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IABD 27: Stalking the Beasts
🕑 Added 2025-03-12 19:00:07 +0000 UTCMatthias Stonebreaker charted the gnoles’ bloody trail through the wilderness.
At first, it was easy to follow: dried gore, cracked bone, dozens of prints and deep drag furrows marked their path to the south east.
Bits of rotting flesh, torn clothing and rusty bloodstains told a tale of how they treated their captives as they’d moved through the wilderness. The gnole herd was bloodthirsty, likely sampling some of the ‘meat’ they’d captured along the way.
Matthias’ teeth ground.
They would soon become whetstones that honed his skill for battle.
As morning turned to afternoon, the trail changed.
Prints scattered in different directions, most cutting through rocky terrain, making the trail harder to follow across bare stone. They’d waded through streams, climbed trees and weaved deep into the brush.
Matthias followed, using every lesson he’d learned about tracking in his years in the mountains. When the herd’s tracks dispersed, he focused on the prints that sank deepest into the earth: these told of gnoles weighed down by their captives.
These would lead him to their lair.
Where the gnoles had climbed trees—erasing their footprints—he climbed the trees after them, marking bark chipped by claws and branches broken by their captives’ weakening struggles. Dagma and Beggahasta followed from below as he moved from tree to tree, only returning to the ground when the herd had abandoned the canopy, resuming their trail through the forested mountain slopes.
The trail would lead him to their lair.
Where they’d crossed streams, he would wade in after them, searching the opposite bank for signs of their prints and the dried blood of their prisoners.
They would lead him to their lair.
Still, the journey was long.
Afternoon dimmed to evening, and darkness followed behind.
When the sun was at last beginning to set, Beggahasta called for a halt.
“We’ve gone far enough for one day, I think,” she said. “Another lesson for you: the night is the time of the beast. Not ours. We can make it our time, but you are not ready to fight beasts in the dark, Matt. Let’s make camp, and I’ll teach you traps. Dagma, help your brother: you’ll learn something.”
“Yes, mother,” Dagma said, eager to help.
Together, the Stonebreaker family made camp, erecting two tents in a clearing—one for Beggahasta and Dagma and one for Matthias-- then starting a small fire. They supped on bread and dried meat—simmered and rehydrated in a pot—with a variety of forest herbs.
A simple, but delicious dinner.
For a time, they listened to the sounds of the night. The forest rustled, owls hooted and other animals moved through the brush in the distance. All kept away from their camp.
Beggahasta sighed. “This would be nice if our circumstances were not so grim. I used to hunt with my family all the time when I was young.” She smiled, watching the fire. “The mountains were safer back then. No Eklund; our family still ruled these lands. We would not have allowed a herd of hungry gnoles to rampage through our forests.”
“I guess it’s still up to our family to make things safe,” Matthias offered.
His mother smiled at that. “Aye, some things don’t change. If only Breg were here.”
Silence passed between them as they listened to the crackle of flame.
Dagma looked up at her mother. “Is camping in the Wolfwood like this?”
Beggahasta’s expression turned dark. “No, it’s not.”
She stared into the fire.
“What’s it like, then?” Dagma pushed.
“Unnerving.” The warrior-woman’s voice dropped low. Fiery reflections danced in her eyes. “The Wolfwood is unlike any forest in the world. It hates you, quite literally: all of nature’s rage at what mortals did to cause the Age of Wolves, is all concentrated there, just as strong now as it was when my grandfather was your age. I doubt that rage has cooled at all in the last forty-one millennia. You feel it, as raw as an open wound.”
She looked around the surrounding woods. “The trees are taller, closer together. Brambles are sharper. Darkness is deeper. The sounds you’ll find there offer you no comfort; things tear each other apart as commonly as the wind blows through the air. Every night—whether you’re trying to sleep or on watch—you hear things dying. Screaming.”
Beggahasta tapped a pouch on her belt. A tiny harp was embroidered on the pouch. “Sometimes—back when I brought the harp with me into the Wolfwood—the other warriors would ask me to play for a time. It didn’t matter if the things in the dark heard us. There would be nights when comfort was worth risking being heard. Some soldiers even said: Doesn’t matter if beasts hear us! Music soothes the savage beast anyway!”
