21st day of Raincrown, 1367

The huntsmen of Ebonheim always felt a sense of awe whenever they ventured out through the forests of the Eldergrove Valley. Leaves rustled overhead, the dappled sunlight casting a kaleidoscope of hues onto the dense foliage. The tall ancient trees appeared as sentinel guardians, their gnarled roots sinking deep into the rich earth, while squirrels scurried about, their tiny claws scraping against rough bark. The scent of pine filled the air, mingling with the musky aroma of the forest floor.

Bedecked in simple leathers and carrying handcrafted bows and quivers filled with arrows, three huntsmen made their way through the forest—These were men who knew their path and moved with an intimate familiarity.

Elric was their leader—a man in his late thirties, burly and broad-shouldered, with a weather-beaten face that bore the evidence of a life spent outdoors. His eyes were keen, his movements precise. The silence he maintained was not one of austerity but born from the focus of a seasoned hunter.

Then there was Orin, a younger man with shaggy brown hair and bright green eyes that sparkled with mirth. His frame was wiry but sinewy, showing strength of a different kind. He had a quick wit and a sharp tongue that often lightened the mood during their ventures into the forest.

Lastly, there was Eddard, the elder of the group. His silver hair and beard were a stark contrast to the others. Despite his advanced age, Eddard possessed a strength and stamina that rivaled men half his age. He was a stoic figure, rarely speaking unless he deemed it necessary.

“Look there,” Elric whispered, pointing towards a thicket. “Deer tracks.”

“Right, let's see if we can catch a big one today,” Orin said, grinning widely.

The trio moved silently, following the tracks. The thrill of the hunt, the subtle harmony of nature all around them, it was moments like these that reminded them why they loved their roles in the village.

Their serenity was disrupted when a low growl echoed through the forest. They exchanged nervous glances, unable to immediately recognize the unfamiliar sound.

“Be on your guard,” Elric whispered, his grip tightening on his bow. They moved cautiously, their eyes scanning the dense undergrowth.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows. A silhouette that bore the frame of a human, but was far more imposing. A wild mane of black hair framed a face that looked carved from stone. The figure stood at a distance, eyes gleaming with an intensity that sent chills down the huntsmen's spines. It was not just one figure, but several that appeared, their bodies adorned with tribal tattoos, their eyes wild and feral.

Orin swallowed hard, his throat dry as he stuttered, “Wh-who are they?”

“I have no idea,” Elric replied, his voice steady despite the uncertainty. “But we'll soon find out.”

The forest held its breath, the usual chatter of woodland creatures replaced with an unnerving silence. Elric, Orin, and Eddard stood frozen, their eyes wide as they took in the sight of the figures emerging from the forest's depths.

"Beastkin," Eddard murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His seasoned eyes had seen many things in his lifetime, but the sight of the them, in their fierce yet regal forms, brought a chill of trepidation he hadn't felt in a long while.

Elric's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with the tales he had heard about these half-human, half-beast beings. Orin's eyes were wide with fascination and fear, a strange combination that had him rooted to the spot.

A lone figure distinguished herself from the others. Taller than her kin, she held herself with an animalistic grace. Crimson tresses spilled over her shoulders like a lion's mane rippling in the forest breeze. Her eyes, ruby-red and fierce, sparkled with an inner fire that eclipsed the others, and remained steadfastly locked onto their small group.

High cheekbones sculpted her face, accented by a chiseled jawline. Her beauty was wild, raw, a stunning tableau of savage grace and deadly allure. Intricate tattoos wound their way over her muscular form, trailing the curves of her body.

Her tail swished rhythmically in the air, brushing against the rustling leaves as she prowled closer. The intensity of her presence cut through the forest hum, a palpable, commanding aura that silently marked her as the undisputed leader.

She, along with her kinsmen, was garbed in tribal garments of earthen hues: animal furs, loincloths, and feather capes. The garments covered them modestly, yet failed to conceal their proud figures. Their clothing bore signs of wear and tear, each item tattered and torn—they looked as though they had spent years roaming the wilderness, forsaking civilization and its trappings for a simpler life.

