Chapter 7

The Visions of the Past

Phantom memories screamed out across eons of silence, showering the Hunters mind with vivid vestiges that he simply could not believe. He saw the most surreal and lifelike sights from a time he was surely not in existence for. Flashes of light and color so real that it made him wretch, then, loose his lunch. Resting control from his joint-locked body Lupo flung himself onto his back attempting to breath as he stared up into the cosmos, the stars seeming just a bit closer than they once were. His diaphragm spasmed causing his breathing to be labored at the very best and erratic at the worst. He trembled violently, arms shaking like a leaf in a storm, fighting to stay connected to its mother branch. He could not separate fact or fiction. Right now there was no line between the two. His mind desperately to process and make any form of sense for what he saw. Two women in the hot springs... That's normal. An eIf carrying curves that would up some succubi to shame. The other woman... The thought of her again caused the muscles in his torso to tense up, his ribcage feeling more like a bear trap around his insides rather than a protective shell. She seemed to be the cause of this. Lupo knew that, and if he ever wanted off the rock he currently rested on, he needed to figure out why. His first thought, backtrack through his day, try and find an anchoring point before exploring the maelstrom that was the sight of the woman with crimson hair. Mentally weeding through the torrent of images and color lupo found the beginning of his day while his body continued to refuse his attempts at movement or control, since that was the case he decided to sort his mind out before anything. He started there, the first thing he could remember which was rolling out of bed at the Inn. His clothes from the day prior were washed and resting on a chair while he sat in his underclothes. There was a secondary stack of fabric on top of the layers of armor and black cloth which he assumed was a new set of undergarments. Stripping the old fabric from his skin, Lupo dressed slowly, allowing his body to wake up at ts own pace, it was not often that he was able to have a slow start in the morning. From his room on the second floor, he ventured down the hall into the foyer, Marri, the Innkeeper greeted him with a warm smile and wished him a good day as per her usual farewell. Lupo made a near direct course for the Tavern doors after exiting the Inn. With both buildings side by side it was not a far walk for his next goal, breakfast.

He was greeted not by Rachel, the dark haired Moonshine who ran the bar at night, but instead her elder sister Tabitha. The voluptuous, blonde whos horns wreathed themselves along the top of her head forming a pesudo-crown. While Rachel indirectly flaunted the assets that her heritage gave her, Tabitha was more reserved, covering herself completely save for her shoulders to her hands, leaving her graceful limbs exposed. Lupo knew who Tabitha was and what she did. Nocturnia's primary researcher into everything. Tabitha was a bookworm to an extreme not even the Cities Naga librarian could touch. Though she was more reserved in her choice of attire, Tabitha was endowed with curves that would stagger most men who. Saw the for the first time. Thankfully he was not in that category of people anymore. Sauntering up, still loosening the sleep from his joints, Lupo sat at the counter making an order for coffee, a drink almost as addicting as the alcohol the younger sister made. He then ordered a simple breakfast of eggs, toast, and bacon made from a type of mountain hog that was cut extra thick to let the natural and subtle spiciness of the meat come through. If alcohol and coffee were tied for first in his mind for best drinks, the best meal of the day was absolutely breakfast. When Tabitha brought him the requested meal he ate in silence, reflecting on the night prior. Quincy would be gone for a few days and he would need to either find another hunt, or simply bide his time until his friend returned. Partway through his meal, Lupo happened upon the door, glancing in its direction as two smaller species entered the building. A Malico, its features soft, and eyes slightly larger than Quincy's, telling Lupo that this one was female. Her companion however was something else entirely. Leathery green-blue skin dotted with small scales and a large yet powerful tail for a being no more than two feet tall a race known as Zwyl'k. Tiny reptilian people who were as varied as the merfolk down in Cordelia. With a second look over, he finally realized that it was Samantha and Jeremy, two of Callus Rockjaw's workers and Quincy's girlfriend. They grew the herbs and specialty spices that he used in making his baked goods and treats. They were damn good at it too. Now eating on auto pilot, Lupo watched them come to the end of the bar, where Tabitha met them and took a small wooden crate like backpack from Jeremy, stuffed to is brim with berries. Tabitha thanked the tiny creature by giving him a Strawberry. Tabitha then took a satchel of spices from Samantha which was promptly taken by the chef of the tavern to be sorted and dealt with properly. When he heard his fork scrape across an empty plate Lupo took it as a sign to leave. He dropped payment onto the counter and then left the bar, heading for the edge of town, and into the wilds.