She chuckled, then her smile faded. Likely at the word ‘beast.’
“Anyway.” She got up. “It’s time to teach you about the trap you’ll use on the demonic beast-tiger, Matt. You already know some aspects of trap-making—rabbit-snares and the like—there are two traps for large predators like tigers that you could use for our quarry. One is the cage trap, the other the pit trap. I’d recommend the pit over the cage.”
“Why?” Matthias stood too.
Dagma got up, standing at his side, her attention intent on their mother.
“Because you won’t have time to build a cage, here or in the dream—”
He raised a hand. “Actually, I think the cage would work better in the dream-realm.”
“Oh? And why is that, son?” She looked at him closely.
“I could make it in my dream then bring it into Bregindoure’s, or I could make it in the real world and conjure it into Bregindoure’s dream when I need it. I doubt I’ll be able to dig pits in those islands of skulls.”
His mother paused, thinking for a moment. “That does make sense. Alright, the cage it is. Now, listen closely.”
She began, teaching Dagma and Matthias how to make a wooden cage trap for large beasts, instructing them on gathering the right branches, sharpening their tips, turning them into stakes, hammering them into the ground, and finding the right natural materials to tie them together with.
With his little sister using The Gift—and the shadow-tendril providing an extra ‘hand’—it didn’t take him long to finish a large wooden cage with a single opening leading inside. It was big enough to hold a dire bear, but small enough to stop such a beast from maneuvering within its confines.
The entrance could be shut by cutting a single rope, dropping the heavy gate to seal any prey inside. The top of the cage was barred, but had gaps wide enough for someone to spear or shoot between.
Matthias tested its strength by pulling on the bars. “This wood is definitely stronger than when we first gathered it, thanks to One With Truth and Nature and Dagma using the Gift to harden the bars.”
“We did a good job,” his sister patted her brother’s arm.
“That you did.” Beggahasta tapped the cage. “You must be careful, though: Divine Breath will have grown the tiger’s strength and given it other powers. I would finish it quickly once it’s in the cage, if I were you.”
“I’ll pour everything I have into shooting it with spikes once its’ trapped.” Matthias frowned. “Is there a way to know which deity it’s drawing its power from?”
“Not without examining its core.” Beggahasta shook her head. “But you could observe it and make an educated guess.”
He nodded. “I’ll try to do that, like I’ve been observing Bregindoure. It’ll be a less risky fight if I have an idea of what’s coming.”
“Good,” Beggahasta nodded then spoke to the cage. “Unravel and organise.”
It shuddered, coming apart piece by piece. Wooden stakes stacked themselves in neat rows, while the vines used to bind them together unravelled, coiling like snakes on the ground.
“Ready for transporting.” Beggahasta tapped the stakes. “I’ll bring the cage with us tomorrow and be ready to set it up wherever you want it, Matt.”
“Thanks, mother,” he said.
“Come, let’s get some sleep,” she said. “If we find the herd or the tiger tomorrow, you’ll want to be well rested.”
###
They saw their first gnole on the afternoon of the next day.
There had been clues that they were getting closer all morning; droppings, fur and other signs marked the gnoles’ territory as they followed their trails through crevices, climbed sheer rock faces, and even crawled beneath thick undergrowth.
Finally, their efforts were rewarded.
Beggahasta had spotted it first, but said nothing until Matthias caught sight of it about a minute later. A single member of the herd was perched atop a nearby cliff watching the forest below. It sniffed the air, scratching at its antlers absently.
Below and to the left of its perch, a wide crevice cut through rock. The herd’s trail led through it, but there was no way Matthias, Dagma or their mother could reach the pass without being noticed.
Fortunately, the Stonebreaker family was downwind of the creature—half-crouched, moving through the forest steady and silent—following the gnoles’ trail toward their lair.
It did not catch their scent.
“A lookout,” Matthias whispered. “Their den must be close.”
