OOC: Hello my friends ^_^ Sorry for the long wait. Hope you find this chapter fun! For better immersion, use this in youtube: watch?v=fyPdjvRQbY8. Alternatively, search Darkest Dungeon: Warrens Ambush. Happy reading!
Chapter 8 – The Darkest Night
The terrifying screech was their only warning.
The well burst into a fountain of pitch-black tar, as dozens if not hundreds of shadowy creatures emerged from it, swarming towards Dirtmouth. One by one, the lights inside the huts and houses were turned on, to see what was going on. Big mistake. The dim light of the Lumaflies seemed to attract them. The Knight could see the swarm burst into some of the far houses, breaking through windows and doors.
Marissa, Clarion, Satlu… - the names appeared in its memory. During its stay, the creature managed to learn a few. And where they lived. They came to the village last week, bought some supplies Their home was the farthest from the shop.
Only when the first screams were snuffed out would the bug get a hold of itself. Its only hand gripping the sword hilt, as it rushed forward.
Must get to the huts… Must fight them off…
It was not rational thinking. There were too many of them, against just one Knight. It was a … compulsion. With the focus on the houses afar, it practically ignored the first shadow that appeared in front. The dark being would have none of it, opening up its chest cavity and releasing a writhing swarm of dark tentacles against the knight. Swashing and swatting, ripping through that cloak, and gripping against the waist and the leg.
"…"
A sharp, stinging pain went through the Knight, and almost in a reflex, it swung its sword, cutting off the grappling tendrils. It … hurt. Briefly looking upon its form, the Knight could notice the dark swellings upon its shell, almost like burns, just from the touch. The nail was raised again, disemboweling the shadow and making it disappear. One down… but… there were so many more. The swarm was now moving towards the Knight. Their approach as quiet as it was terrifying. After the shriek the first one let out, all one could hear is movement. Rocks and grass displaced by something that sounded like a swarm of tendrils getting closer and closer. Hundreds of beady white eyes stalking the village with their mindless gazes. About to claim the second hut on its way. In the window, the creature could guess the outlines of the bugs inside.
Barricade the windows!... Close the doors!... Do… something!
The Knight wished that it could scream right now. But there was only silence. Its blade cut through another creature of darkness and shadow, cutting it in twain with a horizontal cut. It did not try to dodge, or block. It did not care at all. Perishing under the blade. What's the life of one to the swarm? One step, another, cut, cut. The door… NO! The door was opening, its inhabitants foolish enough to try peer out and see what was going on.
SLAM!
The tall bug rammed into the door with its shoulder, closing it shut and throwing the bug inside away from sheer force of recoil. Better this way. Hope they'd get the message. With its back against the door, the warrior turned around to face whatever was coming. At this point, it did not even recall the names of the bugs inside that it was trying to protect. All that mattered was the swarm up in front. No retreat. The thought of death had crossed the bug's mind, briefly. Others could escape … while I fight.
The fingers gripped tightly around the hilt, as the tip of the nail was pointed out forward. Towards the dark, writhing mess of eyes, horns, and tendrils moving forward. It was hard to identify individual beings in the swarm. As if they created a collective body. With one of the tentacles, it reached out forward, to the masked bug protecting the entrance.
SHHHINK!
A single blow, and the severed 'limb' flied off, landing on the ground, and dissipated into air, leaving a scorched mark. A shriek came from inside the horde. Now there were two vines lunging to grab the knight. Its motions were swift, and a single arc was required to swipe both from the air, cutting through darkness as if it were air. Three… four… five…
No pauses between blows. Slashes, slashes, slashes. But with each strike, two more appeared. As if growing to replace the ones lost. Until one got through. 'Nghhh…' – the Knight felt the searing grip as one of the wines wrapped around its ankle. The sword responded, drawing a circle in the air in front of the bug and cutting off the shadowy tendril, leaving behind a white burn upon the shell. Then came another blow, this time at the shoulder. The smell of burned shell filled the Knight's nose, it was his own. Mixed with the smoldering fabric where a pauldron used to be. Behind the door, it could hear muffled screams, thumps, a child crying.
Can't win… they're going to tear me apart… Too many…
The Knight made a step forward, away from the door. The arcs it drew around itself with the blade now ending with strikes against the writhing mass in front. It felt like giving blows to tar – viscous, slimy, disgusting. First strike, the shadows hissed, and retaliated with three thrusts of the tendrils against the chest. Throwing the knight back against the door. Sizzling coming from the shell, black vapors lifting into the air.
Using the sword for support, the knight got up. Its only eye nearly white from pain, gazing upon the creatures up in front. Another step forward, another thrust. Heavy thud against the wooden door. The hinges creaked, some of the bolts flying out. That door would not stand a chance. As the knight laid against it, collapsed, a few of the shadowy tentacles reached for the glass window. Thin, old glass, so easy to break. Inches away…
SHHRRK!
They fell down. The tendrils were cut off by the long nail, the Knight was able to reach it, even while seated. Grunting and putting the sword's point against the ground, it pried itself up. Shaking its head to the writhing mass up in front. No… I am your opponent… for now… - it thought, as if the shadowy creatures could read minds. During this brief stall, the bug shot a glance towards the rest of Dirtmouth. The windows were glowing, and some of the singular shadows, moving in threes, were about to seize upon some of them. Rattling against the windows and doors.
Run… Run… do something… With the time I am buying you… Please…
The distraction was a mistake. Four tendrils, like vines covered in barbs, reached out for the knight, and grabbed its sword-arm. Searing the wrist, and pulling towards. A lesser bug would be pulled in and consumed immediately. The knight stood ground, planting one foot in front, and the other behind, trying to resist.
Fifth tendril joined in, wrapping itself around the waist.
Sixth – around the front foot.
Seventh – back foot.
Eighth and Ninth – towards the head, and grabbing the horns of the mask. With their collecting strength, the Knight started to give ground. Its mind going blank from the burning, as the shadows pulled it closer. Inch, after inch. Closer.
NO… Stop… There are… people behind me…
No quarter.