Intent

“So you noticed them first this time,” Moira said in hushed tones, crouching beside John. “That gives you an advantage. How are you going to use it?”

“Okay,” John replied, “if I’m downwind, that means they won’t pick up on me as long as I stay out of sight and stay quiet. That- wait. Are there wind currents in caverns? Should there be? Is that an Abyssal thing or did I not pay enough attention in Earth Science?”

“Newman,” Moira shot him a sharp look, “focus.”

“Right.” John shook his head clear before his inquisitive nature could overtake his thoughts again. “I can try a surprise attack If there’s only a few, but we need to run if there’s too many. I need to hide either way, but I also need to know how many of them there are. How am I supposed to do that?”

“Don’t ask me, ask yourself.” Moira slowly stepped backwards, with less noisy clanking than her armor would suggest. “And you should keep that part about being quiet in mind.”

John let out a muffled, “God damnit,” before clamping his mouth shut. Twice Moira had to correct him in only a few seconds time - twice! He felt like an amateurish idiot. Admittedly, he was an amateur, but this was supposed to be his opportunity to prove himself to her. Embarrassment sunk in his gut. John’s brow furrowed and that shame sputtered before transitioning to a simmering anger. Why did he care what Moira thought of him? She’d made it clear time and time again that he meant next to nothing to her. Fuck Moira. She could-

Focus!

It didn’t matter what a bitch Moira was, how right he was about her, or how impressive he looked. John had a life and **** situation on his hands, there was no time for righteous indignation. At the moment, all that mattered was getting as much information on his opponents as he could before they noticed him.

“You should back up more,” he said, “out of sight if you can. Your armor is reflecting too much light for me to hide.”

Moira nodded her assent and continued to back away. The ground around them was flat but littered with rocky protrusions; it wasn’t hard for her to slip behind one and out of John’s field of view. John himself hunkered down behind a cluster of narrow stalagmites near the pool of water, with it between him and the direction the gentle breeze came from. There, he waited.

He could smell them before he heard them, and he could hear them before he could see them. The cavern walls carried their yips and bays down along their path, as well as the hyena’s iconic faux laughter. Seemed they weren’t trying particularly hard to be stealthy. If John had to guess, he’d say they were probably chatting, but with the occasional bark or growl mixed in, he couldn’t tell if they were relaxed or on edge. That was less important than trying to ascertain their numbers, however, so he focused on that. Immediately, he could pick one voice out from the rest, sharper but deeper than the others. The rest of the chatter was hard to distinguish. It would have been hard if the Gnolls were speaking English; it was all but impossible with them speaking in a language he had no hope of understanding. As far as he could tell, there were three or four total, maybe five if one was being uncharacteristically quiet. That number made all the difference. If John was off by just one, he could wind up running when he should fight or, worse, fighting when he should run.

Maybe I should just run anyway. There’s no guarantee I can even take three-on-one. Why bother taking the risk? What’s the harm in taking the better part of valor?

Losing his ambush was what. Some calmer part of John’s brain told him that if he ran now, they’d find his tracks. Odds were low that they’d pass up the chance to hunt down a nice, tasty human. And then there was Moira. If the Gnolls found her first and engaged, he’d be screwed. She had made it very clear that she’d ditch him if he **** her to fight his battles for him. He’d live through this encounter, but how long would he survive on his own? Adrenaline tingled at his fingertips.

No. This is my best chance. I have to do this.

Emboldened, and with his fight-or-flight mode engaged, John tried listening one more time. A short bark from the supposed leader and a few subsequent yips gave him an idea. If that voice really was in charge, the others would have to respond if it issued any orders or asked any questions. If he could pick up on that, he wouldn't need to tell the other voices apart, all he had to do was count them.

