Minotaur Tales

Roars and bellows rebounded off the trees, the struggling of the two combatants tore great gouges in the earth of the Everfree Forest. Ben hung on for dear life as the golden lion bucked and rolled, coiled and spasmed. He held tight, but the grip around its neck was faltering. Shouting again, the minotaur attempted to adjust his position.

Seconds later, he found himself rolling across the ground, his body sent bouncing along the ground by the beast. As his body came to a jarring stop against the trunk of a tree, his conscience blinking briefly as his head slammed into the trunk. Breath rushed out of his lungs, his already bruised ribs bending with an agonizing creak. Ben groaned, trying to lift himself off the ground. His newfound friends needed him, damnit all!

As the minotaur groaned and attempted to rise, the lion had turned its attention back to the other members of the party. It tore through magical vines, and almost killed a pegasus that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It weathered a hail of ice, an alchemical explosion and even a sword. Roaring all the while, it seemed its rampage would continue.

Bellowing, huffing like a bull, the minotaur latched onto the beasts back. He had it this time, he knew it. The feeling of the beasts carotid under his forearm, the rapid pulse of the creatures heartbeat, told him so. The grip tightened, and slowly the mighty roars became soft gasps, then bubbling breaths. Ben could hardly breathe himself, and his vision was already growing darker around the edges as he pushed his battered body to perform the feat.

Passing out, all the minotaur could do was keep his body rigid.

When he came to, the thing felt cold in his hands. But Ben wasn't about to ease up, not yet. This thing had proven to have a toughness streak a mile long.

"Is it dead? Guys?" Looking around, he could see the others were too busy looking at their own wounds to see his predicament. The biped couldn't feel his arms.