#log-a-log bruster

Willow Slay’s nose twitched as she blinked, the darkness slowly ebbing away. She looked to find two giant mountains ranges meeting in a valley across from where she stood. The mountains towered far off into the pale sky, gray clouds enveloping around them, as if hiding how the peaks pierced  the sky. Looking down slowly, paws underfoot crunching on small grey pebbles, Willow turned and saw what was undoubtedly the most grime, yet entrancing sight of her life. A lake stood in front of her, most certainly lapping at the big round river rocks; the lake seemed to have oozed out from under the very mountains. That hardly interested her however, it was the monstrous statues that caught her gaze. Walking closer until her toes were touching the waters, she marveled at the stone carvings that stretched out submerged from the lake. Integrate carvings of foxes, weasels, mice, shrews, and moles decorated the lake.  Upon further inspection, Willow supposed that the stones were aligned in some sort of pattern reminding her greatly of a garden. Unlike a peaceful garden however, the faces of the statues made her shudder. The stone creatures were frozen in terror or looked as if they were enduring horrific torture, faces contorted and twisted with pain and fury. Tortured figures bent, cowering or as if trying to escape. They were so detailed, so life like, Willow felt her heart go out for the carvings. One that truly caught her attention was the giant statue far out in the middle of the lake. It towered massively over the surface, and had the appearance of a badger, yet the statues’ back faced her. Curious to know what kind of horrific features it held, Willow stepped forward without thinking. She froze as her paw did not submerge, but rather stood on the surface. Taking another tentative step forward, she couldn’t help but feel as if she were walking on glass.

      “This smell…” Willow’s fur stood up as she kept striding forward over the surface. “I’m amazed. The lake was so transparent, I had no idea that the lake was made of blood.” As she walked further out towards the large statue, she could see down through the translucent liquid. More statues stood at the bottom. Some were lying on their sides, as if they had been knocked over by a great force. After examining the craftsmanship of the gruesome statues, noting the sheer focus on detail, the life-like features each statue held, Willow bent down and placed her paws on the surface. She was out towards the middle now, and as of such had left most of the statues behind, yet the giant one still remained. It was out further than it appeared at first. She realized that in the intricate pattern, the large one was most certainly the middle center piece. But now she wasn’t alone. “Come out, I know you’re here...my opponent I’m supposed to face.” She slowly stood up, shaking her paw. Droplets of blood flecked away from her fur as a figure stepped out from the shadows of the statue. Willow’s heart beat a bit faster as the creature approached, frustration taking hold as smog like clouds lazily floated over the pale sun. When she glanced back from the sky, she could make out the creature in front of her, hard pot belly rippling as he swaggered forward, confidence oozing out of him. His kilt ruffled in the musky breeze, and he swung around a rather large iron club for effect before stopping a few yards in front of her. Willow blinked a few times, taking in her opponent. 

       “Huh, so you’re finally done admiring the landscape, are you missy? Took you long enough eh. When Vulpuz sent me out here, I was expecting a true warrior to battle, not some female vermin weakling!” He spat, rolling his massive shoulders.        “Oh. So, my opponent is a shrew. Interesting.” Willow mused, eyeing him up and down, not entirely impressed.        “A she--I will have you know that I am Log-a-Log Bruster! Log-a-Log of the Northern Shrew Guosim!” He snarled, stamping his left paw in anger.       “Bruster? Where have I heard that name before? Oh I know, You’re Tugga, aren’t you? The lame excuse of a Log-a-Log who complained about my summer feast.” Willow sniffed, folding her arms over her chest. “So, that’s what Vulpuz thinks of me? He sends a whiner and complainer to battle me; a crude beast who can’t even enjoy the finer things in life.”      “How dare you not show me the respect I’m owed?” The shrew huffed, raising his club up in the air. “I’ll show you manners, you wily mink!”      “Ooo, wily, what a come back!” Willow scoffed, curling her lip in disgust, her eyes never leaving the iron club, as if it were speaking to her. She gave a smile, lazily turning her gaze towards Tugga. “Why not have an insult battle, you fat ugly toad. No, excuse me, that’s an insult to toads every where. You’re a thick-headed, pot-bellied, wobbly old disgusting shrew.”

   Tugga turned a dark shade of red, his entire body shaking with rage.

