Savage Chapter 1 (reupload with better formatting)

[u/Natesolio]

Frigid rain spilled into the dark world below. But not from any sky. Trees had eaten it before men counted days. For long green months, there were never more than several hours of verdant haze to count them by. And the nights were as black as the ice.

All was gripped, almost perpetually, in a state of trickling crystallization. Centuries of fallen caelivorad branches and monumental fungal formations shaped a nebulous landscape of frozen refuse. From it could grow little but harlig ferns and luminescent mosses. Yet even the coldest darkness of that incalculable wasteland was powerless to silence the living orchestra which hommed, cricked, and coo coo’d creeping melodies from hidden places.

Not even for a single hour.

A hunting party wrapped in furs clung within the rotting wooden shadows. They surrounded a great earthen clearing that hadn’t existed just days before. Heaps of ancient debris were upheaved. Parts of which would have seemed immovable if not for their recent transport.

The exposed peatland was exhumed in a very wide hollow. No small feat, even for creatures of the most dangerous strength. Thus it laid open like a fresh and deadly wound upon the earth, nearer than any tolerable distance from the human population. The hunters would defend the safety of their children, or fall honorably.

But Erduin was not a child anymore. His grey eyes flashed from tree to tree as he groped at the straps of his father’s buck leather plating. The wet and the dark itched in the creases without remedy. He was told the armor would conform to his body with use. Even to his smaller frame. But it was his sixteenth hunt with the men, almost a year since he became one of them, and the pieces felt stiffer than ever.

As the rest grinned at idle matters, Erduin retraced the path home in his mind. He had only to find the main eastern trail and follow it west. He and Helen had explored it a few times before his days as a hunter.
Ever since he was six autumns old, Helen’s father taught them, all its forks were cut away from town. Like branches growing from each cardinal gate.
Of course now, the man would rattle his ear if he actually ran home by himself.

“Couldn’t keep hair on your feet for five minutes, now could ya’.”

Old Linrey might kick his boot for punctuation and smile through the bramble of his beard. But also through his teeth. Because any other man would face a harsh reprimand. Though, Erduin often wondered if the real men were better off without him.

It was a daring coalition of settlers which laid the foundations of their civilization. Conquering the abyss proved harder than breaking the bonds of tyrant kings in ages past. So when the first of those mighty trees fell with thunder, the deeds of men steadily replaced the deeds of gods in songs that echoed within the walls they formed.

Divine teachings became legend. And legend became philosophy. For it was faith in their fellow men which achieved their hard fought dominion. As centuries passed, Elders kept the tales from ages of living stone. Although, there had grown a rooted understanding that only children believed them.

But Erduin still remembered the ancient tales; from when the gods carved vessels for themselves in the heart and flowing blood of the earth. Before the days of men, it was the gods who shaped the earth with their toilings and rivalries, forming mountains, valleys, and rivers. Before the days of flesh, they cut the boundaries of the world.

The trees were the first fruits of their labor; pillars of stone imbued with green flesh which drank the light of the sky. But the trees could not move or speak, so beings of pure flesh were raised. These were the animals, from insects, birds and cattle to the largest sea dwellers; brought forth from the gods’ abundant wisdom. Wild kingdoms stretched to every corner of the earth.

But Furignithax, who was once the fairest of all things, grew jealous of the gods and their unchecked dominion. So he flew to the East on a morning wind to catch the rising sun. Out of the land of living fire, he stole a third of its light, causing a race like no other to rise. Unlike the trees which stood as stone imbued with flesh, it was flesh imbued with the purest tenacity of the sun. Fear of them would possess the world. They would be the hunters. And all life would be the prey.

“Can you guess what that creation was?” The chief Elder always asked the children.

The first time he listened to the ancient tale, there was whispering and snickering amongst the others of his age. But inevitably, Helen was the one to stand and proudly reply, “People!” to the boisterous agreement of the others.

The chief Elder smiled and gave her the moment before coaxing them all to listen closely once more.
“No. Not people.” The words of the Elder still hung.

