Followers of the Godbeast 5: Sraag the Gator

The much-awaited and highly voted Followers of the Godbeasts is here. I had Fayjen living on the Stonehammer land, which I liked as an idea of them having allies and probably a cool monster tag-team fight later on. It felt a little cheap to leap to, so I thought I’d sweep the spotlight off of Leega for a while and see some other matchups with animals. Having the chief’s fight in sync with things with no arms was a neat challenge but I think it worked out well. 

Usual blood and death, but nothing overly graphic beyond some kaiju fighting. I definitely toyed around with Fayjen in this one as one of the absolute few men I can enjoy fighting in my stories. Last time I voiced how mixed matches tend to just become femdom or maledom, so I used his reasonable nature (basically the nicest tribe on the planet) and the fact that culture has mostly collapsed and everyone is a fucking badass  who don’t care about genders anymore beyond “Can I mate with it?” There is zero chivalry left (probably a few chauvinist or amazonian tribes though), and Fayjen is legit just an even fight with any female priestess when neither of them pulls their punches. Equal footing all around.

I even leaned hard into that near the end; Fayjen proved overpowered, so he resorts to moves I’d normally expect a female to use in a mixed match when they’re out-muscled. So he pulls hair, he hits weak spots, low blows… whatever to get himself loose and back in the fight as much as his huntress rivall.

The Stonehammer tribe had few enemies in the world.

Technically, they had many enemies; especially if you counted nearly every wild animal and nature itself that seemed committed to challenging the simple humans and their brutal lives. They didn’t even know very much of the world. It was just that nearly everything that had threatened them was dead by the hands of their warriors of their godbeast, the great and sacred ape Arragunn.

Few survived their encounters, but they thrived in their own way for doing so. The Stonehammers were strange in this brutal time for having actual allies, however formal and cautious they may be. The tribe traded resources with the people of Sea Land and their great guardian kraken, but neither side did so without some precautionary guards.

The Runin clan had wandered into Stonehammer territory and after fighting to a standstill, the war priestess Leega decided to grant them permission to live on their land in return for guarding it as their own. Their leader Fayjen was glad to accept the terms; he was a peaceful man when he could be, and fluent in Speech, all of which irritated the warrior priestess. He did his best not to press her buttons, which seemed to annoy the snow-haired chieftess further. He guessed that the idea of cooperation with people not under her command must be a new concept to her.

Fayjen was a working leader, quick to lend a hand wherever it was needed in his people. He mended tools and helped turn the soil to encourage more fruit to grow. His tribe was slowly growing, but they were mobile, cooperative, and adaptable. It made them less prone to deaths than the other tribes, and that gave him great pride to know he could care for his people.

Fayjen was a solid man with deep red hair and short beard, kept surprisingly clean and trim for a man of their world. He wore his usual leathers, loincloth and handaxe as he sat on a pile of wood beside his grazing ox. The wandering godbeast Harnyorn had led his people to food and water and protected them in many dire times. Most humanity that survived in this world had done so by clinging to a godbeast, their dominant power that had earned them their ancient titles in the first place. Humans who fed, worshiped and obeyed the godbeasts were recognized as its followers and permitted to stay in its otherwise deadly presence. The huge and shaggy ox uprooted a small tree to chew it into a pulp, its horns and lengthy fur swaying as it turned its head lazily.

Fayjen wouldn’t call himself a priest, but as the clan’s leader he felt it his duty to stay attuned to the ox. Its breathing came in short snorts as it looked towards the distance, scanning the valley with its ponderously dull expression.

“What goes, Harn?” Fayjen asked, standing up from his work on a new batch of shovels for the famers. He patted the great ox’s side, his hand burying up to the forearm in its thick and mangy fur. Harnyorn gave a long, throaty grunt in its complex and holy language as its eyes and horns locked onto something in the distance.

As a formerly nomadic tribe, the Runin’s main saving grace was that humans rarely traveled far without a godbeast. That made them dangerous, but it also made them incredibly easy to spot when their worshipped guardian was the size of a small mountain. Rare were the ones that could act subtly or quietly, because the sacred creatures had nothing to fear but their own kind.

The intruders came Fayjen’s way as he waved behind him, signaling his tribesmen to move away in case of trouble. The new godbeast was longer than it was tall, covered in mottled black and green scaly skin. The alligator-like monster was the size of a few connected train cars, its mouth alone long and wide enough to snap up a few humans in one mighty bite. Its body was smeared with heaps of black mud, whether for camouflage or ritualistic decoration. The latter seemed more likely as the dozen or so humans walking at its sides were similarly dressed, marked with streaks of black warpaint and dark animal hides. They seemed more concerned with hiding their faces than bodies, as they all wore simple wooden masks; round planks with narrow eye holes carved into them.

