Darkness: Chapter 3 - Monsters

His fist shuddered with the impact, shockwaves running up to his shoulder for all the force he had used. Though he could not see what he’d hit, he could defiantly feel the tusk and pig snout reeling away from his hand. The sound of staggered hoof steps and the clatter of a fall quickly followed.

The swine only saw an old Orc, easy pickings for hungry hands. He didn’t take note of the Scars, they never do.

He settled his stance, drawing an arm back ready to strike again should the Quilboar jump up. But he didn’t, instead it settled into pained snorts and groans... Narrowing his eyes, that happened to be near useless, he strained his hearing to catch glimpse of anything else income—

“HRaaa--!”

Chomp!

It bit down, hard, having leapt at him from the right side. His right shoulder roared in pain, the feeling of gushing blood bursting forth under the onslaught of mean, desperate fangs filled his mind. It was on his back, clawing for a firm grip on his chest with its feet purchased around his hips. It was desperate for a meal.

The old Blademaster through his fist up to meet its nose, but found only dark empty space, its head had swung back before burying itself back into his shoulder for a second sitting. Then the other one struck.

Small, claw like hands wrapped around his ankle while teeth sunk into his left calf muscle, tearing, pulling, rending desperately for the smallest morsel. Thoughts ran through his head, brief and useless, ways to escape, to throw them off. But with the complete dark, no answer from the spirits and none of his weapons it was as if all his skills had been thrown out the window. He thrust his right hand for the face of the ankle biter and the left around to gouge the one on his backs eyes, they may be blind down here but it would still hurt all the same.

Too slow! You’re moving too slow!

”Off of me you dammed animals! Off!! He roared, his hands squeezing, twisting and digging into the soft flesh of their faces, nails finding eyes and digits finding lean tender muscle to compress with desperate, savage force.

The smaller one yielded first, releasing its grip from his leg, squirming as it clawed at his arm, pleading for it to release its face. The larger one on his back however only seemed to grow more ferocious as he tightened his grip of the junior’s skull.

Splash!

Now what!?

The assailant leapt off him, scampering toward the sound of shifting water by the central pool, so in turn he released the other attacker with a forceful push in the same direction. With staggered steps back, ensuring his footing and waving hands around wide to check for space, he listened and listened well.

Snarling, splashing, growling, snorting and the unmistakable sound of skin being dragged across stone. What where they doing? What could be in the water that was more important to cannibals than fresh meat-

Ancestors no...

As his back came up against the cold surface of the cavern wall, realisation washed over him. Why fight for fresh meat when you can just take dead meat? His stomach churned at the thought, that somewhere ahead of him in the deep dark beyond sight, they were fighting over the bodies of the two murdered trolls.

“Mine! This one is mine! Snort, snort, Mine!” The Quilboar wailed, seeming to have darted straight for the easy pickings once his snout had been cracked. The scuffling continued, the sounds of frenzied pulling, biting and rabid tearing of feasting. Krogon stared into the blackness, he could see nothing! A miracle such as it was.

”Get ya own one piggy! Off!” Came a trolls voice, with the sound of kicking and snarling. He and the Quilboar must of been fighting over one body, while the other two fought over the second. His heart raced, thinking, always thinking desperately of a way out...

Can they see me plain as day down here? Am I sitting a duck!?

Waving a hand in front of his eyes he found nothing. Only the pitch black of this abyss. He’d have to rely on other senses...

Bones cracked, the frenzy of the feast increased. His stomach turned at the thought of their gore desperate barbarism, and his rage peaked...

”You animals will pay for that! Pay!” He roared defiantly into the darkness, though all he got in return was the muffled noise of laughter and the slurp of flesh being consumed.

”Making friends then new one?” came a bemused, grizzled voice from close above. He froze, looking up. He could see nobody, only the dark suffocating his vision, but he knew they could see him.

He was prey.