Bob and George crawled through the grasses. They were leading the cow away from their initial position, so that Sophie could flank more easily. The cow trotted forward, swishing its tail aimlessly, pausing now and again to refresh on greenery. Could Sophie somehow control the strength of attraction? Or was this the cow's maximum speed? Because it was definitely following them; it was just taking its sweet time about it.
Through his mud vision, Bob watched Sophie sneak up behind the cow. She was quite a good sneaker. If Bob hadn't know exactly where to look, he would never have spotted her moving through the grasses. She was close now. Striking distance. All she had to do was get up and plunge the dagger into the cow's side. Here she goes. She floated up. She raised her weapon. She... froze. Bob could see her hands were shaking. Dammit Sophie.
The cow moved lazily forward. The cow yawned. The cow took a step. The cow bent down to have a bite of grass and then... Bob jumped into action: he stood full up, looking Sophie straight in the eye and made violent stabbing motions. Sophie glared back at him, her face reddening visibly. And then the cow lifted its head, chewing loudly, and Bob had to dive for cover.
The cow wasn't stupid. It did notice something. It tilted its head, it chewed, it examined the area, it chewed, it started to bumble forward again, it chewed and then... Sophie made her move, Sophie was flying forward, she'd committed, no turning back now, the cow swung its head around, and Sophie dived for cover. Bob tried to stop himself from laughing. He didn't succeed.
There was the noticeable sound of laughter followed by the thudding skid of a body impacting the grass. The cow started to turn. It would discover Sophie for sure. The cow stopped. Continued turning. Stopped. Decided it would rather find the sweet-smelling place. Turned back. Stopped. Picked up a mouthful of grass. And then began trotting forward again. All clear.
A nightmare figure, vaguely resembling a woman, rose up the grasses. Its nice, summer dress was spotted with dark mud. Who wears white to a hunting expedition? Repeated humiliation really takes the charitable soul out of a person. Sophie lunged at the cow and the knife blistered into the animal's side.
The cow moaned. It crumbled to its knees. It was crying. Tears fluttered down its human cheeks as it whimpered and begged wordlessly for mercy. It didn't even try to fight. The face looked back at Sophie. A woman's crying face. Sophie was holding the knife, blood on her hands, blood on her dress, preparing to plunge in the dagger. Their eyes met and Sophie stopped short.
Bob and George walked over. He was about to start lecturing the girl on the importance of decisive action, but once he saw the creature up close, he just didn't have to stomach. He felt damn sorry for the cow. It was really quite heart-wrenching. The poor cow didn't understand what was happening. It was lying there in the grass. Weak and innocent. Moaning in a human voice. Just because the system called an animal a monster, didn't make it one.
"Sophie what do you want to do? You don't have to do. We can let her go if you want. Give her a health patch even."
He could see she was tempted. She didn't let it show, but it was obvious the sight of the cow bothered Sophie. And yet, she shook her head and whispered. "This is what it takes to be strong."
"Maybe. I don't know. I don't have the answers Sophie. There might be a better way and we just haven't found it."
She smiled unhappily. "Robert, we both know the world doesn't work like that."
"I guess. You've had it worse than I have."
"Yes, yes I have."
Sophie stepped forward. She brought the dagger up. The cow was looking at her, with those big, innocent, green eyes, like a child's, flickering with uncomprehending fear. The cow had stopped moaning and started humming to herself, a quiet, melodious tune, like she wanted to drown out the world around her.
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Music is a strange magic, don't you think? Somehow it speaks straight to the heart. Bob caught himself choking up a little. He felt strange and restless. What was this feeling? There was pity mixed in, remorse and fear too, but it wasn't just that. There was something else. Something more primal. He was thirsty. Yes he was thirsty. He was just parched. His throat was so dry and unpleasant. It was like he was choking. He swallowed and everything seemed to catch and grind. He needed something to drink. Just a glass of something. You can't do anything in a state like this. And look, how blue the waters of the lake sparkle.
It was then that Bob saw George plunge towards the lake, tongue lolling out. No fair, George. Sophie wasn't far behind, dagger long since fallen from her grip. Wait for me. Bob sprinted after. He hadn't forgotten the cow. But it was such a sweet, little, innocent thing. He was glad they hadn't killed her. And the water was calling to him. And he would answer the call. But was that a ripple running over the surface? And on such a still day. Curious. And how deep and dark the lake appeared up close. The cow's tune seemed to ring in his ears. Water, water.
