Einhar-Themed Talent Competition

My lungs burned, my heart rattled in my ribcage, my legs ached. Struggling to keep balance, I hurtled through the cave, hands spread into the blackness. A deep growl menaced my steps, a red glow dogged my heels.

I stifled the panicked cry on my tongue and pushed ahead. My hands scraped the cavern wall. I veered away, hit stone again. And again. My blood turned to ice water. Dead end.

I turned, back against the wall, and drew the chipped cutlass I'd taken from a lunatic cannibal days before. The feline monster's red fur shimmered, glowing and burning like a flame. A skeletal claw of fear gripped my guts.

Muscles flexed under fur and skin. The animal crouched low and pounced. I slashed out too late. Its claws raked my side, tearing through the tattered jerkin into my flesh. I screamed, stumbling back and swinging wildly. My blade bit into the creature's face. Blood seeped from the wound. It came at me again. I anticipated its pounce, piercing the beast's chest with the cutlass even as I fell to the dirt. We scrambled. Foreclaws tore at my chest while back claws made mince out of my legs. I wrestled to push the cutlass deeper, to shred the beast's insides. Ambient heat burned my slashed flesh.

Snarling, the creature leaped off me, dragging the cutlass along still buried in its chest. It prowled the room, coughing, staggering, looking over at me. Blood dribbled from its mouth. Had I won?

Pain wracked me. My clothing was soaked red. The beast's blood burned hot as the wounds.

The twang of a string split the air. The creature yipped and recoiled as a bolt slammed into its flank. Another joined it, and the beast crumpled in a heap.

A deep booming laugh shattered the ensuing silence.

"I...love hunting!" The voice resonated through the chamber, followed by a tall, broad figure. Shadows cast against the far wall gave a horrible impression of half-man, half-bird. But in the light I saw he wore a beaked avian skull over his face. In his hands he held a crossbow. Strings of bone decorated his hide armor. Greasy dreadlocks cascaded down around his shoulders. A stench of blood and rot and waste followed him.

He knelt by the dead beast's side, chuckling. Reaching to his belt, he took a small skull and held it to the wound I'd made in the beast's chest. He filled the skull with the beast's blood, then raised it to his lips under the bird-mask and drank.

"You cannot hide forever, Farrul! Huh hah!" He stood and turned to me. Twice he looked over at the beast, then back to me. Marching over, he crouched down and peered into my face. The stink nearly knocked me unconscious. Mirthful, mad eyes glimmered underneath the mask.

He barked out a laugh, and I startled.

"That look in your eye...I recognise it. A survivor, just like Einhar!"