Alanna and Nywen had briefly investigated Veefra’s corpse, but found that it was entirely pointless. There wasn’t enough of her left for them to figure out any new clues as to what has been hunting the villagers, so they followed the harpy’s directions further into the woods.
Nywen had remained silent and had been avoiding Alanna’s gaze. She was pretty sure Nywen was seething. She wasn’t sure how to apologize to the Rogue. She thought she did the right thing, but as adventurers they needed to be able to trust each other, and Alanna was wracked with guilt over breaking that trust. Out here it’s supposed to be you and your party against the monsters.
She’d try to figure out a way to make it up to her later. It only took a few minutes for them to reach the hollow tree the harpy had mentioned. It was in a depression amidst the hills that had been infiltrated by filthy bog water, the tree at the center having mostly rotted away amidst the muck. However, all around the tree was a bed of white star-shaped flowers with red stems. Swamp lilies, Alanna realized.
Many different scents competed here. Rotting vegetation, the sulfurous smell of the swamp, the flowery undertone given off by the lilies, and what was unmistakably decomposition.
Wading through the water they reached the rotten tree, and true to the harpy’s words, within its hollow core was another corpse. An elven man, presumably Erlathan. His body was yet untouched by scavengers and a little bit fresher than Veefra’s, so they dragged it out and examined it.
Nywen took a small purse off of his belt. She opened it to reveal a few copper and a single silver coin. For a simple Peasant this was likely his month’s wages, trading what the swamp had to offer. For an adventurer it was a pitiful amount, a single stay at an inn at best.
“Not robbed,” Alanna concluded internally. It was one of the easiest ways to rule out bandits, they’d take anything of value. They began looking him over for injuries, to find only a single, tiny hole at his neck. There was very little blood, making Alanna first believe it must not have been the cause of death, but even after taking his clothes off they found no other injuries.
“Giant mosquitoes then,” Alanna said out loud, believing the single puncture wound and lack of blood made perfect sense if those had been the culprit. “But why would he have ended up in this tree?”
Nywen grunted, though not in approval. Alanna shot her a questioning glance and the Rogue let out a long sigh.
“Giant mosquitoes are common where I’m from. They are not accurate, and will usually just aim for the center of mass. Won’t just suck out your blood either, your insides are usually a mess afterwards. This is too deliberate, too clean.”
Alanna chewed on her bottom lip in thought. She had no idea what kind of creature could be responsible then. Nothing would be able to land this clean of a puncture wound on a humanoid and then also hide the body.
Her nose began to sting. So close to the tree the smell of decay was everywhere… Which Alanna thought strange. Erlathan’s body was not fresh but in the crisp early spring air his body had only just begun attracting flies. Yet, Alanna could hear many of them buzzing around. More than she could see.
Alanna followed her ears and tortured nose. She waded around until she felt the dirt rise amidst the patch of swamp lilies, at which point the smell of rot became overwhelming, and as soon as she pushed aside the flowers saw why.
Another dead body, this time one that had clearly been here for longer than the other two. Again an elf, again in a peasant’s garb, definitely a woman, but so far gone there was no way to recognize them.
Nywen joined her and seemed briefly shocked at the third body. She waved away the corpse flies in agitation.
“This makes no sense, why would the villagers leave out a third missing person?” Nywen said. “It’s not like we’d charge extra. There’s no other villages in this area and this is in the middle of nowhere, so there’s nowhere else she could have come from.”
Alanna looked the body up and down, before seeing the body’s auburn hair. It had survived the decay better than the rest of her, but an elf with auburn hair… That was rather unusual.
“Did you see any other elves with that hair color in the village?” she asked Nywen.
“No,” she responded curtly.
“If Rumi had a sister or mother who just got lost, she would have told us…”
Alanna tried to think of other possibilities for the identity of the mystery third body, but as she turned to face Nywen, her foot crunched down on something. It was hard and black, breaking into little pieces underneath her boot.
The smell assaulted her immediately. It smelled like an old, rotting hide, one that wasn’t treated properly to preserve it, but amidst that foul odor, she noticed the scent of the swamp lilies clinging closely to it. It was familiar.
Suddenly, inspiration struck her like a bag of bricks. She thought back to Solizzar’s bestiaries and one of the more obscure entries in there. A very rare creature, born very rarely when a giant mosquito enters a place where magic has gone haywire, made of malleable flesh with an insatiable thirst for blood.
“Faceless,” she breathed.
“What?” Nywen asked. “Faceless?”
Her heart was pounding in her throat. “Nywen, what was the moon like tonight?” she asked.
“Almost full, why?”
She looked up at the sky. The sun was well past its zenith, and her thoughts immediately turned to Illithor, sickly, tired and how he smelled vaguely of blood.
“It’s a faceless!” Alanna yelled out as she turned and waded through the water with all her strength.
“Alanna, wait!” Nywen called out. “You can’t just run off! What’s a faceless?”
“A shapeshifting bloodsucker!” Alanna called back. “It drinks people’s blood and disguises itself as them, and if it gets enough before the next full moon it pupates into something even worse! It’s Rumi, and she’s going to kill Illithor tonight!”
Alanna did not turn to see Nywen follow her, instead she started running as soon as she hit the forest floor, making a beeline for the village.
“Alanna, wait, if that’s true we’ll never make it! It’s like half a day’s travel back to the village from here!”
“We have to try!” Alanna called back. She kept running, unable to stop herself. She had at best three hours before the creature would strike. She didn’t think she could make it, but she was determined not to let someone innocent die because she was too slow.
