Josephine rubbed her temples before the mirror of her inn. Vale was such a huge kingdom and, once she had arrived, it had seemed even larger. Truth be told, her sense of direction was not her strong suit and she had very few ideas of where to go to begin with. After leaving her master's home, most of her time was spent rooting out places vulnerable to Grimm or that had seen spikes in activity. Vacuo was a rather easy job - they were everywhere, the towns were more disorganized, but their vulnerability had built a hardiness among her people. Vale had a different problem - everywhere she tried to look, it seemed the Church had its fingers in the affair of hunting. It was present in Vacuo, but not nearly so pervasive as it was here.

She found herself in a ramshackle town, only distinguishable from the slums of Vacuo for its hospitality and greener landscapes. Vale was gorgeous, Josephine knew, but traveling it alone was strange. She had never left Vacuo without her mentor, and even then it was usually by cover of night. The people here seemed rather content, even cheerful. Did they know that their lack of reinforced fences and security was endangering them all? Were they unbothered by it? Did they resign to accept their fate and enjoy their days, or were they simply ignorant? It didn't feel natural, but hardly mattered seeing as Josephine wasn't here to shatter anybody's confidence or happiness by doomsaying about the Grimm. They were just beasts, and they could be slain. True, they had a tendency to appear more often in places of evil or unrest, but it was already evident to her that the Church closely monitored those kinds of places.

The moon shone brightly over the inn as she fastened her light blue cloak over her shoulders and pulled her hood over her head. One hand resting on the hilt of her sword, Orphan's Rancor, as she departed. There would be time for sleeping later, she rested earlier in the day. The woman passed her horse at the stables and decided to leave him fastened there. It drew a lot of attention, galloping around in the dead of night, and she wasn't looking to cause a ruckus if it wasn't necessary. She just wanted to see if there really were any signs of Grimm in this area. Since leaving Vacuo, she hadn't had a chance to really sink her teeth into one, so to speak. She strode with purpose, leaving her hood over her head as she wove through the streets of the small town, wanting to be sure that the night life was as quiet as the day was peaceful. It seemed to be, though the number of guards even at night was nothing impressive. It wasn't until she was approaching one of the roads out that a rather tired-looking man looked her over and furrowed his brow.

"Ay, where d'ya think you're going?" He asked groggily, crossing his arms, "'S dangerous out there this time o' night. Could have all sorts of shady characters walking about. Y'know, like you?" The man gave a small chuckle, waving his hand, "No, but seriously, can't have you leaving without a real good reason, for your own safety, yeah?"

Josephine sighed. My own safety? Get some perspective... She thought to herself, rolling her eyes under her hood, "I understand. But I can handle myself well enough, sir, if you could just move."

The man staggered for a moment, "Oh, miss," He seemed to realize suddenly, despite the effeminate color of her clothing. "I'm sorry. It's kinda dark and it's just been a long day." His attempt at covering his surprise left Josephine feeling less than impressed and a little red.

She shrugged and opened her cloak slightly to reveal her blade on her hip, "Again, I think I'll be okay, sir. Now, please move?" She requested one more time, remaining as polite as she could.

He shook his head, "Can't do it. There's Grimms and thieves and all the bad stuff comes out; I'm sure you're just fine with a sword, but unless you're a proper Huntsman, I can't let ya through." She rolled her eyes, 'proper Huntsman.' What a stupid concept. Really, and such an inconvenience too. Muttering something unintelligible under her breath, Josephine snapped her fingers.

"Of course, sir, sorry for bothering you. Have a safe night," She said as she passed him, apparently unseen, and left the city. He watched as her figure walked away, defeated. Once she was certain he wouldn't see her anymore, Josephine broke the illusion and her knee gently hit the grass. "Really, not energy I was looking to expend tonight..." She muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she caught her breath. At least it wasn't anything too complex - the man was tired and she didn't need to make a detailed version of herself to fool him. Drawing Orphan's Rancor from its sheath at her hip, she headed for the woods nearby, pointless though it felt.

Stumbling deeper into the forest in a haze. A massive migraine throbbing between his eyes as he struggled through the undergrowth. No idea where he was going and no idea where to go. "Why..why wasn't I stronger? Now everyone is going to die because I was too exhausted to fight off the Grimm." He tripped and fell into a thorn bush and just laid there defeated. His mind drifted in a haze of pain as he hoped that his father got out in time. "What...what am I supposed to do? They can't fight all of those Grimm off. They could handle a few small groups of Grimm, but this was a veritable horde. Where had they all come from?" He had been practicing his magic in the woods all day from noon to well into the afternoon. Exhausted he had wanted to push himself farther than he'd ever gone and he'd summoned the largest lightning bolt he could muster. It had cracked out of the sky splitting an old oak tree halfway down the middle, causing half of it to come crashing down. He'd been so proud until the massive migraine struck him and he'd curled up into a ball for what felt like forever. When he finally had the strength to regain his feet and stumble back to town he didn't even notice the screams until he saw an Ursa rip apart the old woman who ran the bakery not fifty feet away. His father appeared by his side and led him away from town instructing him to hide and only come back when it was safe. His father left him to run back towards town determined to help as many townsfolk evacuate. He never saw him again.

