Piercing through the skies, the magic arrows strike the "Beast of Many" each time only to fall short from its back. The arrows are many and swift, navigating and quick in their flight. These arrows are St. John's arrows, they are laced with divine magic. These arrows are loosed from the hands of the brothers of St. John the Baptist. They all wear armor and capes colored crimson and gold. Their aim is true, for they strike the beast each time. But the beast is not fazed, for the arrows do not find their mark.
"Bring it down... bring it down!" John of Morigny shouts, as he dispatches an arrow. Valentin of the Dragon and Hilderic of the Wolf also join the fray.
"Give up your evil ways!" Padriac of the Churchspears cries. He fires a blazing arrow.
"It is no matter now," the beast responds, for it is invincible. The fighters continue their assault on it, with anger and hunger staining their hearts. They are a long way from home and a long fight ahead of them. So far, they have not been able to penetrate the beasts scales. A war is commencing in the distance, between the beasts and the mages. They will join the battle soon.
The beast watches the fighters with a dark grin.
"Is it a girl then?" asks one of the archers. "Dressed for battle!"
"Yes it is a girl," responds another. "We should take her under our wing."
"Let's get her!" exclaims another. "I want her!"
At this, the predators part on either side of the beast, and bend to defend it. They thrust their blades and kill the wounded fighters. They cut down those who are slowly approaching on all sides.
"We must live or die together," the beast argues.
And then the "Beast of Many" understands: the citizens cannot be allowed to defeat it.
"The citizens... they are the beasts!" It recalls its days of life on Earth, the days of its independence. It recalls how it raged unchecked over the people. It burned the farms and villages, hung the men in the trees and ran rampant over the people. It locked them in cages for a time. Then it grew bored enough to let them go. It watched them daily, saw what they did. It wanted to know what made the resident of the Earth tick, so it could figure out how to defeat them. It became very enlightened watching them. It was not angry or nasty, it was curious. Its curiosity had been piqued. Somehow in its past was joy.
"Where did you come from? Where do you live, girl?" asks John of Morigny.
The beast of many, confused by all of this talk, answers, "I come from many places and live in many places. I am not human, but human mostly. I lived on Earth, like you and your brothers. I am not evil, I did not seek to do harm. I was curious, like I said. But I was not mean. So I did not harm any of the people, except when they attacked me. So I defended myself. I am not human, I am not evil. I am not pure evil, I am not pure good. I am just a beast. There is no need to harm me with the Divine Magic, I am not that great. I can be defeated. You are strong enough to do it. Know that I am only following orders. I do not want anyone to get hurt. I want to be free. So please, John of Morigny, please. Overwhelmingly, you are the most formidable of all. If you would please take me under your wing, please be my healer. Please heal me and let me go."
John of Morigny stops firing his arrows, for he is ending this animal. He approaches the "Beast of Many." Padriac of the Churchspears stops firing too. But when Valentin of the Dragon looks up and sees the beast lying on its side, all respiration has ceased. "I have to finish it off," he says, with determination. Hilderic of the Wolf pauses for a moment and whispers to him, "Valentin, stop. Hold your hand. Let it be. Let it be."
The warriors gasp as the beast gasps for air. It is still alive, so John of Morigny calls out, "Valentin of the Dragon!"
Padriac of the Churchspears takes his own sword, prays and stabs it into the Beast's heart. The beast gasps. It gasps again. It is done. It is really dead. The marines, bishops and knights of the apostles, as well as the hermits, knights, and hunters, all come forth to view the beast.
"This is no beast," says one of the archers. "Have you ever seen a beast with such a face?"
"Yes, very beautiful," says another. "It has such a delicate face, such soft eyes."
The creatures they are all referring to is this one that they see being cut apart on the beach. Its mouth is frozen in a smile, its eyes are closed, and it looks very pretty.
