Guardians by Design - Land
Abomination

Abomination

Ermun’s cheeks flared beneath dirty-blonde fur. The owl did know about Ohmlur. Where exactly did he recognize him from? The frustration of straining his own memory made his brow furrow. He still hadn’t settled on one emotion. Should he be worried or relieved that the owl knew of the Designer? Perhaps Vamla doesn’t know as much about the Homestead Ermun as he perceives, Ermun thought, wishing he had more time to pick his brain. Hopefully, Ohmlur was a mere myth throughout the forest. There had been taller tales, after all. This meeting was worth bringing to Ohmlur’s attention upon returning to the Homestead, though.

There were more pressing issues. The owl was far from the greatest potential threat residing in the forest on this day. Should – no – when the Guardians find their way to Maurlynn’s cave, Ermun wanted to ensure they would meet no resistance on arrival. Bodyguards and goons would only slow the process of ending her reign. The first logical place to check would be the top of the hill Vamla had referenced.

It seemed to be the path of least resistance; whatever Ermun was to find there would be weak and decrepit. Helpless, failed test subjects forsaken from her cave of ‘perfect predators’. Ermun sneered at the thought. Only the cosmetically and viciously superior creatures were granted shelter. Those that did not meet Maurlynn’s standards were cast to the cold.

Ermun closed his eyes and released his hook-like claws from the branch. His limp body quickly drifted sideways towards the cliff face. Upon meeting the rock grade littered in tall, dead grass, he broke into thousands of thin stands, quickly ascending the hillside in a blurred flurry of dirty blonde. His body crested the top of the cliff face like an ocean wave meeting the shore.

The tier he had ascended to was far less dense than the forest he had come from. Trees and various shrubbery were scarce. Moving at breakneck speeds, he passed through lingering stench of rot and stale blood that felt more of a solid object than tress and rocks he was able to pass around and over.

The disgusting odor caused his face to burn. Tears were quickly ripped from his eyes upon leaving their ducts. He couldn’t take it any longer. After coalescing near a pine tree to break any line of sight from predators, he heaved into a bush. The little food that was present in his stomach was cast across a dank bed of mosses and decomposing leaves.

A deep groan came from within his chest following his gagging. He had never smelled anything like this. With one sensory overwhelmed, he dared not imagine the present massacre. Before he could wipe the vomit from his mouth, a separate deep groan mimicked his, like an echo. Ermun caught his breath and bit his tongue. It was an open forest – there was nothing for an echo to ricochet from.

Another deep groan, this time more distressed. There was a tone of fear and struggle to the reverberation. It pierced Ermun’s chest. His gripping terror quickly turned to pity. It had always pained him to hear a creature in this state. No living thing deserved these emotions.

The groan again. Capped by a slight shriek, it rang through the forest. This time followed by the chilling sound of wood splintering. Something was trapped. Ermun worked up the courage to peer around the tree. Perhaps a creature that wants to return to the protection of the Homestead, such as a badger, or a bear, he thought.

Corpses of unrecognizable creatures littered the small field heavy with humidity. Many bones protruding from the soil, however, were familiar; ribs, tibia, spinal columns, and teeth were sun bleached and barren of flesh. Others were still patched with tufts of fur and stained in blackened blood. Rotting flesh of recently discarded corpses were responsible for the stench. The banquet had attracted a plethora of flies and scavengers. The light humming of thousands of beating insect wings broke the silence. Carrion tore at flesh. Blood dripped from one’s beak as it made eye contact with Ermun, yet ignored that which still possessed a beating heart.

Another groan. Deep, guttural, strained. Ermun could see the sound waves this time. Whatever was making the sounds was not far away – the creature was attempting to free itself. Then, a shout of frustration. Jagged, aggressive blue lines streaked from behind a tree from where the sounds must be coming from.

In prone, Ermun crawled around the circumference of the flesh dump. Luckily, he was yet to come across any creature willing to attack him. As expected, everything here was dead or dying. Why would something be trapped here, he wondered. I can’t imagine a worse punishment. Perhaps a traitor or delinquent.

