The Cult: Part 2

Quinn felt his knees buckle a little bit and knew it was time to pack up for the day. He skidded to a halt and released the magic around his legs before dropping to the ground and starting a fire. He took out the unburned bread and dug into a piece, also summoning a bit of water from the strange liquids that dripped from the poisonous flowers that made up a large percentage of the forests ecology.

He stared into the fire for a while before going to sleep, dumping the rest of his water over the embers of the fire.

He was running, his mouth filled with smoke as he screamed, a cloud of the grey gas filled the air and he choked and his family was underneath the-

His brother, oh god his brother, he was dangling from-

Quinn saw a flash of red scales and he ran, he ran and ran and screamed and ran until his feet were bleeding through his shoes and his throat was scratchy and-

Quinn opened his eyes, sat up, and screamed. It lasted half a second before he cut himself off and grabbed his sword. Sure enough, a dozen small creatures peered at him from the cursed branches of nearby trees. He cussed under his breath before grabbing a piece of the burnt bread and chucking it at a nearby tree hard enough to shatter the bread and gouge a small mark in the purple-brown wood. The creatures immediately turned towards the sound and noticed the obvious food.

It was silent for a moment, and then chaos. The mutated squirrels, now the size of a mans torso with teeth and claws and spikes along their back sharp enough to rival the point of a lions tooth all jumped towards the bread all at once. They swiped at each other, fighting over scraps, blood splattered against the tree and Quinn didn't stick around.

With a powerful kick, he began running, dragging his bag and blanket after him, after slinging both over either shoulder, he saw three of the mutated monsters chasing him. He slowed down a bit to let the catch up with him before unsheathing his weapon and spinning around in one swift motion, cutting through one of the creatures limbs.

Two jumped at him, the third circling around, he slapped one to the side and grabbed the other with the tip of his sword, slamming it against the rock underfoot and shattering its head with a step, he barely dodged the first as it jumped at him, claws outstretched, before punting it into a tree, where it screeched as the trees shadow unmade itself and wrapped around it, pulling it into the tree and wrapping it in roots.

The third suddenly realized that it was in danger, and began running, but Quinn pulled a spike off the one before him and threw it, point first, and hit his mark. He quickly pulled off another couple of spikes and then began dashing again, he clutched them in his hand before he realized they were getting slippery with his blood.

Apparently, he hadn't been quick enough, because one had cut through his shoulder, and it was bad. He pulled out a roll of bandages and wrapped the spikes before tossing them in his bag, then wrapped his shoulder while running. It was still early morning, and he hadn't had breakfast, so he slowed down for a moment to grab another half loaf of bread, the pack was suddenly feeling a lot lighter and he realized he was out of food.

He ignored the thought for another hour as he kept running, and eventually he figured that he was far enough. He skidded to a slow pace and looked at his map, it was pretty obvious that he still had a few days to go. He quickly made sure he was heading in the right direction, and then kept running. The great shades (the species of tree that surrounded the road) gave away to bare plains after a while, and he paused for a moment.

He had been through this path before, and the plains were always a dangerous areas. While being able to see everything sounded good in principal, it also meant everything could see you, and that was something any person should avoid. Especially considering the fact that mutated squirrels were pretty weak when it came to larger animals, like bulls, or even crows.

Speaking of the avian species, he scanned the plains, which where broken up from time to time by large metal towers, with lines of black spreading between them. On those lines, pulling the towers down towards it, sat a crow. It's wingspan was several times whatever it had been before, now up to twenty feet, it was taller than a normal human, and its back had evolved, now sporting a second, smaller pair of wings and a long, feathered tail.

It screeched something fierce, and Quinn shuddered. He quickly got to work, yanking sticks from the nearby ground, making sure to stray from the tree line. One of the three good things about the cursed wood was that it was very susceptible to magic and craft, the second was that when you put an object near it, especially an organic one, it would begin to fuse together. The third was that the species had a strange property, the sap, when hardened, only unhardened at high temperatures, and was pretty durable.

