Musing

Last story i'm making for now, going to be busy this week .x.

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They were all wrong.

This is what Grendel contemplated as he sat under a ruinous gate, watching the intense rain hurtle down the foggy marsh. The storm had caught him in the open while he searched for snacks and only by pure chance he had found shelter. He couldn’t tell what the shapes were under the heavy downpour, but now he noticed they were actually ruins. Heavy stone and wood and metal, now choked beyond recognition by the creeping plants and the decay. They looked fairly recent, too. It couldn’t have been more than a year since its inhabitants abandoned it and nature took over. There they stood under the rain, like the bones of a fallen beast.

And it was to be expected, Grendel mused. Humans….funny little things they are. For so long they have been in this world, small and fearful and delectable. He ate them, the nagas ate them, the harpies, the centaurs, the tonorions…everything eats them. So when the humans want to survive, they run to their towns, their villages and cities. They shield themselves from the outside and pat each other’s backs. They think they can make it.

But this is not how this world works. Smarts alone won’t help you stay alive. You have to be strong. You are born, and you have to fight your family for the first bite. You have to be fast to catch your prey. You have to endure climbing to the highest branches. You have to keep scavengers away from your meal. Starve. Be poisoned. Feel fangs in your flesh and resist them. Dig a shelter before night falls. Be strong. It is the first rule, it is what really matters.

Humans aren’t strong. When the world challenges them, they refuse to listen. Instead they clear away the plants. They engulf the rivers. Raise more and more of their walls and cities. When they should be struggling to survive, they rely on their flimsy constructs to do the job. And then go out and think nothing will stop them. But they don’t seem to learn they’re tasty and squishy. So they are eaten, and eaten, and eaten. And in the end their pathetic walls are brought down, their towns are stomped to rubble. Let the jungle swallow the rest.

He has heard the ancient stories. Humans threw their own challenge at the world, built walls and cities as far as one could see. But the world crushed them like the ants they are. So long has passed, but still they learn nothing. More towns are born, so-called shelters that will be crushed in the end. And then they’ll begin anew. They’re persistent, he’ll give them that. But still they don’t get it. The world is cruel, but in the end only the strong and able will make it.

And he is strong.

Night is falling, and the grey outside is becoming darker. Grendel yawned and lied down in the patch of rushes. He will have to sleep here, it seems. He would have preferred making a hole in the ground, but at least he’s dry enough.

The rain was stirring the smells of the swamp, but even then his nose noticed a subtle change. High-pitched cries further picked up his interest, and he slowly stood up again. There, in the outside. A young mumansi was wandering the muddy waters in a hurry. Little thing must have separated from its family, lost its way trying to get back. A terrified baby screaming in the merciless rain, calling for mommy to come and save it.

Grendel simply grinned at this and flattened himself between the rushes as the Mumansi tumbled towards his gate.

Life in Felarya was harsh, yes…..but sometimes it felt generous.