The thing approaching Symeon on that bone-strewn delta was clearly an Imp, and it was not indescribable. Rather, it was the sort of thing he didn’t WANT to describe. The bulk of it resembled a heart the size of his torso, if that heart had been left to dry in the sun and had turned leathery and discolored. Various veins and arteries were present in the form of tapered, half-meter long tentacles that churned languidly on the sand. While it had no obvious sensory apparatus, the Imp did sport a fist-sized, serrated beak jutting toward Symeon from the center mass. Said beak was currently spraying an impressive amount of mucus onto the beach with each razor sharp gnash, and this was evidently the source of the clicking noise. The heart-body was held low above the soil by the pair of large, barbed legs folded beneath it, chitinous and powerful. The underside of the creature seemed to be armored or embedded with fragments of bone. As a final incongruity, a single leathery wing sprouted from top of the heart, like a feather in a hat if that feather was flailing wildly and was utterly grotesque.

Symeon’s mind tried and failed to come up with a better explanation or name for what he was seeing. The word ‘Imp’ really undersold the moist horror of the thing, and in this internal hysteria he dubbed the monstrosity ‘Flappy’. The intial shock yielded to the idea that Symeon did not want to be devoured by something that looked like it had been stitched together as a demented prank.

Symeon drew the chopping blade from the sheathe on his robe, though he was reasonably convinced that getting close enough to use it was not a winning scenario. Flappy, on the other hand, seemed to think getting stuck in was just fine and leapt again. As suddenly as that, the gap between them was reduced to scant meters. Blade in one hand, the box in the other, Symeon scrambled away toward the cover of one of the lines of giant ribs. He spared a glance over his shoulder as he fled. Flappy was methodically working its legs, one awkwardly stepping forward while the other stepped backward, thus executing a laborious turn toward its fleeing prey.

Some relief there. The horrid thing was great at accelerating but couldn’t corner. That seemed to Symeon to be a feature ripe for abuse. If he could get close and keep circling he could stay well clear of that nasty beak, though such a plan did nothing to deal with the tentacles. It occurred to him that he could perhaps break loose one of the bone ribs as a spear against the abomination.

With another leap, the beast covered the distance and crashed bodily through the jutting ribs, shattering a pair outright. His previous query about the relative value of ‘eleven durability’ was firmly answered, that answer being ‘not nearly enough’. The tentacles thrashed short of Symeon as he swatted back at them with the box. Insectile legs tensed to leap again. Symeon dodged away in time to avoid the thing plowing right through him, though the aorta tentacle did slap him across the brow in passing. The blow had him reeling, but not enough to keep him from a zig-zagging sprint across the sands, desperately stifling his panicked screams as he fled. He glanced back to see Flappy was slowly turning in his direction. Symeon had gained some distance in his retreat, which would surely be torn back when the thing continued its leaping pursuit.

He sought cover back among the field of crystals, each a welcome barrier between him and the beast. The stench in the area had gone from eye-wateringly horrendous to only mostly unbearable, likely due to his nose shutting down in self-defense. All and all, Symeon felt things were looking up and would be for, oh, maybe a handful of seconds before the horrid thing was back on his heels. Outrunning it was not a viable solution. Symeon dove down to fast-crawl among the cover of the crystals, looking for a way to escape unseen, or lay hands on something with some length he could use as a weapon.

His frantic search of the beach was set to the disturbingly rapid clicks of the Imp leaping closer, ending with one loud click that set his nerves aflame with its proximity. Flappy was among the crystals now. Still with no weapons beyond the knife and the wooden box, Symeon scuttled in a low crouch to his right in an attempt to flank the area where he thought the warped predator was. If he could get behind it he might force the thing to make a comparatively large turn, buying more time.

There was no sign of it. The fact it travelled by long leaps meant there were no meaningful tracks. The thing made no noises louder than the tumbling waves, barring the click of that slavering beak, and clearly the creature had the sense to be silent on the hunt. Symeon did his level best to control his own breathing in an effort to be just as silent. This was complicated by the reality of having just sprinted across the beach, and being in a state of near panic. Symeon focused on slowing his breathing and being calm. The blow from that tentacle was more surprising than harmful, and the beak looked rather awkward, so really, what was the worst that could happen?