Elric instinctively stepped forward, positioning himself between the beastkin and his companions. He raised his bow slightly, not aiming an arrow but showing that he was prepared to defend his fellow huntsmen. His voice echoed through the forest, steady but loud, "Who are you? What do you want?"

Suddenly, the leader broke into a run—Elric barely had time to react. In less than a breath, she stood over him, her presence so overwhelming that he stumbled back and fell on his backside, his bow flying out of his grip.

She did not attack, did not roar, instead, she spoke. Her voice was smooth, a stark contrast to her appearance. "Hello, human. You seem lost."

The other beastkin followed suit, surrounding the huntsmen; Their eyes gleamed with amusement, their smiles displaying a row of sharp teeth. The huntsmen were well and truly caught, and they had no idea what was about to unfold.

The lioness beastkin, her ruby eyes simmering with untamed vitality, squatted to match Elric's gaze. She spoke with a soothing purr, her tone so casual it was as if they had encountered each other during a routine morning stroll, rather than in the confines of an ambush. "Lost? Or perhaps trespassing?"

"We're hunters," Elric responded, striving to keep his voice steady. "From Ebonheim."

The lioness tilted her head and studied him with a quizzical expression, her eyes narrowed and focused on his face. "Ebonheim, you say? Is that the name of your tribe?"

As she spoke, her hand inched closer to him, her claws almost grazing his neck. Elric suppressed a shudder, and said, "Y-yes? It's the name of our village."

She brought a slender finger to his chin and lifted his face. As she did so, she leaned in closer; Elric could smell the aroma of the forest on her: earthy and damp. "Then, what is your name?"

Elric swallowed hard, trying to focus on the question instead of the closeness of this half-beast. "E-Elric," he stammered, "My name is Elric."

“A name as sturdy as oak. Elric,” she said, rolling the syllables around her mouth as if tasting them.

At that moment, one of the other beastkin tapped the lioness' shoulder. "Serrandyl," he said. "A word with you?"

She glanced at the other and nodded, giving a sharp growl in acknowledgment. She gave Elric one last appraising glance, her eyes lingering on his face, before rising and returning to her kin.

Though they tried to speak in hushed whispers, Elric could make out what they were saying.

"What are you complaining about now, Reo?" Serrandyl whispered to the one that tapped on her shoulder before.

"What do we do now?" the male beastkin named Reo asked, "Those humans seem dangerous. We don't know if they are friend or foe."

"You always have to be so dramatic, Reo." Serrandyl scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Does it matter? Look how weak and scrawny they are. If they pose a threat to our tribe, we will take care of them."

Elric and the others tensed, but they continued to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Another one chimed in. "Shouldn't we keep hunting? We still need to feed everyone."

Serrandyl turned to face the one who spoke, her face twisted in a scowl. "And manage to hunt what? Another rabbit or two for the day? I am sick and tired of always being on the verge of starvation."

Elric furrowed his brows. What did she mean? How did these beastkin, who seemed so well-fed, be starving? There was enough game and plants in the forest to feed many cities comfortably, let alone a handful of beastkin.

Orin whispered to his companions, "This might be our chance to escape."

Eddard shook his head, his eyes hard and intense as they peered through the thicket. "No," he growled in a hushed tone. "It's impossible for us to outrun them. Just stay put and don't provoke them."

Serrandyl turned and met Elric's eyes again, her gaze unwavering as if daring him to attempt an escape. Elric shifted awkwardly under her gaze, his eyes meeting hers and then quickly averting back to the ground.

She walked back towards Elric and stood over him, this time the rest of the beastkin followed suit. Elric was surrounded on all sides, their towering figures looming over him as they stared at him with piercing eyes.

"Look. We mean no harm," Elric began, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him. "We're just looking for game."

