I awoke to the low rumbling of a giant in conversation, or rather, a half giant. The sun was not yet in the sky and the moon still lingered on the western horizon. Its pale light cast an eerie glow upon the mists that our dwindling campfire was struggling to keep at bay. From my bedroll I could make out the hulking shape of Halvar Aevarsson across the fire. The half-frost giant was indeed deep in conversation with who I assumed was Kimari. The dragon born blood hunter was the only other member of our group who I could fathom being up this early.
Knowing better than to attempt a return to sleep, I forced myself upright and set about packing my things for another day on the road. I managed to gather than Kimari had been given a flyer by some passersby or a patrol even earlier in the morning. A bounty of sorts, offering coin to anyone who could slay a werewolf presumed responsible for several attacks in a nearby city called Upirsburg.
A werewolf! Though I had been with my companions for some months now, our adventures had not led us to anything near as exciting as a werewolf. Any tiredness that lingered within my left my bones immediately as I shot toward my sisters bedroll, dropping to my knees to shake her awake.
Though she protested at my sudden intrusion into her sleep, she too stirred quickly when I mentioned the bounty. Halvar set about waking the others so that we could depart for Upirsburg. And after a quick breakfast, we indeed set out.
After a time of travel we came upon the town. It was much the same as other towns in the south I had seen or been told about. Walls surrounded a myriad of buildings woven together by cobblestone roadways. Great braziers burned at the intersections of roadways. Halvar once told me the people of the south worshiped fire in a way. Supplicants, he called them.
The flyer said to seek out a man called Steffan about the werewolf contract. So into the town we went. Tho it was still early, we passed by several townspeople. A man stirring putrid smelling dye pots, a butcher who seemed upset as he ducked back into his shop, a few guards loitering around a tent in the middle of a particularly large intersection. The guards at this tent directed us further up the road where we found Steffan in some sort of government building.
The man looked tired as he gave us details of the case. Nine killings spread over the last six months. All women, tho women of all sort of different backgrounds and social levels. Including a young woman slayed the last night. A woman whose body was being guarded and covered by the tent we had just passed. Steffan suggested that we might begin our investigation at the tent where we would find the bailiff who could answer more questions.
Upon arrival at the tent, I was scarcely inside for more than a moment before the threat of loosing my breakfast forced me back outside. The sight of a woman, torn and bloodied on the ground, and the sharp smell of copper and gore sent flashes of memory through my mind. I had walked into a similar scene twelve years prior the night my parents died. The memory was perhaps more overwhelming than the actual scene, but nonetheless I could not linger within the tent. I stood instead in front of the flap and looked out over the street, listening to my companions inside.
The Bailiff and a man called Sir Halfran were within the tent. Sir Halfran was quiet, lost deep within his own thoughts. But the bailiff pointed out several characteristics of the wounds on Sophias body that lended well to the theory of a werewolf, notably the almost complete absence of most of her body below the navel. Even though I was outside I nearly lost my stomach at the description. The bailiff did not know why Sophia would be walking the streets alone at night. For answers to this question, hecsuggested we seek out her father. A shepherd called Giovanni who lived on the outskirts of town.
We departed quickly, for which I was grateful. The smell had begun to permeate through the cloth of the tent. The walk to Giovanni's farm was short and we quickly came to a cluster of farm buildings to find two guards begin yelled at by a man. The man was obviously drunk. If his slurred shouts and staggered walk didn't give it away, the bottle he was waving about as he yelled surely was.
I caught only one sentence of his angry tirade, "monsters in the barn."
That was enough for my companions. Halvar launched immediately towards the barn. Freydrid downed a swallow of her own spirits before marching off after him. I swear the girl only fought when she was fueled by alcohol. The rest followed quickly with myself at the rear, not eager to engage in any melee fighting. I was even less eager if that was possible when we drew close enough to the barn to hear the sounds coming from within. The panicked and terrified bleating of sheep cut suddenly off every so often with sick squelching sounds. The door to the barn shook with several impacts as the sheep inside tried desperately to be outside. I could hear their hooves sloshing through what I prayed was just water from an overturned trough.
It was not.
Halvar threw open the barn door and for the second time that day I nearly vomited. A small river of blood and gods know what else flooded around the half-frost giants feet as he charged in. It is with all honesty that I must admit I saw little of the fighting. Wolfe later told me the creatures within were called nekkers. Little tunneling devils with beady red eyes and long claws that attacked in groups. Even the ones my companions managed to slay were dragged down tunnels in the ground by their kin. By the time I gathered enough courage to look inside, they were gone. Naught but a few sheep cowering in a corner and my blood soaked companions stood within.
