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"The Beast of Mt. Gherosh"

by WolfHound Baxton

I.

"I'm not afraid of anything!!," shouted Taud. The proud fox kit stood as tall as he could at the tender age of twelve. His eyes flashed with brilliant confidence. He stood by the mill on his father's hand, his forepaws clenched, those blackened tips of his orange-furred arms resting proudly against his hips. He wore a plain brown tunic, its short-sleeves baring his furry arms. On his feet he wore a pair of moccasins and his legs were covered in long flax shorts that extended to just below his knees, held tightly to his waist by a leather belt. He held a long stick, slightly crooked but sturdy, clenched in his right paw "... and I don't believe in monsters!," continued the young fox.

Taud's father was a fox, more bulky and muscled than most of his kind. He sighed deeply and shoot his head in dismay. Would his son ever heed his warnings? "Son," said the older fox, rubbing the dark beard beneath his muzzle. "You know how dangerous it is on the mountain. It's full of predatory beasts and bandit lairs."

"I'm not scared of ferals and beasts!," protested the kit. "They know to leave me alone and I leave them alone. Besides, if they come at me I can lick em all!" The fox kit swished his stick through the air and an invisible foe, a confident and happy grin on his face as his oversized tail swayed with his motions, nearly curling about him as his body spun.

"But son," said the father, "you know that the mountain hides more than just bandits and beasts." The older fox knew it was hopeless to try and dissuade his son with the mundane dangers posed by bandits and feral animals, though the father knew that his son would be lunchmeat for such creatures.

"The boogeyman? Hah! He's not real. Has anybody ever seen him?" said the kit boldly, openly scoffing at his father's fears.

"Nobody's ever seen him and lived, son! They find your bones and mangled corpse later..."

Indeed, the village of Liribal did live in fear of something dark and sinister that lurked on the forested slopes of Mount Gherosh. The mountain was popular with bandits and outlaws just because both the town guard and the king's soldiers feared what lurked in its depths in the dark of night -- the nameless and faceless Beast of Gherosh, simply called "the Boogeyman" by the locals. The beast was said to roam freely, even down to the edge of the village, every seven years seeking prey.

On those days, the locals saw and heard many ominous signs. First, the strange lights appeared in the sky and flitting among the trees of the woods -- green, red, and white. For those daring enough to pursue the lights (and fortunate enough to return), all they could say was that the lights retreated from them slowly or vanished as if taunting them. After the lights came the sounds. Strange howls, moans of pain, and loud maniacal laughter echoed between the trees, sometimes only audible beneath the wind. Other times it would be loudly and clearly heard, punctuated by the heavy rhythms of pounding drums, the source of which eluded the ears. After the sounds came the disappearances. Usually those who stayed out to late or ventured too far, or sometimes the weakest -- the very young and the very old. Most were never seen or heard from again, but those who were were in such a condition that it chilled the blood of all who saw them or heard about it, for they were mostly corpses, mutilated in grisly and terrible ways that indicated the work of a sadistic and twisted, though intelligent mind. Those that were found yet alive were even more horrid, for they continued to live in this mutilated state until they slowly died of their injuries or some merciful soul ended it for them early. Very rarely, a corpse would be found or a howl heard in between the seven years. Sometimes, unnaturally heavy footfalls were frighteningly heard behind someone's house in the dead of night, causing the person to shrink and cover deeper in their bed. All this was enough to make the townsfolk and those who lived around the village wary of the woods of Mount Gherosh -- all but Taud that is.

Taud, the son of a local miller, fancied himself a daring explorer and swashbuckling adventurer. He had been exploring the woods and streams about his home since he could walk and knew that land better than anyone else did -- even surprising seasoned woodsmen and hunters with his affinity for the local environment, its trees, shrubs, fruits, berries, and the feral animals that called the woods home. Taud felt a special connection to the woods and felt more at home out in them than he did among other children.

