Advent Stories: Maneater
9 months ago
Saul | WarbossKurgan
The barren stretch of beach radiated heat. Scattered detritus that marked the tideline, cooked silently under the glaring sun. A sandpiper, hopping from one scorched foot to the other, moved down the beach investigating the washed up remains. It paused at one large pile, and gave an inquisitive peck. Whatever it was, it made no response. Cautiously, the small bird hopped closer and pecked again. A massive hand, covered in thick gray skin, swung down and smashed it. Idly, the bird was scooped up and shoved into the mouth of the unconscious ogor.
---
The ship limped across the sea. Despite the best work of its crew, it still listed strongly to one side. In the end, they just set the sails out away from the mast to provide some degree of counter-balance. It would have been impossible to sail back up the river and seek aid there, so they made their way southwards once more. They would try to repair the ship once they reached the isles. Until that time, they would just carry on.
Hrothgut stood at the prow, arguing with the Paymaster. So many of their company had died in the attack, it only seemed right to the maneater that he was entitled to a greater share of the profits. The arrogant little human, however, had dug in his heels and would not alter the contract any further. It did not help that Hrothgut had refused not only to pay for the cannon he ripped from the ship’s gun deck, but to even return it. It was chained securely in the storage room he had seized as his quarters, surrounded by a half-dozen bear traps. Hrothgut chuckled when he thought about the apprentice gunner that had been first sent to retrieve it. He had stopped listening to the Paymaster, and was looking forward to the leftovers that awaited him in his cabin.
A shriek from the stern of the ship broke him out of his daydream. Hrothgut gave the Paymaster a final glower, then turned to look to the helm. It was deserted. The wheel spun slowly in the sudden silence. A few of the crew ran up the stairs and looked down over the rails. Another cry sounded from the far side of the ship, snapping the sailors around again. A single man stood at the rail, pointing down at the water. A dark shape, deeper blue against the dark waters, moved laconically beneath them.
The ship held its breath. A few men edged back from the pointing sailor, careful not to make a sudden move.
With a sound like thunder and a torrent of white-blue water, the shape burst from the water. A massive scaled head soared upwards and lashed out, swallowing the terrified sailor whole. Everyone stood still as water dripped down the black scales of the merwyrm. It turned its head slowly, baleful eyes surveying the crowd. Then, as one, the mercenaries burst into action. Seizing weapons, the stupider ones charged across the deck. Most never got close enough to use them. The dragon struck out viciously, biting clean through the lucky ones. Others it simply battered, its armoured head swinging with the force of an avalanche, sending them tumbling into the cold water with broken limbs and heavy armour. The few that reached the beast swung wildly, only to have their blows rebound from the hardened scales of the wyrm. They did not last much longer.
At last, some organized resistance began to appear. The Paymaster’s bodyguard formed up around the fat little man, keeping their distance from the beast. A few blocks of spearmen, however, succeeded at holding the dragon back. Kept at spear’s length, it was slowly pushed back towards the ocean. Snatching up the few bodies that remained on the deck, the beast at last turned and began to swim away, appearing content with its meal.
Hrothgut still had not moved. His contract said nothing about dragons, and the Paymaster had been quite clear that he would not alter it now.
One of the Paymaster’s bodyguards looked up at Hrothgut. The man was young, arrogant, newly promoted from the common ranks. With a smirk, he called out to the maneater.
“What’s the matter, ogor? Did the dragon scare you? Some help you were!”
Hrothgut reached out and grabbed the young officer by the front of his uniform. Taking a large step, Hrothgut spun with all his strength and flung the man out towards the water. His scream rose and fell through the air like a bottle rocket, until with a heavy thud, he hit the retreating merwyrm in the side of the head.
With a bellow that somehow managed to sound more surprised than angry, the wyrm whipped its body around in the water. Snatching up the mercenary in its jaws with a casual ease, its massive body coiled and surged through the water, picking up speed. It bore down on the boat once more, its sea-dark form dipping down beneath the surface, leaving only the surging wall of white-whipped wake to mark its ever greater speed. With a mighty crash, it hit the side of the ship.
The impact hammered the ship, knocking it sideways through the water and sending man and ogor alike staggering on its deck. With torturous, splintering cracks, the already weakened frame of the ship gave way. Water poured inwards. Tumbling masts smashed apart crew and mercenaries alike. Feathered splinters spat outwards, scything through flesh and making men look like bloody porcupines. Those that were spared the worst ran for the small launches along the ship’s sides. Fools. They would never get them free in time. Hrothgut could already smell the burning powder below. The ogor tightened the straps holding his massive hammer fast against his back, gave one last grunt in the direction of the Paymaster, then dove into the waters. The last he saw of the man, he was desperately trying to unlock the chain that bound him to the heavy pay chest.
Beneath the waves, amidst the falling blood and debris, Hrothgut’s head whipped back and forth, peering out intently. At last he saw it, a darker blur slipping off into the distance. Pulling himself forward with mighty strokes, he began to swim after the merwyrm.
---
Hrothgut blearily opened his eyes and surveyed the deserted beach. He had swam for hours, following the direction of the retreating merwyrm. He could not remember reaching the island. Standing shakily, he looked around, idly pulling feathers out from between his teeth. Checking to make sure his hammer was secure, he adjusted his gutplate and started walking down the beach. As the fog of the previous night began to lift, he remembered a cavern somewhere nearby. He knew he would find the wyrm there. He was not sure how he knew, but he did. It seemed as though his gut was pulling him towards it, and the maneater always trusted his gut.
