Ryleth cast a glare at Usoa. If she expected him to submit for torture then she was wrong. He might have looked meek and defeated but there was a fight in every hair of his body. Alexina seemed to not like the idea either. She then gave them their options but it wasn’t a choice. Those that knew Ryleth knew he wouldn’t submit his powers. Especially not to someone like Alexina. The other, impossible option was to die then and there. His hands turned into fists as he almost lost his cool. Right now he wanted nothing more than to fight and defeat Alexina. The coven had suffered her pacifistic rule for too long already. Yet he knew she was stronger than him. It wouldn’t be a slaughter but he wouldn’t win.

So she almost made the choice for him. “The Penitence Mission.” He said. Blood still dripped from his fingers onto the floor next to him. Phagora also announced she would take the penitence mission. With the two of them, the other two witches would no doubt join them. Still, Ryleth knew this wouldn’t be some common hunt as Phagora appeared to think. She was a demon spawn though. To kill her they’d need to face hunters and Alexina seemed quite keen to stay away from them. So whatever they faced, the eagerly pleasing Phagora wouldn’t be in much danger. He did not have the same certainty. He wasn’t born as anything special. Every skill he had came from hard work and study. While powerful, he was still very much a mortal. On top of that, it was no secret that Alexina hated him. The Queen of the Woods would no doubt tailor the mission in such a way that it would spell certain doom for him.

“So tell me what needs to die.” He said to Alexina. “I’ll bring you its bones.”

Interaction with @hotsyrup, mention of @Ellion.

---

“Come with me. We need to secure the area and make sure whatever got him, isn’t still around.” Her voice was firm but not completely commanding. Lyra looked to Sheffield with her golden eyes, signalling that she was talking to him.

"Al... Alright."

That was all Sheffield said to the woman with ruined makeup. His glove was slightly slick with the injured man's blood, but he started wiping that off with some rags from one of his little bags on his waist.

He went outside as he did, glancing back to see if the woman was going to follow, but he had a good feeling she would. Having had an incredibly impassive friend for years, he learned to see and sense at least a few subtleties in those kind of troubled people. Although he could tell there was not one living danger at the moment, at least not one within feet of the tavern, he kept his mouth shut for the woman's sake.

The young man walked outside and set his satchel down. He put away the rags and started checking himself more thoroughly. His padded armor was too worn for any more quests, but it should be good for something static like guard duty. His helmet was surprisingly unscathed, but he took that off to check for scratches.

A mop of hair fell down little past the nape of Sheffield's neck. It was an oaken brown, similar to his lighter brown eyes, but fading to the tips was a burning red. It stood out particularly against the light coming from the tavern, though one side of it was matted in dried blood. Sheffield touched that part and decided he can deal with it at a bathhouse. Assuming there was a place like that.

He glanced back at the white-haired woman again to see if she was doing fine, then checked on his helmet, later crouching and looking into his satchel. It was more of large backpack, meant to lay flat against one's back as much as possible. He thought for a moment, looked around, at the roof of the tavern, then at the woman.

"Has it been a bad night for you?" he asked. It probably sounded dumb, but he was still wondering about the mood before.

---

---

Alexina glanced down as Lucy slithered up her leg and up to her shoulders. While most would not like such a creature on them, Alexina adored all creatures. As she waited for the snake to reach her shoulders she looked down at Usoa, who had dropped the piece of flesh on command. Trying to justify her definition of torture. She didn’t show it but it made her almost smile at the oddity of the witch. But when she asked why she was giving them a choice she tilted her head to the side. While I would enjoy sealing their powers away. I am willing to allow them to take responsibility for their actions.

She gave a pointed glare to the remaining witch who killed a child. As much as she wanted to kill her right then, She felt just killing them all would turn more of the coven against her. But perhaps she would choose the first and get killed in the process. Or the second and she would make her serve out her days with out being able to utter another spell...and protect the children with her life...forcibly if needs be.

Lucy then started to whisper into her ear so the others could not hear. While all of the ideas sounded good to her she had other plans for the witches in question. She ran the back of her hand up the belly of Lucy up to her chin and scratched if a couple times before saying softly. “Hold onto that last thought.” It did indeed sound like a fitting end to at least ‘one’ of them. “Tell Hellena I will speak to her more on the matter, but as of now, her service would not required….just yet.”.

Looking to the witches, but most particularly Ryleth. Who had just asked what needed to be killed. She raised her voice so everyone could hear. “Your penance mission will require you to destroy a smaller coven who are getting a little to comfortable living near us. And have already started trying to turn the hunters against us. Allowing us to take the blame for their deeds. Despite me telling them to stop. They are a threat to our home. Kill them all, And I require their bodies...not just their bones.