Indeed, it would have to be said that his best friend was the family's aging dog, Chessy. Though his parents admired his talents and boldness, they were concerned for his safety and dismayed that he spent so much time out on his forays that it barely gave him time to help with the chores and the family's business back home.

Stek, Taud's father, was a miller of some importance in the local community. He had come from a peasant family that had come to unexpected fortune when their lord died and actually left them a piece of his land -- though, to the minds of the nobles, some of the worst land. The plot was located on the slope at the base of Mount Gherosh, a place feared by the local population. Furthermore it was near impossible to grow anything in the sterile, rocky soil. The only saving grace was a rushing stream that ran through the property with a deafening roar, cascading from rock to rock as it made its way down the mountain. The young Stek knew starvation as his father, though now free, struggled to produce food from the barren land and harvest what small game he could with his meager hunting skills. This lasted until Stek was sent into town on an errand. While there, he saw a book in the local library with a picture of a watermill in it., and writing describing it that he could not read. Immediately, Stek's young mind had thought of the stream and he resolved to teach himself to read and how to build and work on mills, their gears and mechanisms. He took all the books he could and found help where he could in town, using all of the time he could steal to learn how to read and then about gears and mechanisms, much to the chagrin of his own father who would have preferred he spend his days helping him scrape a life out of the sterile soil.

In the end though, Stek's work had paid off after his father's death. His body, already toughened by hard farm work, was strengthened more as he devoted himself to the construction of not one watermill on his property, but two. The first mill was used for grinding grain from the local farms. The second mill was used to saw lumber. Running and maintaining these mills was hard work, but it soon paid off and provided Stek, his wife, and their young son with a nice living.

Stek was fascinated by mechanisms -- gears levers, and pulleys. He tried his best to pass this appreciation down to Taud, but to no avail. Taud always had his head in the clouds, it seemed. His mind was filled with tales of adventure and heroes in far-off lands. Taud dreamed of becoming a hero himself and visiting these distant lands, coming home with a wagon laden with loot and precious stones. Stek would often scold his son and tell him that he was wasting time thinking about such nonsense and that he should think more about matters close to home. Often, Stek would pull Taud aside just before he could set off on another one of his grand ventures into the woods and ask him to help him repair one of the gears on the mills or install a new millstone. Taud knew a bit about mills and gears from growing up as his father's son, but it was not his passion at all and he could usually do nothing to help his father except wit and watch for hours as his father struggled with this gear and that or this water channel and that, making him feel useless for his lack of ability.

"It's all just stories," said the fox kit. "I know all the kinds of animals out there and have never seen anything like a boogeyman."

"The woods hold many unseen dangers son," said Stek. You'll find out if you keep pushing too far, and you need to spend more time around home helping your mother and I.

Stek wanted Taud to inherit his milling business, something Taud was not very fit for. The kit, on the other hand, dreamed of becoming a great explorer and piercing through to the unkown lands on the other side of the mountains.

"I'm going to be a great explorer someday Dad! I'm going to go to the other side of the mountains someday and find the grave of Kalen the Destroyer! Then I'll bring back his skull as proof of my journey for everyone to see."

"You watch yourself, son!" said the older fox, "and ask yourself why the wicked Kalen never returned." Stek pointed the wrench he held in one paw at his son while he lectured him, then shifted a bit. "I have to go into town today to pick up a delivery of replacement cogs. You go ask your mother if there's anything you can help her with."

Taud nodded and sighed, walking off dejected and looked back at his father as he mounted the wagon he had hitched the mules to moments ago and disappeared down the road towards town.

"This is my chance!," thought Taud. There was a new pathway he'd found deep in the woods that he wanted to follow. He always wanted to see what lay around each and every new turn. Soon after his father was gone, he ran to the back of the house. It was hard to hear much else here for the noise of the cascading water and the turning of the mills drowned out almost everything else. "Chessy!," shouted the fox kit above the din, trying to summon his old friend, the family's trusted dog.