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They regarded him silently for a moment. Then, to his surprise, she threw back her head and laughed. It was a rich, infectious laughter that echoed through the trees and caused the birds to scatter from the branches. She brushed back her mane of fiery red hair and looked at Elric with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Oh, how thrilling!" she exclaimed, her voice rich and velvety. "Hunters, are you? And what might you be hunting in our woods, hm?"

There was an undertone of amusement in her voice, and Elric could only look at her, dumbfounded. Her presence was larger than life and, despite the fear gnawing at him, he found himself enthralled by the creature in front of him.

"Erm... deer, mostly," Orin chimed in, his voice a little higher than usual.

"Deer, mostly," she mimicked Orin, looking at him with amusement dancing in her eyes. The others chuckled, causing the huntsmen to shift uncomfortably.

"Well, hunters, it seems we have a problem," she continued, her amusement fading to be replaced by a steely gaze. "You see, we've been hunting in these lands too. And game has been scarce."

"What are you saying?" Elric asked, trying to keep his voice even despite the panic rising in his chest.

"I doubt your claim in this territory," Eddard interrupted, his voice level despite his words, "We've hunted through this region for over a year and we've not encountered your kind before."

Elric noted a tinge of defiance in Eddard's words—although his response was true, it probably wouldn't bode well to provoke them.

A fierce grin spread across Serrandyl's face—the hint of amusement was back in her eyes. "We just got here, old wolf," she purred. "This is our first hunt in this area, but I don't see how you can stop us from claiming this territory as our own." As she spoke, her tail brushed against Elric's legs, causing him to flinch away instinctively.

Orin slapped Eddard's arm lightly and hissed. "What are you doing, old man? Don't provoke them. They'll kill and eat us."

Elric narrowed his eyes as he studied Serrandyl's face; he wasn't sure if she was serious or toying with them. "Maybe we can work something out," he said, drawing her attention again. "We could trade you something—something valuable to your tribe."

A murmur of discontent swept through the beastkin at Elric's words, causing him to panic slightly. However, he soldiered on, despite his rising fear. "I can't speak for all of us," he continued, "but I can speak for myself." As he said this, he reached behind him and rummaged through his leather pouch. "I can give you this," he offered as he placed a small glass bottle filled with a purple liquid in front of her.

She studied it intently for a moment before shrugging. "What's so special about this?" she asked as she picked it up and examined it.

Elric said nothing for a moment—his gaze darted from the bottle to her face to her companions. Then, as he collected his thoughts, he said, "It's a tonic for minor illnesses."

At this, those around her began to murmur again. Elric dared not speak further until they had quieted down, but when they did, he continued, "It can cure colds, fevers, even common illnesses like coughs and sore throats."

She regarded the glass bottle with a cocked head before turning back to him. "What does this get you in return?" she asked.

"A bit of space for our hunts," Elric said. "We can hunt elsewhere in the forest for the rest of the year."

There was silence as she pondered Elric's offer; after a while, she nodded slowly, then held out her hand for him to shake. "Deal," she purred, her smile sharp like a blade, "I will take this potion and let you and your companions pass in peace." As she spoke, she regarded him with those crimson eyes, her gaze burning like fire.

Elric stood in silence for a moment before shaking her hand—his instincts told him that if he did not, his death would follow soon after. "Agreed," he said, and bowed his head slightly in gratitude.

Reo stepped forward again, tapping the lioness' shoulder.

Once again, the lioness tilted her head slightly and said, "What now?"

Reo hesitated for a moment before moving closer to whisper into her ear. Elric watched as she frowned and narrowed her eyes at Reo before glancing back at him. A slow smile spread across her lips, and she turned back to him, her voice once again laced with amusement.

"Before we let you go, hunter," she said. "We need some information." She moved back to her group, her fingers dancing along the intricate tattoos that adorned her muscular form.

Elric watched her, a mixture of fear and curiosity welling within him. He had the unnerving feeling that their lives had just taken an unexpected turn.

