The Beast of Butchery [Part 1]

[Gwydion Veneficus]

Gwydion found himself in the Deep Wilds once more—not that he had any desire to be anywhere near Squid's Folly. He'd heard whispers and rumors of something preying on people who'd come to visit the ruin while wandering around Duskside the previous night. No one ever saw what it was—people were simply ripped away from their compatriots with barely a muffled scream only to be discovered later half eaten not far from the ruins themselves. Gwydion paused at the scene of such a feast. Three men—half eaten. He'd heard of a mad mage in the Deep Wilds but to his knowledge all the cannibal left was blood and clothes. These people still had large chunks of flesh remaining on them—and the bite marks looked almost canine. "Most curious..." Gwydion mused to himself, poking at one body looking for clues. That's when he heard the low grumble of something in the distance behind him.

"Y̵̓͝o̶͑̽u̶͗̆ ̸̧̕š̷̀m̴̈́̂e̵̍̕l̷̐̕l̶̄͗ ̶́͝l̴̀͝ǐ̶̘k̷̑̃ē̴̋ ̴͆̌t̸͊͠ḧ̷̠́ȉ̸̀s̶͔͛ ̵̆̈́p̷͋͋l̵̇̎a̴͆͠c̸͒̇e̷͐͒..." a voice said as branches cracked underfoot as it approached.

Gwydion reached up and grabbed the hilt of Prince's End but did not turn around. He listened. It was heavy and armored, but the clank of the armor was not uniform as if it were not wearing a suit of armor—but rather perhaps pieces of armor. Openings for his blade he thought to himself. A sniff. Whatever it was likely had never bathed—the scent was overpowering. Indicating perhaps an animal of some kind. A dragging sound. A weapon, perhaps? A flail—three heads that clinked against each other.
.
Another low grumble. The creature was tall—perhaps thirteen or fourteen feet tall—with a sneering skull-like snout that hung below a pair of burning amber eyes. His mangy, yellow crested fur reached from head to mid-back while hair grew in small, scabby patches. Pale and gray, leathery hide contrasted with a taut mane with an almost regal crest of black spines. Animal? Sort of. The beast's broad chest and arms were armored in a patchwork of broken shield and breastplates held together by little more than chains and decorated with the dried flesh of countless enemies slain.

"W̸̊̈́ḧ̴́͊y̶̌̀ ̴̿̓d̷͐̓õ̸̟ ̷̛̚y̴͛̊o̶̒̈ű̴̑ ̴̋͊n̶͛͊o̴̎̋t̶̎̈ ̵̑̒r̴͝ͅȗ̵͎n̷̿͠?̶̑̃" the vulgar, vile voice called out to Gwydion.

"Because I am not afraid." Gwydion said, standing up and turning around. He stood face to chest with the beast, looking up with his hand still gripping Prince's End. The beast was nearly twice as tall as he was, but Gwydion's resolve never wavered as he regarded the creature with his own amber eyes. "Who or what are you?" He asked, standing defiantly before the beast.

"Ĭ̷̽ ̷͊͐ȧ̵͠m̵̠͂ ̶̓̈́Ỹ̷̅ĕ̵̺e̴͒̃n̸̽̾o̵̓̈́g̸̔̓ủ̸̧,̷̮̈ ̸̎͝B̴̈̈́é̵̊ā̵̆s̸͌͛t̷̒̈́ ̸̀͠ó̵̂f̷̾̀ ̴̈́̊B̷̋͝ủ̴̓ẗ̷̒ć̴̋h̶̚͝e̶̍͝ȓ̶̕y̵͊."

"Yeenoghu, eh? Funny name." Gwydion quipped as he dashed quickly to the right side of Yeenoghu and quickly drew Prince's End to fall into a battle-ready stance. "I'm assuming you're the one who has been butchering people in the Deep Wilds then?" He began, though didn't expect a verbal answer from the beast. He didn't know how he was going to produce victory against such a formidable beast, it was far larger—and meaner than anything he'd encountered since he lost his magic.