After a few calls, Taud flicked his ears and smiled, a familiar clinking sound coming to his ears as Chessy rounded the house and trotted excitedly towards him. Taud swished his tail happily as he squatted down, holding out his blackened paws as his dog rushed at him. He caught her in his arms as she got to him and she eagerly licked all over his face and muzzle.

Chessy wagged her tail furiously as Taud hugged her. She was always happy when she could tell that Taud was about to take her on one of his expeditions. Chessy was a black medium-large dog with floppy ears, though her muzzle was beginning to gray as she aged.

Chessy was a "feral" or a "beast." There were three different types of creatures in the world of Pherkad - ferals, kin, and more unusual creatures called wites. Taud and his family and all of Pherkad's people were the kin -- they were upifted beings, covered in fur and associated with one of the feral races. The ferals lived only in their fur, on all fours, and inhabited the forests, deserts, mountains, and other wild places. Some of them though, such as Chessy, had been brought in and tamed by kin Exactly if or how the kin and the ferals were related beyond mere appearance remained unknown to the scholars of the world.

Taud slipped a treat from his pack into his dog's muzzle and smiles as she eagerly gulped it down. He sprang up to his feet and arched boldly towards the woods, his crooked stick held out. "Huzzah!," shouted the fox kit as he skipped across the bridge over the stream. He swished his stick through the air as he walked down the small footpath through the woods. To Taud, these woods were like another world. He imagined different parts of the woods parceled out as little kingdoms full of imaginary tiny people. He put himself in the mind of an explorer adventuring to far off lands. Every time he went down a new pathway or found a new rock or spring held lose himself in the thoughts of discovering a new city and the people who lived there.

And so, Taud came to a large rock-face. Gherosh was surrounded by cliffs and huge piles of boulders that made climbing difficult for most, most but Taud that is. Taud had been here before. He knew there was a small grove with a pleasant spring just above the rocks where he could get fresh water for himself and his dog. The fox-kit placed one of his paws on a rock and pulled himself up. The way was steep, but he knew it well; Chessy too. She knew the way and could keep pace with her young master, for through the rocks and boulders was a narrow, steep, and harsh path used and worn by beasts - barely visible to the eyes of the most observant kin. Taud reached up to grab at the slender drunks of the young trees that grew among the boulders as he neared his goal - the rim of the rocky slope.

Soon, boy and dog found themselves in what seemed to be a lush garden, rich with green plants bursting with pink flowers in their full bloom. The air smelled fresh, its sounds silent but for the wind rustling the leaves and the tranquil bubbling of the spring waters. Taud sat down on a rock nest to the spring and relaxed, looking at his bright, whiskered reflection in the pool. He imagined this place to be an important town in his imaginary miniature world -- a place where weary travelers could stop and rest before heading to othr lands further up the slopes of the mountain.

Taud's tranquil gaze was interrupted as the waters rippled. Chessy, his loyal dog, waded into the pool to refresh herself, washing herself in the cool waters after a strenuous climb and lapping the water with her long, pink tongue.

"Aw, Chessy!," said the fox-kit. "You just had to go and get yourself all wet and messy."

Chessy looked up at Taud as she stepped out of the pool, flashing him a guilty but cute look with her big brown eyes. So irresistible was this that it seemed as if she had practiced it many times and perfected it.

"Aww!," cooed Taud as he draped his arm around Chessy as she now sat beside him, her legs and belly dripping wet with water. "I love you so much, pup."

As he leaned in, holding her close, she returned his gesture with a few warm licks to his orange muzzle.

The boy gave his dog a few pets and gentle scratches behind the ears and soon they were both off and upward bound, following the way they knew so well further up the slopes of Mount Gherosh.

Above the spring there was an old path that Taud and Chessy had often followed. It was normally used by hunters or others who had business on the mountain's slopes. Taud and Chessy passed their empty blinds and shacks as they followed the path, twisting and winding back and forth across the slope until they arrived at a high plateau on the mountain.