Quentin jerked awake and looked around in a mild panic. A cold sweat covered his body and he shivered at the haunting memories of that day. He felt himself hanging over empty space and remembered. His father was dead. Everyone back home was dead because the Grimm wiped them all out. All the while he had been helpless as a kitten passed out in a bush with the worst migraine he'd ever had in his entire life. Later after his training in Vale to become a Magi of the Church he learned that this was called spellcast sickness. A punishment for magi who pushed themselves past their limits and used too much magic. Upon waking he'd walked into a ghost town picked clean of any life. Many years later he now swung gently between two branches from his hammock. Placed high in a tree, he was able to sleep out in the wilderness relatively safely while he hunted. These days he hunted Grimm over dear or rabbits. There had been sightings of a pack of beowolves not too far from the city of Vale and had set out to track them down. They had to be put down before they could endanger some farming family unable to defend themselves and too complacent living so close to Vale to understand the danger. His resting spot wasn't all that far from the edges of the city. He'd had a late start to his hunt and wasn't foolish enough to try and track Grimm alone in the dark. Something had woken him though. Some sound that wasn't in-tune with the rest of the surrounding forest. He hadn't been sleeping all that long either. Quiet as he could he lifted himself out the hammock and onto the large branch below it. Comfortable even so high up he adjusted his cloak he'd had wrapped around himself as a makeshift blanket and pulled his hood up to break up the form of his head against the canopy and hopefully make it harder for anything to see him at a glance.

He slid his quiver over his shoulder and made sure all of it settled right against his body. Attaching his sword sheathes to his waist took another few moments which he used to scan around him for any immediate threats that jumped out at him. Figuratively or literally. Once he finished he sat back against the trunk of the tree and pulled an arrow out of his quiver and gently knocked it to the string of his bow he had retrieved. Slowing his breathing he closed his eyes and listened to the forest. The ambiance and feel of life all around, searching for the sound or lack thereof that would indicated the disturbance. A few tense moments later he heard the quiet sound of soft footsteps coming along the path from the direction of Vale. He waited silently to see who would be walking around the forest at night alone no less. Only a fool wandered away from civilization at night with the threat of the Grimm ever present. Well..what does that make me, sleeping out here alone, he thought to himself with dark humor. Moments later he saw a figure in a cloak with their hood up, walking down that path that led right next to his tree. He noticed she walked with care and made little noise. It seemed unlikely that her light steps would have caused him to wake with this..feeling of urgency. Something wasn't right and he couldn't figure out why he felt so ill at ease. He continued watching the figure as they moved closer. He was so busy watching that he placed his hand out to steady his balance and broke a small twig from the branch he rested on. The sound felt as loud as the crack of a whip in the deep, steady silence of the night and he froze.

Rancid, like rotten eggs, and heavy like fog. What was that smell? Why was it everywhere? Like a gnat it hovered nearby incessantly, though in place of a dull drone was a noxious, permeating odor. It seeped into her clothing and stained it. Lupa hated coming to the Cathedral because of the smell, she hated other Hunters because of the smell. She hated herself because of the smell. No amount of baths removed it, and the time she'd spend away was never long enough for it to completely disappear. If others noticed it too they made no comment of it, and many - Murans for the most part, looked upon her as though she were insane, imagining the scent completely.

It was there, she was certain of it. Canis possessed keen senses of smell and could pick up faint traces, not unlike bloodhounds. Unlike bloodhounds though they took offense to being ordered to track for someone, like they were nothing more than an animal, a tool. She'd strung up the last jerk who tried barking orders at her, only cutting him down when he looked like he might pass out.

"Heh... Strung up... That's a pun." Who was she talking to? The only other person in the Cathedral, at least among the pews, was a fat, oily-looking priest who was fast asleep. Curious, she leaned across her seat and sniffed, face crumpling and fanning at the air. Not only did he reek of... Whatever that smell was, but he hadn't bathed in a while either. Doubly disgusting.

Enough trying to make herself sick. She'd come here on orders to receive a new mission; that had been half an hour ago. Clearly people were busy, busy enough they couldn't be bothered tell her to come back later. Standing and stretching with a groan, Lupa scratched one of her ears, meandering through incoming parishioners towards the doors. She paid them no mind, and they did their best to avoid her in turn. Shorter than most coming in, their avoidance likely had more to do with the gleaming metal claws hung from her waist, clattering gently against her leather greaves.

There were other places to be, and with or without assignment, she'd find work; she'd find herself at the business end of Goodwitch's riding crop for leaving prematurely too, but she'd worry about that when it came. There was never a shortage of work for Hunters, not when Grimm were constantly attacking settlements. They never took vacations, never slept, and didn't need to eat. Their sole purpose in life was to make their existence - their being literally everyone else's lives a living hell. It worked, making the Grimm the sole thing Lupa hated more than the White Fang. That wasn't easy to accomplish.

