Mist roamed the farmlands, looking for a place to settle. A dangerous demon resided in Cnocham, directly east of the Gorgahldium Hills. A ghüul a monster that creates ghouls. "Through all of its spawn, it feeds."
Carl quoted into the ether. Fast, ferocious, larger than an average human-turned-ghoul, and far more intelligent.
Couldn’t it have been something simple like a rusalka, a water maiden with a need for vengeance, unable to attain said vengeance, lashing out at the villagers? Carl fought one of those once; pure strength is all it had, and it had little. That or a Palasik, a demonic grasshopper controlling its host, gives itself away in fear of cats. Destroy the host entirely, and the demon dies with it.
Carl supposed that would’ve been too much to ask; it had to be a ghüul. Strong by itself, but what worried Carl more was the dozens of ghouls it kept with it, gained from graveyards. A ghoul by itself poses a threat to the average man. Carl might be above average in fighting prowess by a long shot, but his body is of the same flesh and bone. Carl thought he shouldn’t feel bad about being scared of this situation, standing in the field of its last sighting.
The sun flared its last bit of light across the farm a few moments ago; Carl waited in the moonlit mist, the moist ground beneath him. If this creature was here as the villagers described, why wasn’t it coming here immediately? Why did it have Carl lying in wait? Why don’t the Sanguinators take care of such things? Why does Carl so easily find quests close to home and the tiny farmland where he and his wife live?
The ground started to tremble, and so did Carl; eyes of dead blue looked upon him, glowing with reflected moonlight. A simple bald forehead, two eyes, and a mouth of crooked teeth looked upon Carl, skin a pale white. The moon granted the creature a blue skin tone. Multiple arms reached up through the soft, damp ground, reaching for anything to grab. The corpse-eaters were waking from their slumber.
Carl quickly searched for safer grounds, but an arm grabbed his ankle mid-run before he could. Face-first, Carl fell onto the soft ground, grabbing his left arm with another hand. Panic shot through Carl’s entire body. Carl heard a voice as a third hand tried to hold him down. A voice coarse and rough sent through broken vocal cords spoke to Carl.
"Ah, it’s you; the duke talked of you. Every part of your body is etched into his mind, for him to see Carl lie there so vulnerably. The duke shall be happy to hear how mere ghouls devoured Carl." Yet another hand grabbed Carl’s body, its claws digging into his studded leather.
The night was cold, yet Carl’s body was warm. The devil inside his head had Carl’s back in this fight, and Carl could handle the heat. As three more hands shot up out of the dirt to hold Carl down, his body dissipated into mist. Carl stood not a few meters away, seeing them all standing there. Carl was surrounded by ghouls, or at least so they thought. Carl let them get closer, waiting for the ghüul. The next bit would hurt; as prepared as Carl’s body could get, it would still hurt.
Carl swirled his hands, drawing small runes of infernal origin between them, and a ball of fire began to form. The ball of fire grew exponentially until it was time to unleash it. Carl slammed it into the ground with force, and it exploded with a fiery force outwards. Carl’s skin felt hot, too hot.
Nothing compared to what Carl saw around him, corpse-eaters reduced to mere smoldering messes of bone and skin. The ghüul screamed at Carl, an incoherent scream.
Carl unleashed a furious heat as the ghüul lashed out at Carl with a striking claw, cutting into his heated skin. A new wave of fire wreathed the ghüul. The demon was far too fast for Carl, too ferocious. Carl had to conquer it with pure strength and literal firepower. It fell before Carl like a burned tree, just as brittle. Carl stomped his foot upon its head and found it to crush like charcoal.
"Alright, time to get the reward and a drink." Carl proudly declared to himself and the devil inside his head. The devil inside his head responded,
"I could go for a drink. I warn you; you look as red as my hair; you might frighten the villagers."
"Bah claptrap," Carl declared to the voice in his head and went off to the Inn, which he was staying at as part of the agreement. The Innkeep looked positively frightened at me. "Are you alright, Carl? You look like you ran into a burning barn!" Carl was quite shocked at this. Carl hissed at the devil within his head; "I thought you said that you could protect me from the fire?"
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"I did say some of the fire, as in ‘not all the fire.’ I fail to see where you could have gotten confused." The devil in Carl’s head explained with glee in his voice. Looking at the Innkeeper’s reaction, it did seem quite horrendous. Carl grumbled over the lost coin and went to his room, getting a potion of foul smell out of his bag. It was not the most appetizing thing, but it always did the job. Carl chugged the contents and immediately felt better as he looked upon his burned hands. They were healing before his eyes.
