A Forest Near the Town of Malinon. Pax, 32nd.
“Are you sure it was this way?” grunted Bart.
“Aye, I was, I am sure! It was definitely this way.” Replied Kurt.
“I am just saying. You said it was this way for the last five ways an’ four days.” continued Bart as he narrowly avoided snagging his bow on one of the many low branches drooping over the game trail.
Kurt just shook his head and pressed on, certain of his bearing. There was no way he would confess that he was confused those few times, those were minor misremembrances. This time he was going the right way. He KNEW it.
“Afraid to admit you’re wrong again, Kurt?”
Up ahead there was a rustling of trees, a snapping of branches, and a cry of agony as something snarled like a vicious beast.
“You hear that there, Bart?”
“Yesh, I heard that, Kurt. By the Twelve, who couldn’t’ve?” came Bart’s quick reply.
“Should we go have a look then?”
“The Three help me, but I think we needs to.” Said a resigned looking Bart, not at all looking forward to finding out what the fuss was about. Weren’t these woods supposed to be safe for most Capable folks, since when do people get mauled and murdered by small times fauna?
They had been trekking for days following several stories of missing livestock, strange property damage, the odd comb what come up missing. It was enough to make the local guild associate issue a small contract to investigate the forest.
The contract itself was open-ended. There was no need to provide a scapegoat, culprit, guilty party, or even bring anyone in at all. They were to simply be seen putting in due diligence to ease the minds of the locals, no one liked having a nervous neighbor tossing Magic Missiles out the window in the wee hours of the night and smacking an innocent drunk on his way home from the pub. That would simply not do in their small town. So, here they were, traipsing through the forest because Kurt had found a trail. What’s more, up ahead could very well be some villain what done the things and would keep to doing the things unless Kurt and Bart could stop the things from being done.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Bart followed Kurt down the narrow trail, ducking the many branches as they appeared. What they found was nothing short of inspiring, say if you were one to be inspired by lunacy and ill-conceived notions of heroism.
Ahead, in a large clearing lit by the rays of the sun filtering down from above through a large hole in the canopy was a scene from some very drunken bard’s tale.
The two foresters were bearing witness to a contest of what seemed to be, King-of-the-Knoll, or Queen rather. For upon that knoll was a she-elf covered in naught but the blood of her enemies and oozing yet more from several open wounds in her torso and legs.
Around her, attempting to climb atop the mound serving as an earthen bulwark was a horde of various scavengers. Bart counted possums, foxes, and a badger or three among the various other creatures attempting to assail the mound.
Kurt broke the two hunters’ silence first, “Whose side do we take?”
“Side? What in the name of the One do you mean by side? That is a kid there, or least ways she looks as young as my own Molly, barely grown to the age for ale.” Bart looked at his companion who still seemed confused about the entire thing. “We take the elf’s side you idiot, let’s go!”
Now, Bart could not blame Kurt for being slow to act, it was not everyday you saw something like this. By the three Bart still was not sure what this was. But it had to end before that lass got herself killed, for it was of course a lass, the lack of clothing made it hard to not notice.
Kurt followed Bart, circling right as his friend moved ahead to pick up what looked like a medium-sized badger, around level ten. They had long ago passed the threshold of veteran by reaching level twenty-five. Kurt even thought that Bart might be approaching level thirty by now, it took a lot of killing and praying to reach such heights. Especially as neither of them often left the region, staying closer to habitable zones that were kept clear by annual patrols sent in by the King or the Imperial Order.
Kurt nocked an arrow as Bart skewered a large rodent with his spear and used its body to bludgeon a possum against a stout rock. Several arrows flew from his bow in rapid succession, these under-leveled creatures standing no chance against his dexterity enhanced bow skills.
They would have this matter sorted out in no time, and surely the guild would pay them extra for rescuing a stranded mana-storm victim. Surely, that was the case here, right? Only a fresh Mana-Storm victim would be in the forest alone and in a near-primal state, all for what? Defending a mound of dirt?
In less that half a glass the two hunters had cleared away the crazed denizens of the forest, surely there were none left within miles of this little patch of crazy.
Now they only had to interrogate the girl and find out why she was all alone covered in dirt, blood, and other things.
Also, why was she crying?