Alexina knew she pushed Ryleth into a corner with this. Her eyes glared into his the coven was closer to what he wanted in this one. It was a little poetic that she would send him to destroy the very thing he wanted. To her, that was far more effective than binding his magic, and locking him up for decades. ”Oh and I do require one thing before you four leave.” She pulled out a dagger from her hip. “I want a blood oath that you will completely wipe out the coven.”

“Let this be a lesson to all, there is absolutely no gain in attacking the hunters or their citizens. Do not think I am weak or a fool...Trust in me, and there will be a time you won't have to worry anymore about hiding. You are all free to go now.”

She then took the dagger to her own hand, sliding the sharp blade over her palm. She did not hesitate, nor did she wince as it slid against her smooth skin. Her blood soon covered her own hand as she looked to the four witches in front of her.

As the large man who had clearly been attacked by something and followed by a large wolf kicked open the door, closed it behind him and then passed out, Bartolomeo had remained in his seat. If asked about it later he would have said with complete honesty it had been because he had wanted to stay out of the way of the healer woman that had clearly stepped up to rush to his aid, as well as those hunters closer to the man who had gone to move him to a better place to treat him.

However, any eye that had bothered to glance his way during the chaos would have seen the truth; He had frozen at the sight. His inexperience had betrayed him as it was clear from the lost look on his face that he didn't know what to do in this situation and thus... did nothing. Granted, this wasn't the worst thing that he could have done since there were clearly enough people already jumping in to help the man that his well meaning but untested assistance would have merely caused more harm then good but that didn't change the fact that he just sat there, watching and listening with baited breath to find out what had happened as a gloved hand squeezed around the head of his sliver plated sword cane, bringing the weapon to rest on his lap so that it would be close at hand.

............................................................


Interacting with: @Kitty,@Ellion

The name 'The Pack' rang a bell of ill omen in Draco's mind, through it wasn't something that he had encountered personally before. The rare times when enough members of the Russ family had gathered together to classify as a reunion, stories of a group of so called 'hunters' who were more animal then man would be told from time to time. More often then not, the stories had ended somewhat badly with at least one person who was needlessly dead because of either personal disagreements or simple mistaken identity while in the field hunting actual monsters, not some lunatic wishing they were one.

However, before Draco could have done anything with this new found knowledge, a man kicked in the tavern door while being badly injured and possibly on death's door himself. In the chaos that followed, Draco had stayed out of the throng of bodies that had rushed forward to aid the man or aim themselves to go out and try and find the thing that did it. Draco did neither of these things; Granted his weapon hung from his belt, so in the event that whatever had tried to kill the man assaulted the town or tavern in force he would be able to arm and step into action within a heart beat, but right now his focus and desire to help the situation rested in a different direction.

Walking over to the waitress in the red hood who was currently trapped by a large wolf that had been one of the first to rush over to the injured man's side (clearly more distressed then just a random onlooker would have been for his well being), the masked man took a seat next to her. Originally his attention remained on the proceedings to see how the medical treatment was going, but soon he turned his attention to the girl wearing red. When he spoke, his voice was soft in his attempt to be comforting. The look in his eyes betrayed his intentions: He was trying to distract her from what was happening because there was nothing worse then seeing a loved one be hurt like this and being unable to do anything to help them. "I know this must seem like the strangest time for me to ask but... where did you get your hooded cloak from? It seems like it's really warm and well made and the shade of red suits you nicely."

Location: Goldencrest Catacombs, right about when Sarah's group checked on it
Mention of Sarah @Legion02

---

She was but a spider. The catacombs was her home, as it was her mother and her mother before that. Her entire life, she had spent living contently within the shadows of the man-made crypt.

Yet, in just a span of two days, trespassers - nay - marauders, had come in waves into her dwelling. Clamoring, pillaging, desecrating. What was once serene, blissful resting place, they had turned into a tumultuous hell; filled with the cacophony of metal clashing against metal, their soles thumping on Mother Earth below, and worst of all, their guttural, insensible blabbering.

These giants - humans!

Had she been born with the gift of poison. Or the potential to grow and match their size. Or the craft of iron silk, even; she would have confronted the unwanted guests for their misdeeds. Alas, a common spider is all she was. Forced to hide in the shadows as her broods fell to the flame these intruders brought, she was. Helpless and desperate, she was. But no more.

A soundless whisper has reached her ears.

Empowering, sweet, enticing.
Unintelligible, yet lucid.
Oppressive, yet soothing.
Maddening, yet enlightening.

Ahh.. Surely it was the voice of God herself.

Thus, the little spider left her web, and found a new home in one of the interloper's hat. A beautiful, beautiful house adorned with a giant feather as white as her own silk. A moving home that she would have never even think about, if not for the Voice.

Where she was going, she had yet to know. But what does it matter? There is her, and then there is the Voice. Surely, nothing else matters?