“Yes.” Beggahasta set the long cage poles down quietly, as though they were weightless. “What will you do?”
He looked up at the gnole.
“I’ll have to eliminate it, then we’ll need to move fast,” he whispered. “But…I don’t think I can hit it from this far with my gauntlets or bow: but even if I were to, it’ll have time to cry out. I know you said we defeat beasts from a distance, but I’m going to have to get close this time.”
Beggahasta patted him on the shoulder. “Do as you think best, Matt. This is your task. Your learning experience. Think, and take what knowledge you gain here into the dream with you.”
“We’ll follow what you say.” Dagma clenched her fists in encouragement.
Matthias watched the creature for a moment.
It was not very attentive; if anything, it looked bored and agitated.
He could use that.
Silently, he transformed one of his gauntlets into its obsidian form, pointing it into the forest and—-
He paused.
“No, if I shoot a spike from here, that gnole will hear the crack when it fires and look right over here.”
He transformed the gauntlet back to its metallic form, then summoned the tendril from his shadow.
It picked up a large stone, and swinging it like a sling gathering momentum, the rock hurtled above the tree canopy, landing with a heavy thud.
The gnole startled, letting out a low cry and peering over the cliff in the direction of the sound, squinting and sniffing…
…its eyes turned from where Matthias was hiding.
The young greatfolk wasted no time.
Focusing his intent on remaining quiet, he shot from the undergrowth, his boots almost silent on the stones, then pressed himself to the bottom of the cliff.
The gnole was still squinting at the woods.
Using the tentacle, he grabbed a handhold high above him and scaled the cliff without the beast noticing. He climbed higher, hands and boots pressed to the rock.
He paused: noticing decaying blood staining the stone where the creature had been feasting—devouring a piece of meat while on watch.
A human arm.
His eyes hardened.
He climbed closer.
The gnole began to turn.
Matthias’ tendril lashed out from his shadow.
It coiled around the creature’s throat, tightening, gripping its windpipe before the monster could cry out. With eyes bulging, the gnole tried to scream, but had no air.
Matthias leapt onto the cliff beside the gnole, seized its antlers…
…and snapped its neck with one, ferocious twist.
It went limp.
Resisting the urge to fling the filthy thing off the cliff, he laid it down quietly, then turned. Behind the cliff was another small passage leading through the stone, leading in the same direction as the crevice.
He drew his weapons then nodded to his mother and sister, pointing them in the direction of the passage below. His jaw set, he slipped into the upper passage while his family followed, using the route below it.
So focused was he on what he and his family were doing, he failed to notice something slip from the dead gnole’s shadow—the very first thing he’d killed since gaining the shadow-tendril—it followed him like a firefly chasing a lantern.
He also failed to notice his own shadow bubble and swallow the nameless thing whole.
###
Crawling on his belly, Matthias peaked out from the passage, spying a hidden forest valley below. On the other side was a cave, and surrounding it were dozens of gnoles milling about scores of bones.
“There you are,” he whispered, baring his teeth.
The atmosphere around the cave unnerved him, it touched the most ancient part of his brain in the same way a mouse might instinctually react to the scent of a serpent. A fearsome predator concealed itself there, its presence sent all of his instincts screaming.
He bit down on them.
‘Can’t lose your nerve here,’ he thought. ‘It’s your chance to rid this world of a monstrosity—’ he looked at the animal and humanoid bones piled outside the cave opening ‘—figure out how to save your brother and win something of value for your family. You have to survive Bregindoure to save him and you can’t do that if you can’t survive this demonic beast.’
He focused on the cavern.
It looked deep.
Dark.
He imagined it as an enormous, naturally formed version of the tiger cage he and Dagma had built. If he entered the cave, he would end up as the one lured into a trap.
He doubted he’d survive.
“I have to draw it into my trap, instead,” he whispered, eyes scanning the forested valley below. “But how am I—”
He hesitated when an inhuman scream cut through the valley, echoing off the rocky walls.
Matthias ’s eyes cast around the forest.
Movement rustled the foliage.