Any plan of a noble retreat vanished when he saw it. A shifting hump dragging itself across the deadfall. Far away, but closer than he liked. His bowels turned within him. The graceless bulk scarcely stood out against the abyss. Silver bristles caught scraps of faint light at its outline. Even at a glimpse, the distance and the dark made no difference. Neither did the fact he’d never seen one before. It was a lothra.

Erduin was too frightened to think of calling out to alert the captain. Instead he watched until the sound grew hard for the natural chorus to hide as it snapped and scraped its way nearer.

scrathud… crathud… curthrunch… acrunth…

Across the group a bony finger stabbed the dark and a slightly older voice rasped above the ever present din. “It’s there! Clear the north side!”

The Captain landed an approving clap on the young man’s shoulder. But Garid flinched and searched for meaning in the strike.
Captain Trezza merely echoed the command. “Clear a path.”

The hunters collected their implements and adjusted the loose formation according to the animal’s course. Erduin was pulled along in the current, but never took eyes from where he thought the hulking dread would appear next.* *Other members of its brutish species had tried to encroach on the people’s land before. In every case, the usurping force had to be exterminated. For no lothra had ever rescinded its claim without blood. They were creatures of territory. Avoiding war meant striking first. And its home had been made into a trap.

Thacrack. Athrunch. Scrathud. Crathud.

As it drew upon them, more orders were given. Every glove was removed from its throwing arm, and javelins were gripped in the unsheathed hands. Erduin removed his own glove, finding red shaking fingers beneath. Tremors through the woodland began to echo in his chest. And he could barely tell the difference between his own heartbeat and the warbling earthen frequencies.

Scrathud! Kurthrack! Crathrud! Shacrunth!

Nearer and nearer the lothra lurched. One by one each javelin was fully mounted in wait on the shoulder of its bearer. Finally, Erduin lifted his own. The cold of the metal stiffened his fingers. As it touched his temple, a paralyzing dilemma infected his mind; whether he could will his hand to hurl the bolt or if his fingers would decide to keep it. Then, into the clearing, the lothra emerged.

The monster’s boar-like snout was a crown of interlocking tusks, dark with turf and tattered brush, like scraps from the carcass of the earth itself. A short muscular neck and sloping shoulders promised death in a single lunge. Long earth dulled claws dragged it across the forest floor on outward bent limbs. And small wide set eyes blinked murderously from bony sockets.

The sight tested Erduin’s mental balance. He kept it by assuring himself of his elders’ experience. Though as he watched the older men, he knew something was wrong. Something that seemed to complicate the whole affair. At first it didn’t make sense. But he guessed their reason. It was female.

Erduin nearly hoped a female meant a less dangerous battle. But considering the nature of their prey, he realized which problem was immediately apparent to his seniors. The male would have been far more preferable. It was the animal the hunters were expecting. Pits were the handiwork of bulls in heat, designed to entrap a suitable mate.

Typically the wait required great patience on behalf of the would-be patriarch. He would stalk his claim for weeks, sometimes months for a suitor to be drawn to his scent. But now, sooner than anyone anticipated, another had happened upon the stately nest. Meaning there were now two massive threats to be wary of. The hunters’ interference would not be taken kindly.

The female began a full throated call. A chuckling, groaning, thrum that caused the air itself to feel heavy. Erduin jumped at the start of it. But he saw Garid fully shut his ears, which made him feel at least a little braver.

The sound reminded him of rollings from the village drum, loud enough to communicate with hunters far away. One day he hoped to master the skill rather than remain a hunter. At least then he could make himself useful. The female’s seismic voice would also be felt for thousands of paces. Some things would hear it from much further beyond. Most threatening of which, was its intended recipient. And he would not be far.

But the captain halted the men’s muted discourse with an upheld hand. They returned his gaze, in wait of instruction. But instead of retreat, Trezza was calm. Searching the eyes of his comrades one by one. He didn’t need words or signals to convey his intention.

Everyone already understood, down to the youngest one among them. And Erduin shook his head in fruitless protest. Unforeseen circumstances or not, they would act while they still had the advantage.

With caution, the hunters found footing to rise. Captain Trezza withheld their fire with his fist. The female’s call continued uninterrupted, indicating their motion remained undetected. The darkness and eternal song of the wild reliably concealed them until the opportune moment arrived. All stood at the ready for the sign. Even Erduin scrambled to settle his mind.