"Thanks for the info." Andvari told Sanjin, nodding his head appreciatively towards the other man. He really would have liked to continue his conversation with both him and the woman who had identified herself as Emiliah, but it seemed that the two knew something about an institution called 'The Pack' Sanjin was associated with. There really was nothing Andvari knew about that, so he was considering if he should actually start to annoy the two with asking probably very trivial questions that would only help to reveal him as a noner in the hunter business.

To both his luck and his shock he didn't have to bother himself for all too long with that issue anyway. The door was suddenly burst open and a man walked, or no... limped... into, bleeding from several severe looking lacerations. He matched his father's description of a guy called Flint rather well: Not very tall, but of a sturdy build and an excellent archer. The bow in his posession was obvious, but so was that it apparently had not been to much avail against the problem -- whatever might hide behind that abstract term. People gathered quickly so Andvari, coming from his bar stool at the other end of the main hall, would not have been much help anyway.

Still the not-yet-hunter could not keep his eyes away from the scene. This wasn't only about bad injuries having to be treated and the question if Flint would carry permanent damage away from this or not, but the situation actually invoked a question of even greater magnitude in Andvari's head: Just how foolish could someone allow himself to be before things would start to fall back onto him ? He had come to this place his father had warned him about. A place that was one of the most purest hunter domains the world was aware of -- and he was no real part of it. Yet he wasn't one of those few innocent and unaware villagers either as not only didn't he live here, but also at least Bobby probably had already identified him as who he actually was. And now he couldn't even just run away from things with the problem waiting to rip apart any lonely travelers on the roads through the forests...

A voice spoke up, requesting others to defend themselves against whatever was out there while the tone was that of revenge. Perfectly understandable, but should he join them ? Yes, he had a weapon, and yes, he had trained with it rather extensively. But the palace gardens had always been a quiet place and there had been no way to change that, so all he had in terms of experience were dry runs and not the real thing. If not even anyone else knew what had attacked Flint at this point joining a hunting party seemed way too risky. But, on the other hand, why had he come here in there place then if it wasn't for some dramatic experience that was less boring than behaving super calm and obedient all day long ? A small dilemma was unfolding in his mind that he was struggling to deal with quickly.

He observed the ongoing situation from his stool like a dramatically oversized cat, eyes wide open and ears paying full attention to the various voices. Both Emiliah and Sanjin would not have too much of a difficulty with discovering his increased level of nervousness. Andvari's lips had become a rather thin, rather tightly closed pair of reddish lines running in parallel along his face. As he was panning his eyes across the main hall he spotted another one who, at least at second glance, appeared to be in a similar situation. The man's clothing was an obvious mismatch with regard to what the other people were wearing. To be honest the quality of the fabric and the fine-tuning of the colors remembered Andvari of those people that used to go in and out of Oriel's palace day and night. People with way more coins than they could reasonably carry around. Was this a noble ? What the hell was he doing here ? He had never heard of noble hunters...

Andvari lowered his head a little to see what Bartolomeo was hiding beneath his arms and on his thighs. A thing made out of shiny metal came into view, likely silver. And it was sharp at one end so there were two properties that were capable of making stuff expensive each on their own. With both combined that cane was bound to be brutally pricey. If he had still been in the palace and acting as a servant Andvari would have put more effort into his approach, but given the noisyness of this place, the fact that someone heavily injured way laying around close to both of them and the presence of two really large tankards of strong stuff in his belly a loud "Hey! What's wrong ?" shouted out into Bartolomeo's direction would have to suffice.

“Looks like things haven’t been too great for you either.” She paused for a moment. “Sorry if I’m assuming too much. I’m Lyra, by the way. Tonight has just been, a bit much. So much death. I never… expected so much of it when I became a hunter. I don’t know what I expected. I’m sure you think I’m a fool.”

Sheffield couldn't help but feel a little alarmed when she started to get depressing.

"Don't be hard on yourself now, Lyra," he said comfortingly. "Anyone and everyone could suffer much. Me? It's nearly my birthday, yet I was chased by the walking dead hardly a few hours ago. But I put them down, made sure they won't come back up. You could just... swing a sword at these kind of problems. But that's nothing to all the humans staring at you right?"

Sheffield considered what he said, then sat on the ground. "Sorry. About the humans, I mean, I don't mean to scare you or... such. If they were humans. I don't know what happened, but if what I guess is true, then I'm very much worried for my friend."

He looked up at the night sky. Rather white, like Lyra's hair, or his lost friend's hair, supposedly.

He said off-handedly, not sure what to say anymore, "The red splotch here, on my hair? It's just a dead man's blood. I ended up hearing his breaths. The ones at the ends of my hair are natural, though. But both of us definitely saw dead people, if there's comfort in that, Lyra."

