First Encounter

The quiet of the night was shattered by a scream. It was Vix.

"Dad! There's something banging against the house!" she cried out, her voice filled with panic.

Whiskey-Jack's eyes snapped open. His heart pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to escape his chest. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing the sword his father had given him.

"No, it can't be..." he thought, fear starting to overcome him. Is it the Rolling Head?

He rushed out of the room to find Midok already suited up, a spear in his hand, a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to his back, and leather armour covering every inch of his body.

The older man looked noticing Whiskey-Jack, had a stern expression.

"Go back to your room," Midok commanded. "I'll handle this."

Whiskey Jack's resolve hardened. "I want to help. My Dad taught me."

Midok studied him for a moment, then gave an approving nod. "Fine. Stay behind me and run if things get too dangerous. Understood?"

Whiskey-Jack nodded back, determination filling him. This was his chance to prove he was more than just a scared boy.

The two stepped out into the cool night, the wind howling around them. Through the darkness, they could see a silhouette of something moving around the side of the house. The figure of a menacing beast, one would only see in nightmares.

Midok cursed under his breath. "A skin walker. Damn it, I was hoping we'd be left alone."

Whiskey-Jack's heart skipped a beat. He had heard stories from his father about such a beast.

The creature before them had the form of a man, but its features were grotesque. It had hooves for feet, massive legs like tree trunks, and a torso armored with a thick, bone-like layer of protection.

Its pale face was framed by curling ram's horns, and its sunken eye sockets, possessed red eyes glowing with murderous intent.

"Prepare yourself," Midok said, his voice low and steady. "I've fought these things before. It's going to be a tough fight."

Whiskey-Jack's palm's began to sweat. He could see the beast's glowing eyes locked onto them. This was no longer a story, this was real, and it was time to kill or be killed.

"Watch its legs," Midok warned. "It'll pounce, and those horns are deadly. We need to close the distance."

The skin walker let out a horrifying screech, its hooves pounding against the ground, in an instant, launched itself toward them. Midok darted forward, jabbing his spear at the creature's armored hide. The blow barely made a dent, deflected by its thick bone armor.

Whiskey-Jack following Midok's lead, ran forward, and swung his sword with all his might at the creature's outstretched arm, the blade sinking only a fraction of an inch into its flesh.

Gritting his teeth in frustration. The sword was too dull, and the creature was too strong.

Midok raised his spear to block the next attack from the skin walker's other arm, avoiding a crushing blow.

Whiskey-Jack's heart raced as he realized they couldn't win by simply attacking the beast's body.

"I can't get through its armor... but the head or arms are vulnerable!" He thought quickly.

Seizing the opportunity when the beast swung once more at Midok, Whiskey-Jack spun his body, using the momentum to aim for the skin walker's neck.

He swung with all his might, his sword cutting through the air.

The skin walker tried to swing down it's arm to deflect the blow, but it was too late.

Whiskey-Jack's sword connected with its neck, wedging halfway in.

"I did it!" he shouted triumphantly but the victory was short-lived. The skin walker's arm slammed into the top of his head. Everything fading black as he was knocked unconscious.