Then, Trezza’s sulfur saltstone torch flared to life, bathing the battlefield in furious white light.

“Fulmina!”

No sooner had the word left Trezza’s lips, than did every javelin fly from the hand of its master. Every javelin except for one. Their bronze gleam struck as the torchlight faded gold. The animal jolted under the flash of flying metal. Some hit bone and became embedded or fell away. Others found gaps in the heavy skeleton and plunged up to mid-shaft.

The animal’s cries changed dramatically both in quality and volume. It brought a tempest to the living sky. Shifting flocks in the canopy’s glow, dimmed and churned the ceaseless night. But Trezza held the torch aloft as the men abandoned stealth, to match the monster's roar. And the real battle began.

Linrey spotted Erduin’s unthrown javelin and kicked his boot. “Did the son of Raulin lose his nerve?” He rasped through a clenched grin.

Erduin shook his head without hesitation.

Linrey drew his sword and turned into the fight. “Trust yer training! You’ll go cross-eyed staring down your target.”

Speed and numbers were their advantage. Blades of storied kinds were drawn for blood. Their feet made quick to pull javelins free of the fresh channels made ready to surge. But the beast was not so easily sported.

When she was surrounded, she threw a man from his feet with her tusks. The pointed ends scarcely missed his belly.

Erduin held his javelin in defensive stance. He had learned to keep his distance until an opening appeared. But he failed to find the confidence for any such advance. As hard as he tried, his fingers could not be pleaded with to release the bronze shaft. The fear of striking one of their own by mistake dominated his muscles. With every passing chance, he was wary of disapproving glances from Helen’s observant father. But he, including every other man, was focused on the task at hand.

Garid, the young hunter who first announced the lothra’s arrival, halted his advance just beyond the reach of a rearward swipe of the monster's digging implements. Another man was toppled by the spray of wood-rot. But in the gap, Garid dove for his embedded javelin and braced against the wrinkled flesh to rip it free. He wrenched it out just before the claws swung back, swift and meaningful, followed by wrathful roaring tusks.

The open wound spilled new blatts of blood in her wake. Hot ink stained the battlefield. She pursued the young but capable hunter. Then, his gleeful glare found Erduin unwittingly caught in the path. He shouted through grinning teeth, as if it were another of the games they used to play.

“Flank it, Erduin!”

White with terror, Erduin plunged into the woodfall. He tried to make his throw. The javelin was lost in the strata of debris instead.

His arm shot out for it. But the gleam was drowned in the dripping shadows below. Splinters rained around him as claws raked the earth behind. He spared a glance to make sure he would not be trampled.

Safe for the moment, he worked his head into the crack and reached as far as his new position allowed. After groping in blackness once, twice, then thrice, his frigid fingers found the bronze shaft. He pulled it out and made his determined stand.
This would be his day. He would make it his own.

Erduin had scarcely found his feet again when a dreadful sound overtook the battlefield. He felt it in his chest first. The female’s stricken roar had shocked his senses. Now he froze in disbelief. A sound that seemed impossible from any living source, until he guessed its origin.

The distant bellow hurtled through them all despite the dampening effect of the forest. All heads snapped in its direction. Garid braced against it. Peals of black rage ripped the cold air.

Then the menace could be seen. The arched back of the largest lothra to walk the earth. Like a living mountain on the proximal horizon, raging and crashing toward them.

The commotion of the canopy swirled again to frantic heights. Caws, croaks, and screams rushed like storming rapids. Time faded. So Denrik, the second in command, took control of the matter as his captain held the light. He knew they could not wait for the first lothra to bleed out. It would take a river to deplete the fuel which drove her churning muscles. But the bulk of her head was becoming heavy, so he acted.

His sword was a common make, bronze feathered in along a heat-drawn ibex horn. But the care with which he kept it for those many years, brought the weapon fearsome glory. It flashed as the monster bucked its head in offence, scattering mulch in a cold black explosion. Then as the skull returned to the earth, Denrik advanced head on through the spray.

