.”

“Stupid god,” Buttons muttered.

“Yorgum says he means well, but he's kind of a twerp,” Fluffbear said, eyes scanning the ground, looking for movement. “Come on, let's go!”

The thing did attack them twice more as they went. And each time they formed up and beat it back. It was strong and absurdly fast, but it had no real armor to it. Even Apollyon was able to cleave through an incautious tendril, much to his glee.

That glee was tempered as the trees started to thin before them. Thin and reveal a structure, rising from the wilderness.

It was surprisingly intact, though definitely weathered. Holes showed in the wrought-stone wall, and metal struts showed in the higher towers, but those towers still stood. It had been a keep or even a small castle in the past, that much was certain. Now?

Now it was simply a ruin, with the wind blowing and whistling through its remains, the gates open, and a feeling that it wasn't as abandoned as it seemed to be. There was a sense of something holding its breath, something vast and malevolent and unimpressed watching them. It had been there long before them. It would continue on afterward. This was the truth of whatever had made a home of this crumbling stone and that truth had borne the weight of decades, if not centuries.

“You know,” Threadbare said into the silence. “It didn't escape my notice that this creature only attacked us after we had gotten a good hour into the forest. I'm sure it could have struck before then, but it didn't want us escaping its reach.”

“That's creepy!” Fluffbear squeaked. “But it's a good point. This creature is smart, or cunning enough at what it does. We can't underestimate it.”

“And it's worth pointing out that we're not here to kill it, or whatever else is in there,” Threadbare said. “We're looking for survivors to rescue. That's all. Everyone ready?”

They weren't, but most of them nodded anyway.

Later they would regret this, stepping across the cleared meadow and into that crumbling ruin. Later they would regret not testing it a bit more, or doing more recon with the tools they had at hand.

But in the here and now, they did what many nameless and dead heroes, villains, and travelers had done before them, and walked in, knowing that certain death lay before them if they made a mistake.

They were wrong.

It wasn't before them.

It was all around them.

And before the night was out, they would learn the dark and hungry secret of the Forest of the Final Boss.