Yeenoghu inhaled deep and turned to face the man before him. The beast embodied killing. His ambitions were few—nothing really beyond the thrills of rending flesh and drinking the blood from the skulls of his enemies. He had a single-minded pursuit of destruction that made him one of the most dangerous forces to roam the material plane. Yeenoghu lifted his three-headed flail and swung it at Gwydion with all his might.

Yeenoghu inhaled deep and turned to face the man before him. The beast embodied killing. His ambitions were few—nothing really beyond the thrills of rending flesh and drinking the blood from the skulls of his enemies. He had a single-minded pursuit of destruction that made him one of the most dangerous forces to roam the material plane. Yeenoghu lifted his three-headed flail and swung it at Gwydion with all his might.

Gwydion was caught by surprise, but he did not panic as the weapon came crashing down on top of him. Instead he stepped quickly to the side and allowed the three-headed mace to pass by harmlessly and collide with a heavy thud onto the ground in front of him. "You're no butcher," said Gwydion calmly, "...that was amatuer, Yeenoghu."

"P̵̅̊ằ̷t̸̊̇h̵̊̈́e̵͆͂t̸́͋i̸̛͂c̸̍͋ ̸̿̒m̵͛̽o̶͂̃r̴͛͘ẗ̸́̽a̴̍̚l̶͐̀." And then Yeenoghu laughed aloud and charged again, swinging wildly with the flail. But Gwydion moved smoothly aside once more just before impact, letting the metal flail-heads fly past where he stood without causing any damage whatsoever. With an almost casual gesture of his right hand, Gwydion threw a charged Rune of Explosion towards Yeenoghu's left flank. It struck true, exploding when it hit the ground, sending Yeenoghu staggering backward. As soon as he regained his footing, however, he hurled himself forward into another charge at Gwydion.

Gwydion waited again until the last moment and spun forward, and around, dragging his blade across Yeenoghu's midsection. Then he followed through swiftly and two more quick slashes at Yeenoghu's back, severing several tendons there. Once done, Gwydion whipped about suddenly and kicked hard against the monster's back. The blow sent Yeenoghu stumbling forward over some rocks for which Gwydion took advantage of this opportunity to attack again, slashing twice at the creature's back again before leaping away out of range.

"Q̵͋͋u̷̥̿i̴̅͘c̷̎̒k̵͆͗e̸͓͘r̵̋̕ ̵͛̕ẗ̵́͘h̶̄̈́a̴̅͆ǹ̸͊ ̷̑̾y̵͒̈́o̴̬̒u̸̲̓ ̴̐͘l̶͓͒o̸͂̓ò̷̇k̷̑͝,̴̇͗ ̷̓̚m̸͘̚ơ̸͘r̷̟͆t̶́͛a̵̦͑l̵̀̈́..." Yeenoghu said, turning around, seemingly unaffected by the cuts that Gwydion had inflicted upon them. He was no ordinary beast. There was nothing unique about Yeenoghu's behavior. Destruction was commonplace among demons—but Yeenoghu reveled in it. Made it a beautiful spectacle. Killing was an art form and Gwydion was making it less... arsty... if not ugly. A dance with death.

Yeenoghu turned to face him once more, and then began speaking rapidly as though reading from some book or scroll. "I̷͚̚ ̵̈́́a̷͑̄m̴̾̍ ̸̜͋g̵̭̿ō̸̉i̵̳͋n̷̿̚g̶̭̓ ̸̉͝ť̶̚ȏ̸́ ̴̧̾k̴͑͝i̸͐͘l̷͕̏l̷͌̅ ̶͌̽y̸͒͠ó̴u now," Yeenoghu growled between the clenched teeth of his snout. Flinging his flail the demon gnoll charged at Gwydion again and swung wildly, catching Gwydion on one side just below his shoulder and knocking him off balance. In that same instant, however, Gwydion twisted quickly under the swing, taking advantage of Yeenoghu's momentum to bring up his sword arm and strike down into the beast's chest. As soon as the weapon made contact with Yeenoghu's body, Gwydion pulled back and rolled away from the charging monster.