Ermun stopped dead in his tracks as two thick branches – no – roots shook in his peripheral vision. Extending from a fallen tree, it appeared the roots had been wedged in. Slowly digging his long claws into the wretched soil, he pulled his body slightly further for a better angle. From here, he saw a creature snared by the shaking roots.

A shorn, horrific beast stood erect. Its torso, legs and neck were powerful and defined. Strained shoulder and chest muscles protruded through its pale skin as it fiercely yanked at the roots of the tree. Thin, yellow lips were pulled back in frustration, exposing numerous long, narrow, razor sharp teeth. There was no variation; each tooth in the animal’s mouth were canines. Slightly curved and deathly sharp for piercing flesh and staying attached to the beast’s prey.

The abomination took another tug at the deep brown, hardened roots to rip them from the tree. Ermun gasped. He wasn’t attempting to remove the roots from the tree – the roots were his arms. Broad, solid, powerful, they connected directly into sockets of the beast’s shoulders. Unable to twist, bend or turn the wooden bludgeons due to lack of joints, the beast was forced to simply pull backwards. But why was he stuck in the first place? Ermun wondered, looking closer at the tendrils of pale skin that wrapped around the wooden extremities.

Confident that the beast was firmly stuck in place, Ermun rounded the tree and proceeded towards him. The beast’s fiery red eyes instantly met Ermun’s following his disturbance. They were pupil-less. Solid irises of fury socketed in the front the creature’s narrow, feline-like skull. It was much wider, and flatter in the forehead, however. Two pointed horns protruded perfectly horizontal out of the top of his head, just above the eyebrows.

Its forehead was thick and sturdy – possibly for firmly ramming prey with the narrow horns. The beast was made for blunt force trauma. Ramming, bludgeoning, bruising – it would pulverize its meal into mush. Without molars for crushing food, the beast would need to turn bones to dust before tearing flesh and swallowing bites whole.

The beast froze as Ermun approached, responding to his presence with only a low, blood thirsty growl. Ermun took cautious steps, scanning the area for something to euthanize the trapped creature with. Though he never wanted to end a life, he couldn’t let something live in this… state. An existence he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. Bound to a tree by his own limbs, surrounded by gore. Better to dispatch the creature to the Coppice. At least there, it would be free of anguish.

Ermun retrieved a broken rib bone saturated in blood from the forest floor – adequately sharpened at the end from being snapped in half. The beast roared, now recognizing Ermun as a threat. The sound of splintering wood resonated through the forest as the beast took a final, sharp tug from the dead tree. He was free. The ends of the root-arms were thick and rounded, tapering to the shoulders. The beast clapped them together with a solid thud, then released a triumphant roar. Powerful quadriceps flexed as the beast dug his webbed toes into the moist soil to charge, eyes locked on Ermun.

The sloth stood motionless with confidence. His eyes darted back and forth between the bludgeons, analyzing which would swing first. The beast reached arm’s distance. Right arm. Ermun nimbly dodged left in the rising wind. The wooden club met soil, forcing a sharp grunt from the beast. Before the blood-soaked dirt, cast into the air from the impact could fall back to the ground, Ermun was already standing beside the furious creature.

The beast turned, swinging the opposite arm in an arc through Ermun. His body split into wispy strands, reforming as soon as the root passed through. Ermun pushed forward, passing directly over the beast with a strong gust that caused it to stumble. Dazed, the beast howled angrily as he spun around to find the agile creature. Ermun retreated to a nearby tree.

The abomination dug his toes into soil to charge Ermun’s exposed back. Vertebrae protruded through thin, pale flesh as he arced his spine through a howling blitz. Just before the sloth could dig his claws into bark, the beast was behind him. The sloth’s feigned helplessness was successful. Ermun splattered against the cragged bark, allowing the beast to pass through him, head dropped.

Two rigid horns pierced the tree without meeting Ermun’s flesh. A low thud rustled the branches of the pine tree. As the beast stumbled backwards, Ermun instantly coalesced. Arm extended, he slashed at the beast’s torso in an arcing fashion with black, hooked claws. Three deep gashes bled profusely across the beast’s chest before he could regain his footing.

