The forest was cold and lifeless. The only solace for Arthur were the thick clothes he wore loosely.
Happening upon a small lake, Arthur glimpsed a reflection of himself. However, it wasn't exactly him. It sure looked like him, but there were small details that made his face look a little off. Cheekbones were a tad too high and his lips a little thinner.
Arthur was thankful that the person he became was clearly a well prepared individual with the pack of supplies on his back.
Unfortunately—without any knowledge of survival—starting a fire was an impossible task. The cold was nearly unbearable to sleep through without one, but not impossible.
"Then again, sleeping on the forest floor probably isn't the best idea."
After mulling over where he should sleep, Arthur decided to take over some of the thicker tree limbs as cover. He leaned them against an inlet in a nearby cliff-face and squeezed between them.
•
Arthur woke up feeling refreshed but wondering if time had truly passed at all. With the moon still hanging high in the sky and the cold nipping at his extremities, he wondered.
He felt as though he should have had some sort of dream while asleep, but there wasn't anything. Not even the lingering sensation of a forgotten dream remained. Maybe it was just another facet of his new world.
Through the wilderness he marched. Occasionally hearing the sounds of unfamiliar birds overhead. After an hour of walking he reached a fork in the small path he was following.
On the right a large parallel road where wheels had wore down the forest floor. In the middle a wide footpath well maintained. Finally, on the left was a narrow path downtrodden by the trees, bushes, and tall grasses that sprouted from the road that it once was.
'That pull again…' Arthur mused. 'Of course it had to be the one least appealing.'
Where his heart was felt like an invisible thread tugging at his chest. Not aggressive or forceful, but calm and guiding.
The rhythmic crunching off discarded tree limbs filled his mind with white noise warding off any and all obtrusive thoughts that might disturb him. His only hope—that he find some sort of purpose in his living. This was a major part of him that felt hollow, as something that should have always been there was now missing.
Right now he only had one priority. Survive. Arthur didnt know to what extent or at what point he would go to achieve this, but he wasn't sure he'd like to find out.
Through the underbrush Arthur wormed his way through thorny vines and sticky wet mud. The calls of the birds became closer.
Taking a look overhead a few birds were circling. Light by the moonlight their white feathers glowed mysteriously.
They were waiting for him to die. He knew at least that much himself. The only problem was the lack of predators in the area. Everyone knew that opportunistic carrion eating birds like them only existed for one reason. To pick the bones clean from prey. And right now they viewed him as the prey.
Not risking his head being cleaved from his neck, Arthur broke into a full sprint.
'Whatever predators lurking around here must know I'm already here." Arthur convinced himself.
Large piles of leaves tore into the air and scattered in the wind. Short grey skinned humanoid beings shot out of the shadows toward Arthur. Yellow eyes glowing through the black cloth strapped around their makeshift armor. They wielded farming tools as weapons sharpened to deadly points.
No weapons meant Arthur couldn't fight head on.
"'Guiding' my ass. Maybe to my death." Arthur cursed.
He was surrounded on all sides. The humanoids had encircled him with little room for escape. Either they were used to hunting humans or they just got lucky.
One of the creatures—more brave than the rest—inched forward almost meeting Arthur in the middle of the formation. Heavy black iron chains wrapped around its arm ending at a small spiked iron ball. Arthur studied its weapon. The rusted spikes oozed with a thick off-color pus. Coated or dipped in something he wasn't sure he wanted to know the contents of.
It squared off in front of Arthur—poised to attack. The chains around its thick arms began to unravel and the spiked ball hit the ground with a 'thud'. Then, it began to swing, rocking it back and forth slowly until it made a full rotation.
Within an instant the ball had practically crossed half their separating distance. If Arthur had not been paying attention to its weapon it would have most likely struck him square in the chest.
As he dove out of the way his face dragged along the muck of the ground creating small nicks. A swooshing of wind warned Arthur that it was spinning again.
'No way! How did he get it back already?'
Forcing himself to his feet Arthur braced himself for another lightning fast attack. However , this time the creature took its time. Measuring his opponent before finding the right time to strike.
Arthur flicked his eyes to his left hoping to fake it out, but all was in vain as when he looked back the crude chain weapon was inches from his face again.
Arthur slid his left foot through the wet mud using it to move his body slightly to the left whilst remaining upright. Its weapon whistled through the air befor landing on the ground behind him. Its chain cascading over his shoulder.
The creature seeing this as an opportunity yanked on the chain reversing its trajectory almost immediately. Arthur grabbed its chain allowing its momentum to pull him forward.
Within striking range the height difference was paramount. Almost twice as tall, Arthur's longer reach would immediately grant him the advantage. That was if he was fighting something normal.
The creature seemed to foresee his move and prepared a large bone knife from behind its back. Arthur reached for its hand. Grabbing its wrist to prevent himself from being stabbed.
Arthur attempted to pick the it up—which was surprisingly dense considering its size—and failed. Losing its main and back up sources of attack, the evil creature resorted to attempting to bite Arthur.
In a fit of panic Arthur threw the creature down and picked up the iron ball at his feet with a gloved hand and threw it as hard as he possibly could.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Beholders Thrall.]
The spiked ball had just about caved the thralls head in. A gruesome sight Arthur wasn't prepared for. He felt like retching but held himself together.
The other thralls looked on unsteady at the sight. One of their own had been killed. But a flicker ran through all of their eyes.
"Thralls, so there's got to be one controlling them." Arthur thought aloud.
Some kind of higher power was overwriting their common sense. Forcing them to rush into what could be their deaths.
Arthur bent down to the thralls corpse and grabbed its bone knife. It wasn't much, but a shitty weapon is better than none.
Arthur ran. Turning to the gap left by the thrall he hit killed. The rest of them wisened up to what was going on and filled the gap. The rest of the thralls were far less skilled compared to the one he first fought. Still though, they all seemed to know his moves before he could even do them.
The first two went down rather easy. One with a reforged scythe-halberd got it stuck in his friend when he swung at Arthur. He capitalized the situation ending both of them without issue.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Beholders Thrall.]
[You have slain a dormant beast, Beholders Thrall.]
He then ripped the scythe from its corpse and used it as a spear. The extra length of his arms giving him a large advantage over the bite sized thralls.
The next held a small leather shield. Attempting to deflect the pokes coming from Arthur. Eventually it was overwhelmed and the spear glanced past the shield and into the thralls head.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Beholders Thrall.]
The last two fought against whatever orders had caused them to hunt Arthur and ran.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Beholders Thrall.]
[You have slain a dormant beast, Beholders Thrall.]
Two swift strikes from the scythe ended them.
Arthur stood. Leaning on the scythe as a crutch. Exhausted from the extensive fighting. The scythe dissolved into shards of light and Arthur collapsed on his knees as the stench of iron filling the air from his blood-stained clothes.
Small wounds from the thralls appeared through his clothes. Nothing a day of rest couldn't handle, but he didn't have a day.
Not if this was how things were.
Arthur needed to make it to the base of the tree.
He looked down at his festering wounds. The poison moving slowly through his veins…
Fast.