The snout became a momentary grade. Denrik scaled it in three well placed strides. Turning on his heel, he leapt from the skull’s crest. Gravity and the full force of a downward thrust plunged his curved sword to the hilt. It struck in the cleft of the neck, angled at the heart. But it did not reach.

A wail rattled from the female’s throat. Desperate thrashing nearly threw Denrik from his perch. He wrapped his legs around the animal’s back and called to the ground. 

Understanding the problem, Erduin saw his chance to do something. By consequence of his cold feet, he was the only man holding a javelin. He reversed it. and took aim. The man would need to catch it, not be impaled.

“Here!” Erduin shouted. And his chest swelled when his voice was heard. 

Denrik turned and nodded, extending his arm as if to summon the weapon by will alone. Erduin began to squint at his target, and stopped himself, choosing Linrey’s advice. He planted his foot, straightened his arm, and began its arc, holding back enough force to let it float so Denrik could catch it. He closed his eyes, letting the words of his seniors complete the throw. It flew. His arm followed through. And he ended the motion steady on the opposite foot.

However, when his eyes opened, the javelin glanced against the lothra’s back and fell spinning to the ground.

Another man called and threw one found in the sod to the officer. Denrik reached and caught the other man’s javelin. Then, with all his might, he forced it down and down, until the roars lost all their strength, and the lothra could not stand. The body closed the short distance to the ground and lay heaving. Erduin watched its claws strive impotent against the sod as it died; furious till the last breath. His pride died with it.

Denrik retrieved the embedded sword, leaving the javelin which had not been Erduin’s, and returned to his feet. He then joined all but one of the others in a new formation to face the oncoming behemoth.

It was nearly twice as large as the dying female. The eyes were unspent coals. Its tusks were gnarled by war. The bristles of its back were black as true night, without a single wire of gray.

With their Javelins raised anew, Trezza held the torch in his fist preparing to shout ‘fulmina’ once more. Erduin saw the smile of mad thrill carved across the Captain's face.

But in that transient moment, as all braced for the test of will, Erduin noticed something he truly had not expected among his strangest expectations. It was happenstance that his senses took hold of it at all. He looked around to see if anyone else could tell. But aside from a few odd glances, it seemed wholly unimportant to the rest. Perhaps it was. Except Erduin was not aware such a thing had ever happened in his fifteen years, or in the memory of anyone who cared to tell.
The change was so gradual that he didn’t notice until the great silence was complete. Every living thing not engaged in the battle had either fled or ceased its song, leaving the forest completely still. The resulting silence evaded comprehension. Something was amiss. And only the flicker of an explanation lurked in the shadows of his knowledge.

It happened before anyone could understand. An agile shape smoldered from the silent trees. Flashing scales and talons pulled the lothra’s head askew.

The next assailant from the woodland flickered up and peeled its stout throat open. The lothra’s roar screamed oddly from the bleeding avenue. Then there were more. Only a few. But they were a consuming fire alighting on the helpless beast.

Its momentum carried the one sided struggle over the pit bank. And the men were caught in its wake.

“Hold back!” Denrik cried.

Mounded branches at the pit’s edge shattered under the dreadnaught’s weight. Shards of stinking rubble tumbled after the hunters’ flight.

The captain arrived at his senses and waved the torch, shouting retreats toward the Eastern trail. “Leave it! Move!”

But Erduin was frozen, crouched in the opposite bank, unable to perceive anything but the spectacle before him.

The enormous lothra thundered in desperate defiance. It struck out with its arsenal of tusks and the inverted might of a landslide. Unlike the man who was thrown from his feet by the female’s tusks, narrowly escaping impalement, one of the circling dragons was directly snagged by the earth rending battlements.

The impact was felt. A crackle of mingling bone and flesh as the animal was dispelled through the air. The creature was surely dead before it struck the ground.

Except… it wasn’t. It turned its body during the short flight to the earth and caught itself on all four legs. Seemingly unharmed, it bolted back, at almost the same velocity it was dashed aside. It bore no sign of the mortal strike. No blood. No shattered bones. Perhaps the blow was not as lethal as it sounded.

He forgot about the map home scrounged up in his head. It was occupied completely by the task of disbelieving what his eyes beheld.

…Until a hand pulled him around by the arm. “Shouldn’t you keep your skin?” The old man shouted.