No less than half a dozen gnoles emerged from the woods, dragging a young forest elk between them. The creature struggled in their grip, but they subdued it brutally, hoisting it above their heads, chattering and cackling to each other.
They delivered the poor creature to the cave mouth, holding it in place while it screamed.
A gnole eyed the depths of the cavern and released a shrill, cackling cry.
Silence descended on the valley.
Matthias glanced at the crevice on the left side of the rocky overhang he crouched upon. There, his mother and sister hid among the rocks, watching the scene unfold.
The young greatfolk’s attention was drawn back to the elk by another piercing cry. The animal was struggling even harder in the grip of its captors, trying—with all desperation—to flee for its life.
It suddenly froze, one of its rolling eyes fixed on the cave mouth.
Matthias followed its gaze, suppressing a gasp.
An orange stripe caught a hint of the sunlight.
Green eyes pierced the darkness, fixed on the elk.
The poor creature stayed unmoving.
Slowly, the gnoles released it, bowing tensely toward the cave, rushing away as quickly as they could. The elk remained—transfixed and shaking—its eyes fixed on those green orbs in the darkness.
A feral growl erupted from the cave, unsettling air, flesh and even the mind.
Matthias recoiled: his instincts warning him, pushing him to prostrate himself before the creature inside the cave like a knight bowing before their king. He shook the compulsion away, fueled by indignation, then checked the crevice beside him. There, Dagma trembled beside their mother, gripping her spear tightly. He could see his sister fighting the urge to move while Beggahasta whispered in her ear and rubbed her back.
“What in the names of the Ascended?” Matthias whispered, looking back at the valley.
Gnoles shuddered, falling down on their bellies, prostrating themselves before the cave opening in a parody of worship.
The elk had fallen to its knees in front of the cave, its head lowered inches from the dirt.
No more screams escaped it.
Slowly, it crawled ahead—on all fours like a whipped hound—stopping a few paces from the cave mouth. A black claw—banded with orange stripes—flicked from the dark, claws hooking on the cowed beast’s antlers and dragging it inside.
A wet crunch, loud enough to be heard from where the three Stonebreakers hid, reached them. The air in the valley seemed to shudder.
Matthias watched the cavern, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.
And he suddenly knew which god the tiger had drawn its power from.
“Sargon-Baal,” he whispered. “God of Kings. King of the Hells.”
It made sense. Tigers were solitary creatures, yet this one had minions. The gnoles treated this beast like the leader of their herd, not resisting or escaping it. Even its prey had succumbed to its will.
“Like a ruler, it commands,” Matthias whispered. “It’s going to be strong, fast and will attack my mind.” He swallowed. “It has to die; if it's allowed to live and get stronger, I can see it binding others to its ruthless will.”
Soundlessly, he moved to the crevice, climbing down to join his mother and sister.
Dagma looked up at him with wide eyes. “That thing’s horrible,” she whispered. “Its growl was like it was clawing at the inside of my head.”
“It’s going to die, I promise you that, Dagma. Matthias looked at his mother. “Sargon-Baal?”
She paused for a heartbeat before nodding. “I think so too.”
“Then I think I know how to kill it,” Matthias murmured. “It will attack my mind, but as long as I can resist it, I should be okay, and I’ve already resisted it once. It’s a tiger, so it’s going to be territorial. Since it has the Divine Breath from the God of Kings, I bet it's going to be beside itself if I attack its minions. If it’s enraged, I can lure it.”
“Very good,” Beggahasta said. “A beast might seem unpredictable, but if you can use its characteristics against it, it becomes the most predictable opponent in the world.”
He nodded, acknowledging her lesson. “Is there anywhere in this crevice wide enough for the cage to fit?”
“Yes.” Beggahasta pointed back over her shoulder. “Around the corner, about fifteen paces back.”
“Good. Could you set it up there for me?” he asked.
She nodded, looking over her shoulder. “Come and reform. Quietly.”
Beggahasta led them deeper into the crevice, rounding a corner and coming to a section where the path widened. There, the cage’s poles and ties had floated out of the forest, and were reassembling themselves in mid-air.