Gwydion reached up and rubbed the fresh, bloody wound just below his shoulder. It was little more than a scratch but it still stung. He watched as Yeenoghu turned around and faced him again. The beast still appeared to be all but completely unphased by his attacks. It was in this moment he wished he had his magic. "Why don't you just die?" He said, sliding back into a ready position and keeping a healthy distance between himself and the beast.

Yeenoghu charged at Gwydion again. This time however instead of dodging, Gwydion simply raised his sword above his head and waited for the attack to come to him—and swung downwards with the blade right on Yeenoghu's skull. But even though Gwydion's blow was strong enough that it could have split an oak tree beneath its weight, nothing happened when he struck the creature. Instead Yeenoghu stopped, rose to full height, and seemed unaffected, only slightly annoyed by Gwydion's futile attempt. He reached out and grabbed Gwydion's neck with one hand then lifted him off his feet and slammed him down onto the ground hard enough so that it almost knocked the wind from him.

Then Yeenoghu bent over and picked up Gwydion like a child would pick up a doll and held him aloft before him while staring straight ahead at Gwydion intently without blinking. Gwydion struggled against being manhandled but found no strength enough to break free of the grasp. "Fuck..."

There was nothing to announce the presence of one of Farwolaeth's slayers in the Deep Wilds, but the embodiment of an errant Abyssal god had left plenty of signs to follow. She'd quickly strayed from the trails here just as Yeenoghu had, instead following the mangled bodies and the smell of Abyssal rot far beyond where it should have been. He did not butcher to eat; he butchered to butcher, and left to his own devices, would shift the balance of too many places in the Wilds to tolerate.

She didn't ask for her god's permission. A feeling in her wraith-like soul, bound to the Shadow Realm, told her enough.

The animals of the Wilds did not go quiet with her approach, those that had not already been silenced by the gnoll-god's presence. She belonged among them, and he did not. In one instant she was prowling behind two trees, taking a curving path before a third -- and in the next she had closed the distance, appearing from the dense tangle of life and death, plant and earth and rot, without any warning.

The Void-forged steel longsword Dawn's Strife was in her hands, wailing as it struck for Yeenoghu's arm that was holding Gwydion aloft, intending to either sever the limb or slash through it hard enough to release the man. She twisted her hips on the follow-through to heave the sword down the armored beast's back, using the moment of surprise to aim for weak spots in a rapid flurry, twice a second, magical steel and radiant magic seeking tendons and brittle bones more than vitals. Black shadows flared from her eyes and along her arms with each blow, feeding her oath against this god's un-belonging into her power and precision.

No words spoken. Not yet. She wasn't sure if he would remain to hear her.

"W̴̐̓h̵̦̾a̸̔̇t̷͊͆ ̵̛̰ǐ̶͇s̵͒͆ ̶̿̽t̴͌̏h̵̹͐ī̴̿s̵̲̅?̸̓̕: the beast howled as the blade cut into—and severed the arm that was holding Gwydion's neck. This let the would-be swordman fall to the ground and wrench the massive hand free of his throat. It had taken only the time it took for him to free himself that Yeenoghu howled a second time—Ettyn's blade cutting deep into his back despite the patchwork armor held loosely by thick chains. "̶̃̓I̸͌̇ ̵̊̃w̴̌̚i̷̊̽l̸̈́̎l̶̹͊ ̷̛̏k̵̊̕i̷͊͝l̴̀̈́l̴̐̈ ̸͆̋y̴̑͠o̶̔̑u̵͋̌!̶̓́"̴̆̀ Yeenoghu growled as the additional strikes to his exposed backside found their marks and brought pain the beast hadn't felt in years. When the attacks ceased, the battered beast turned away from Gwydion whom appeared to be no real threat—to one who most certainly was.

