Night Ghoul
Yuri led the night watch along the cobblestone street, their burning brands held high. Shadows jumped and lurched on the surrounding buildings. “Whoever you are, come out!” he shouted. “We have you surrounded.”
That peculiar scraping came again, like nails across stone, and a low, rasping breath sounded from the blackness of a nearby alleyway. They crept toward it, weapons at the ready. One brave watchman strode boldly ahead, holding his brand aloft as he peered into the narrow passage.
Something jerked him forward. His brand fell to the damp cobblestones, sputtered, and went out. The clang of steel followed, and Yuri figured the watchman must have dropped his sword. That's when the screaming began. It was high and horrible. A sound like celery torn in two, and the screams became a wretched sob.
“Gods, no,” someone said.
Then it came.
It bowled into them, sending the men and women of the night watch sprawling in all directions. Yuri stumbled and fell on his belly. Clawed feet stomped across his back, rending his flesh, and he cried out in pain. When he looked up, the thing was among them, lashing out with wicked claws, tearing limbs from bodies. They tried to fight, but for every swing of an axe or sword, the beast only became more enraged. It grabbed a woman by the throat and tore her head off in a spray of gore.
And it was laughing. A deep, bestial rumble that came from deep in its throat, but oh, gods, it was laughing.
Yuri lay still, pretending to be dead, and when the thing was done and it had slaughtered every other member of the night watch, it hunkered down on its haunches, its back to Yuri, and feasted on the bloody mess.
Yuri eased himself to his feet, sword in hand, careful not to make a sound. The wounds on his back were an agony, and blood plastered his shirt to his skin. The beast chewed and gobbled its meal noisily. Its meal—they had been Yuri's friends and neighbors. He clenched his teeth and took a step toward the thing. Then another. And another. The beast didn't turn, intent on its gruesome banquet. Yuri wrapped both of his hands around the sword's hilt, raised it above his head, and brought it down with all his might.
It landed solidly on the creature's skull, but impossibly, the blade deflected, tearing a long piece of scalp along with it. It sank into the meat of the creature's shoulder instead. With an angry howl, the thing stood and whirled. The hilt tore from Yuri's grasp, still lodged in the creature's shoulder. It tore the blade free and threw it. The sword slid across the cobblestones with a clang and a clattering.
The beast leaped at Yuri. He fell on his back. Beat at it with his fists. Its mouth stretched wide, breath hot and fetid, teeth streaked with gore and long and, oh, so sharp. It fell on him and tore out his throat.
Yuri gurgled and spluttered. As he lay dying, he thought of his children, alone at home. How long until the beast found them? On the storm-ridden realm of Veorgaror, the night ghoul carved out its existence in the lonesome darkness. It fed on small prey in the wetlands and underground, and although it looked utterly terrifying, the creature rarely killed, preferring instead to forage the rotting meat of corpses.
When the Chaos Legion captured it, they saw a vicious potential buried deep within the monster. They took the powerful topaz garnet, fashioned within the chaos forges using dark mana, and forced it into the creature's eye socket. The gem's magic radiated bursts of pain through its skull, sending it into a murderous frenzy. Not only that, but the gem's chaos energy also served as a dampener, allowing the ghoul to absorb massive damage with minimal effect.
The Chaos Legion needed somewhere to test the night ghoul's effectiveness as a berserker killer, and where better than the Splinterlands. It never hurts to remind a conquered people of who won, now and again.