Beggahasta looked down at the rocky ground. “Soften,” she commanded.
The stone rippled; the stakes were then able to push into the softened earth. They met with some resistance, but not enough to stop them from anchoring themselves to the ground. By the time Beggahasta commanded the stone to ‘harden’ again, the trap had reassembled itself in the crevice, its gate poised to drop.
Matthias looked at his sister. “Dagma, could you do me a favour? See all that dust, sand and gravel on the ground?”
She looked down.
“Could you get ready to use The Gift and whip that stuff up when I give you the signal?”
His little sister nodded eagerly. “I’ll be happy to.”
“Good.” Matthias nodded to the top of the crevice. “Climb up there, it’ll be safer. Mother, you’ll watch over her while I do this, right?”
“As I always do. Will you try and kill the other gnoles from stealth like you did the lookout?” she asked.
Matthias thought about that.
The herd of gnoles was by no means small, but individually, they were dwarfed by his bulk, even though he was far from fully grown. These were not Life Enforcement practitioners like his tormentors: he likely would have been much stronger than them even before his Awakening.
He thought of what Valdor had said after their sparring match: Matthias had never been accustomed to throwing his weight around, using his size and strength to his advantage.
He’d recently begun to learn the Way of Stone from his mother, which was created for folk of great size and power.
He had great size and power.
This would be a good time to use it if he wanted to challenge the tiger, luring it out on his terms.
Matthias lifted his spear. “No, this time I’m going to fight like a Stonebreaker. I’ll see you both in a bit.”
Beggahasta nodded. “Terrorise them, Matt.”
“I will.”
“See you soon, Matthie,” Dagma whispered.
He clapped her on the shoulder then turned, striding back toward the valley.
Stepping from the crevice, he looked around, eyeing the herd of gnoles. Many of them were lying around in the forest, wrestling each other or gnawing on bones.
More than a few of the bones looked human.
Matthias’ jaw clenched.
A gnole cried out in warning: spotting him, pointing him out to the others.
He lifted his spear. “Here we go.”
Taking a deep breath, he roared out his challenge, letting his voice echo through the valley.
Dozens of eyes fell on him.
He marched forward.
The gnoles screamed, rushing at him, answering his challenge.
###
Author's Note
Double post! With that, Marks of the Sage ( new name nearly finished being workshopped) now have their full compliment of 6 chapters!
For you folks at the highest tier, you'll get some more posts on Friday.
So, here we kinda return to my roots a little bit. I came up reading old Sword and Sorcery and Forgotten Realms/Warhammer fantasy, and that definitely crept out in this chapter.
Gnoles are partially inspired by gnolls, beast men and the OG incarnation of gnolls from older stories that predate D&D.
Alrighty, cya friday!
Comments
Lon
And his shadow devour something from the shadow of any being he takes down? Fun. I wonder if that makes only his shadow stronger or if it helps strengthen his soul too.
Tom C
After the foreshadowing with his mum playing the harp when he awoke last chapter and then “music soothes the savage beast”… pretty sure Matt will have to learn how to play the harp in the dream or something 😂
mant06
The Wolf Woods sound a bit like the terror plane from Mark of the Fool.
Decide
Did that shadow tendril eat that Gnoles soul? Oh, and I'm expecting that since Matt is connected to Truth, that he'll intuit the true purpose of the Wolf Wood - if there is one.
Trevor Mergen
Thanks!
Undead PettinZoo
Looking forward to Friday:D
Guessed
Ooh, I really like the shadow-eat-shadow-world direction this is going. I hate to point out though, Bregindoure and Beggahasta are hard not mix up in my mind, and Bregindoure getting shortened to Breg only makes it worse. Maybe it's just me. Could also be that (as far as I know) they aren't normal irl human names like Matt and Dagma - I keep thinking of that John Mulaney bit: 'It’s a few stories, normally about a guy with a crazy name whose wife has a normal name. “In that town lives Zepheriuses and his wife Rachel.' How come she gets to be Rachel?"