"Information? About what?" Elric asked, his brows knitting together in confusion as he looked at the fiery-haired beastkin woman.

"Your village. We need to know about its defenses, its resources," she responded. Her voice was firm, and there was a calculated look in her ruby-red eyes that made Elric tense.

"Why?" Eddard demanded. "Are you planning something?"

Orin hit Eddard's arm again to silence him—he shot his old friend a reproachful glance.

After a moment of silence, the lioness answered, "Just curious."

Elric frowned, but didn't say anything. He knew nothing about these half-beasts and their motives, but he couldn't help but feel wary of their intentions. Still, they had struck a deal with them—the least he could do was trust their word. Maybe they just wanted to get to know Ebonheim a little better?

Serrandyl studied the huntsmen in silence for a moment before speaking again. "Well?"

"What would you do with that information?" Elric countered warily.

"Haven't decided yet," she answered casually, grinning at Elric's grim expression.

From her side, a slightly smaller, but no less intimidating beastkin with sleek black fur covering his arms stepped forward. "Better cooperate, human," he warned, his voice gravelly and his fangs gleaming menacingly in the sunlight.

Caught between the threatening visage of the black-furred one and the enchanting, yet equally intimidating woman, Elric looked back towards his fellow huntsmen. Orin gave a slight shrug while Eddard folded his arms, his expression stern and impassive.

"And if we refuse?" Eddard asked, his gaze flitting from the black-furred one to the lioness.

In answer, the woman chuckled again. Her laughter echoed through the trees, and a few small animals scattered, spooked by the sound. "Well, I would hope it doesn't come to that, old wolf. It would be rather...unpleasant."

"Eddard," Orin hissed, shooting the old man a glare. "Maybe we should just cooperate."

Eddard said nothing in return. Instead, he shifted his weight slightly and fixed his gaze on the lioness again.

Ignoring their bickering, the woman turned to the rest of her group, giving them an expressive look. A few of the beastkin broke off, circling the huntsmen with an almost playful ease that belied their deadly intent.

Elric considered this for a moment before sighing deeply. "Fine," he said. "We'll tell you." As he spoke, he looked back at the lioness, his eyes boring into hers. "Will that be sufficient?"

She grinned at him and nodded. "Yes. Tell me about Ebonheim, your village. How many warriors do you have? What kind of food are you hoarding?"

He coughed, trying to keep his composure. “We aren’t hoarding food. We’re simple people. We hunt, we gather. As for warriors… we have enough to protect our own.”

Serrandyl cocked her head, an eyebrow quirking up as if she'd heard a particularly amusing joke. “Enough, huh? You must consider the measure of your enemies before you can claim to have 'enough' warriors.”

A ripple of laughter rolled through her companions, the sound dissonant amidst the tense atmosphere. Orin stiffened, his grip tightening on his spear. But Elric held up a hand, silently urging him to stand down.

"We have enough," he repeated firmly. "Besides," he added with a half-smile, "we do have a goddess watching over us."

As the tension built up, a sudden, incongruous rumbling broke through. Orin blushed, his hand on his stomach. "Sorry, haven't eaten all day."

Another ripple of laughter washed over them, their leader shaking her head, her chuckles filling the air.

"You're funny," the lioness purred. "Why would a god care about a little village like yours?"

Elric opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, one of the beastkin behind the Serrandyl clapped his hand on the woman's shoulder and said something in a low growl that Elric couldn't make out.

Suddenly, Serrandyl turned away from Elric and walked a few steps to join her companions.

"What, Reo?! What are you complaining about now?" she exclaimed, annoyance clouding her features as she threw up her hands.

"It wasn't me!" Reo hissed, pointing at the one who had interrupted her. "It was him!"

Serrandyl shot the other one a furious glare, her eyes narrowing to slits as she growled at him, "This better be important."

The other one gulped and nodded his head, stammering, "W-what if they really have a goddess? What if they aren't lying?"

