Zeratul
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Thus, colleagues, I am posting an excerpt of the promised text for the humans. First, I want to apologize to colleague DinHot for stealing his idea with the hydra, but I found no other monsters that fit the meaning. I also want to warn against questions about where the hydra came from on the surface; the piece is far from finished (problems arose in aligning the general concept with a specific segment). I ask colleague Simas, and indeed everyone, to carefully review the text for linguistic, factual, and other errors.
"Bryacheslav attached a quiver of arrows to his left shoulder and a bow to his right, checked if the dagger slid well in its same-belt sheath, threw on a tattered once-green
cloak, adjusted soft boots for silent walking through the forest, and tied back his hair with a rag so it wouldn't catch on branches in the woods.
- Well then, mama, - he said in a quiet voice, - wait until closer to evening. I'll check the snares, look over the pits—and, own luck, there will be game for dinner.
- Son, please hurry back, - asked his mother, a frail little old woman wrapped in a patterned shawl, sitting on a bench in the spacious hut, - something feels wrong to me, I sense something ill.
Come home quickly. Bring something—good, or if you get nothing—come back regardless. We'll manage somehow.
- Mama, I will hasten as much as possible, - Bryacheslav said reassuringly, and, pushing open the hut door, stepped quickly into the yard. The hut faced the forest at the rear, and Bryacheslav, the best hunter in the hamlet, moved with a quick step toward the thicket.
« Mother is imagining things, - he thought, - what could be? For a long time now, neither beast nor own-kind has caused trouble here, and as for other harmful creatures, nothing's been heard of them for ages. But some game is needed; we've eaten everything in the house. Not a morsel of meat is left. And mother has gone hungry enough in her life; she needs softer food».
The undergrowth was long passed; he had entered the dense forest. Bryacheslav moved skillfully by habit, placing his feet with hunter-like silence: not a twig would snap, nor a needle shift, and most importantly—he tried to walk upwind.
… Reaching a landmark, Bryacheslav looked around carefully: his first snare was nearby, and he immediately caught a strange smell that he had never known before. The heavy scent of a large beast was completely out of place in the vast but interconnected consistency of forest smells and aromas. Looking closer in the forest gloom, Bryacheslav noticed ancient oaks broken like thin twigs. Lowering himself to the ground, Bryacheslav discovered huge tracks, unlike any he had ever seen. Quickly taking the bow from his shoulder and drawing an arrow, the hunter nocked it to the string and moved with cautious steps toward his snare. After a few steps, he suddenly became extraordinarily enraged: the thin but strong rope of the snare was torn like a spiderweb, and around on the trampled earth, splashes of blood were generously scattered; small tufts of fur lay upon last year's needles and cones. By the fur, Bryacheslav discovered that a roe deer had been caught in the snare, and relatively recently this large beast had found it and torn it apart. But the size, the size… An experienced trapper, Bryacheslav had never seen such tracks. It seemed as if some monster had broken out of Hell—the kind hunters whispered about among themselves—and mauled the poor animal. But what could it be… Never before had Bryacheslav seen a forest predator's feast leave nothing but fur and drops of blood: not a piece of skin, no entrails, no gnawed head. It seemed the unknown monster had diligently gathered almost all the crumbs after its meal.
Bryacheslav decided to track the new enemy. After all, this creature could emerge from the forest right into his hamlet. And the anger over the prey that he missed also would not fade.
But it had to be done carefully, without turning from hunter into victim. For, judging by the tracks, the monster possessed impressive dimensions. True, reason told him not to try and pursue this predator, but curiosity and a thirst for retribution for the lost prey drove him forward.
He did not have to walk long. Bryacheslav heard something that defied description. A scream of utter terror swept through the treetops as a moan, accompanied by an incredible half-shriek, half-clatter. The hunter cautiously took a few more steps and peeked from behind the trees. The scene that opened before his eyes made the hair under his rag stand on end. It was screaming… a bear. Specifically, it was screaming in terror, not roaring in rage. A bear, apparently young, no older than 3-4 years—among hunters these are still called 'pestuns'—was trying to climb a tall tree, escaping from… Even in a nightmare Bryacheslav would never have envisioned such a creature as the one pursuing the wretched bear. Body resembling a lizard, but a giant one, with a powerful tail whose strikes smashed ancient trees like splinters, and six heads with gaping maws lined with several rows of the sharpest teeth—and these heads sat on extraordinarily flexible and long necks. Several pairs of the monster's eyes, strangely large and unblinking, emitted a purple shimmer.
Leaping to the tree that the bear was trying to climb, the monstrosity, extending three heads, deftly caught the master of the forest by its hind legs and back, and easily, like a little frog, tore it into three parts, while the other three heads swiftly snatched up the bear's entrails and bones as they fell. Even the blood, which gushed like a waterfall, did not all reach the ground: the creature's heads, flashing like lightning, caught much of it in mid-air. Bryacheslav almost felt sick: a hunter who had seen much saw SUCH a thing for the first time. This vile thing should not be in his native forest. It is an alien here, wrong, unnecessary! The fingers tightly gripping the bow, which had first gone cold with fear, tensed again. Kill this filth, this scum! But raising the bow, Bryacheslav suddenly realized he didn't know where to shoot. The creature was covered in thick scales, the heads in horn plates, the belly not visible. Only the strange eyes. Eyes are vulnerable in all beasts and birds. If Dark elves were nearby, they could have told Bryacheslav that shooting at the eyes is useless, because in the Dungeon this creature doesn't need them and orients itself mainly by smell and sound. But Bryacheslav had never met the Dark ones, nor the wood elves, and there was no one to advise him. The first arrow went straight into the eye of the far-right head. The monster again emitted a strange half-whistle, half-clatter that nearly deafened Bryacheslav, and rushed at the hunter. Despite its size, the vile thing moved quite briskly, and the young trapper—who did not expect such speed from a bulky creature—was saved only by the fact that the monstrosity had recently eaten. However, Bryacheslav realized he could easily become the next snack if he didn't run with all his might, which is what he did. But he was hindered by the fact that while running he had to go around trees, whereas they did not bother the creature at all: it crashed through the thickets like a powerful boar during the spring rut.
True, a hunter is a hunter: he knows how to confuse a beast, how to change his scent. All of Bryacheslav's clothes were soaked in herbal decoctions that masked the smell of man and iron. Bryacheslav led the beast toward his trapping pit, which was not very far from their hamlet—he had specifically dug a pit for large game nearby so that he wouldn't have to drag the animal long way back to the dwellings."
Once again, please remember that this is not the entire episode. As they say, to be continued.