They all carried bows and spears, and the only woman walking anywhere close to the beast’s mouth carried a crudely rounded metal shield. She was a slightly pale woman with dark hair tied into dirty dreads, the warpaint black under her eyes and painting lines on her exposed skin. Her rather baring skins were little more than cords with broad strips over her groin, nipples and rear. It showed off her lean figure apart from the notable curves of her strong hips and chest. Their leader eyed Fayjen and his godbeast with scowling eyes as she approached.

“Hail!” Fayjen called when they were well into earshot. He waved a hand in a friendly gesture to show he wasn’t immediately armed, but the axe made with a hefty piece of Harnyorn’s old horn was always at his hip. “Passing through?”

“Hunt,” the lead woman said simply.

“Ah. Not meat left here,” the leader said conversationally. Not many humans were gifted with actual speech these days. Chief figures tended to keep a few important words in mind while relying on their mystic speakers to translate for them, but he was one of the few to both lead a tribe and know his Speech. He tried to keep it simple, as she was either curt or not very learned in her words.

“Stonehammer hunting land. Herds moving. Food? Try forest there.”

Fayjen pointed off towards a far-off wood where the Stonehammers tended to hunt in more desperate times. There were more dangerous game there, but he imagined they would be fine with their giant escort.

“Big hunt,” the masked emissary said. Her raspy voice almost sounded annoyed to be speaking so many words. Her masked head turned to look at Harnyorn. The ox snorted hard enough to blow back some of her hair and the giant alligator to adjust its footing and eye it more tensely.

“Harnyorn not food,” Fayjen informed her as he gave his godbeast a firm pat on the leg. “Hunter.”

The masked woman gave a dismissive hiss at the idea. She held out a hand and the reptile opened its jaws wide enough for a family to live inside. The woman stepped over his short but numerous fangs, standing on his tongue fearlessly as she reached between his teeth and tossed a morsel of something down its deep dark throat. She pointed up towards the mouth around it.

“Sraag,” she introduced as she stepped back out. It was already slowly closing its jaws and she casually ducked under the lowering fangs. She knocked a fist on the side of her mask. “Chieftess Lahn. Quiet Hunters.”

Fayjen frowned. He knew many war priestesses to begin their duels with introductions of themselves and their beast. He held out a warning hand. “The Runin do not look for fights,” he dumbed down for Lahn. The woman gave a dismissive click of her tongue and her huntresses flanking her drew their bows on him. 

Harnyorn snorted uneasily as Fayjen gestured for him to wait, then dropped his hand sharply. Slingstones suddenly whipped through the air, cracking ribs, heads and bows in a sudden wave. The hunters whirled as his retreated tribesmen scowled at them.

“But we do not fear them either. Your last warn,” he pressed.

Lahn had no interest in his warning as she gave a sharp hiss between her teeth. The giant alligator growled and lumbered forward with surprising speed, opening its jaws as they reached for Fayjen. Harnyorn was quick to intervene, twisting its head to catch its horns beneath the other godbeast’s fangs. It tossed its head to one side, flinging the gator bodily away from its protected cleric. The archers who had come with it had been too presumptuous in Sraag’s power, giving short cries before they were flattened by its tumbling body. Not content with the relatively small distance between them, Harnyorn stampeded after it with its head and horns lowered.

The chieftess raised her bow for Runin herself but he was already swinging his horn-tipped axe. It buried into the thick wood of her bow instead of her head, but Lahn whirled her bow to rip it from his hands and fling the melee weapon away. She tried to bring it swinging down onto his head but he caught the long weapon in such close quarters and pulled on it, burying his fist into the toned woman’s belly.

A short gag came from behind Lahn’s mask as Fayjen caught her hair and threw her to the ground for a rough and noisy landing. 

“Gone,” he ordered sharply before he threw a kick into her side. The masked woman gasped again but she caught his ankle, twisting around with surprising speed and power. She tore the bearded man off his feet and wound around to land on his back. Her pale and painted thighs caught around his neck as she grabbed his wrists, bending them up and backward. The sudden hold worked his shoulders painfully while her warm crotch pressed against the back of his head, legs steadying her while choking him on her muddy musk.

“Slow,” she scoffed dismissively.