Gwydion took this moment to shove Prince's End through Yeenoghu's back, the tip of his blade sticking out the middle of Yeenoghu's chest. The beast clawed at the tip of the blade attempting to grab it. "Not so fast, furball..." Gwydion mused, reaching into his pouch and pulling another Rune of Explosion from it and slapping it on the nape of Yeenogu's neck and tangled it up in the fur of his mane. In one swift motion he yanked the blade free and kicked off the beast's back to make some distance. "Fire in the hole!" He yelled out—not knowing who had saved him yet, but warning them nonetheless.

Ettyn did not waste her energy (or any time being close to her quarry) on additional strikes. He was about to blow. Her back foot found a slope she had spotted in her periphery on approach to this fight, and she turned into a roll, thudding into the earth, bouncing, and skidding down through brush and leaves until she stopped behind a tree. The wailing sword was braced in a high grasp, in case the angry Abyssal being or one of his minions had the means to mount a vengeful ambush in the immediate aftermath.

Gwydion dove behind one of the walls of the ruins now aptly named Squid's Folly and counted. "One... two..."

Yeenoghu reached back into his mane and attempted to wrench free the Rune of Explosion before it detonated—and was almost successful. They'd managed to not only grab it, but to pull it free from their hair just in time to look at it as it exploded in their face—throwing the beast backwards several yards. With both hands blown off the beast collided with a nearby wall. Still alive—but barely. Flesh hung loose from Yeenoghu's body, skull plainly visible where some flesh had been blown completely off. "̴̑͗I̴̐͗ ̵͊͊w̵̏͝i̶͗̽l̸͛͗l̵̏͐ ̷̎̎r̷̞̐è̷͝m̸͓̈́e̷̅̓m̸̓̿b̸̋̽ė̵͋r̸̂͝ ̶̛̀t̶͒̍ḣ̸ͅì̸͝s̷͖̀!̴̎͠"̵͂͝ Yeenoghu said, slowly rising from prone position to stand all wibbly-wobbly in front of the further ruined ruins wall.

Gwydion stepped out from behind the wall. "You're not so tough now without hands... paws... whatever, are you?" He said, maintaining a defensive stance just in case the beast was in fact still a threat despite not having hands. You never knew in Rhy'Din. Distant howling. Gwydion turned his head a moment. "Friends of yours?"

"̵͒͠Ĩ̵̈́ ̸͆̋m̸̳̈a̶̛͑y̵̽́ ̶̲͗f̷̱̃ā̷̒l̸̈́͘l̸̛̈́ ̷̓̉b̸̛͋u̶̍̌t̸̋͘ ̴̉͝m̴͒͝y̷̆͌ ̴̈́̅f̶̔̋r̷͔̒i̸͛̀e̶͌̕n̴͂̊d̵̈́͛s̴̄̇ ̸̈́will feast." the beast said, almost seeming to laugh through that half-missing snout.

Dialogue. The weakness of every being like this she had encountered so far, and he was not the exception. She had not only cover from the explosion, but distance, and she closed it with another silent, arcing path while Yeenoghu exchanged words with his current target.

In seconds she was behind the bloody and burned figure. There was no dramatic pause. She moved like a predator. An additional weapon was drawn from her belt, a scepter that erupted into a flaming dwarven longsword when she pressed her pinky into the pommel, and it and the Void-forged weapon came at Yeenoghu from either side to split this embodiment of him in half.

The upper half of a torso toppled towards Gwydion. The rest sprayed blood violently, and she let it soak her face and her armor, fully soaked in it. She responded to the howls with a long, howling, wraith-like shriek that had belonged to this forest's death-bringers centuries ago and far longer, only recently heard again. The death of Yeenoghu, his scent and his viscera on her, the wraith-shriek, all of it was a message to the creatures she would rather not face tonight. Flee or die.

Gwydion watched as Ettyn appeared and split Yeenoghu in half, sending that foul blood spraying up onto the air and not only soaking herself in it—but him as well. He was certainly glad he wore dark colors now. He winced at the shriek, though more because of his preternatural hearing than actually being surprised by it. He looked to Ettyn, then the body, then back to Ettyn.

