Chupacabra Part 3: Courage and the Rat Stick

Slowly, the two goblins crept towards the opening of the cavern. The revolting smell only grew with each step that took them closer. The monster heard each footfall, each breath of its approaching company. Guests it had not invited, and visitors it did not wish to entertain. The large quills on its spine stood on end as it bared its bluish-black teeth. This monster was by no means an apex predator. A pack of wolves or a single bear could be a fatal encounter for the Chupacabra, even with its toxic breath, scaled hind legs, and venomous quills. The growl it emitted echoed from the mouth of the cave as it stepped forward, the creature’s eyes beginning to glow a pale yellow in the choking dark of its home.

Dergill stepped back as Calro stopped in his tracks at the sound of the creature. Calro’s stomach knotted as the beast took a step out into the dim light of the stars and moon, which watched from above in growing anticipation. The beast stood as tall as Calro, and its muscles flexed visibly with each leisurely step. It was bigger than a goat but somewhat smaller than a cow, perhaps as big as a pony but lacking the mass, being sleeker and more defined. It walked towards the two of them on all fours and a noxious vapor escaped from its muzzle. “It is a Chuba-Barber,” Calro swallowed. He tried to correct himself as the monster stalked towards them. “A Chuba-Papa.”

“Chupacabra, you mean Chupacabra,” Dergill shouted as the beast took to the offensive. Calro rolled to his right as the monster leaped at him, barely having anticipated the creature’s attack. Quickly, he scrambled to his knees, ignoring the stiffness in his joints as he struggled to his feet. Dergill clutched his axe and moved to step towards the creature, raising the weapon. There was a whistling sound as a set of quills from the beast’s back shot forth, with flesh-piercing power. Dergill hit the floor, a few of the closest quills tinged, having found a target while the others flew past where Dergill had been. The young goblin stood with three quills poking out the front of his helm, he would have to pull those out before his father noticed.

By now, the Chupacabra was back on the attack against Calro. The beast bounded forward, the powerful hind legs propelling the monster through the air as it leaped at the prone victim. Calro spun about on his heels, having found his feet in time. Leading the way was the Rat Stick and it thumped solidly against the right side of the beast’s face, several nails driving into the muzzle and cheek, but it was not fatal, just infuriating. “Shit!” Calro yelled as he realized the non-fatal flaw of his attack. He was off his feet again as the Chupacabra shook its head in pain but, in the same motion, it was a counter-offensive that sent Calro off to the left with a thud and a groan. The older goblin hit the ground hard, trying to find his breath.

The monster lowered his head, putting a paw on the haft of the cudgel and pulling away from the now-anchored weapon, managing to pry himself free of the club. A scraping sound and impact against its right hind leg brought the Chupacabra’s attention back over its shoulder, to where an axe skipped across the tough scales on his hindquarters. Dergill watched in horror as his axe bounced off the beast without having dug into the flesh. He mimicked his father and flew up into the air, landing with a heavy impact on the unforgiving ground gasping, trying to suck the precious air back into his lungs.

The monster’s focus turned to the now-sprawling Dergill, as the goblin tried to determine which of the stars he was seeing were real or illusions. He managed to suck in a few good breaths but was forced to release a cry, which practically emptied his battered lungs as the Chupacabra stepped down on his left ankle. There were audible cracks and splits as the bones were crushed beneath the monster’s weight. As suddenly as the pressure came on Dergill’s foot, it was gone and his father, in a hitherto unseen fury assailed the Chupacabra. Calro’s swings were wild, and half as many hit as missed, but when they hit the impact was audible. With rage in his eyes, Calro batted left and right, his hand had long since cramped tightly onto the cudgel and the leather wrap whimpered under the throttling power.

It was a blur of blows and Dergill felt he watched a struggle that must have lasted for days, but the moon had not shifted nor had the sun appeared and disappeared before the last slam of the Rat Stick rang like a gong across the small battlefield. Both Calro and the Chupacabra lay unmoving. The dark figures lay against a starry backdrop, and Dergill crawled cautiously toward the two bodies. “Pahna,” his whisper seemed to be trumpeted and he quickly shut his mouth, nervously staring at the large monstrous figure, expecting it to leap forward at any moment.

There was a groan and Dergill raised his axe, swallowing hard, but it was not the Chupacabra that sat up. “Come help me drag this back. No sense in wasting what could be good.” Dergill’s smile was sincere, and he forgot to remove the quills from his helm as he laughed and motioned to his broken ankle.