That thought was swept away as Symeon crawled past the corner of a crystal, only to find himself face to beak with the heart-shaped abomination. Time seemed to slow as in desperation he dove flat onto the sand. The creature’s leap went clear over him, but the trailing legs raked jagged hooks across his back. Symeon felt those barbs pull at the robe, but little else. Flappy, for its part, found its momentum disrupted. Symeon turned his head just in time to see the trailing hooks tangled oddly in the robe, followed by the cloth going taunt. The creature’s forward momentum came to a tumbling halt. It crashed gracelessly to the ground, sprawled on the sand in a pile of flailing tentacles. Symeon leapt to his feet and pulled violently at the still-entangled robe. There was an awful tug of war for a moment before his greater mass won out. The robe came loose, and the monster was tossed further along the sand..

Symeon did not require any more encouragement than that. The wooden box was thrust forward to bat away the flailing tentacles as Symeon pounced on the thing. His first strikes were stabbing blows that failed to pierce the rubbery hide in any meaningful way. Symeon found himself in a losing struggle as more tendrils came to bear. They did not bring strength, but raw numbers could see him bound and consumed. Three, four, five tentacles grasped at him as he desperately pulled the weapon away from the tangle. The chopping blow that followed evicted a pained grunt from Flappy, but failed to break the leathery hide. The tendrils pulled at once, failing to shift Symeon but dragging the snapping maw close enough to spray rank saliva on Symeon's leg. The blade was nearly lost in the thrashing melee, and in desperation Symeon raked the edge across the Imp’s flesh, finally opening a wicked rent. With a damp squawk Flappy's lashing tendrils went momentarily rigid, and then fell still.

Symeon scrambled to his feet, panting as he scanned the area to see if the conflict had drawn the attention of any other scavengers. The rotten cadaver down the beach was still abandoned by the Imps, and barring Flappy the Imps still seemed to have moved on. No movement could be seen around the crystals. All was calm and quiet.

The moment was so obvious Symeon wasn’t in the least surprised when Flappy stopped playing dead and snared his legs.

Despite expecting some ploy from the Imp, Symeon found himself nearly falling from the blows delivered by the whipping tendrils. The creature was laid out on its side and evidently disoriented, and despite this Symeon was still failing to end the horrid thing. A pair of tentacles snared his right leg, followed by a shockingly strong heave. The Imp’s mass was insufficient to pull Symeon down, instead bringing the clicking beak closer to Symeon’s flesh once more. The beast pulled that maw toward his entangled leg. The clicking went silent and the beak spread wide, making way for the emergence of a mass of wriggling grubs, each sporting its own snapping beak. The mass seemed to be impeded by the raw number of emerging grubs tangled in the chokepoint of that grotesque aperture.

Symeon kept enough wits about him to stifle a panicked scream. Making noise could only draw more predatory attention he did not need at this moment. Instead, he laid in with hard kicks from his tangled leg in an attempt to keep the grubs away from his flesh. Flappy being on its side worked to Symeon’s favor, as the only leverage it had was the grip on his leg, and so the beast’s beak was being shoved further away with each kick. To his relief, the growing distance seemed to be causing the grubs to slowly recoil back into the Imp. With each further kick Symeon was trying to figure a way to break the grip the thing had on him, though in a pinch simply stomping it to death seemed a good bet.

During this momentary lapse in attention, it was very much as if he had been roughly shoved from behind. He tripped forward, catching both hands on a neighboring crystal to help regain his balance. The opportunity was too good to pass up. Symeon pulled hard on the crystal in hopes of bringing it down on the Imp. His hopes became an unexpected reality as the top slid with surprising ease, a lid that fell into the taunt tentacles that gripped his leg. He successfully jumped back in time to ensure the Imp was alone in being struck by the crystal, which struck Flappy with a remarkably ineffective impact. Despite the lack of expected harm Symeon capitalized by bringing his foot down hard on the lid.

“Ya think I’m stupid? One little nick and yer done? WRONG!” This was punctuated with the first of a series of hard stomps on the fallen lid covering the beast. “This! Is! What! You! GET!” Midway through this assault there was a satisfying crunch from beneath him, though he was far too furious to stop, and his last word saw him leap onto the lid with both feet. At last, silence reigned on the sands, marred only by the gentle churn of the tide.

It was at that point the man that had been lying inside the basin of the newly-opened crystal sat up.