---

Harnyorn huffed and slammed its horns into Sraag again, tumbling the gator a few more yards. It started to right itself when the giant ox slammed its hooved onto its back, but the low and armored creature proved tougher than it looked. It twisted and caught its jaws on one of Harnyorn’s legs, its body whipping into a sudden spiral that ripped at its flesh and threw it to the ground. The shaggy beast bellowed in rage and pain but the gator whirled around, striking its tail across Harnyorn’s face without breaking hold of its bite.

Harnyorn gave a husky bleat and swung its neighboring hoof, catching the gator squarely in the eye. It hissed and retreated as the ox swung its head, driving one of its horns into the gator’s soft side. It gave a wretched squeal before lashing out and catching its fangs around Harnyorn’s neck, but its thick fur protected its rough hide from being penetrated from such short fangs (as teeth the size of arms were prone to be in the eyes of a divine godbeast).

The bovine godbeast gave another furious cry as it charged ahed, smashing Sraag through several large stones before whipping its head upward. It dragged Slaag along with its stocky body before whipping back down, slamming the reptile onto its side as it bounced and scraped its claws at the ground to awkwardly regain its balance.

---

Fayjen growled from the painful hold, but his muscles tensed enough to rip free from one of Lahn’s hands. He grabbed her by the hair and ripped to one side, tearing out a piece of dreadlock as she tumbled off his back. The redheaded nomad swung a heavy uppercut into her chin, knocking her mask from her face as she rubbed her jaw. Even the skin beneath her mask was painted with mud as she glared at him.

With a near silent hiss, the strange huntress pounced on Fayjen and wrapped her legs around his midsection. She clawed and beat her fists at his head and chest in a frenzy of stinging blows before the stronger man caught her waist and body slammed her back to the ground, pinning her beneath his bulk. He palmed the side of her face with one hand, pinning it to the dirt while punching her in the ribs.

Her tight muscles proved plenty resilient and she snapped her knee upward, slamming into his balls. Fayjen gave a husky grunt but kept his grip on her until she bit down on one of his fingers. His hand instinctively recoiled from the sting as she leaned on her arms and swept an acrobatic kick across his face.

She snacked up her bow again, wielding the heavy tool to swing and crack across his face. Fayjen staggered as some blood escaped his lips but threw up an arm to block another blow to sting his arm instead of his face. Lahn just used it as a point of leverage to whirl around behind him. Before he could catch her again, she grabbed him around the middle. She drove one more knee into his groin to lose his footing and showed surprising strength as she suplexed him back over her head. 

Fayjen grunted as he landed, just to swing her heel backward and smash it into her slender stomach. Lahn huffed breathlessly as the burly man lifted her by her flimsy top and headbutted her in between the eyes, sending her staggering back in a clumsy stance and her top torn away to expose her painted breasts.

Fayjen clubbed her with another blow to the ribs, hoping to keep her off balance and finish the fight. His caution was punished as she shot another surprising blow to his eye, sending a shock of pain through his skull as her lean strength proved more precise and dangerous than his own. She took a wild swing that he dodged around, hearing it whizz past his nose as he threw a palm strike into her chest. It flattened one of her breasts against her ribs but she hit him with a speeding pair of jabs to his face and chest, working around his light armor to keep stinging at his joints and head.

“Stop this, you mad swamp fuck,” Fayjen growled but Lahn just hissed in her same eerie silence. She caught the edges of his leather armor and used them as leverage to throw him to the ground, kicking across his face for another spray of blood.

---

Harnyorn charged in with its head lowered as Sraag writhed and dodged around it. It arched up on its hind legs and dug its claws and fangs into the bigger godbeast’s side, slashing and ripping out streaks of its sacred blood. The bellowed and thrashed, unable to reach with its horns or hooves so far back on its back. The gator gouged a chunk out of its back, swallowing it up with an almost mocking glee before twisting its head and throwing Harnyorn to the dirt. A great streak of blood was left in its wake as the beast roared back at the reptile, flood splashing from its muzzle.

It struggled to rise with its injured side and leg, and the gator was quick to snap its tail into the wounded ankle. Harnyorn fell once again as the hungry Sraag towered over it. It lunged for the ox’s head as it lunged with its horns, but the lizard knew to dodge around them. It was surprised when one of Harnyorn’s hooves swept in from the side and smashed into the side of its jaw, distorting its lower jaw to one side as many of its fangs went flying. It let out a sickly gurgling noise as it tried to voice its holy wrath through a busted mouth. 

Sraag still tried to scramble back towards its opponent but the bovine godbeast slammed its hoof down on its snout. It shot fresh pain through its jaws while keeping its mouth shut, cutting off its main weapon. With a furious snort, Harnyorn brought its lower half around the back of the gator in a crude, fingerless sort of wrestling maneuver. From there it simply had to stomp, its heavy hooves slowly but steadily breaking through the leathery hide to start crunching its back and bones into pieces.

