Rise of the Horde

The sun climbed towards its zenith, yet the Dargan remained unseen. Kael shifted his weight, addressing Gerber, whose knowledge of the large feline predator was supposedly extensive. "Where do you think that big cat is hiding?"

Gerber offered a noncommittal shrug. "Who knows? But it'll be close, waiting for the right moment to strike."

His words proved prophetic. A rustle in the dense shrubs, a flash of tawny fur, and then the Dargan emerged. Its jaws clamped around a worker's leg, its powerful muscles propelling it away, dragging the screaming man into the undergrowth. The worker's cries, sharp and filled with agony, echoed across the mountainous terrain, fading into the distance.

"That answers your question," Gerber stated, glancing at Kael. Saving the man was, in his view, futile. The Dargan's motives were inscrutable, the risk too high.

One of the workers approached Captain Baldred. "Shouldn't we try and save him, Captain?"

Baldred's response was devoid of emotion. "For what? That cat's unpredictable. I won't risk the others to save one man." He continued his patrol, his gaze unwavering.

The Dargan's attacks continued, each strike claiming another victim. Sometimes it reappeared quickly, dragging its prize back into the dense vegetation.

Other times, a longer interval separated its hunts. The attacks came from different directions, demonstrating a calculated unpredictability. The ground was littered with discarded tools, blood-soaked fabric and scattered belongings, stark remnants of the Dargan's brutal efficiency.

The second victim, a soldier this time, was snatched near a rocky outcrop. The Dargan's claws tore through his uniform, leaving a trail of shredded fabric and blood in its wake.

The soldier's screams were abruptly cut short as the Dargan dragged him under a low-hanging branch, the sound of snapping twigs the only indication of their struggle. The scene was left as a warning to the rest, the gruesome reality of their situation laid bare for all to see.

Another worker, attempting to retrieve a fallen tool, was ambushed from behind a thicket of thorny bushes. The Dargan's attack was swift and decisive. Its teeth sank deep into the worker's shoulder, tearing flesh and bone. The worker's desperate cries were cut short as the Dargan hauled him towards the deeper part of the mountain.

The remaining workers and soldiers huddled together, fear palpable in their tense postures. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the lingering scent of fear. Each rustle of leaves, each snap of a twig, sent shivers down their spines, transforming ordinary sounds into potential harbingers of death.

Kael, watching the carnage unfold, noticed a pattern. The Dargan seemed to target isolated individuals, those separated from the main group. Its attacks were calculated, deliberate.

"It's hunting strategically," he said to Gerber, his voice low. "It's picking off the weak, the isolated."

Gerber nodded grimly. "We need to stick together. Form a tighter perimeter. No one strays."

Baldred, still impassive, gave a curt nod of agreement. He reorganized the remaining personnel, forming a tighter, more defensive circle. The group moved as one, their movements cautious and deliberate, weapons held ready. Every shadow seemed to writhe with potential danger, every rustle of leaves a potential death sentence.

The Dargan did not attack again for what seemed like an eternity. The silence felt heavier than the previous screams. The tension within the group was almost unbearable. Each man, including the stoic Captain Baldred, wore a grim expression, their faces reflecting the growing awareness of their precarious situation.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the mountainous terrain, further deepening the palpable sense of dread and uncertainty.

As darkness enveloped them, the tension remained, a constant reminder of the unseen predator still lurking amongst them, patiently awaiting its next opportunity to strike. The silent anticipation of the next attack hung heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the Dargan's calculated cruelty.

The Threian camp, a haphazard collection of makeshift shelters, was situated in a small clearing amidst a dense forest. The air hung heavy with the scent of wood and damp earth.

Sharpened stakes, driven deep into the ground, formed a crude perimeter. Baldred surveyed the defenses with a serious gaze. Gerber equally serious, stood beside him, his gaze sweeping the surrounding trees.

"Two shifts, two hours each," Baldred instructed, his voice low. "Double guard at the east flank. Those wolves…" He trailed off, the unspoken threat hanging in the air. They have heard maniacal-like laughter coming from the east which only means one thing, another group of Laughing Wolves were nearby.

The first shift settled into their posts. The night passed without incident. No Dargan, no Laughing Wolves. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig.

As dawn broke, a scouting party returned, their faces grim. They led the others to a gruesome discovery.

The clearing, just beyond the Threian camp's perimeter, was a scene of slaughter. At least a dozen Laughing Wolves lay scattered among the trees. Their bodies were ripped and torn, their fur matted with blood.

Deep gouges marred their flanks and throats. Some were nearly disemboweled, their intestines spilling onto the forest floor. Claws, clearly far larger than those of a Laughing Wolf, had shredded their flesh. Teeth marks, too large for any canine, were evident on numerous corpses.