The shadows of the forest had all but disappeared, despite it not being so far passed high noon. There was a wrongness about the forest, the danger flicking in and out of sight, like an itch you can feel but not find. Taran’s paced quickened, the urge to flee whatever was coming was nearly all powerful. But running...Running felt like a rabbit, like the mere effort to escape is what would draw the fox.

Small flecks of embers flashed in Taran’t peripheral vision as a fluttering ball of fire swam in front of his eyes, startling him and slowing his pace to a stop. It was obvious where the flame creature had come from. There could only be so many flame witches in a single forest.

The fire creature was so much more delicate and intricate than anything he could create. The wings were flames that were nearly translucent, yet filled with brilliant oranges and reds. The creature’s very center was filled with hot white flames that faded into deep purple.

The worry fell from Taran’s face as he reached out to the flamebeast, mesmerized by its beauty. One of his hands reached out to stroke it's delicate wing, causing a warm, fluttering to dance across his finger tips.

And just like that, the warmth vanished, returning to the hand of it’s master. Taking with it the distraction of the wrongness of the woods.

“I cannot promise you that any of your demands can and will be met,” Said Taran quickly, as thought explaining something obvious. “You can meet with Alexina, she will at least listen to what you require. Nobody will make you stay if you don’t like what she has to tell you,”

The anxiety that had been building in the pit of his stomach suddenly spread though his arms and legs. “I-It’s Taran. My name...We shouldn’t...We can’t. We can’t be here anymore,” There was a sudden shout of the village, the scream of a man. The town had filled with fog that was slowly seeping into the woods around them. Without much of a warning, nor a glance back, Taran took off, the fog ever nipping at his ankles.

Matrim
Goldencrest
Mentioning @Whoami
Interaction with @Ellion and @Kitty

Matrim jumped as he heard someone shout at him. Apparently some of those people were in here as well. Her title she gave to her group seemed strange, huntsmen of the royal court? He didn’t even know there was a royal court, though that was likely his fault. Before he could respond the people seemed to become quickly distracted with something and it sounded like they left. Oh, problem solved, he thought.

It wasn’t a few moments later when fog began to settle in, a thick fog making it impossible to see in front of him. “The hell?” He asked aloud.

A scream sounded off at the edge of town. A scream that ripped through the soul; unnatural, wrong, and like it was bursting out of someone on their last breath as some demonic entity was devouring their insides. Matrim cringed at the sound of it, and then heard movement nearby. Entering the room was an undead creature, likely a former resident of the town, who now likely wanted to murder the hunter.

The undead shambled towards him, and when it was a few feet closer Matrim stabbed his spear right into the thing’s neck. The stabbing did absolutely nothing and the undead took another step towards him. “Oh go back to hell ya shit!” The hunter pulled back and flipped his spear over to the blunt end, slamming it against the leg of the creature. This actually worked, causing the undead to fall and making the head the victim of Matrim’s boot. The undead stopped its movements, for now at least.

“Of all the damn things to fight, you gave me the one bloody thing I can’t stab,” Matrim muttered as he unscrewed his spear tip and tied it back on his belt loop. His spear would have to go back to being a quarterstaff for now, but he could not fight many with the blunt weapon. More movements sounded from outside, including the whinny of a horse, probably from the carriage. He heard a scream in the very tavern he was in, and ran in to see a huntsman dogpiled on by multiple undead. They were tearing at his flesh, ripping him to pieces. The man was far from dead, and all Matrim could do was take advantage of the distraction and exit the building.

He ran to the center of the street, but with the fog so thick it was so difficult to know where he was going. “Oh come on, come on…” he muttered, spinning in circles to try and figure out where to go. The undead chose his direction for him, approaching him on all sides except one.

The hunter turned towards the open spot and ran, skirting around the undead who came near him. Several times they surprised him and almost tackled him to the ground, but a quick move with his quarterstaff felled the creatures. The fog didn’t seem as concentrated on the outskirts of town, and Matrim could only tell he had reached the forest when he nearly ran straight into a tree.

All manner of curses came out of his mouth at that moment as he continued to run. He wasn’t sure if the undead were still following, and turned his head to see anything, which was likely the second dumbest thing he had done today as he couldn’t see anything through the fog. He was so preoccupied with his own stupidity that when he turned his head back he suddenly ran right into a boy that also happened to be running in the forest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aromull
Speaking with Bobby [@Aer] inside Witches Paradise (mentioning @blackdragon and @kitty )

Right Before Flint’s Entrance

Bobby nodded in thanks to Aromull, as he pulled his hand back. His hands full with cups and pitcher. He turned and placed them on the back counter as he continued to explain why he was looking for him. He looked back over his shoulder to show he was still listening as he cleaned a few of the cups quickly. Then pouring a new drink in them.

When he found out he was trying to compile knowledge of the supernatural into a book. He turned around, interested now that someone other than the damn church was trying to compile this stuff. He glanced at the pages, recognizing most of the sketches in his book.

