Day 13:

After more basic construction work at my base, decided to go check on the villagers. Gun was unstable and could backfire, so brought the bow the villagers presented to me way back, along with a few self-made arrows.

Lo and behold, hiding amidst the forest a distance away, I held before my eyes a freak of nature, a monstrosity so hideous beyond words that even Medusa could be put to shame, standing amidst a ruined village and rotting corpses, three of which it held in each of its three mouths, grotesquely chewing on dismembered torsos.

Without hesitation I picked up my bow, cocked the arrow. Pull. Lift. Draw. Release. A clear miss. evidently I was not used to conditions such as strong winds, agonizingly bright sunshine and thick clothing. Pull. Lift. Draw. Release. I'd rather it missed, for it struck its finger and it whirred around, its forked tongue lashing out doses of concentrated bacteria. Pull. Lift. Draw. Release. And so my arrows flew here and there, a majority smashing into the beast's thick crusty skin, but still it would not stop its slow but steady advance.

I reached for the quiver. My heart skipped a beat. I drew the lone arrow that stood firm and true, and I holstered it onto the bow. Pull. The demons of Erebus beckoned from the monster's reddened, glistening jaws. Lift. Eyes burning red, it hurtled forward at such sound and speed, the ground shook beneath my feet. Draw. Branches snapped. Thunder roared. Death itself brandished its scythe, flinging itself meters at a time with godspeed. Thirty meters. Twenty now. Ten. And then I saw a familiar face. It smiled at me. And I remembered a name. I smiled back.

Release.

Well, as if by sheer stroke of luck, the last arrow flew to the bullseye, winning the battle and killing the tension along with it. Searched all of the houses, but no living person to be found. Reluctantly made several trips to and fro from the devastated village to salvage supplies and materials, as well as dragged the carcass back to base for further study. Presence of reproductive organs would be very, very bad news for survivors. Will look for them in the morning. (the survivors, I mean.)

Azazyl

Stench of humanity,
The rot of those fair.
Despair!
Of lost sanity and
Dreams never there.