Ildiss thinks I should start a journal of sorts, to help me process. What in all the twin hells could I possibly have to process on this wretched planet. “Process what?” I asked her. “Take a guess,” she said with contempt. That old hag. I’m running out of patience, I find I have very little of it now. I should dust this witch where she stands, but, alas, a small voice in my head reminds me that I shouldn’t kill my ‘friends.’ Is Ildiss a friend though? Can you be friends with a witch of genocide? Friendship requires a mutual bond. The only thing that bonds us is the threat of mutual destruction. Maybe, that is enough, friends are hard to come by nowadays, anyway. So, instead of smiting this monster who hides behind a pretty young face, I take the pacifist approach.
I steady my hand, quiet my voice, and ponder the question. My work? I destroyed it long ago and I have no intention of looking back, lest it fall into the wrong hands. My home? My enemies destroyed it, though I did play a part in that. My legacy? Well, I tried my best to destroy that too and failed miserably. Actually, looking back, my prolonged life has been filled with destruction and mistakes, well perhaps not mistakes. I went into those incidents willingly with my eyes wide open. Let’s call them regrets. Nevermind, regrets imply sadness and I have no time for such a ludicrous concept. Ah, of course, that’s what the witch meant, emotions. They become duller every year that passes. I’m beginning to forget their faces, their voices, hm. Emotions are like parasites, they cling to ones memories and persist, long after you’ve tried to eliminate them.
Oh, and memories, well, they have an interesting way of making one lose themselves in the past. Many have lost their way trying to reach where they once stood... So, where should I begin? When I was young and foolish enough to dream of immortality? No, too long. How about when I released the greatest plague the world had ever seen? No, too depressing and not for the reasons one may think. What about when I met that werewolf? Ah, yes that sounds like a good spot. Life was like a blissful haze back then, right before everything went to hell. Damn, wolf. But, first, let me paint you a portrait background. Let us begin where all good stories do, in the place you least expect.
Immortal’s Musings: A Werewolf's Tale
Davin awoke to a familiar yet irate pecking on his forehead. Bloodshot eyes sprang open to the sight of Alice, perched comfortably on his pillow. She craned her neck to one side, her golden eyes stared curiously at Davin for a brief moment, then pecked incessasantly at his face. He shouted in exasperation and brushed the hawk away. Alice cawed, indignation clear in her voice, as she flapped around the reading wagon. Davin, sat up with an unsteady pair of arms to balance him. He had drunk too much last night. The celebration with the locals had gone beyond his expectations. Who knew those sprites could make such a good cup of firewater. Was it wine or ale? He wasn’t sure. He glanced out the window; the others were already setting up their wares. Alice finally found her balance and landed on top of Davin’s desk; she deemed it’d suffice as a perch.
“How did I ever get stuck with such a terrible drunk. Fate is cruel.” Alice said as she began to preen her ruffled feathers.
Davin washed his face in the nearby basin, “The way I remember it, you fell on my head, when your mother pushed you off that tree.”
“I didn’t fall, I landed on the most comfortable spot I could find, your hair.” Alice glanced pointedly at Davin’s brown messy shrub that he called his hair.
“You fell from the sky. Like a rock.” Davin pulled out a wooden chest from under his bed.
“Elegantly.” Alice corrected.
“Ugh. My head is killing me.” Davin rubbed his reddened forehead and glanced at Alice, “And not just because of my drinking.”
“I was just trying to help you not be late.” Alice shrugged her left wing as she preened the other.
“By poking my bloody eyes out?” He picked up the chest and began heading for the wagon door.
“Not like you use them, not really. You blind rat. If it weren’t for my eyes, you wouldn’t be a scout, which means you wouldn’t have a job, which means you wouldn’t be able to buy me those strips of meat I like.” Alice played out her thoughts. She puffed up her feathers and shook as she thought of such a nightmare.