The vegetation at this height was different. It was colder and windier and the trees grew shouter and less thick. The ground though was covered by thick growths of bushes that made walking difficult. In their season they would produce a vast plain of tasty purple berries, feeding many of the beasts with their rich bounty. Sometimes Taud would bring basketfuls of berries back home to his mystified mother who, not knowing exactly where Taud got them, baked them into pies for the whole family.

Past the thick berry bushes lay an old abandoned highway that ran across this plateau. Taud didn't know when it had last been used, but it was wide enough to accommodate a large carriage and the arid, rocky soil prevented it from being overgrown with vegetation.

Taud set out on the old highway, traveling south. He had always imagined this as a rich and faraway country in his mind, made prosperous by trade along the great highway and an annual bounty of ripe berries. As he traveled down the road, looking at the trees and listening to the birds, Chessy sniffed at the bushes and logs along the side of the path. The air was fresher up here and the soft sound of the breeze between the trees was soothing.

Taud finally reached his destination - a small path leading to the east and the far slope in the distance, crowned by the icy peak of Mount Gherosh. The fox-kit let out a yip of excitement, swishing his staff through the air and causing a pair of nearby deer to snort and startle, fleeing away with their tiny tails raised high, flashing alarm. This was Taud's chance to be a real explorer. He had passed this way many times before but now he had the resolve to try this path and see where it took him. Bravely poking his staff into the ground and holding his head high, he set forth on the new path, his trusty feral companion following him.

The pathway was clearly visibly but showed signs that it was rarely used by kin. Here and there logs and fallen trees obstructed the pathway, but the intrepid fox kit mounted them with gusto as if they were the peak of great Gherosh itself, hauling himself over to the other side. After a while, Taud came upon a thick iron chain that had been draped across the path. "Huh, what's this?," asked the boy to himself as he reached forward to grab the chain. He looked briefly down at his dog who stood faithfully by his side. An odd silence was in the air and even the wind was hushed. No birds sang in the trees though it was a bright spring afternoon. The hair on Chessy's back stood up and she looked intently up the pathway past the chain, sniffing the air continuously as if she had caught wind of some looming threat.

Taud took hold of the chain and pulled it towards him to get a better look. It certainly posed no obstacle as he could easily go around it. It was very heavy and secured between two trees on either side of the pathway. The chain appeared old and, though partially ancrusted with rust, was very sturdy. An odd triangular symbol formed the center of the chain. Though linked to the chain on either side, it was a solid piece of iron, cast into the shape of a triangle with a circle in the middle and an odd branched cross in the center of the circle.

Something gave Taud pause. Clearly, someone did not want him going past this point, but the pathway and even the chain were old and poorly maintained. Clearly this was a relic of days gone by.

"I won't be afraid of a few old ghosts!", shouted Taud as he defiantly flipped the chain up and stepped beneath it, emerging on the other side. "Huzzah!," he shouted, holding his crooked staff to the heavens as he trudged forward on the path. His dog followed cautiously behind him.

Soon, Taud came to a point where the path began to ascend the far slope. He eagerly moved up the path, thinking he saw the rim of another plateau beyond it. "What could be up there?," thought the boy to himself as he placed his staff, step by step, in front of him.

As Taud neared the rim of the next plateau, he could see light through the trees, showing him that there was a clearing up there on top of the hill. Chessy ran forward all the way up to the top of the slope and stood there as if on guard for a danger only she knew was coming. She turned her nose high into the air, sniffing for danger, her fur bristling high on her back as she began to growl.

"It's okay girl," said Taud concernedly as he came up the path towards his dog. "Everything's gonna be alright..."

Then Chessy began to bark loudly, throwing her head back each time she did and letting out a series of loud and gruff warnings. Danger was imminent, though Taud could see nothing yet with his head so full of illusions of his greatness and glory.