Giovanni joined me in the doorway and promptly fell to his knees. The wails he let out over his sheep made me eternally grateful I was not present when he had been informed of the death of his daughter. I placed a hand on his shoulder, meaning to offer my comfort, but he swatted it away. I recoiled my hand as Halvar came up to the shepherd. The men began talking and I turned toward my sister as I listened. I attempted to prestidigitate the blood and flecks of fur that had splattered on her. Halvar gave the distraught shepherd a few gold coins in exchange for horns from his slain rams. The shepherd accepted the coins and stood shakily as he lifted his dark bottle to his lips. When it was drained he tossed it over his shoulder to shatter in the weeds.
He slowly explained his suspicions that his daughter had been out to visit the butcher in town, a man called Ulric. It was obvious that Giovanni held no love for this man, thought he was no good for his daughter. I must admit, as dark as it may be, I was intrigued by the idea of a forbidden romance cut short by the tragic death of the young maiden. It would prove to be quite the tale, one Im sure would make me a pretty penny in the inn back home.
I was brought out of my thoughts when Halvar asked in his deep northern accent:
"Ser Halfran?"
"Aye." Giovanni explained. "The first victim was his wife."
"No wonder the man looked distracted in the tent" Freydrid mumbled as I continued to use my magic to clean her as best I could.
"We should speak to this man." Wolfe droned out in his almost monotone voice.
"The butcher too." Kimari added, wiping the blood from his hammer in some weeds. Nods of agreement from our group. With vague directions given to us by the now absurdly drunken shepherd, we set off for Ser Halfrans estate. I felt bad leaving the man in such a state but there was precious little I could have done to comfort him.
Ser Halfrans estate sat on the outer edge of the town within its own walls. Servants loitered around a dense orchard as we followed a small path up to the residence. Halvar knocked and a gaunt middle aged manservant answered. He informed us that the Ser did not wish to receive any visitors, but when Ezel presented the man with the token from Steffan that marked us as "official investigators" he reluctantly ushered us into a hallway and fetched his master. The Ser unfortunately offered us very little information. His wife had indeed been the first victim but had no apparent ties to Sophia other than they were both women who happened to be outside alone at night for whatever reasons.
We quickly realized the man could be no help and made our way back into town to the butchers. Halvar and Ezel remained outside while Wolfe, Kimari, Freydrid, and myself entered the shop. We entered a small space, one that smelled surprisingly pleasant. Like sage and other spices. A small counter separated us from the back of the room and I reached to ring a small bell tied above it. After a few moments of silence Freydrid stepped up next to me and rang it a bit more aggressively.
"Im coming Im coming." We heard a voice accompanied by boots as they thumped down a narrow wooden staircase behind the counter. When the man reached the bottom of the stairs and turned around I nearly collapsed right then as my knees felt suddenly like jelly. The man was...large. Every part of him looked as though it was made of pure muscle. The skin that was revealed under the rolled up sleeves of his linen shirt was deeply tanned, and by the gods his beard... The mass of thick black hair was enough to make any northern woman salivate.
A fact I knew to true by the way my sisters hand shot to my wrist where her nails were now embedded. I hardly noticed any pain, nor anything else as my mind seemed unable to focus on anything except the mans hands which he was wiping off with a scrap of cloth. Large, strong hands that I bet...
"Ahem." The man cleared his throat, snapping me back to reality.
"Pardon me?" I asked, gulping as I felt a heat rise to my cheeks.
"I said, How can I help you?" The butcher, Ulric asked. His voice was even...large if that made any sense. I hastily stumbled over an explanation of our investigation and asked if he knew Sophia. The man seemed broken by the question and it was obvious that he had indeed been involved with the woman. Since Halvar was outside, I did my best to be the one asking questions. Normally I would have been quite good in this situation but evidently my..desires clouded my normal charismatic charms and one by one my companions left as I stumbled over words and the encounter grew more and more awkward. When even Freydrid made her way outside Halvar entered to offer me aid. Tho before he could even speak I had accidentally insinuated that the mans lover was a prostitute, that I was a prostitute, and had mistakenly said I wanted HIM when I meant to say I wanted his help.
When I finally managed to catch my tongue the butcher just looked between Halvar and I in silence.
And that is where I shall leave off for tonight, the recollection of my embarrassment quite prevents me from writing further.
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