He chuckled. When he asked for a few questions. He was sure it was going to be more than a ‘few’. He didn’t look like a guy who could handle himself so he shrugged. But he didn’t say anything.

He then decided to ask why he named his tavern the way he did. He gave a mischievous grin. As he scratched the back of his head. He was drunk when he asked the carpenter to make it and wasn’t talking straight. Lazy at first to correct it but it grew on him. Later finding it fit the place perfectly.

Chuckling “Well because it's full of items that can send witches to their paradise.” He swept his hand behind him full of supplies ranging from herbs to powder, holy water to silver laced weapons. “Anything and everything that can help them reunite with their fallen angel of a ‘husband’.”

Aromull gave a nod and took out a small notepad that was in one of his pockets. He quickly wrote a couple notes from Bobby’s answer, and also noted the variety of weapons available. “I see, I see. So why-” he was interrupted by the sudden opening of the tavern door and the spilling out of a man, likely a hunter, who was suffering from several gregious wounds. “Oh dear, that gentleman does not seem to be in the best shape,” Aromull said as Bobby rushed over and started barking commands to everyone else.

He watched as one woman also began barking commands and starting applying medical aid to the wounded hunter. Her methods seemed decent enough, especially with the conditions she was confined to. One other woman approached and placed her hands on the man’s forehead and said something that was drowned out with the rest of the noise in the tavern. This second woman seemed disappointed with her own results, and Aromull had no idea what she had been expecting.

The scholar managed to get a seat at a table next to the three, sitting up straighter to get a better look at the wounds, focusing on the more serious ones. He made a quick sketch of all of them on a scaled body, noting the specific placement of each wound. Every injury was part of the story, and would also be helpful when he learned what creature had done such an act later.

As soon as the man stumbled into the tavern Sanjin felt the pressure in the air change, cascading over the bar in a small wave. It stunned more than a few hunters and Sanjin didn’t blame them for it. He’d been similarly useless when he was first allowed to leave the pack for hunts and a packmate was injured, gored on the horns of a deer he’d assumed was an easy mark.

Bobby and another person barked orders, a pretty woman with yellow eyes that smelled too clean to be a proper hunter. Not fragrant, mind you, clean. While not common within the pack he knew what that meant. This person was a healer, or atleast what passed for one around here. The smell was probably from soap made from neem oil or something of the like, easy to source and about as antiseptic as reasonably possible.

He followed their orders quickly and silently, letting them take control before the uncomfortable fugue state he was in slip between panic or confusion. He helped heft the man onto the table, being careful to keep his grip on the man as distributed as wide as possible just in case there were broken bones beneath the skin. Another mistake that had been learned the old fashion way.

The woman pushed through them, heaving her tools of the trade out of a leather bag with a practiced haste. Sanjin took that as an order to get out of her way, taking two steps back so not to crowd her or obscure any light she might need.

He watched as she worked, staying silent and still. His instincts told him to react, let loose all the adrenaline that the man’s emergency had stirred up in him. But that was a historically terrible idea; he didn’t know how to fix people and he’d more likely hurt the man than help right now. So he did the one thing he could do, sat and watched.

There were a few cat calls as the woman hiked up her skirt to grab a knife, probably young hunters who didn’t realize how badly someone could be hurt even if they looked mostly fine. Sanjin ignored them, modesty was something of a commodity among the pack. One readily disposed of if the situation needed it. And as far as he could tell, this probably justified a little bit of leg.

He had to give her this, the woman was good. He knew of a few packmates who would have gladly traded what little they had to have been patched up by her in the day. As it stood, Sanjin was pretty sure whoever this guy was was going to be counting his lucky stars for the next few weeks. The another woman joined the table, laying her hands on the injured man before looking confused at the world. Ok, the man should absolutely count his lucky stars that the real doctor got to him first.

“...’s good work miss.” He said finally to the yellow eyed woman, waiting several beats after she lay wayed whatever concerns Bobby might have had. “I’ll...help I guess? Get clean bandages and what not as you need them. Got nothing else to do and it seem a bit unfair to leave you taking care of the injured on yer own.” He nodded to the blonde woman briefly before adding, "Er...no offense meant?"

Interacting with: @Fetzen

Blinking a little as someone had actually taken the time to come over to him, Batholomeo turned his attention towards the new comer; The interaction seemed to snap him out of the state that he had been in moments prior. Shifting the cane a little, he placed it end first on the floor; The rattle of metal as it made contact with the ground easily betrayed the fact that it was both A)Hollow and B) contained a hidden compartment of some kind, likely a blade of some sort.

"Hmm? Oh sorry. Was just staying out of people's way while keeping an eye out for anything nasty." He answered somewhat softly, clearly not wishing to distract anyone nearby whom might be doing something important.