A minute passed without success. Another minute passed without luck. A third was on the verge of passing by as John pondered the subjective nature of perceived time when his ears perked up for the cue he was looking for. A growl, building into a pointed bark from the deeper voiced Gnoll. It was angry - a reprimand. Two submissive squeals followed, two and only two. John had his number, and he readied himself to fight.

Enough time had passed that John could tell they were probably within eyeshot now, but he didn’t dare try to peek out to confirm. Everything depended on his first Sneak Attack, he couldn’t risk blowing it by being seen. Fortunately, Lifesense had proven its worth in the last fight. He activated it, focused, and **** himself to breathe unnaturally slowly. It was do or die time.

From the sound of it, they seemed to be headed in the direction he and Moira had come from. Good. John didn’t have to wait long before a blip of presence popped into his awareness. John’s muscles tightened. Another followed, then the third, all moving at a leisurely pace past his position. The others were too close for him to strike yet, but, even though the air was still for the moment, he couldn’t risk waiting much longer, lest they catch his scent. Their positions were still too close for comfort, but since when was anything about fighting even remotely comfortable? The first presence disappeared as it left his range and, despite his fear, John chose that moment to act.

He wanted to give some kind of battle cry as he burst from hiding, the adrenaline and instinct coursing through his veins demanded it of him despite the sheer stupidity, and he grit his teeth painfully hard in resistance. With his left hand hooked around a stalagmite, John thrust himself away from it, using the stony pillar as an anchor to pivot his momentum into a circular arc. He swung out his other arm with Black Claw firmly in hand, further shifting his momentum outward, just as the first signs of alarm began to register in his target’s eyes. John debated which would be worse as the tip of his blade caught the Gnoll’s neck, to suffer a lethal wound with no warning, or to react fast enough to see it coming, but not enough to do anything about it. He didn’t know. Funny, though, how time seemed to slow down in these most dangerous of moments. Funny, as he swung past and the first droplets of arterial spray hit his back, because of the eerie calm that came with it, and how he was wasting that time thinking about wasting that time.

At least it took his mind off what he was doing.

Sneak Attack!
30 damage, slashing

The reality of the situation reasserted itself as John released the stalagmite and stumbled to a stop. A familiar yowl of pain rang out, joined by aggressive barks and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. A light pain impacted his ribs before he could turn around.

-2 hp

The handaxe that had clipped him was thrown by none other than the Gnoll that he thought he’d killed. He spun to see it on its knees, one hand clamped down on its neck and covered in flowing blood, while the shaky arm that had tossed the axe fell to fumble for another. It attempted to vocalize, but only gurgled up fresh blood.

“Shit!”

In front of him was the nearly (but not quite) dead Gnoll, its two companions, and an unidentifiable carcass between them. Things were already worse than John had hoped. Not only was his initial target still alive, but one of the two other Gnolls was a hulking beast compared to the others. Unlike the others in naught but their loincloths, this one wore a strip of hide across its somewhat pronounced chest, and bore an unreasonably massive wood and stone club in place of its companions’ axes. John vaguely recalled learning that female hyenas were larger and stronger than the males; apparently, Gnolls shared that trait. He could only hope they did not share the female hyena’s penchant for asserting dominance with their giant clit-dicks.

“I hate the Abyss,” John groaned. The impact of the female Gnoll’s club shook him, literally, back into focus before he could bemoan his fate any further. The resounding crack of stone on stone paired with the rumbling vibrations it sent through the cavern floor reminded John of the Stone Golem. If the female Gnoll was anywhere near as strong, John knew that he was well and truly fucked. Such times called for only one tried and true tactic: running like a little bitch.

Think think think think think think. Stop thinking about thinking and think, damn you!