"The look on the innkeeper’s face was glorious; you are quite fun to be around, Johnstantine." Sometimes, the devil inside his head could do that, saying things that made a bad day worse. Tomorrow, Carl would return to his tiny little house amidst the countryside, their little farm. Carl missed her dearly every time he was away. Dear Nathalie, that wife of his.
Carl was awakened by the crowing of a rooster earlier than he wanted. As he made his way into the heart of the village to the local chief, he saw a cart with the smoldered corpses making its way there as well. As Carl entered the local church devoted to Horanthus, he found the village chieftain listening with a strained effort to the farmer who had brought the bodies in. It seemed the farmer was trying desperately to claim credit for what had happened. A few times, a name came up in the conversation: Sean. Carl knocked on one of the wooden pews and saw Sean’s head turn. He left his pew and headed towards Carl, grumbling all the while.
"So easily may men claim your deeds; luckily, they had no credible explanation for the state of the bodies." A smile crept up on Carl. He would get payment for this; the last two jobs had been counterproductive. Carl had ultimately spent far more on supplies than I ended up making.
"However, I’m sorry to say, but with the destroyed crops due to your fire trick, we might have to keep some money to feed our people." Sean declared. There it was, a caveat yet unbeknownst to Carl. A caveat was added after the job was done. Why did people insist on doing that, adding new terms, after things were said and done?
Sean threw Carl a sack of coins; Carl plopped down on the church floor and started counting immediately.
Making small stacks to count more easily, Carl realized that he was worried for nothing. The reward was more than promised.
"I can’t pay you for any ghoul killed above ten. We found twenty-two dead amongst the ghüul." Sean explained as Carl was counting coins. Carl was astounded by the amount of ghouls he had slain, and it was quickly readable on his face. There remained worry; however, did he get them all? Ultimately, Carl decided to focus on the coin and the completion of the job, as per Sean’s words.
Carl took his coins and left the church; Sean gave Carl a courteous goodbye wave. Cnocham was once more safe—the small village by the Gorgahldium hills.
It would be a long trek back home and many different ways to get home. Carl could go to Locham and, from there, take the boat across Sgiathach Lake or buy a horse, go to Iànford, and travel to Eisgham to avoid the lake altogether. Carl could trek over the Gorgahldium Hills, traverse a bit of the Frygdscael Woods, and get to Eisgham, buying a horse for the rest of the journey back. Carl could also take the Miner’s Trail to Cyne Road, which leads straight home. By far the easiest route, but some ferocious dragon ate his horse last he was there, coming from The Agrandiant Range. Carl barely got away from that situation alive; he should be glad he supposed that the dragon was satiated with horse meat. Cnocham also doesn’t have a single horse and a few oxen, but those aren’t made to ride. Aeldorn has everything Carl could need for the rest of the way back, but Kahlgrima is still in the hands of some hobgoblins, last Carl heard, and Aeldorn is a long way away on foot.
Knowing what the locals of most villages around here say about Frygdscael Woods, Carl thought he should avoid trekking through there for too long. The sparse woods north of Cnocham, a bit of hill, and Carl would be in Locham before sundown.
The devil inside Carl’s head laughed loudly.
"All that power, and yet so scared. I am so sorry. Have you not gotten enough boons, Carl? Considering you didn’t end up completing your end of the bargain, I’d say you got far more than you deserved. Where’s your sense of adventure and daring? You should’ve easily been able to take that dragon in a fight; you disappoint me, Carl. If only to have a rematch with that dragon, you should take that route and prove to me and yourself that you are strong enough."
"We’re taking the route through woods and hills to Locham!" Carl shouted into the ether, much to the surprise of the wandering villagers of Cnocham. Carl shouldn’t bring unnecessary risk onto himself for nothing. He was determined to go the safest route, avoiding going on the lake.
A few nights and a far emptier pouch of coins later, Carl finally returned to his little farmstead, finally returned to his dear Nathalie. His farm before him, stalks of wheat as far as the eye can see, a simple dirt path leading to Carl’s and Nathalie’s house. Some of the farmhands toiling away, the horses neighed their approval as Carl introduced them to their new friend. The pigs seemed thoroughly fattened, ready for the slaughter. The cows had enjoyed the grass in the fallows; the milk doesn’t lie. As Carl finally made his way to Nathalie, another Carl came out from behind a tree.
END OF CHAPTER 3 - Carl One