Suddenly, a snap of twigs was heard. Taud's nose wrinkled as an unholy odor filled his nostrils. He looked up and to his horror he saw it. Slowly, rising beyond the treats in the clearing at the top of the slope was the form of a massive beast the likes of which he had never laid eyes on before. He couldn't make out much detail but it stood upright on two legs like a kin, but yet it was not. Grisly and beastly in proportion and form, it held its arms wide and lifted its head to the sky, emitting an unearthly sound that could have emerged from the blackest pit in the worst nightmare.

Taud dropped his staff and let out a screech of terror. His bravery fled away and for the first time since he was very young he was truly afraid. He shot down the path in the opposite direction as fast as his legs could carry him, panting and collapsing behind some bushes when his breath gave out and he could no longer move. In the distance he heard growls and the sounds of a savig battle, ended by a short pathetic yelp. Seconds later he heard it again -- that loud and horrible roar. It was the last time that Taud would ever see his beloved dog.

II.

The snow crunched beneath leather boots as the wind howled along the side of the mountain. It was the dead of winter and shortly after the fall of a fresh snow. "So much the better," thought Taud to himself. "Always easier to track beasts after a fresh snow." The intrepid adventurer had returned, but older, wiser, and armed and ready for the kill.

Taud, now a man of twenty-eight years, stood tall, his determined gaze fixed on the place where the old path branched from the abandoned highway. He was well-equipped and ready for whatever might await him. Tall and strong, his body was thicker and of a larger frame than most of the vulpine race. He now looked very much like his father and even sported a small beard beneath his muzzle. His muscles though were not gained by labor at the mill, but by long service in the king's army and by fighting and slaying beasts and wites deep in caves and other places far from the civilized world of the towns and cities. Instead of a staff, he carried with him a bow and a quiver of arrows was strapped to his back. Also on him was a sword, held fast in its scabbard and secured to his belt, and a medium round wooden shield was strapped to his left forearm. The shield bore the crest of the notorious Kalen the Destroyer, a gold star of eight points with a fiery red stone in the center. He wore a layer of chainmail armor overlaid with leather padding to add protection to his more vital points. This leather only heightened his virile physique, being formed in the shape of a muscled chest and stomach.

Ever since Taud had left this place the last time those many years ago, he had spent his life in preparation for the moment he would return. Much to the dismay of his parents, he had not followed in his father's footsteps and taken up the milling business, but joined the king's army as soon as he was of age, hoping that the training of this hard school would prepare him for his fateful second encounter with the best. He had served in the army from the age of sixteen to the age of twenty-five and had seen many engagements with brigands and goblin wites that threatened the towns and roads of the kingdom. He had learned the ways of combat with the bow and the sword and his body bore many scars - the badges of fierce combat experience.

At twenty-five, he was honorably discharged from the army and took up the trade of adventurer. This had taken him beyond the borders of his kingdom and into foreign lands. He journeyed through deep forests and vast deserts and pressed into dark dungeons - labyrinthine tombs and bottomless cave chasms. Bringing back enough loot and earning enough through mercenary work,he was able to purchase better and customized gear. He wore the finest mail and his sword was forged from the finest steel by master smiths. His shield bore the star of Kalen, and like Kalen he would march to the east in conquest.

So it was that Taud found himself on this path again, drudging through snow and battered by wind, he pressed onward towards his destiny, determined to rid his land of this foul Beast of Gherosh, the one his people called "Boogeyman" in superstitious fear. He came to the iron chain once again and contemplated it briefly, giving a small nod at it with a stern expression. He calmly placed his bow into its holster on his back and drew his sword. He lashed forward with a violent chop down towards the rusty iron chain, splitting it at its weakest point. The chain lay shattered on the ground before him, broken in half and defeated as soon the beast it guarded would be.

Taud stepped boldly over the broken chain and came to the fateful slope he had climbed so many years ago. It was at this point where his courage had failed him so many years ago and he was determined that it would not fail him once again.