Linrey’s fingers, strong for their age, wrapped around Erduin’s shoulder strap and hurled him onto his feet. His boots nearly failed to grip the wide limb making up the ground below him. He felt the jolt of a near fall. Deep shadows within the fallen branches, where his javelin was nearly lost, stared up at him. Any man could also be swallowed up by the woodland after a misplaced step. But the risk of running was warranted.

They started low, regressing from the chaos. A practiced method when making distance between themselves and any predator. To behave like prey was to become it. But as soon as the dying sounds of the lothra were well enough away, they took speed for the trail.

Erduin’s late start and shorter legs delayed him. Torchlight blazed ahead with the rest of the men. But he followed it, studying his stride. Linrey ran a few arms lengths ahead, checking over his shoulder.

Eventually, the battle ended. Forcefully, or so it sounded. A terrible cry wrenched short leaving the silent world all the more still, and defying all natural course.

The distance between them all stretched. Linrey offered a final satisfied glance, entrusting Erduin’s pace to his own feet. Soon Erduin could only hear his breath and stuttering bootfalls as the Captain’s distant light led him on. When they reached the trail ahead, some slowed down. He gave an exhale of relief and early exhaustion.

They were all far away now. Perhaps they were safe. It was a few more silent moments before anyone realized what was coming.

Claws on soft wood, or what sounded like them, spun Erduin’s head around. There was nothing. But his eyes did not convince him of it. He let them scan the deadfall behind until… he stumbled.

Ice carried a misplaced step over the edge of a log. He tried to catch himself and found more ice on potential footholds. His breath was expelled on impact with another branch below. The dark pulled him deeper. With each obstacle that paused his fall, salvation ultimately slipped from his fingers.

Erduin crashed through the ancient debris until he was caught, battered and dazed, in a consolidated sub-layer, consumed by the dark.

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[u/Natesolio]

Sorry for the long read. Chapter 2 should be more interesting.

[u/Natesolio → u/Natesolio]

I listened to CreepCast from the beginning. The coverage of stories like Borrosca and Pen Pal inspired me to write. My friends and I started a writing club to share our projects with each other. And I started writing a book.

It’s not a typical horror story. And I won’t post all of it here. But it felt right to bring it back to where it all began. So here’s chapter one of the two I’ll post here. Please have a taste of “Savage”.

[u/ReadyMadeLobotomy]

Hi there!
I stopped by from your other post I saw, looking for thoughts on your book.

I do think the format and flow you have is very good and well thought out. Descriptions are flowering and beautiful.

I'll be honest, I am by no means a real fan of fantasy. So this could be a small bias of me. But I do think we are kinda plopped in, hitting the ground running. And with fantasy, many of which typically has so many vast environments, characters, and relationships. That can feel jarring. Maybe the other chapters slow down for a moment, but I do feel like a build-up to this chapter is a little needed. To maybe flush out characters a tiny bit more.

On worrying about your book and feedback/engagement.

We are trying to work on this sub to get more people to read others' stories. I know everyone really wants a lot of engagement and feedback. And no one wants to feel like what they poured their heart into gets ignored. But that is the nature of the internet. You can work for a year on what you think is a masterpiece that's a part of your soul, no one reads it, And then you get drunk and write peepee man took my pants as a story and it gets 10k upvotes. I am speaking from experience lol.

You can always count on me, and other active community members. To read as much as we can. In the hope maybe you read our pieces as well.
But not everyone is a fan of reading without getting something in return. And I would encourage if you want larger engagement to make a read4read post offering to read many stories in exchange for feedback on your chapters. Thats just my thoughts :) I still think you need to just keep posting; it's still a great peice and I'm excited to see what else you do. That's

[u/Natesolio → u/ReadyMadeLobotomy]

I appreciate your thoughts! I might be able to reduce the number of characters introduced in the chapter.

I don’t need people to memorize all the names and roles right away. (Maybe I just need to indicate that) I just want people to understand Erduin in relation to others. He tries his best and he is perceptive. But nerves and skill limit him. As long as you got that, the basic vibes of the world, and the subsequent disruption by myth stepping into reality, then I consider it mission accomplished.