“The horror,” Davin said with with sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“Don’t you dare!” She cawed. “I won’t be homeless, wandering the wilderness again. I won’t have it, you hear me.”
“Pampered turkey,” Davin said as he walked out.
“Lightweight,” Alice said as she zipped by the closing door. She landed softly on Davin’s head, yet her sharp talons suspiciously clawed at his scalp. They continued bantering as Davin began setting up shop on the open meadow near the village. He opened his wooden chest and started to pull out hunting wares. He glanced around in the morning light and noted how other vendors had already opened their stalls and were selling their stock to the villagers. The caravan had picked up some new vendors just yesterday, making sales more difficulty. They were a few sprite merchants and like most myths, they drew the attention of the common folk. As such, they opted to stay hidden within their wagons, while a few of the caravan’s hired humans manned their stalls.
Common folk walked by Davin and casted glances at the man arguing with a squawking bird on his head, then hurried along. Davin had gotten used to it, after all, they couldn’t understand Alice’s speech. Though, sometimes Davin thought that might be a blessing. After about half-an-hour, he finally managed to set up shop, despite Alice’s hindrance. He was late, but they had only arrived yesterday, and many villagers wanted to see what the exotic Fyre Convoy had to offer. Davin looked around the people as they milled about the caravan’s wagons and stalls. The modest villagers wore their best clothes; the men wore plain homespun shirts and pants that didn’t have any patches and the women wore simple soft blues, yellows, sometimes pink, dresses. Judging from their clothing, Davin guessed he wouldn’t be making too much profit during the caravan’s stay in the small village. Still, the Convoy always stopped for myths. Although, the common folk of Blue Rivers didn’t know it, they had been harboring sprites for quite some time. Some of the sprites had decided to join the caravan, until they found a better village to nestledown in. A few were even selling firewater, with great success Davin noted grimly. It seemed he wouldn’t make much profit today.
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By the time noon arrived he had only had two customers. “We’re gonna starve!” Alice wailed.
“Well, maybe if you didn’t squawk and try to bite the fingers off every potential buyer who came by we might actually make a couple of coins, ey?” Davin countered.
“It’s not my fault that they try to touch me, a lady. The nerve.” Alice glared at the passing crowd.
“Since, when did you become a lady?” Davin asked in surprise.
“Since, Lady Lorelei said that every elegant woman is a lady in her own right.”
“Lady Lorelei said that?” Davin raised a brow. It still unnerved him how the woman could understand Alice. He understood how Elly, a witch, could speak to enlightened animals. But Lady Lorelei, well he didn’t know what she was and it unnerved him more than he’d like to admit.
“Well, sorry to break it to you love, but you’re no lady. Only noblewomen are ladies.” Davin taunted.
Alice scoffed, and pecked at his head.
“Ow.” Davin complained as he polished his wares.
“I’ll have you know, I am a silver-tailed hawk, the greatest race of birds to ever fly the sky. I can’t come from a more noble line.”
“What about the phoenix?” Though Davin had to admit no one had seen a phoenix in centuries, they were still considered the apex of all avian creatures. What with them burning thousands of people to death it was hard to argue otherwise.
“Th-that’s different. And besides what about Lady Lorelei, she isn’t a noblewoman. At least, I don’t think she is.”
“Well, that’s different.” Davin mimicked.
“I’ll shit on you. Don’t tempt me.” Alice nestled into his hair.
Davin pondered his choices and decided he could tolerate the upstart Alice, calling herself a lady, barely.
“Please accept my sincerest apologies, Alice.” Davin apologized, though there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
Her claws began to sink into his scalp.
“Ow ow ow, ok. I’m sorry, I really am. Just please not on my hair. It took me ages to get it off last time. And unlike last night, I’m trying to stay a bit more sober tonight.” Davin grimaced in pain.
“But, you like drinking.” Alice craned her neck in curiosity.