Lupo felt his chest heave again, forcing himself over as he stared at the black stone under him. His body was slowly calming itself, though it was not moving as fast as he would like it to. His idea of mental backtracking was working, which was a surprised to him. Most of his ideas and plans end up with him getting hurt or not working at al. With his breathing slowly declining from the panicked breaths just before one relieves their stomachs of its contents, now more akin to trying to breath after a brisk jog, the Hunter lay himself against the cool blackstone, feeling it against his face. He had to keep going with this plan since it was working. With his eyes slowly shutting, Lupo began to trek through his day once again. Returning to his memory of the day, Lupo realized just how dull his day was. Meandering through the woods exploring around aimlessly. It was a nice change of pace, being able to simply enjoy the wilds for once. He slipped between the colossal, low hanging branches of a sorrowood tree, rested at the top of a cinderwood to watch the sun rise of the east mountains and bathe the forest in golden rays of early morning heat. Ate his way through two bushes of berries, both blue and black, being mindful of the thorns on the latter. In his aimlessness, he stumbled upon a nested clearing, to watch Umbra Furi cubs play in the early morning while their mother watched over them, one looking just a bit larger than the others. This small moment he spent seeing the other side of the coin made him think of Scar and his gear Wrough promised he would have. The loud snap of a branch, behind the mother caused her to grow defensive and Lupo to leave, not wanting to be. caught in between her and breakfast. The thought of his gear in mind, Lupo ventured into the city to see the dwarf. A master craftsman with no rival. If you wanted something done right, you went to Wrough. After a short stroll, weaving through trees, and over the occasional brook or stream, Lupo saw the walls in sight. He wondered if a picnic would be a good use of his time Lupo stood like a child waiting to receive an allowance from their parent outside Wrough's forge. The only visible person was his assistant, a person clad from head to toe in heavy black fabric. Lupo passed his gaze over them once or twice before coming to the conclusion that they were in fact a her. Unsure what to do with this information, Lupo kept it to himself as he watched her vanish into the interior of the forge. Shortly after came out a grumpy and grumbling Forgemaster, who looked no more happy to see Lupo than Lupo. looked to have accidentally woken him up. Wrough passed a curse in dwarvish towards the Hunter then motioned for him to stand on a pedestal, least Lupo thought it was a curse. For all the Hunter knew, it could have been a morning greeting, then again with a language as percussive as dwarvish, it was hard telling. He moved to it and Wrough went about getting the various pieces of armor off of the place holders they rested on. Wrough's assistant helped him in strapping the armor down correctly while showing Lupo how to properly layer it so that it id its job. The last thing Wrough pulled out was a new item he was working on. A type of collapsible bow, that bent in the middle to allow for greater mobility while running through the wilds. After the short explanation and Lupo pinching his finger on the mechanism that opens the bow for use, Wrough sent him away, and his assistant to go get food from the Tavern. As the Hunter stepped down into the street he passed one more glance to the woman and then left back out to try his new toy. He forgot lunch much to his dismay later in the day.

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Lupo's memory seemed to speed up as he spent the rest of his day testing his new weapon, and armor. Quite literally throwing himself off of ledges to see how far he could fall before it hurt, and how good of a shot he was. Three near misses with Opterops, and one Gribbie could contest that Lupo was in fact, an awful shot. His extensive over use of his new equipment lead him to smell like he had not bathed in weeks. Wit quick climb up a towering Dawnwood tree, Lupo found his location in the wilds and then went northwest, heading towards the hot springs. Along the way picking more berries to quell his stomachs protests in lack of food. As he walked he spotted something rather odd, anyone would miss if they were not paying attention, which for Lupo in a day like this was a grace from the goddess. At the edge of an overgrown clearing, sat the first few layers to a cabin with the roof and upper walls caved in or rotted away, all covered by thick thornpillow moss. Tilting his head Lupo stepped forward but retracted as he felt a sharp pain run through his skull. Brushing the sudden headache as a lack of water and another protest from his body for enjoying himself. He ventured on the image of the delipidated home a constant shadow in his mind. Without realizing the time of day it was near dusk, the sun setting over the west mountains, silhouetting them in such a way to make them appear as massive, jagged teeth rising from the horizon. The Hunter breathed deep and walked a slow yet determined purpose. Get out of his armor, and attempt to remember how Wrough and his Assistant put it on him. As he reached the banks of the springs he spotted a pair of people in the waters. While it was open ground and free use for all people, Lupo felt a strange sense pass through him. One that would not exactly allow him to freely enter the water. From his angle he could see a dark haired elf, it wasn't until she made a small turn, that she saw the top of her breasts cresting the water. Even from the distance he was, he could tell she held a wonderful figure. The other woman sat just beyond a ray of ight which shrouded her in shadow. It wasn't until she moved closer that Lupo felt the phantom spike of pain run through his skull once again. As with the ruined cabin, he felt something indescribable. A feeling or memory long since forgotten by his mind but remembered only by his body. Wrapped so deeply in his thoughts, Lupo did not realize that he lurched forward, snapping a large branch of a tree, as he moved. The sound alerted the women who vanished before his eyes. The only thing past the sudden move he could recall was the sight of the second woman. Hair the color of blood, with skin so fair and pale it would make marble weep from jealousy and want. The most striking feature was the faint glow that emanated from her eyes. Pools of gold that seemed to swirl subtly like a vat of molten metal, reflected in the water which added to her beauty but also hinted at her lethality.