The mortal wound only served to enrage the beast. He roared louder, furious at the lack of crushed bones before him. Ermun held his ground as the beast commenced another assault. This time, swinging both arms simultaneously, he attempted to crush Ermun’s skull between the bludgeons. Ermun quickly dipped sideways, providing only stiff bark for the beast to slap. The sound of shattering wood, both of the tree and the creature’s extremities resonated through Ermun’s teeth as he fell to his side into damp, iron-scented soil.

Shock waves sent through wooden arms stunned the beast in recoil. With a sharp gust, Ermun whipped behind the stumbling creature and sank the pointed rib bone into its muscular back. Again, his aggressive actions were more invigorating to his enemy than damaging. The beast turned, enraged. Blood cascaded from its chest.

Even if it wanted to remove the bone-shank, it would be impossible to grasp with stumps for limbs. The tree behind him teetered as he narrowed his fiery eyes on Ermun. A large section at the base of the tree had been removed from the whack, allowing it to slowly lean towards the furious brawler. This was Ermun’s last chance. If lacerations and puncture wounds wouldn’t bring it down, perhaps nature’s weight would.

Ermun stood still in a line perpendicular to the teetering tree through the beast. The abomination roared in a consistent fashion before charging. With the wind at his back, Ermun charged as well. Before the beast could take two steps, Ermun was nose-to-nose with him. Arm extended, he pierced the creature’s jugular with three hooked, black claws. Like a stoked flame, the abomination’s furious eyes widened as he choked on his own blood. Ermun split into a cloud of fog, allowing the falling tree to pass through him. With a gurgling roar, the beast was pinned to the soil – face down.

Ermun composed himself to the side of the timber through labored breathing. Anxiety clutched him. Shame suppressed him, yet pride lifted him. He relished the irony; the trick to felling the beast was a bludgeoning of wood… Clearly this was why Maurlynn’s beasts needed some fine-tuning. He couldn’t help but wonder why this one had been cast aside; apart from the fact that it was capable of easily hindering itself.

The creature itself was shocking. He was unsure if he should be appalled or impressed by the collaboration of flora and fauna to create a blood-thirsty beast. No, he thought. This was a crime against nature, and this is the result. Ermun suspected the creature had been stuck due to its own body being unable to identify the separation between flesh and wood. He had grown himself into the fallen tree, becoming fused to it. Limbs intended to be rooted in place would never successfully be bound to a body intended to roam.

This was no place for Ermun. The smell of the blood-soaked soil had clung to his fur, lingering just below his nose. It was time to depart before he had another confrontation with a horrible creation. Droplets of blood wicked from his fur while whisking back to the tree utilized for observing the cave entrance. Wrapping his claws around the branch in midair, Ermun suspended himself upside down to rest, and wait. His hands trembled lightly; a common side effect from such a heavy dose of adrenaline.

With a sharp hiss, the wind picked up. Ermun’s fur was displaced, slightly exposing his skin. “How goes it? Are they still in possession of my appendage?” a voice whispered through the gust. Ermun wasn’t sure how to respond. He hadn’t even thought of Ohmlur for some time.

Releasing his right hand from the tree, he brought the palm of it to his mouth. His hooked claws arched over his lips, covering them. “Affirmative. It looks healthier,” he whispered back, hanging from the branch by three points. It would be some time before Ohmlur got the message. Hopefully this satisfied him for the time being.

He hadn’t quite decided if he would ever tell Ohmlur about the beast; afraid of how the Designer would react. Ermun wasn’t sure if he was more worried about the Designer taking drastic measures to counter the experiments, or attempting to recreate them in his own rendition. Fusing flora with fauna was something Ohmlur hadn’t explored as a possibility, and Ermun hoped he never would.

***

Hours passed as Ermun diligently observed the threshold of the lair. Still no activity. Not to investigate the commotion from the the hill they lived under, nor to discard more unsatisfactory trial species.