---

---

It was only a minute or so after Rowyn had stitched his arm when he started to stir at the sound of her voice saying she would stay with him. He moved his head but didn't open his eyes as he groaned. Feeling sick from the loss of blood, as his body was cold and feeling like it was being poked with pins and needles. He didn't think he lost that much blood...usually his curse would work in over time to heal his wounds and replenish his blood.

But probably running through the woods at a dead sprint would kinda counteract that. He winced as he lifted his left arm as he felt the pain from the wound rushing back, only for a moment when he tweaked it the wrong way. He glanced around the room seeing a bunch of hunters looking at him, but his eyes stopped on the two girls closest to him. If he didn't see the rest of the ugly mugs of hunters in the bar, he would have thought he died and went to heaven. He smiled for a moment, forgetting what had happened before. He leaned to his right side, putting all his weight on his good arm. He cleared his throat, which tasted odd but it was slightly more wet now from the herbal drink he was given.

Looking to the girl with blonde hair with a look of sadness on her face. "Don't need to worry about me. I'm fine" He said, his voice still horse. He did not realized she was more worried on other matters. "Just a scratch." he said as he looked to the Gold eye girl. Her hands covered in blood...his blood. He looked at his arm, realizing the gash was deeper than he realized, that it required stitches.
"Thank you...Miss" He said, giving her his dashing smile...or well, his most dashing smile he could while looking pale and weak. He leaned a little more on his right arm as he heard an unexpected CRACK The leg of the table he laid on buckled under his heavy weight. The only reason it lasted so long was because he was more centered before.

He rolled off the table, gaining enough momentum in that short of time to roll into the gold eye woman's chair. He let out a groan as his head throbbed as the back of his head hit the table and sent him forward into the chair the girl with gold eyes was sitting in. aHe groaned from the pain of the sudden movement of his injured arm, but despite his head hitting the table... the chair was unusually soft on his face.

Saying mostly to himself as his mind clicked realizing this all stemmed from his encounter. "Damn Wendigos..." He coughed.

Phagora glanced around. Really? All she wants is us to exterminate another coven. Ryleth and I can easily take two witches if we prepare, and the others are more than capable of handling themselves in a fight. There's a catch, there's got to be a catch. But she wasn't stupid enough to say that out loud, so she simply asked, "Do you have any information on this coven?"

Kalisel slowly recovered from the shock of her failed healing. As the tavern owner went to assist the man, with a slight dig at her, she nodded. "No offense taken. I'll defer to you, good sir- I'm not very experienced at this kind of thing."

When the man came to, making a comment about wendigos, Kalisel stayed by his side. "Easy there. Easy. You're badly hurt, and in no condition to be hunting daffodils, much less wendigos." She tried to place his face, but couldn't recall if she had met him before. Not surprising, considering the many mortals she had met over the millennia.

Sapphire sat with the two wolves, her hand anxiously running through the fur on Hunt’s neck as she watched the woman take care of her brother. She knew he was in good hands but she couldn’t help but worry. He was her brother after all. If something happened to anyone in her family it would break her. Her love for her family was one of the most driving parts of her.

The brunette’s attention was snapped to focus on the masked face of a man who sat on the floor next to her. Hunt let out a low growl of warning as he glared at the man, but his growl was cut short as Saph flicked his snout. “Be nice Hunt.” Sapphire warned him before focusing on the man as he began to speak.

"I know this must seem like the strangest time for me to ask but... where did you get your hooded cloak from? It seems like it's really warm and well made and the shade of red suits you nicely." The man commented.

“Well normally my family says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, especially men. But you clearly are trying to distract me from what is happening with my brother so I will break the rule this time.” Sapphire mentioned, facing the man.

“Break it this time!? When do you not break the rule?” Hunt commented causing Sapphire to give him a look which he just returned. Once Saph refocused on the man she smiled her usual smile.

“Well, ya see. It was a gift for my 12th birthday. Since I had decided to take up hunting my mom made it for me. It is unique to me but it also kind of matches my brother’s. Though his is basically falling apart now. But it was basically like my family finally accepting they could not turn me away from being a hunter! It is one of my favorite things behind my family and Hunt, and the other wolves, and Uncle Bobby of course.” Once she had begun talking, she just began to ramble on. Saph opened her mouth to talk again when she heard her brother’s voice. She snapped her head in time to watch him break the table and fall off of it. Then she heard him mention Wendigo’s and her eyes widened as her thoughts began to race.

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Sitting back on the chair next to the table, Rowyn watched the man. Watching his color and his chest. Making sure he didn’t turn blue or get any paler and making sure he was still breathing. She could care less for the blood still on her hands. She’d wash them soon enough, well that was her plan. The demon wanted her to do something else of course.

‘You should just lick the blood off your hands. Then you will finally know how delicious mortal blood is.’ The demon purred in her mind’s ear.

