System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 73
“Wah ... wah ... wah...”
Amid the chittering cries, a terrible shadow crawled out of the cave.
It had the roughest approximation of a human shape, claws like a feline at the ends of its toes and fingers, skin puckered and rough like the flesh of a plucked fowl, the musculature bulging in odd, coarse plates, the naked body tied at the groin with a strip of ragged burlap.
Higher up, the face bore cataract-clouded eyes without visible pupils, staring like bronze bells, a mouth pried wide by long, filthy yellow teeth, the jaw and throat ringed with a flabby collar of fat that fell onto the chest, oily and repulsive to behold.
Nekker
Age: 5
HP: 60
Attributes:
Strength: 5
Agility: 5 (Pack +1)
Constitution: 6
Perception: 4
Willpower: 4 (Pack +1)
Charisma: 2
Spirit: 3
Skills:
Rotting Venom LV1: Nekker live among corpses and rotten flesh; their claws and teeth are tainted with a special venom that, on a successful hit, has a chance to weaken and fever the target.
Pack (Passive Trait): When Nekker hunt in packs, Agility +1, Willpower +1.
Evolve (Passive Trait): After feeding on sufficient flesh over time, a Nekker will evolve into a stronger Nekker warrior.
...
It burst out of the cave and screamed at the two of them, then hunched, flexed, and in a single bound leapt down from the high ledge.
The Witcher suddenly lunged forward, blade up, muscles rippling as Gwyhyr cut a silver arc through the shadowy air.
Ssssh— meat and steel met, the keen edge sweeping across the Nekker’s waist, the attacker collapsing like a puppet struck still.
Spurt— a line of blood opened at the midriff, the upper and lower halves split like stacked blocks of tofu, a great red gash belching hot, rank steam.
It was cleaved in two.
A drop of blood slid from the sword point to the floor, the blade reflected the light and seemed almost immaculate.
“Worth every goblin-craft,” Roy thought, hand on his crossbow.
In a blink he assumed a forged posture and aimed at the next shadow falling in, pulling the trigger.
Swoosh— the bolt left the crossbow, but in his Perception it traced a thin line; he could clearly feel its speed, the path, the flight time.
The instant he squeezed the trigger he knew whether it would hit.
A strangled cry, and the bolt pierced the skull of the other attacker.
Kill Nekker, XP +20.
Roy nocked another bolt and glanced toward the Witcher; Gwyhyr hummed in Letho’s hand with every arm stroke.
A belligerent soul shouted in a rasp.
The Witcher stepped forward and kicked the third Nekker over, then brought the sword down; the blade, like a hair’s breadth, sheared its head free.
In a few breaths three Nekker lay dead without answering back, but the fight was far from over.
“One Nekker is easy, five are dangerous, ten are fatal—this is the Nekker nest,” Roy said as he looked up.
In the blink of an eye three or four Nekker spilled from the tunnels ahead, baring teeth and claws, keening like night-owls as they closed in.
Their running was grotesquely comic, hunched and bow-legged, arms outstretched with razor claws, waddling with a duck-like gait.
Roy could not laugh; his scalp prickled, Nekker moved faster than men, and they came in an endless tide.
The Witcher’s face tightened.
“Watch yourself, I’ve no time to babysit you,” he said.
“You too, be careful!”
Roy scrambled up the rear slope and took the high ground.
With Crossbow Mastery active and Carnage boosting damage by a quarter, a bolt to a Nekker’s chest, throat, or head was usually final.
Below, the Witcher held steady and faced the onrush. He sketched with his fingers and cast a Sign; yellow Quen flared into a protective shield around him. He crouched and slammed his palm to the floor, a broad purple Yrden sigil surging up; the charging Nekker hesitated, their movement slowed.
Letho twisted his wrist and stepped into a lunge, flipping Gwyhyr from horizontal to vertical in a single motion; an upward cut cleaved a Nekker clean in two.
The corpse divided, gore spouting.
He withdrew into the Yrden’s ring and, with the blade already over his left shoulder, sliced down at two more Nekker, opening their chests and sending steaming intestines to roll across the floor.
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