So, up he went, climbing the slope with a grim determination. When he finally reached the top, that spot where he lost his faithful dog, he gaped, standing amazed. Beyond the trees lay what looked like the ruins of an old stone temple, its roofs, supports, and construction long since crumbled. Beyond the temple lay and old stone staircase leading up to a large door carved in a cliff on the side of the mountain. The door was gigantic and must have been built by a long-vanished civilization. It rose to a height of about twenty-five feet from its base and narrowed towards the top, coming to a point. Two massive stone slabs would swing outward to open i, and the center of the door was decorated with a familiar symbol -- the same wicked triangle that had adorned the chain on the path leading up to it.

"That must be the beast's lair!," said Taud to himself. "I am ready now to finish it." If he had prepared himself for anything in life since the day he left this spot, it was for the day he would return.

The wind howled at Taud as he made his way through the ruins, holding his arms close now and then to warm himself and ward off the blowing snow. The gray sky was growing dark and Taud knew the sun was setting behind the thick veil of clouds and snow. "Dammit!," he thought to himself. "I should have gone out earlier!" But it was too late and the sky rapidly darkened, leaving only the ambient light reflected in the snow, bathing the ruins and the cliffs beyond in an eerie, ghostly aura. Taud looked this way and that as he headed through the ruined temple, the sound of the howling winds playing tricks on his mind. He fancied that all sorts of dangers could be lurking behind each crumbling column or o top of every stone terrace. Perhaps even the Dread Beast itself observed him now, lurking in the shadows. These thoughts kept the vulpine hero on his guard until he reached the base of the stairway.

Taud's leather boot lifted from the snowy ground and set itself upon the first step. He sniffed the air once more and then grabbed for his bow from his back. Something was just not right. He could smell and feel it int he air. It was one of those moments where everything was still and quiet, as if the world were anticipating something about to happen. A loud grating noise filtered down the stairway to the vulpine's ears. It was the distinctive sound of stone grinding on stone. Slowly, the great door was sliding open.

Taud stopped in his tracks, grabbing an arrow from his quiver and readying his bow. His keen eye looked up the staircase and down the shaft of his arrow, taking aim at the growing void beyond.

When the door fully opened, the slow grating sound of the large stones stopped with a loud thud, as if they had reached a barrier and could go no further. Their jaws gaped wide and exposed the dark maw of the pit to disgorge whatever evils lurked within.

The first thing Taud could see emerging was a pair of green-glowing orbs. The fox stifled his fear and held his arrow, waiting for a good shot. Soon, the source of the green lights was plain. A large shape began to be revealed as it emerged into the ghostly lighting of the fallen snow. It was tall and bread-shouldered. Taud recognized the shape that had haunted his dreams ever since his boyhood.

Taud took as best an aim at the monstrosity as he had at any foe, kin or beast, and let his arrow fly. Time seemed to slow for Taud as he watched his arrow fly through he air. Could it really be this easy? His answer was given in the sound of a clink as the arrow bounced off the beast and clattered harmlessly to the stone floor before the doorway. The fox's face fell in terror, for as the beast came further into view by the snowlight its nature was fully revealed. It stood seven feet tall on both legs and was no ordinary beast. It had body proportions similar to a kin, but seeming more "primitive" and much more massive. Its shoulders were very broad and its long arms rippled with powerful muscles beneath its brownish fur. It was armed and armored, wearing a thick breastplate which had deflected Taud's arrow. It wore leather pants, covered by armored greaves and boots. On top of its shoulders, where one would think to find a head, was a horrific metal plate in the shape of a wolf's skull with two fuzzy ears protruding from holes in the top. Indeed, plates appeared to have been bolted directly onto the creature's skull and from its eye-holes shone two bright-green lights like evil lanterns in the darkness. Disturbingly, this did not look like a reflection, but light somehow actually shone from the angular holes in the creature's skull-plate.

The beast opened its mouth, its jaw a piece of metal with jagged iron teeth attached to the creature's plated skull by a hinge. It guffawed deeply, a great laughter emerging from its throat as it brushed off its chestplate as if cleaning off a minor smudge. "Who do you think you are, whelp!?" roared the beast.

"My name is Taud!," shouted the fox towards the creature up the sitars. "And I have come for your miserable head."