Another gust passed over the lazy sloth between his belly and branch from which he hung. “How many locations have they visited? How many remain?” it hissed.

Ohmlur was growing impatient – he typically didn’t whisper to Ermun throughout entire Guardian tailing missions. What does he want… what could possibly be the rush? I haven’t even been gone long, he thought.

Ermun covered his mouth with the palm of his hand again. “They’ve visited three locations,” he whispered. “Forest, plains, and plateau. They still have canyon and cave to go. Everything is fine. Don’t worry about us here.” The wind rushed east, carrying his message.

He feared Ohmlur would realize how quickly the messages were traveling and deduce that Ermun was actually much closer than he should be right now. At this time, the Guardians were likely finishing up at the canyon and navigating north; miles south of the Homestead, which is where Ermun should be presently.

Chatter and the rustling of snapping branches from below caught Ermun’s attention – footsteps of beasts varying in size. One sounded fairly heavy. He didn’t quite have the angle around the tree to identify what approached, but didn’t dare budge out of fear of drawing attention. Despite the creatures causing the disturbance to be ground mammals, bears were known for being excellent climbers.

The mix-matched group of predators approached the entrance of the cave, facing directly away from Ermun. At first glance, he recognized a pair of wolves, and handful of coyotes, a few foxes, and… there, the owner of the heavy steps. A grizzly bear tailed the group. Head drooped, it lumbered along, lacking any motivation to move hastily.

Such a unique array of predators did not typically move together like this… Quite unnatural, Ermun pondered. They must have been summoned here for a reason. Maurlynn was preparing for something. Even in the wild, predators may attack one another depending on size and current appetite. This group was exceptional indeed.

I can’t leave now… they could move on the Homestead at-

The group stopped just before the threshold of the cave, met by a grim silhouette. White fur painted the face of a massive feline in the shape of a skull. Sun rays refracted within two golden eyes, causing them to explode in brilliance. The cat’s elongated fangs nearly dragged against the stone ground as she prowled towards her company. Ermun could only fathom her size based off her head and fore paws; the rest of her body still shrouded in the cave’s shadow.

Ermun strained his ears to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place at the entrance of the lair. Only slight mumbling was audible, and faded blue streaks visible. Although, he was convinced that he had heard the word ‘Homestead’. Not that it mattered now; this peculiar gathering had been a clear indication for Ermun to vacate the premise. Only a significant event could draw Maurlynn from her lair.

The wind died down, allowing dialogue to float towards Ermun from below. Leaves had settled, and auditory dominance no longer rustled through the branches he watched from.

“There is an entrance to the south of the massive cedar tree, were the mountain side wraps around and heads south. A badger living inside the Homestead has…” Maurlynn’s sentence was interrupted by a scent on the wind moving directly through her group of predators. Her goons watched in wonder as she turned her nose to the sky to take multiple deep breaths.

“What is it? Flesh?” growled one of the wolves.

“No… blood,” she replied. “Old… stale. Mixed with the fur of a familiar creature.” She scanned the trees opposite her cave.

“Probably coming from the dumping grounds above the cave. Smells wretched up there these days… even for us!” another wolf chimed in.

Maurlynn turned skull-masked face and narrowed her eyes on the wolf, unimpressed. “No… the breeze that carried the scent came from ahead of us. The burial ground,” she corrected, “is behind us.”

The wolf cowered in embarrassment.

“Let’s move,” Maurlynn demanded. “We will rendezvous on top of the hill overlooking the Homestead. Move as quickly and quietly as possible. The closer we get to their tree, the more sentries they will have present. Kill anything that makes eye contact with us.”

The wind picked back up with a chilling howl. Another one of Ohmlur’s whispers was coming through, but Ermun was too distracted to decipher the mumbled questions. It was time to go – his departure would be concealed, masked as a spring gust scented with pollen.

Before he could blink an eye, Ermun was a hundred yards east of the tree he had spied from. Intentionally splitting into thin strands, he looked nothing more than a blonde blur back dropped by blue sky littered with fluffy, white clouds.

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