---

Lahn mounted Fayjen’s barrel chest, her warm groin on his pecs as she fetched her bow in another graceful flourish. She pressed it forcefully towards Fayjen’s neck, and while he caught the edges he wasn’t strong enough to fight off her leverage and raw power. He found himself clawing and grabbing at her face and hair in desperation as she ghastly priestess stared down at him without more than a furrowing of her brow in effort.

“Down and die,” she whispered as she locked the bow across his findpipe. He gave a few short gasps of air as his face went red, suddenly and swiftly overpowered by the huntress despite his superior size. He choked while trying to swallow, his vision blurring as he grabbed out beside him. He had hoped for a rock or his axe, but this would have to do…

He grabbed Lahn’s discarded, thick wooden mask and swung it across her face. The dense wood cracked noisily as it broke in half in his hand, but it knocked her silly as she fell back off of him. Lahn rubbed her cheek before staring in shock at the broken mask.

“My face!” she gasped, seemingly more concerned with the mask than her actual features. Fayjen didn’t bother asking about her culture’s significance of the mask as he threw it aside. She briefly reached for it as he grabbed her arms and kneed her hard in the chin. Her head snapped back and she’d have fallen flat on her back if Fayjen didn’t catch her by the hair. With a furious grunt, he lifted her up into the air and spiked her back down, landing her chest-first across his knee.

Now Lahn was gasping for air as she clutched her breasts, bouncing off his solid limb to land on the ground. Fayjen coughed heavily himself before spitting the red-flecked spittle down on her. He finally spotted and snatched up his axe as Lahn sprang back to her feet. She held her bosom with one hand while the other swung another heavy haymaker for his face. It cracked across his cheek and sent him staggering, but as a second one came in Fayjen got in a solid swing with his axe. The holy horn tipping the weapon sliced and crushed right through the middle of Lahn’s arm, sending blood and flesh flying as she shrieked and clutched her halved limb.

“No!” she hissed out with her eyes wide in mixed fear and fury. “Go! None to hunt!” she pleaded on. She looked desperately towards Sraag that was being trampled to death in the distance, finding no other rescue from her dying deity. Fayjen stomped on her stomach and pinned her to the ground with his heavy foot.

“Runin don’t look for fights,” he reminded her. “You murderous swamp witch.”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, Fayjen whipped his axe down into her ribs like he was planting it into a tree stump for later. With a viscerally meaty sound, Chieftess Lahn of the Quiet Hunters shuddered and died quickly but messily.

When Fayjen looked up from his dirty work, he was sore but victorious. His people cheered, untouched by the battle while his trusty godbeast hobbled back to him. He was roughed up but no worse than the god had recovered from in the past. Any of the hunters that came with Lahn were dead by either his people or the rampaging godbeasts. A shame, he thought. They might have made good members of the nomadic tribe if they were a bit more sane and cooperative.

---

“What?” Chieftess Leega stood at the edge of her village, looking distastefully at Fayjen despite his best intentions.

“Food. Skins. We cannot keep,” he explained again more simply, gesturing to the heap of giant alligator meat and hide. They fact was the leather was great for armor, but there were only so many of them. They also couldn’t eat all that meat before it rotted or filled with worms, especially since their godbeast primarily ate plants with only a few nibbles of the meat for himself.

“We want to give. Gift.”

“Gived,” Leega tried to mimic. The full-figured and snow-haired woman’s lips curled at the word.

“Yes. I give. It’s gift. Gift is give with thing for nothing.”

“Stupid do!” Leega barked defiantly. “No give! Bad trade,”

“No! Leega take,” he spelled out, gesturing to the payload again. He waved to his men who walked away to leave the simple pallet behind. “Meat and skin for Stonehammers. Do not want. As thank. Give to people and Arragunn. Be happy.”

He smiled and waved to her as he backed away from the psychopathic priestess. The mature leader frowned at him as she tried to process all this. Raiding and taking, of course. Trade was new to her but she could understand wanting things. But giving it away… and to someone who wasn’t even in your bloodline, let alone your tribe… that was a joke to a Stonehammer. She insisted on her speakers making every test they could, feeding the meat to fish and hunting dogs before she was POSITIVE it wasn’t poisoned. She was once again confused by her continued feelings that arose from the alienistic visitor that was Fayjen. It wasn’t quite mating urges, or else she’d have acted on them. At least his stupidity and comical ideas of generosity lead to her sharing a strange but tasty meal with her godbeast as she pondered such behavior.