What was easy to accomplish was to stowaway on a carriage. Carriages came and went with such frequency that most were never inspected, even by those driving it. Lupa picked her mark, an elderly couple with a small covered vessel. Ducking between the crowds and slipping beneath the cover, she moved aside a few boxes before making a bed for herself. While not the most comfortable of beds, wooden carts made traveling far easier; horses didn't hurt either. She could nap while these 'generous' souls did all the work and jump off whenever she found something interesting.

Feeling the cart pull with a start, Lupa smiled and closed her eyes, folding her hands behind her head. "Thanks for the ride..." she muttered softly. Next stop.... Wherever these people were going. Hopefully it was somewhere fun, and less smelly.

CRACK! Crack... crack... The sound bounced gently from tree to tree, echoing only a few feet into the forest. Josephine heard it. She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes forward as her hand moved from its resting spot on her hip sheath calmly to the blade. Her free hand removed her hood as she peered through the moonlit woods before her. The sound came from a tree, some paces forward and to the right. The woman waited a few moments, listening closely for another sound, rustle, or motion; the twig's impact with the ground was the final noise. She let out a slow, calming breath. Nobody would have followed her - they hadn't all through town and the guard didn't see her leave. So she was left with a small handful of options: something was watching her from the trees, human or otherwise, or she was as paranoid as her master. The latter was certainly more likely, but she had to be sure. Her gaze moved to the source of the original sound.

A split second later, she was brandishing her blade as her eyes met the shadowed man in the tree. There was no mistaking that silhouette, even if she couldn't see their features. He wore a bow with arrows on his back - was he going to try to attack her from above?

"Get down here, coward. High ground is hardly an advantage if you're dealing with me," She spat venomously. As the moonlight struck her face, he might have been able to spot the glint of black scales on pale skin around her neck and the red in her eyes. Her glare spoke for her at this point, only four words, Give me a reason.

From farther down the road, the sound of a rattling cart could be faintly heard rumbling closer. Josephine's eyes narrowed as she slowly side-stepped more into the trees, though her gaze remained fixed on the bowman in the tree. She would have let him speak if the sound of splintering wood and the baying of terrified horses hadn't split the night air more forcefully than any broken twig. The wagon would be turned over, Josephine wondered if the drivers had the wherewithal to unhook their steeds or if they would make a failed attempt at their own escape. They wouldn't last more than a few moments, and it would take more than that for her to arrive. A blood-curdling screech assaulted her ear drum for an extended moment - the unmistakable cry of a Grimm.

"I hope you've got a good reason for watching me, because you're about to find out how well you can stand up against Grimm," She said quickly, turning on the ball of her foot and taking off toward the sound. These beasts always had a way of showing up at the worst times - she supposed an arrow to the back would be one way of finding out the man's loyalties. It wasn't ideal, but maybe he was as bad a shot as he was a sneak.

"Shit...maybe she didn't hear that," He thought. He watched frozen in place as she looked upwards towards him following from the downward trajectory the twig took to the ground. She has a good eye being able to find me so quickly in the dark. He saw her in the blink of an eye draw her blade and pull her hood back staring straight at him. Black scales covered her neck and reached up to her jaw and he thought he could almost see a red glow from her eyes. No way am I letting a dimuran close with me with that sword. I'd rather not tangle in close quarters with someone who could potentially toss me several feet with ease.

"Get down here, coward. High ground is hardly an advantage if you're dealing with me," She spat venomously. Oh she's an angry one. Best let her know I'm not threat to her. She seems like she probably knows how to us that sword pretty well too. As he is about to speak he see's her with her eyes still on him move into cover by the trees. A moment later he hears the crash of a cart nearby in the woods and the cries of fear coming from it's horses. "I hope you've got a good reason for watching me, because you're about to find out how well you can stand up against Grimm," She said quickly, turning and running towards the sounds of screams.

Well that was just rude I didn't even get in a word edgewise. He began running along the branch leaping a short distance to the next following above the dimuran towards the sounds of screaming horses and now screaming woman. The dimuran quickly threaded through the trees and Quentin struggled to keep up with her having to pick and choose his way from branch to branch. He heard a shout and saw the woman parrying and knocking back a large beowulf as it tried to bare down on her. He surveyed the scene from a branch overlooking the road the cart had overturned on. Both of the horses had already been torn apart along with the driver. The cart rested on its side in the middle of the road while a beowulf reaching down into the carriage where the screaming woman's voice emanated from. He heard what sounded like a mocking laugh from the other side of the overturned carriage and saw a flash of moonlight off of what appeared to be metal claws. Not to be distracted from the beowulf reaching into the carriage, he focused himself knocking an arrow to his bow adding a whisper of wind magic to speed the arrows flight. Like the thousands of times before he pulled the string back to his cheek, let his breath out, and loosed it. The arrow guided by his wind magic sped faster and more accurately than a non magi could hope to duplicate under similar circumstances. It struck the beowulf at the base of its skull and the creature immediately dropped on top of the carriage limp. Unfortunately, that seemed to cause the screaming to intensify. Several more shadows came charging out of the woods from the opposite side of the road towards them as he knocked another arrow and loosed it.