There it was, the familiar panic of being outclassed, fleeing, and at the end of his wits. In a way, John was getting accustomed to the electrifying terror of being on the verge of ****, which, he noted, was not at all comforting. Terror aside, he needed a plan. Everything would be different if the female wasn’t there. The not-quite-dead Gnoll was more or less out of the fight, so he only had two opponents, just like before. Unlike before, however, was the she-beast with the giant club. There was no parrying that thing. John knew he couldn’t take more than two hits, and even that was only due to recently dumping five points into Endurance. Not too long ago, just one would likely have been enough to turn him into a splatter of gore and viscera. The image sent a fresh bout of horror coursing through him, and he could feel bile beginning to rise in the back of his throat, but, for one reason or another, it also triggered the instinct Erica had been trying to beat into him over the last week. John didn’t let the fear overtake him, nor did he reject it. Clenching his quivering jaw, he pivoted on the spot and clamped down on that fear. It would be the drive to help him survive.

+60 exp

Three things were most readily apparent. First, the terrain in the direction he had fled was rocky and uneven compared to the relatively smooth going he and Moira had had so far. Second, the female Gnoll was further behind than her remaining counterpart. Either her size, the weight of her club, or a combination of both slowed her down enough that John had a precious few seconds to engage the much closer male. Third, and the cause of the experience notification, she had mercilessly trampled the injured Gnoll during her charge, finishing it off in a most inglorious fashion.

The closer gnoll came at John with axe in hand, cackling mad. He leapt out of the downward chop’s reach, but found his back against a stone edifice that came up to his shoulders. Delighted at having John pinned, the Gnoll swung its axe in what promised to be a brutal blow to his liver. With his options limited, John took the route of escape he reasoned his opponent had discounted, vertical. The boots he’d acquired from his quest to learn more about the Golden Rose amplified his ascent severalfold, clear over both the Gnoll’s attack and its head. He landed behind it with a surprisingly light impact and spun to re-engage his opponent.

Remember, thick hide. Don’t go for the back.

12 damage, slashing
9 damage, piercing

John raked Black Claw along the Gnoll’s side, beneath the rib cage, to return the favor of attempting to disembowel him earlier, and added a complementary stab to the other side to truly express his gratitude. It would have been a foolish move had he not been behind his opponent; drawing back both arms for the strikes left his entire torso exposed and begging to be impaled. Fortunately, John was behind his opponent. Unfortunately, the female Gnoll was behind him.

It was thanks to the Gnoll he was currently stabbing that he had a chance to dodge at all. When it began to pivot to face John again, he was able to immediately recognize the terror on its face when its eyes flicked up to stare at something beyond him. John barely processed the snap decision before he found himself diving to the left, barely ahead of the club, which crashed into the ground from directly overhead with all the **** of a wrecking ball. It shattered the stone below into a spider web of jagged pieces with a nearly deafening crack. Even the second Gnoll had to backpedal onto its ass to avoid the impact.

John felt the fear in his heart begin to spread. Like it so often had before, it threatened to constrict his lungs, reduce his limbs to noodles, and overwhelm his mind with panic. He felt it, and he reached inward to seize it. Not this time. This time, he would channel it on his own terms.

Resolve steeled, John scrambled to the smaller Gnoll before it could get up and raise its guard again. He drove all of his momentum into jamming his dagger into its thigh, which rewarded him with another ten damage, a howl of pain, and a swift kick to his collar from the other leg that dislodged John and sent him tumbling backwards - directly into the female Gnoll’s shins.

“Oh, balls!” he yelped. A clutching hand reached down to scoop him up, but John’s training had honed his reactions well enough that he drove it away with a slash to the wrist that did disappointingly low damage. She snarled and made to kick him back to her companion, but John was already up and running. He knew he was flanked, but some simple math told him that the male was nearly dead. If he could kill it before getting attacked again, he’d be able to square off with the female one on one.

It would have been nice, but he wasn’t fast enough. He noticed the Gnoll’s eyes once again glimmer with fear as they flicked towards what must have been the incoming club off to his right. Grimacing, John aborted the attack and dodged left, directly into at least a hundred pounds of wood and stone.

-55 hp

Somewhere, beyond the blinding pain and despite the scrambled eggs he now called a brain, John acknowledged that they had tricked him.