“You and I both know that I am not going to do that.” Rowyn whispered under her breath in response to the disgusting idea of the demon. This was an all too normal idea of his when she ended up with blood on her hands. His newest thing for her to try was blood. Seeing as the last time he had possessed her body, he’d forced her to eat raw meat and well. It didn’t turn out too well for her. It made her very sick and she wanted to get angry but she couldn’t as doing so would just give him control again. Something she did not want. The demon had then decided he needed to get her used to blood first, because of course logically she needed to like blood and be used to it before she could eat raw meat. Not that raw meat could just be bad for her in a different sense. No the demon wouldn’t listen to that reason.

Turning her gold eyes upon a blonde woman, she watched as the woman placed her hand on the injured man’s forehead and muttered words. The only ones Rowyn could make out were ‘power’ and ‘heaven’. The woman and the words made the demon within her uneasy and even Rowyn uneasy. All things holy only hurt Rowyn because of the demon so priests and churches and the such had always had her uneasy.

‘I don’t like her. Too holy. Kill her before she becomes a problem. Kill her.’

Rowyn ignored the demon as it began to practically chant for her to kill the woman. Something Rowyn refused to do. As the demon within continued to chant, she watched on with golden eyes as the woman looked disappointed after saying her words. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to do but it seemed it hadn’t worked or just didn’t have the effect she wanted. Rowyn’s attention was snapped to focus onto a younger man with red hair as he spoke.

“...’s good work miss. I’ll...help I guess? Get clean bandages and what not as you need them. Got nothing else to do and it seem a bit unfair to leave you taking care of the injured on yer own.”

“Oh. Uh.. thank you.” Rowyn hadn’t ever had anyone compliment her healing so it was weird and new to her, leaving her not sure how to respond, she did however know how to respond to the rest, “There really is no need for you to help. I’ve done this for quite a few years on my own now. I can handle it alone. But.. uh… thank you though?” She thanked him not sure if she should, so it came out as a question. Rowyn was used to working alone. To being alone. Help. Well she’d never had it before so she wasn’t sure she really needed it. She was sure she didn't want it. She wouldn’t say that of course. Saying so would be rude. Being rude could mean losing potential customers. No customers, no income. No income, she was back on her own fending for herself and well then there was no chance of ever ridding herself of the demon.

Before either could speak another word, the injured man woke up and introduced himself before flirting? Did he really just attempt to flirt when he was still so pale and weak? Well, that was certainly different but honestly he was a hunter, so not too surprising to the girl. What was surprising was the table breaking, the man falling and his face… landing where it did.



Rowyn froze, shocked and entirely unsure of what to do. The position, though in public fully clothed and well they’d only just met, seemed very much so like something meant for private. Between two people in a relationship nonetheless. All Rowyn could do was sit in shock as her face slowly grew redder and redder. His comment on wendigos barely phasing her. All the while her demon was shouting obscenities in her brain, saying how only he was allowed to do such things to her and such.

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She wouldn’t lie, she’d been feeling it too. The same uneasiness that Taran had been feeling. The forest felt off. She’d been in it before and today the feeling was wrong. As she listened to the man explain that not all she requested might be fulfilled and as he introduced himself, she shifted from one foot to another. Celosia was well aware she might not get everything she wanted, she’d try.

When Taran told her they couldn’t be there anymore right before a scream rang out from the village, Cel couldn’t agree more. The fog that was seeping from the town into the woods towards them held a feeling of power and danger. A slight itch to help those in the town sat in the back of her mind as she took off running behind Taran, barely able to see him as the fog was on either side of her and nipping at his ankles. Celosia kept reminding herself that there were only hunters in town now. That her town was dead, gone, destroyed. She closed her eyes and let out a breath before reopening them as the itch faded and she began to run faster.

Celosia had to skid to a halt though as she watched a man come running out of the fog straight into Taran. She noticed the man was a hunter and her guards were up immediately but she made sure to not use any magic as she approached and held out a hand to Taran to help him up all while eyeing and watching the man closely. She was unsure of what to say in the situation. Celosia had no interactions with hunters except for spotting them and hiding from them. She decided to let Taran handle the situation all while she kept an eye on the area around them as the fog grew thicker. Her eyes flicking from area to area to the mystery man back to the areas around. Her ears listening out for anything suspicious and her magic warming her body just in case. The fog was dangerous but the man was too. Cel had yet to determine which one was more dangerous though.

Interacting with @Kitty@Aerandir

While he was quiet during the girl's interaction with her wolf and while she was telling the tale of where she had gotten her hood, Draco's cloth face mask shifted a little as he offered her a smile. The movement however betrayed a fact about the mask that some people might have overlooked at a distance but became easier to spot closer up; Where there should have been a bump in the cloth where his nose was meant to be, it was flat.