“Well, true, but.” Davin raised a finger. “I’m hoping to get a dance with one of these village girls and maybe something more.” He laughed and rolled his shoulders, “If you know what I mean.”
“Animal.” Alice strengthened her grip.
“Ow, dammit. I’ll buy you some prime steak tonight, I promise. Just let go please, mercy.” Davin begged now, at this rate he’d bleed.
She relented, much to his relief. “Hmpf, that’s better. And its Lady Alice to you.”
“Sorry, but no way in hell, love.”
“You little-”
“Ahem, excuse me,” a child piped in. He wore a large straw hat, with abit of brown hair poking out. His head barely reached the counter.
Alice calmed down for a moment, confident the child would be unable to reach high enough to touch her. She was also a bit eager to make some money, in the hopes of getting some of those delicious snacks.
Davin put on his best vendor smile, “Well, hello there young, sir. Welcome to the Fyre Convoy’s best stall. You have come to the right place. I am the Convoy’s personal and esteemed forester, and I carry only the best.” He swept his hand over his collection of daggers and carved wooden dolls he had for sale. He picked up a small dagger and showcased it to the boy, “Perhaps you may be interested in this one, hm?”
Before the boy could respond Alice chimed in, “Davin that’s not a boy.”
“Huh?” Davin questioned before taking a close look a the child. He wasn’t really a child. “You’re a sprite!” Davin exclaimed. “Why aren’t you in the back, what if someone sees you? Why didn’t you just come later tonight when the villagers are gone?”
“I’m afraid I can’t wait until then. And besides common folk don’t pay attention to sprites.” The sprite took off his hat and looked up to reveal eyes a bit too large for a human and a face too old for a child. “Name’s Quill, we met last night, although I doubt you’d remember, you were too drunk to have a proper conversation with.” He pulled his hat back down, “Anyway, this is urgent. I need your services.”
“My services? What, you want a custom crafted doll for your kid or something?” Davin asked.
The sprite shook his head. “No, I’ve heard from some of the other Convoy members that you are not merely a scout or forester. But, that you dabble in hunting as well.”
Davin craned his head in a reminiscent bird-like pose, “Go on.”
“Well, tonight is a full moon, and regrettably the lands around here have been plagued by a werewolf these past few months. It's one of the main reasons us sprites have been wanting to leave this village. Two sprites have already been killed.” The sprite said in a sad voice.
“What about the common folk in the village, are they alright?” Davin asked in a worried tone.
The sprite scoffed, “Why would we care about humans? No offense.”
Davin ignored the remark, he was used to it by now. “So, what do you want me to do?”
“Well, we were hoping you could kill the beast for us. We’d sleep and travel more safely.”
Davin sighed, “I am worried about the sprites and the common folk villagers, but as much as I’d like to help, I have never faced a werewolf. I’d rather not risk it, if I don’t need to. If the werewolf comes to the caravan then I’ll help deal with it. I’m sorry, about the sprites you lost, but it’s just not my problem. No offense.”
Quill took a deep shaky breath, his fists curled. “That monster killed my niece.”
“Damn, your making this complicated.” Davin sighed as he glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention to them.
“Should I shit on him?” Alice asked.
“No.” Davin said.
“No, you won’t help us?” Quill asked, his voice lowered but anger still ever present.
“No, I wasn’t talking to you. But, that too. Werewolves are rare, I don’t know much about them. And like I said I’ve never met one. Too much risk.” Davin wanted to help, but that’s the way the world was. People died to the monsters of the night, whether they be commonfolk or monsters themselves. No reason he needed to get involved.
Tears streaked down Quill’s face. He quickly wiped them away. He pulled a bag out of his pocket and threw it on the table, it jingled with an all too familiar noise. “Will this change your mind?”
Davin opened the bag, and saw the glint of gold. His eyes widened in surprise, pure gold coins. He’d be rich.
“No dancing for you tonight,” Alice chimed in.
Davin turned away from the coins and smiled at the sprite, “It just might.”