When his eyes met hers for that mere moment of time, The locket on his chest felt as though it would sear a hole though his chest. Lupo himself had not noticed that though all the pain, spasms, and writhing, his left hand was holding the locket through his armor, keeping it in place just over the middle of his chest. He couldn't tell if the faint beat he felt was his heart slamming against his ribs in an attempt to escape, or the locket itself. Lupo made a decision, resting on his knees at the banks of the spring. He pulled the locket out and looked at the picture hiding within it. The portrait of a woman, ebony hair that flowed like a waterfall of ink from her head, coupled with violet eyes so piercing and deep it felt like staring into the ocean at twilight. Lupo turned his eyes from the locket to the place the woman was in the water. Reflecting on his memory for a moment he noticed one thing he had not before. In the reflection of the woman with crimson hair, he saw the face of the woman from the locket. This realization sent Lupo spiraling and to the ground, into a comatose state as he was suddenly overwhelmed by an unknown force. Sunlight pierced the canopy of leaves like shattered glass clinging to the edges of its frame. The rays of golden light lead down a small winding foot path, which ended in a babbling brook. Early morning was the best time to collect water. The chill from the previous night keeps it cool through out the day. A quick splash to the face to remove any loose dirt, followed by a quick wipe of cloth cleaned the chiseled features of the man knelt by the edge of the stream. Long black hair hung well past his shoulders flowed like obsidian waters from his head obscuring his features. Standing up, his waterskin now full to the brim, plum with its chilled contents, The man moved from the stream, following path cut into the landscape by himself. He. walked towards a clearing, one cut by his own hand. The various stumps in the area bore signs of his work. All cut by a heavy blade and put to a new purpose beyond shading the grass from the sun. Yet, through the visible damage done to them the stumps showed signs of renewed life. Sprouts timidly peeks out of the center crack showing that while their original form was gone, the trees had begun to replace what was lost.

The man rested in the early morning light pulling a small knife from his waist before beginning to remove the skin of an orange, returning the discarded rind to the pouch he took the orange from. Turning his gaze to the walls of the clearing he browsed the options around him. His need for the day? Fire wood. Sorrowood was. good for smoking and preserving food, not as fire material. Cinderwood was good, but it burned incredibly fast and hot making it good if he was in a pinch but since he only needed it for ambient and mundane life, it was off the table. Shadewood would be a good pick. Dense fibers and a rough bark that caught a spark well. He mentally kicked himself for never learning any spells as a child, not for lack of trying but lack of ability. He paused midbite. It was the first time in years he had thought of home. OF the life he left to have the one he. wanted. His mind drifted heavily as memories long since forgotten resurfaced. He saw his mother, clad in black holding a blade. His Father stood to one side arms crossed in disapproval. Relatives lined the ring all looking on in awe and disbelief. He was so young and yet, he had taken a beating that few of the adults would not have been able to survive. The boy was bruised, dried blood covered his upper lip and chin. Slashes along his arms, and back opened and sealed with each movement. He was beyond pain. Well beyond it. He had gone numb. No longer did he feel the warmth that came with the lines of blood staining his clothes and body. He hardly felt the pain the lacerations and bruises brought. His lungs burned trying to breath. Muscles refusing to move he stood, remnants of a shield in one hand, broken sword held white knuckled in the other. His mother lifted her blade to strike only to see the boy fall to the ground, struggling to stand back up and continue fighting. The fight had concluded, his mother putting down her weapon. Making the only movement he could, the boy looked up at his parents, ones eyes filled with regret, the other filled with shame. The man shifted on is seat looking to the scars crisscrossing their way up his arms. Each one was a lesson, left forever in his skin and mind. His focus turned to his hands, one gripping the handle of his axe to the point his fingers ached from stress. The other had rendered his once solid orange into a pulpy liquid. Standing up slowly, he loosened his grip on the axe handle. Moving to the shadewood, the man rested his forehead against it, offering a silent thanks to the goddess giving the land its plenty. No one had seen here, relying on myths and legends as a stand in for her presence. His silent thank you over, he straightened up. Adjusting his grip in the silence of the clearing, the only sound to be heard was the sudden thunk by the initial swing of the axe. With a near rhythmic like pace, He moved slowly around the tree swinging the axe with precise strikes to have it fallin an easier to deal with location. It was slow work but it was something he enjoyed doing. After al, he had built the home he resided in. Two hands, an axe and time were all it took. That thought made him proud. A few more heavy swings and the tree careened downward into the clearing exactly where he wanted it, for the most part. Though he did not actively need firewood, it was best to have a log ready should something happen. Time had a funny way of just vanishing while the man worked. Easily slipping into the twilight hours of the day. He would finish his project tomorrow. Moving across the clearing he reached the stump he rested on in the early hours of the morning. His path home was an easy one, returning to the brook after a few steps, he refilled his waterskin and then continued back into the woods, finding his hidden home, covered by the canopy of leaves above him. A gift from his wife. She was a gifted sorceress and the reason he was here. As he walked up to the modest homestead he was reminded of the day she had gifted him the canopy. "Here my love, So you no longer have to watch over your shoulder, or the skies in worry for us." A slow smile graced his lips as he reached the door of the home. The same home he had built with his own two hands. A gentle swing of the door revealed the warm interior of his home, and the only thing that was warmer than the fire. His wife. She crossed the central room catching the man in a soft embrace. With a heavy sigh she spoke to him “It good to have you home again Lupo”