"By the gods," Gerber whispered, his eyes fixed on a particularly mangled corpse. Its head was nearly severed, its jaw hanging loosely, revealing rows of broken teeth. A large paw print, larger than that of a bear, was imprinted in the soft earth nearby.

"The Dargan." Baldred stated, his voice flat. "It seems the Dargan doesn't appreciate competition."

"Seems like he cleaned up our problems for us," one soldier offered, examining the corpses.

"Don't get too comfortable," Baldred countered, his gaze sweeping over the gruesome scene. "Whatever took down these wolves is still out there." He pointed to a massive tree trunk scarred with deep gouges. "Look at that."

The gouges were impossibly deep, clawed into the thick wood with brutal force. They were fresh, still oozing a dark, viscous fluid that was quickly congealing.

"What do we do now?" Gerber asked.

"We keep moving," Baldred said, his gaze fixed on the tracks leading towards the edges of the mountains. "We need to get out of this forsaken place. The faster we do it, the better."

The Threians moved slowly, cautiously. The forest floor was littered with evidence of a savage struggle. Torn branches, broken shrubs, and more scattered remnants of the Laughing Wolves marked their path. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood.

"Look!" one of the soldiers shouted, pointing to a large, partially concealed cavern opening. Claw marks, identical to those on the trees and the wolves, marred the entrance.

Baldred nodded curtly. "Let's take a look but be careful. That looks like its resting spot."

They approached cautiously, weapons drawn. The cavern opened into a vast, dimly lit space. The stench of blood and decay was overpowering. The floor was littered with bones—not just wolf bones, but those of larger creatures as well. The walls were scratched and scarred, testament to countless brutal battles.

In the center of the cave, they found it – a monstrous creature, half-hidden by shadows. It was something akin to a massive bear, but larger, more muscular, with fur the color of dried blood and eyes that glowed a sickly red. Its claws were long and wickedly curved, its teeth bared in a silent snarl. The air crackled with a palpable tension.

"That's not the Dargan," Gerber breathed, his voice barely audible.

The creature let out a low growl, its massive body beginning to stir.

"Let's get out of here," Baldred commanded, abruptly turning.

The retreat was as cautious and slow as their approach had been. The scent of blood and the fear radiating from the massive beast hung heavy in the air. They slipped back to the camp, the images of that massive creature, etched in their minds.

The danger was clear. The Dargan wasn't the one that took out the pack of Laughing Wolves but the monster living near where they had set up their camp. Luck seemed to be still on their side as the monster didn't go after them during the night.

"Do you know what creature was that?" Kael turned towards Gerber, his breath misting in the frigid mountain air. The aftermath of the encounter was stark: more than a dozen Laughing Wolves, their fur matted with blood, lay scattered amongst the fallen leaves. Their throats were ripped open, the wounds suggesting a brutal, efficient killing.

Gerber shook his head. This was unprecedented, even for seasoned hunters like themselves. The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the lingering scent of something wild and unfamiliar.

It looked like a bear, but significantly larger, its massive frame easily dwarfing even the largest of the slain wolves. The sheer power evident in the scene spoke volumes about the creature's strength.

"I don't know if my eyes were playing tricks on me or not, but did that thing have an owl-like head?" Kael added, his voice laced with a palpable unease. The image was burned into his memory: the incongruous combination of bear-like body and the piercing gaze of an enormous owl head.

"You are not mistaken, and your eyes are not playing any tricks on you," Captain Baldred replied, his voice firm despite the grim situation. He gestured towards the carnage. "That thing is an Owlbear... Much more dangerous than the Dargan, since it can use elemental magic, just like the mages." He paused, his gaze hardening. "The element it utilizes? I have no plans of finding out."

"Owlbear? But what is one doing here in the Tekarr Mountains?" Gerber questioned, the disbelief evident in his tone. The Tekarr Mountains were known for their harsh conditions, but an Owlbear? This was beyond the realm of their usual hunting grounds.

"Who cares what it's doing here? All I care about is that we don't antagonize it. The Dargan is enough trouble for us. I have no plans of adding an Owlbear to the equation," Baldred snapped, his voice tight with barely suppressed fear.

The Captain, a man known for his bravery, displayed a rare flicker of genuine apprehension. Owlbears were legendary, creatures of myth and nightmare, their power exceeding even the most formidable beasts.

The silence that followed was punctuated only by the wind whistling through the craggy peaks. Kael examined the ground, noticing deep gouges in the rock, evidence of the Owlbear's immense claws.

One of the wolves lay partially devoured, its innards spilling from a massive wound that seemed to have been torn open with terrifying ease. The scene was a testament to the Owlbear's raw power and savagery.