"Why do we always seem to meet over someone—or something dead?" He asked, wiping the blood off his face with a handkerchief produced from his pocket before sheathing Prince's End back upon his back. This was the second time the Slayer had saved his life.

It was a few moments after the shriek faded that Ettyn responded. The depth of shadow around her eyes returned to their normal lightless blackness. She shushed the wailing Void-forged longsword and murmured comfort to it in Welsh, doused the flaming longsword and retracted it back into a scepter with a push on the pommel, and stowed her weapons. She listened for more of the strange howling, but heard nothing. Maybe her Fell presence had worked and saved them some trouble.

She didn't intend to linger to see how long the fear would last. "Death's my business. Might be why. What brought you out here?" she asked.

Even as she asked, she was turning her head, looking away from him, marking the path to the nearest Waystone in her mind. She'd been here, or near to here, before.

"I heard rumors of something snatching people out of..." He chuckled, "the ruins of my folly... and the more I dug into them the less it sounded like a creature of the forest. I know there are researchers studying these ruins and the mark I left on them—so naturally I came to investigate." Gwydion finished, bending down and picking up the three-headed flail used by Yeenoghu. He pondered it a moment. It was much too large for him to use—but perhaps Magnus? He pressed a rune onto it and watched as the weapon was sealed inside before pocketing it.

"So what exactly was that thing? I've seen—and fought—Gnolls before but this guy was... well... much larger and much stronger than any Gnoll I've ever fought. If he had not managed to grab me I think we could have gone tit for tat all night with neither of us gaining ground."

“Yeenoghu. Abyssal lord. Worshipped by gnoll cults. Don’t much care what they get up to - world’s full of marauders, fanatical ones too - but him coming out here… He trespassed.” She looked up at the vast, distant canopy of these ancient trees and all around them, lending more significance to the word. “Must’ve known the risk. Could’ve met worse than me and did it anyway.” Her eyes narrowed, back towards the ruins. “—Something here must be worth it — for him and likely others.”

She swiped a gloved hand across her face, getting some of the blood and viscera away from her mouth, at least. “Shouldn’t linger. Need an escort back?” she offered.

"Gnolls good, actual Gnoll god... bad... got it..." He mused, looking around the forest as she did and taking in the sights and sounds for a moment. The forest was indeed ancient. He could feel it in his bones. He paused, turning to look at the ruins, then back to Ettyn. "I hate to say it—but I think the ruins might be attracting powerful beings. Rumors also say a strange, but powerful jester-like mage has been hunting out here. Eating people. Hopefully the researchers can figure something out."

He shook his head. "I don't need an escort out, but I'll be more than happy to follow behind someone who just cut a Gnoll god in half..."

She grinned. "Helps when they've been softened up by a fire ward or two... and too busy running their mouth to pay a slayer any mind." Though the grin did not linger, and neither did she. The news he had shared was unsettling.

"Alright. Nearest Waystone is this way. Following the Waystones, won't be long getting back to the city -- and a Fell-damned bath," she rumbled. Slayer or not, she did not particularly enjoy being slathered in Abyssal blood. She led the way out.

Brahne sat atop a high tree branch and had watched the whole fight from beginning to—unfortunate—conclusion for Yeenoghu. They brought the poor puppy here to have some fun; but the mean Slayer and that insufferable former Fel Prince had mucked everything up. Poor Yeenoghu would eventually reconstitute himself—nature of an Abyssal lord—but in the meantime Brahne was confused as to why the Gnoll king kept to the forest. The two miserable rats that had disposed of his recent summoning had said something that piqued his interest. They too were drawn to this part of the forest—though perhaps it was their madness that kept them from lingering here too terribly long. They paused a moment. Maybe they should stop eating the researchers and let them figure out what was now so unique about these ruins. Yes, they'd stop eating them—for now.

[Big thanks to Death Knell for the conclusion!]