Serrandyl's face dropped, and she stood in silence for a few moments, deep in thought. As if sensing the leader's indecision, Reo spoke again, his voice low, "There's no way a single village far outside the human kingdoms would have a deity looking over them. They would have chased us off or subjugated us once we entered their domain."

Serrandyl frowned and folded her arms, tapping her foot thoughtfully on the ground as she racked her brain for an answer. After a few moments, she shook her head and began to pace back and forth. "My gut is telling me that they're lying. And I always trust my gut."

A low grumble echoed from the stomach of another beastkin near her. A few of them snickered and nudged each other in amusement, but she ignored them as she walked back over to Elric.

"Stop spouting nonsense about having a god as your protector. Just tell us more about your village," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she met Elric's gaze again. "Speak, hunter."

As twilight draped itself over the forest, the interrogation carried on. The lioness beastkin, her eyes glowing like smoldering embers in the dwindling light, prodded the captive huntsmen with questions that seemed deceptively benign. Yet, with every passing minute, Elric and his companions found themselves reluctantly unraveling the secrets of their village.

"And the food?" she asked, leaning back against a tree, the sinuous grace of her movement unmistakably predatory.

"Mostly game," Elric answered truthfully, "Some produce from the farms... grains, vegetables."

A murmur spread through the others at the mention of food, their eyes lighting up in anticipation. A robust-looking beastkin, his mane as fiery as their leader's, spoke up. "If this village is as you say, raiding it could solve our food shortage."

The huntsmen stiffened at his words, but their fear went unnoticed, drowned by the collective growl of approval from the others. The lioness nodded. "Yes," she said, her voice taking on an icy tinge that caused Elric's skin to prickle. "It would solve our problems."

Their leader approached Elrich once again. "We will raid your village," she declared, her tone brooking no argument. "We won't kill anyone, but we will take what we need."

Elric clenched his fists—he knew he should be furious, but all he could feel was a numbness creeping into his mind and body. All he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.

Before the huntsmen could protest, she raised a hand. "You will come with us. Ensure your villagers do not resist, and no harm will come to them."

Before Orin and Eddard could voice their objections, she added, "Do as we say, and you will be spared."

Sensing their distress, the lioness nodded to her kin behind the huntsmen, and they stepped forward to forcefully seize the huntsmen and bind them with leather ropes. As the beastkin yanked them to their feet and bound them tightly, Elric let out a low growl of annoyance.

"You don't have to do this," he muttered. "We can just make a deal, like we did before. I'm sure the elders of my village can arrange something—"

Before he could finish, a meaty hand came crashing down on his cheek, causing him to stumble backwards against the force of the blow. Orin hissed as he fought against the restraining arms of the beastkin holding him back, while Eddard struggled against his own bonds.

The one called Reo stepped forward, his teeth bared and his eyes ablaze as he spoke, "You will learn to mind your tongue, hunter."

Elric fought against the haze of pain and the beginnings of fear that pooled in his stomach. A part of him wanted to shout at them, to demand an explanation for this senseless raid on his village—but he knew any such pleas would only cause more harm to himself and his companions.

As he tried to regain his composure, Serrandylr slammed her fist onto Reo's face, causing him to stumble back. "Reo! You dumb grass-eater," she said with a growl. "Stop that. You're making us look like a bunch of bandits!"

Elrich quirked an eyebrow at her words. But...they were acting like bandits, weren't they? They had abducted three huntsmen and threatened to raid their village for food. Something seemed a bit off about them.

Reo seemed unfazed as he lowered his head and let out a low, growling apology.

Once the beastkin had secured them and slung the huntsmen over their shoulders, Serrandyl led them through the forest towards Ebonheim. With each step deeper into the twilight, Elric felt a nagging feeling at the back of his mind—something was off about this encounter, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. His first thought was his worry for the village—yet as he continued to listen to the beastkins' banter and the easygoing attitude of their leader, his worry shifted for them.