Quinn chilled some sap with a spell and waited for a few minutes to refill his connection before using magical precision to carve the sap into very, very thin strands. He strung them through a stick, then began sharpening a stone using the side of the road before placing it on the end of one of the sticks, and repeating the process. He quickly wrapped the wood in cloth before he checked the strength of the bow on a nearby tree.

With a sound that was so, so satisfying, the makeshift arrow made a dent in the tree, which is the most the Quinn could ask for. He crouched down and aimed the bow carefully, loosing an arrow and watching it fly in an arc, the crow was unaware, and the arrow hit its wing. While it definitely hurt the bird, it wasn't sharp enough to pierce, so it simply fell to the ground.

Immediately, the crow screeched again, stretching out its wings and taking off from its perch towards Quinn, who rolled out of the way and aimed again, this time willing magic to surround his arrow. It flew through the air and using the magic, pierced the wing, causing the avian to tip towards the ground.

Quinn rolled out of the way of oncoming claws and began dashing towards the metal tower, he felt something pierce his shoulder and he screamed in pain, he finally made it to the tower and rolled behind on of the pillars. Aiming another arrow, magic bubbled up again, and he poured a bit more of it into the arrow this time.

With a whistling sound like a whip singing through the air, it hit the crow in its wing, this time where it connected to the body, going through and cracking a bone. Quinn felt the magic leave his body and inhaled very suddenly. He got awfully close to his limit, and he didn't even realize it. It would take another few minutes to regain that mana.

The previously black wings were now stained with a bright red, almost glowing with the mutation that had affected the bird. Its maneuverability was greatly reduced by the bars stretching from one corner of the tower to another. Finally, it landed on a bar right above Quinn and threw its head down towards him. Quinn dodged out of the way to the left, hiding behind another pillar, only to be slammed back out into the field by the tail of the beast.

Black wings stretched, but the bird screamed in pain, and Quinn realized it was earthbound. He shot another arrow, denting its beak, then ducked out of the way of its tail as it swung over his head. The wind generated sent his hair shifting to the right, and he quickly fixed it before firing off another arrow, hitting the beak again.

The timer was almost half gone, and Quinn grinned. He tried aiming the bow again, but the cloth he had been using tore away with the last shot. He felt his palm begin to fuse to the wood, his sweat becoming sap, his nerves snapping and his hand becoming a great shade-adjacent fused monster. He cursed and dropped the arrows before dodging the tail as it flew for his face.

He put his hand to the ground and stepped on the bow before tearing his hand off and kicking the bow away, he felt his ribs crack as he was flung again, and this time he rolled back to his feet and rushed forwards. With a swipe of his sword, long, iron, and of excellent craft, he left a gash down the tail of this beast.

He rolled back from the crows talons and ran to the side, swiping through its wings. His timer finally ended, and he jumped, this time much higher than usual with the help of some magic, and brought his sword through the underside of its beak, he quickly enhanced the sharpness of the sword, and cut through its head.

Pink blood seeped onto him, mixing with his red and sizzling with a reaction that cause his skin to burn. Quinn quickly dropped his bag and all his items, pouring water over himself, his clothes, sword, and anything else he could salvage. He then harvested the bird for some parts, the eyes were good for a few vitamins you wouldn't get with the sun hidden away, the tongue as well. The feathers made excellent balancers to any arrows that were not made of cursed wood, and the spikes that ran along its back were sharp enough to be used in weapon crafting, and could be sold for a pretty penny.

He began walking towards the other edge of the plains, and magicked his wounds to stitch together faster, enhancing his healing speed. He finally made it to the other side of the plain and was back into a forest, but this one had trees that were slightly less murder-y, and provided more shade than mutated squirrels.

As he sat, he noticed a small stone shrine. It sat near the edge of the road, and was next to a sign that had writing in some ancient language. He stepped closer, and the details became clearer. It was a dragon circling a stone bowl filled with water, the dragon was eating its own tail, and its wing stretched over the bowl, while the other was held into itself. Its eyes were vacant, but that was to be expected with stone statues.

He yanked the head off of the dragon and drank the water, and moved on with his day.