George was already at the shoals, playing in the waves, throwing himself down and rolling about in the cool liquid, slurping up mouthful after mouthful. Sophie was right behind, splashing water on herself and drinking deep and long. Bob's bare feet slipped into the water and it was a cool and delightful sensation. He waded out. The cold, refreshing darkness welcomed him. He couldn't stand any more. He was treading water. Sophie was nearby. George was paddling over. He drank and drank and drank. It was better than anything he'd ever tasted. Fresh, clean, invigorating.
But something was off. There was a low buzzing in the back of Bob's mind. He tried to ignore it. It grew louder; it turned into a knocking and then a pounding, like someone was trying to break through. He didn't want to be found. But why didn't he want to be found? He was... He was... What the hell was he doing? The mental prison shattered. He was far out, deep in the lake. He looked back. The cow was standing on the banks, staring meanly at him, its eyes twisted with violence and cruelty.
That bloody cow. But what a beautiful voice, what tones and melodies, the music lapped about him, like old red wine. He tasted it and it was a heady, strong Dionysian grape. Then his will gripped down. He breathed in and sighed out. His mind cleared. He breathed in and sighed out. The stillness deepened. Harry slid about him. Mud armor. The music died. It was dark and peaceful here. Only the sound of his breath, of the pure ohm, rising and falling. Time seemed to soften.The mud in front of his eyes faded into transparency. He could look out onto the world.
Sophie and George were laughing together. Sophie would splash water into George's face and George would bark happily back. The two of them were finally getting along. There's always a silver lining. But, what was that? Ripples in the water. Too many and too close. Great, big ripples, waves. Something was coming.
Think Bob think. What could he do? Why does it always end up like this?
"I'm sorry Sophie."
Bob pushed Sophie underwater. It was his second time drowning the woman in their short acquaintance (only the second). He held her there, one, two, three. A stream of white bubbles floated up and Bob hauled her to surface. She was screaming.
"Ten-ten-tentacles, tentacles!"
She kept screaming as she madly front-crawled towards the shoreline. A brilliant strategy. Why hadn't Bob thought of that. In one move to completely disrupt the siren's spell.
George was free. And free George continued to frolic about on the lake. That dog had always liked swimming. Stupid dog. Bob grabbed the animal by the collar and started towing him towards land. The idiot canine resisted.
"Dammit George. We'll go swimming another time."
The idiot canine continued resisting. Thankfully Bob was stronger. Harry had streamlined himself and finned out Bob's legs. Bob zipped through the water. They were close now. They were going to make it. Dry land ahoy.
Sophie landed first. Without stopping, without pausing, without catching her breath, she scooped up a stone and ran screaming at the cow. The cow stumbled back as Sophie jumped on top of her. Sophie hammered the stone down into the cow's head, again, again, again and the whole time she was screaming her lungs off. The cow toppled over to the side, but Sophie did not stop. The stone was red. Blood and brains spattered everywhere. And she was still screaming, screaming and screaming. I told you she was a banshee.
Bob's foot touched ground. They were safe. They'd made it. It was over. And then he fell, pulling George down under with him. Something had grabbed him by the leg. Something had grabbed him and was dragging him deeper into the water. He tried to kick it off, but it wouldn't budge. Somehow he manage to spin around and get eyes on the monster. He started to scream.
They were not safe. They were very, very far from safe. A storm of black and purple tentacles slithered towards him; they were on top of him. The other leg. His waist. His chest. Bob shouted at George, "blub, blub, blub-blub." White bubbles. Stupid dog. With the last of his strength, Bob propelled George away from himself. A tentacle swept after. The dog jetted forward, he hit the ground running. George would make it yet. The tentacle caught him just at water's edge, sucking him back down into the depth.
They were trapped. Trapped underwater, helpless, drowning, spent. In front of them was their adversary. They'd found him, alright. The zone boss. The lord of the lake, of the depths, of the quiet grave. The terror of tentacles. The horned octopus.
Der Krakenbulle (lvl 10)