"Foolish puny little man!," howled the loathsome creature. "For there is not a mortal born who can best me in combat!"

Taud immediately reached for a second arrow from his quiver as the creature reached behind its back, pulling forth a very heavy and elaborately decorated warhammer, black and accented with orange flame patterns. The beast began to bound down the stairs at a frightful pace, its heavy footfalls making an ominous , shuddering thud.

Taud's arrow missed and his eyes went wide as the horror flung itself down the stairs towards him. He jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding his skull being crushed by the massive warhammer. As the fox baked off, the creature readied another swing, missing once again as the nimble fox hopped out of the way, quickly replacing his bow on his back and drawing his sword, holding the shield on his left forearm up and on-guard as the creature slowed again to steady his movements, looking for a mistake or opening. Clearly, this "beast" was not some phantom nor wite nor ordinary "boogeyman."

"What are you!?" challenged the fox, keeping his arms at the ready.

The creature tilted its head, keeping a similar ready combat stance. A slow trickle of fiendish chuckling came from its throat, slowly building into a full guffaw. "Don't you recognize me, boy?" shouted the beast. "For I am you. I am called Ghurman Sul and I am what you fear to become, and may become on the slim chance that you survive this night. For I was once like you -- civilized, brave, noble, and just I thought myself. But those things are lies They are lies you tell yourself to cover up your true nature! Hatred, greed, revenge ... wounded pride perhaps? ..." Ghurman paused. "Yes, wounded pride. That was what brought you to me tonight. I smell it in you."

"Nonsense!," cried Taud. "You are a foul beast and must beast destroyed for the good of all!"

The fox lashed forward with his sword, an intense energy building up inside him. All his pent up emotions of the past sixteen years followed, channeling themselves into the energetic blade.

Ghurman Sul parried the first strike with the shaft of his warhammer, pulling to the side as quickly as he could to avoid the second thrust.

"You have fire, boy!," countered Ghurman. "That's good. I enjoy a challenge for a change. Not like those old ladies I last boiled for a stew."

The hero's eyes bulged as he saw the warhammer raise above Ghurman Sul's head, coming down at him for another blow. Quickly, he raised his shield with his left arm, catching the blow though it staggered him backwards. "You'll pay for all the blood you've spilled, demon wretch!"

"So petulant...," mused Ghurman Sul as he maneuvered himself to avoid the vulpine's next attack. "Your anger will add you your flavor when this is over. I grow so tired of the taste of fear."

The fox, undaunted, lashed out with his sword once more, aiming for the beast's exposed arms. Ghurman shifted his body again to avoid the strike, but failed to prevent a deep slash to his arm, his blood flowing freely from the cut as he let forth a harsh growl of annoyance and pain. "You bleed, fiend!," observed Taud. "And you are mortal." Though in his gloating he failed to observe the head of Ghurman's warhammer coming at him once more. He lifted his shield-arm again but caught the blow wrong, being knocked back on his haunches as his shield shattered, splinters flying as the venerable Star of Kalen burst into pieces. As Taut regained his balance, he scurried off into the night to avoid further blows, hiding behind one of the ruined pillars as he grabbed for his bow once again.

Ghurman Sul sneered, unaffected by the wound to his arm. His evil green eyes glared deeply into the night as he searched for the fox's hiding place. "You can't run, boy!," taunted the beat. "Did you come here to fight or to sulk in fear!?"

Taud grimaced at his enemy's words, readying an arrow once more from his hiding place. He let it fly, darting through the air towards its target and carrying his destiny on its back.

The arrow struck Ghurman Sul in the leg, sticking into his flesh. The beast stumbled forward, hitting the ground with a great clatter and dropping his warhammer before him. He remained there, wounded and immobile, groaning in pain, but his luminescent eyes scanning for the emergence of his adversary.