Seemingly lack of nose aside, his voice still carried good cheer as he finally answered "If I wasn't sure already that your mother must be a talented hunter in her own right, the fact that she knew how to create an piece of clothing that could survive several years on the hunt would betray it. Only a tailor who's been on the hunt themselves really knows what conditions they work is going to be facing."

Before he had the chance to say anything more, the girl's brother seemed to come around... and within about a minute or two of waking up, somehow ended up face first in the lap of the woman who had treated him. Granted his cursing about Wendigos had caused his mind to race with possibilities, those could wait a moment as he sighed as muttered respectfully to the girl "Please excuse me one moment, I'll be right back." before pushing himself to his feet and walking over to the injured hunter and the healer who clearly didn't know how to respond to the situation she was in.

Reaching down to grab the large man under the armpits to heave him away from the woman's lap and carefully try and lay him out on the floor in the number of seconds he could support his weight, he playfully chastised "I know a lot of hunters can spend months, if not years in the wilderness without seeing a friendly face, but you're in civilization now. It's generally considered polite to ask a woman out for dinner... or a least a drink before you try your hand like that, you cheap bastard."

The entrance of the injured hunter was like kicking the hornet's nest. All around people sprung into action. Some running to help the man, some running towards the danger the man was running from. Emiliah caught sight of the man’s face while he was laid out on the table. A flicker of recognition ate at the back of her mind, but the name utterly escaped her.

She was rotten when it came to healing. Every hunter knew the basics, keep it clean, pressure. Basically enough to keep oneself (and others) alive long enough to seek actual help. She probably could have made more of an effort to aid the healer, but there were plenty of others far more capable of helping.

A few left the Tavern to head out to assess the risk, but Emiliah was far more keen to see what she was facing before charging at it head on. The best way to figure that out, was to wait for the hunter to awaken enough to tell them. Besides, it was clear that whatever it was wasn’t waiting for them just outside the tavern. In a town of hunters, for any magical creature to step foot in it would be near suicide.

“Can you help me with something? There’s this… man and I’m… worried.” Emiliah tore her eyes away from the unconscious man, her eye focusing on the pretty girl hoovering near Bobby’s shoulder. An uncomfortable icy feeling spread from her stomach throughout her body as the girl spoke. Emiliah has been in enough taverns to know that a few things could worry a girl there, none of them good.

Before Bobby could respond, Emiliah teacher out a hand, grasping the girls arm and gently pulling her out of the crowd. “Hey Bobby, I got this, you keep your tavern from getting too many blood stains,”

“Whatever ye day Lass, but ‘m right here is ya need anything”

He gave a finally look towards the trio, before muttering something and turning back to the scene at hand.

“Lyra? It’s Lyra right?” Said Emiliah quickly, she remembered running into the girl earlier in the week. “I’m Emiliah, we met earlier. What seems to be the problem?”

A loud thunk echoed around the room. The man’s injured figure had managed to slip from the table and straight into the lap of the healer. In an instant the face clicked in her mind. “Fucking Flint,” she whispered just loud enough for the girl to hear.





A loud crack echoed through the air and Taran’s vision flashed dark. By the time he had blinked away the blackness threatening to force him unconsciousness, his was already off his feet, laying amongst the foliage. His head and side throbbed from the impact, but couldn't compare with the sharp pain radiating from his wrist that had reached out to stop his fall. It felt...wrong, icy and hot. Taran couldn't bring himself to look at it as he laid in the dirt a moment longer, trying to get his lungs to stop rejecting the air he brought in.

The world still sounded very far away when, with a great deal of effort, Taran pulled himself into a sitting position. His wrist smarting with every move he made, an attempt to move his fingers informed him that the fingers on his left hand were no longer capable of that action. In the distance, the sounds of the...somethings...were rattling far too close for comfort.

It was only then that Taran saw the what, more like who, he’d run into. Sprawled nearly on top of him was a human figure. A quick scan of the man confirmed that this creature was the second worst thing Taran could have run directly into. A hunter. It took every ounce of will power to not to something foolish, like set the forest and this human aflame. The rattling sound grew louder, reminding Taran that there were things worst than hunters in the word. If only just.

A part of him was tempted to just leave the human there. After all, a dead hunter was better than a dead witch. But doing so felt the same murder. Hunter or not, he was human. A living person doing what he thought was the right thing. All of the contradicting thoughts shot through his head at a mile a minute, before settling on the only choice he could live with.

Taking a deep breath, Taran pulled himself to his feet, keeping his injured wrist pulled close to his chest. “Can you stand?” he said quickly, offering out his uninjured hand. The adrenaline and urge to run from before returning as the sound of the undead grew closer, muting the pain. That would be the deciding factor. If he was too injured to walk well... neither of them were strong enough to carry the hunter out. It also helped that hunter were good at killing monsters.

If worse came to worse, the hunter could slow the monsters down.