Grendel woke up earlier than usual. Dawn was beginning to rise, the sun shining timidly behind the white-gray mountain peaks of the range while everything below was engulfed in dark shadows. Warm sunlight and chill air seemed to clash for dominance, and the scarce vegetation was damp with dew. All of this made the squamataur groan in momentary annoyance; he probably should have picked a better place to sleep.
Lazily he stretched in the rocky burrow, unfolding his limbs and forcing open his eyes against the nightly residue that gummed the eyelids together. He felt uneasy for some reason. It wasn’t in the air or the makeshift den, or even in the ambient sounds. Something simply felt “off”, and he couldn’t put a finger on it. And yet, what was this sense of familiarity? Maybe he should just go take a look…
But first things first. With a brief struggle, Grendel turned around in the cramped nest and reached for the small pile of raw meat in a corner. Last night he managed to take down a sphinx and had decided to save up as much flesh as he could for the following morning. Now it was largely festering, and large glistening maggots could be seen burrowing and wriggling on the bizarrely-coloured surface. Regardless Grendel devoured it without hesitation. In this world you can’t afford to be picky.
With his spirits lifted from the brief breakfast, the squamataur finally crawled outside the burrow and stood up carefully in the cold half-light. What greets him is a rather peculiar sight. Down the brightening slope, amidst the tussocks and lichen-covered rocks and the great mists of the distance, there were animals dashing through. Shaggy mountain goats, lizards, cryoks, rabbits, small nagas, flocks of birds…. all of them darting and scampering towards the lower valleys, without rest or awareness of any kind, all from the same direction, almost as if they were fleeing from something.
Strange indeed, and yet Grendel wasn’t going to let the chance pass. In a quick reflex he shot a still-cramped arm forward and grabbed one of the passing birds from the air. The feathery critter could only let out a comical, feeble quack before he crammed it whole on his mouth, serrated teeth chopping the small body and grinding the tinier bones. But even if the hot blood warmed his insides, that strange feeling wouldn’t leave Grendel’s mind, and that made him even more agitated. He watched the small stampede disappear in the dark distance. What could have scared them so? Did it have anything to do with that sensation?
And that was when he noticed. What appeared to be ululating wind was growing louder and louder. Clouds in the far right swirled and quickened. The sky itself seemed to ripple and distort in strange ways, strange flashes of impossible colours here and there. Grendel felt the very roots of his hair tingling. His face changed in an instant.
Of course it was familiar! It was one of those rift things!
Already he was scrambling back to the burrow, so frantic in his movements that his human half was bruised by the rough rock. Pushing himself to the deepest corner, Grendel coiled his body in a tight ball and covered his ears with shaky hands, just as the unnatural howling reached earth-splitting levels and the very stone rumbled around him.
He could never get used to this. Since he was very young he had always seen these flashes of light, these “tears” opening up on thin air, throwing up the strangest things before disappearing again. Sometimes it was humans, others it was predators like him, sometimes creatures he wouldn’t have imagined even in his wildest dreams, or simply ruins or bizarre devices. Most of the time these tears were very silent, or at best made the faintest humming. But sometimes….that noise, that horrible, horrible noise….sucking everything in the vicinity, dragging the living and non-living to its roaring, blinding core…he didn’t want to end like so many other tauric ones he’d seen….so scary, so scary….
There was a thunderous slam, as if something heavy had just fallen. Then the wind slowly died down, the sky became clearer. Just as fast as it had started, it was over.
It took a while for Grendel to motivate himself for it, but he went outside once again. The sun was now higher above the mountains, and the chill had been replaced by pleasant warmth. Any sign of the terrifying rift had vanished, but just as he had expected something had been left over, down the dusty valley. Stealthily, the squamataur abandoned the slope and scampered over the site.
Dead humanoids were sprawled all over the mossy ground. Sleek, almost rubbery bodies were ruptured and broken like a squashed citroise, undoubtedly killed by the fall. Their noodle-y appendages had sharp, spear-like tools still clutched in what Grendel assumed were their hands. Tempting, but far more interesting was that huge thing near them. It could only be described as a great mountain of bright blue flesh, all lumpy and rugose. Little red orbs that could only be eyes dotted one side, and the other one was covered in fresh wounds and those same spear-things. The bizarre humanoids must have been hunting this whale-thing when the rift pulled them to this world. For the squamataur it must have been like finding the last page of a book, if he only knew how to read, or what books were for that matter
The great hulk was warm, and those cuts and punctures oozed blood in generous quantities. Grendel sniffed all around; there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it. Cautiously, he lowered his head to a seeping wound, and after a moment of hesitation, licked the blood. Tasty. He gave a few more licks, gulping down the red fluid with each lap. Feeling content, he then chomped down on the granulated flesh.
To his surprise the bulk flinched, and a deep, anguished wail echoed in the valley. The thing wasn’t quite dead yet.
Yet Grendel simply continued ripping and tearing with his teeth, quickly reaching what looked and tasted like fatty deposits. Such a racket would undoubtedly attract more predators, and he had to eat as much as he could from this buffet before they arrived.
Soon a pool of thick blood would form, and the beast could do nothing but shudder and scream, so helpless in this foreign world, slowly devoured alive by this frightening clawed thing
All in all, a typical welcome in Felarya
Subject: Welcome 
Sun Nov 14, 2010 6:06 am