Taud readied another arrow. He had struck and immobilized his quarry from his hiding place Now he could finish this safely from a distance. But the fox hesitated, an evil glint coming to his eye. His mind traveled back in tome to when he had first met the beast and once more he heard the painful yelp and cries of his canine companion and best friend. No, he couldn't finish it so unceremoniously here like this. The beast had to be killed slowly, painfully, and face-to-face.

And so, Taud brazenly emerged from his hiding place, his sword drawn as he swaggered up to his wounded adversary with the snow crunching beneath his feet. He stood now, towering over his vanquished foe, ready for the kill. Anger pulsed through is veins as he prepared himself.

"Your spree is at an end!," taunted the fox, summoning what spit he could into his muzzle before shooting it down at Ghurman's metallic face.

Ghurman Sul took the abuse, glaring into his enemy's eyes with those hypnotic green orbs. Suddenly, the fox felt something grip his legs. It was Ghurman Sul, and the beast's powerful arms pulled Taud's legs forward, knocking him off balance and sending him flying onto his back.

Taud lost his grip, yelping in shock and alarm as his sword abandoned his arm, flying off somewhere into the distance beyond his reach and clattering to the stone pavement. Taud struggled to move but the beast was on him, holding him down with his massive weight as he climbed up the fox' s body and latched his clawed hands firmly around Taud's throat.

In truth, Ghurman's injury was mostly a rouse for he had read Taud correctly. It was wounded pride that brought him here and now he would pay the price.

Taud struggled for breath as he gazed up into the steel-clad face of his attacker, gasping for air through the ever-tightening grip of his enemy's claws. Finally, with stars forming before his eyes, his breath gave out and he lay unconscious in Ghurman Sul's grasp.

Taud awoke in and odd chamber with floors and walls of black marble, lined with ominous torches. He struggled with his binds and his senses only to find that he was upside-down. Indeed, he was stripped naked and suspended from a frame inside some kind of devilish shrine. Behind hims bound form rose the dark figure of some dragon idol with an odd branched cross symbol etched into his forehead. It was the same twisted cross that had been seen on the iron chain across the path and the door to the mountain, nested inside the triangle symbol.

"Let me go!," demanded Taud in vain, struggling in his binds.

"Ah, I see you've awaken," said Ghurman Sul approaching his vanquished opponent with a bit of a limp. "I always prefer to do this when they're fully conscious." The evil beast flashed a tool down in front of the fox's eyes, offering a glimpse of his fate. Ghurman Sul held a cruel, curved sickle-like blade. "I offer you to my lord Ahriman as a sacrifice. May he delight in your suffering as he has done with so many before you." Ghurman Sul teased Taud's throat with the tip of his blade, then reached town to grab his cheek, forsing him to look him in the face. His hinged jaw moved once more as he spoke. "I will feast on your flesh and bones, boy!," he taunted, then suddenly taking his sickle and slashing it across Taud's stomach, spilling his guts.

Taud groaned in agony as he was gutted, an offering to a demonic god in a foul beast's lair. "How have I come to this end?," he thought as his live unfolded like a parade before his eyes. The beat's words stuck with him, wounding him as deep as any blade, for it was his pride that brought him here. Pride and anger had combined to bring him his fate. Anger at the loss of his loyal companion and pride in his own, so he thought, endless and invincible abilities. He had spent the last sixteen years of his life training for this moment and here he was -- a failure at what he had set out so long ago to do. He despaired, for he had truly become the monster he wished to slay. With his dying breath, he breathed a flow of curses at his adversary. "You've won now beast! ... but you bleed. Someday, someone will beat you! If I have to rise from the dead to do it myself!"

"Defiant to the end," remarked Ghurman Sul as he wiped the blood from his blade. "Such a waste. You almost make me regret doing this ... almost..."

That night, the evil drums were once more heard outside the town of Liribal. It was unexpected as it was not the usual year for the drums and lights to come again. Fearful townsfolk opened their windows to listen then shut them once more in terror, for they knew from memory what horrors the next day would bring. And as day dawned, the stream from Mount Gherosh flowed red with blood.