    “Speechless? Oh my, I haven’t even started yet. Phew, do you smell something? What is that retched smell? Oh, wait, I know what it is.” Willow laughed, paw fanning the space in front of her button nose. “It’s the stench of a coward, a failed leader, and a horrible father. Goodness, seeing your history flash before my eyes, I can see why the Guosim chased you out. Tell me, how does it feel to be the only Log-a-Log in history to be so utterly and completely hated by his own tribe? His own son?” Willow nimbly side-stepped as Tugga barreled past her, swinging his club for all he was worth. Foaming at the mouth, his eyes glittering with pure hatred, he swung his iron club back and forth, up and down for all he was worth. Willow merely would dance away, hurtling more insults as she leapt and dove. “You’re a real bugged eyed lard belly, you know that right? Ew, is that your spittle or earwax? I can’t tell the difference! Careful with that swing there, you need a bit more practice matey. Oop!” She dove, nearly avoiding the blow that would have crushed her skull. “What? No comebacks? Are these insults not enough for you?” She spun away, her bracelets clinking like she were dancing. She eyed the iron club, listening to the tales it sung of. “Oho, is that so?” She laughed, putting distance between herself and the enraged shrew. She was now standing by the statues again. The one closest to her was an otter, his paws up in the air as if begging for mercy, a lance shoved through his middle. Trying her best to ignore the statue, she grinned at Tugga Bruster. “It appears that you were once called a bowlegged, snot-snouted, baggy-bottomed excuse for a Chieftain!” She laughed. “What an accurate descri--”      “Shuddup!” Tugga bellowed. His cry echoed around the lake. In the silence, Willow could hear the blood lapping against the stone statues around her. Tugga pointed a paw at her, his body heaving from the exhaustion of swinging his iron club around. “How do you know that, you witch?”      “You know how gossip flies in Hellgates,” She smirked.      “Indeed I do. I wouldn’t act so cocky, if I were you, odd-eyes.” The shrew snorted, leaning against his club. “What a disappointment you turned to be, eh? A Skipper of Otters taking you in and raising you to be his very own daughter, and you turned around and slew the entire holt! Not exactly daughter of the season, were you? On top of which, you now live with that damned fox and that stupid rat, acting as if you’re gods down here, when all you are is a murderer who killed her own family. Typical vermin.” He spat. “If I had laid eyes on you that day in the forest when Skipper found you as a wee babe, I would have smashed your head in with a rock.” He slapped his paws together, causing Willow to jump. He made the sound of a skull being smashed. “Babe brains everywhere! Would have saved Skipper the later on heartache. Tell me, young murderer, is it true that you also stabbed your own father in the leg? What treacherous scum you are, eh?”

    Willow didn’t respond. Tugga grinned and hefted up his club, swaggering boldly forward.

   “Oh? Nothing to say? It’s ‘cuz you know I’m right, don’t you?” He began walking in circles around her, strutting as if he had already won the fight. “You’re nothing more than vicious vermin. Filthy traitor, shacking up with the fox and the limp rat.” He raised his club over his head, preparing to strike. “No good father killer. But then again, maybe Skipper got what he deserved for being so stupid!” He went to swing the club, but it wouldn’t respond. It was as if a force was holding the weapon in place. Sweat began to drip down his face as he pushed with all his strength, panting heavily. Slowly, he uncurled his fingers and stepped away from it, a shudder of terror slowly spreading throughout his body. The weapon floated in place. He slowly turned his eyes towards Willow. She was neither smiling nor seemed easy going, right paw stretched out towards his club. Her eyes looked murky, as if the coloring was switching to blood red, her body tense as if she were ready for a fight. She turned her gaze from the terrified shrew to the weapon. With an ever so slight shift of her fingers, the weapon flew into her grasp. She hefted it as if it weigh no more than a twig. He could feel her blood lust as she smirked.      “It’s rather unfortunate for you, soggy bottom. You see, it never occurred to me before, but really, only the Lady and Nivedita know of my abilities here. I would have thought somebeast, so completely infamous in the north lands for both my powers and beauty, would surely be made famous here in Hellgates, but, I’m not, am I? I became so happy that I almost forgot I had this ability. But because of that disgusting Vulpuz, I’m forced to reveal myself. So enjoy.” She dropped his club and they both watched as it sank below to the bottom of the blood lake. The surface began to swirl, the blood squelching as it moved to Willow’s will. Log-a-Log’s footing under him swished away and he found himself sitting at the bottom of the lake as Willow drained the entire lake. Behind her the blood whirled around like a typhoon. Raising both hands to the sky, the blood began to shift and take form, finally looking like the broken lance Tala, wife to the Painted One’s Chief, had slain him with.

   Tugga whimpered as Willow took a few steps towards him.