-13 hp

The second chunk of damage had come from when he had slammed into the wall like a damp rag doll after several meters of free flight through the musty air. It would have knocked the air from his lungs if he’d had any left, but he hadn’t yet had time to reclaim any since being introduced to the female Gnoll’s club at what felt like the speed of sound. John thought he’d understood pain after several beatings by Frank, then again after his battle with Lazakall, and once more thought he’d experienced it all after getting punched by the Golem, but this was something else altogether. His vision was white and his ears were ringing. Most of his ribs were cracked, some were broken, and his clavicles were in pieces. As he sunk to the ground, he noticed that his balance felt off. His only consolation was that the minor pains from his limbs were so overshadowed by the screaming agony of his upper body that he couldn’t even feel them. His grasp on his fear loosened.

There was an ironic mercy in the cruelty of his foes. More delighted by John’s pain than disciplined, the two shared a nauseating cackle over their successful deception. It gave John the time for his vision to return, tipsy as it seemed, before the female stalked towards him to finish the job. Slowly, albeit lightning fast in terms of the mundane human body, the pain began to recede and John could focus again. He picked himself up with a trembling arm, mind racing for a new plan. Moira was nowhere to be seen, just as asked. Even if she wanted to help, John wouldn’t know how to signal her. There was no stopping the female Gnoll's approach.

She was too strong to fight. What John needed was to finish the injured Gnoll, bolt, collect Moira, and run like hell until the female gave up the chase. He knew he could run faster than her, how unreasonably speedy Moira was even while fully armored, and chasing them without anyone to guard her kill would leave all three carcasses ripe for scavengers to steal before she could return. Hopefully, she would reason that three guaranteed bodies worth of food was worth more than risking it all for the chance of gaining two more. It wasn’t odds he would ordinarily bet on, but it was possible, and the smaller Gnoll needed to die for it to work.

Step one would be closing the distance. He was caught between a rock and a hard place again, so John boldly approached the female head on, as if answering her challenge. She cocked her head and offered a feral grin full of jagged and discolored fangs in response. It made John second guess himself, but he grit his teeth and committed himself to his plan. She charged.

John sprung backwards to avoid her two-handed swing, impacting the wall about three meters above where he’d crashed into it moments ago. He knew she’d seen him leap over the other Gnoll earlier, and the strategy didn’t work on the Golem either, so he had to change things up. He kicked off the wall and felt a brief rush as he sailed through the air well off to his opponent’s left. For that instant, he really felt like a video game character. Leaping to ridiculous heights, wall jumping, dodge rolling, it was exactly like the kinds of things John had done with a controller in his hands a million times before, and he couldn’t help but let the excitement wash over his fear. He felt energized, confident that he’d make it through this.

-62 hp

Reality came crashing back in the form of an all too familiar club slamming down on his shoulder like a falling meteor. She hadn’t tried to snatch John out of the air like the Golem. Instead, she traced his trajectory and, with the insane reach of her overlong arms and massive club, was prepared to squash him like the insect he was the moment he touched ground. He crumpled to the floor as if he was naught more than a hollow paper doll. The Gnoll let out a grunt of amusement.

There wasn’t anything left for John to do. No straws to grasp at presented themselves, no trump cards or Hail Mary plays, only the cold, suffocating grasp of the inevitable. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t feel anything but agony and an all-encompassing terror he had no hope of containing. There was no time for regrets or anger as he watched the instrument of his doom, already stained with his blood, rise into the air. His heavy heart, a thousand times its normal weight, lifted, and John knew it was time to die.

…

A sound like a distant shotgun rang out, barely piercing John’s veil of finality. In the same instant, a wild rush of wind blew over him, and the caverns for leagues beyond were filled with a resounding CLUNG that rattled his senses back into place. There, with her shield interposed between John and ****, was Moira Brighton.