“Wait, Alanna! Don’t try to do this alone! Alanna!” Nywen cried out behind her, but without Class abilities involved Alanna was both faster and had more stamina than the Rogue. After a minute of running she could no longer see Nywen behind her, another minute later and she could no longer hear her.
Alanna made a good effort but as fatigue began to set in she realized how stupid she was being. As she pushed herself it became harder and harder her aching limbs began to burn and lose strength while her breath became labored. Her body couldn’t handle the strain she was putting on it. She begged the Gods for a pegasus, a horse, a pony, anything to make her get to the village faster. She refused to slow down, regardless of the increasing pain in her chest, knowing that to stop would doom Illithor, possibly the entire village.
A message popped unbidden into Alanna’s vision.
“Achievement feat unlocked: Shaped By Hard Labor.
Requirements: Peasant, Constitution 18, Level 4+.
Description: You have pushed your body to its limits with hard work, now you’re able to take an even greater strain before growing weary. The effects of your Constitution score on your stamina has been amplified.”
As the surprise wore off Alanna found her second wind, the strain on her limbs lifting and the tightness in her chest disappearing. As her feet pounded the forest floor beneath her she felt almost like a machine, like she could go forever.
She looked at the sinking sun and prayed she was fast enough.
Rumi looked up at the sky, the last few fading rays of the sun creeping over the town’s wall. Her heart was beating so incredibly fast. Tonight was the big night. She could feel the moon creeping over the horizon, like a shiver over her spine.
Or what passed for a spine, anyway.
She looked at the counter that has been in the periphery of her vision since the day she crawled out of the mire.
“3/6 humanoid power stolen. Reach 6 by the next full moon to pupate.”
It hurt. There was an ache at the core of her being that drove her to reach this goal. She had failed several times already. Her first time she found a dead human and drank it dry. One out of six for two agonizing weeks as she wandered, unable to find any other humanoids before the full moon rose and the counter went back down to zero. Her second time she killed two lovers in their sleep, far away from here, and took one of their faces as a mask. Their family knew. They just knew, somehow, that when she came into their house late during the day that she wasn’t one of theirs.
She hated them for that. For that look of disgust and surprise in their face as they reached for spears and torches. Never again. After tonight, never again.
She scratched at the nape of her neck. This skin had become itchy. She had worn it for too long. It was hard not to burst out of it in sheer excitement. However, she knew she couldn’t overplay her hand. Even if she drank the old coot dry it did not guarantee she’d be able to escape town. She had to wait for nightfall, for all the elves to fall asleep.
She watched patiently as the shadows grew and the sun disappeared from sight. She heard the villagers closing and locking their doors for the night. The time was now.
She stalked back into her stolen home. Illithor lay there on his bed, sweating, breathing slowly, his skin as pale as a sheet. She had been sneaking small bites in, here and there, small enough that he wouldn’t notice, weakening the old man until he started turning ill. He was too weak to resist now. Too weak to scream. Exactly how she liked her prey.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
She walked over and ran a hand over his forehead. He was cold… His heartbeat was slow. He stirred, but could no longer awaken. She wiped away some drool. Yes, perfect.
“Sorry grandfather,” she said quietly. “But I’m so very hungry.”
Her mouth began to reshape itself, forming a long, narrow tube. She gently pushed Illithor’s neck to the side, then slowly began to slide her new proboscis towards his jugular.
The door flew open. She turned away from Illithor and the door, trying desperately to rearrange her mouthparts to hide what she was doing.
“Stop right there!” Alanna yelled, breathing hard, sweat dripping off of her like raindrops. Her whole body burned with the effort of running the entire way back to the village, but she had made it, even if just barely.
The creature that had taken Rumi’s skin turned around. Her eyes were wide open in her shock.
“W-what?” she asked dumbly. “You? What are you doing back here? D-did you find Veefra and Erlathan?”
“Don’t act stupid!” Alanna said, her voice trembling with anger. “You’re the one who killed them! You’re not even Rumi!”
The creature that was not Rumi’s eyes went wide, then turned feral, her whole face contorting into a snarl. “You can’t stop me,” it said. “You’re already too late.”
It turned around and lunged for Illithor, but Alanna dove on top of her. The two rolled across the floor, knocking over shelves and breaking pots as they tried to pin each other down. Alanna managed to get on top briefly and punched Rumi in the face. Alanna briefly lost her focus when she saw, to her dismay, that her punch had caved in part of Rumi’s face. Her cheek was torn and hanging into a gaping void, teeth hanging from the strips of meat. Beneath it was nothing but writhing, pink flesh.
Her distraction cost her. The creature kicked her off with surprising force, sending her out through a window. She felt her skin being cut a dozen times as she landed and rolled amidst the debris.
The faceless, coming after her through the window, had given up even maintaining its disguise anymore. Its hands ripped open to reveal mantis-like claws beneath, unsheathing from her flesh like swords from their scabbards.
“You won’t stop me,” she gurgled through her ruined face.
Alanna got up and drew her sword. She was still tired from the long run here, and she didn’t fully know what this creature could do. Her memory of Solizzar’s bestiaries wasn’t perfect and the faceless was a rare creature.
It did not give her time to think. It charged at her, its limbs scything towards her in a flash. Alanna dodged, but the creature continued to come at her, its muscles straining so hard as it swung its limbs that its skin-suit began to tear.
Alanna tried to parry one of the swings of its scythe arms with her blade, and to her shock the pair clashed with a distinct clang, like its limbs were as hard and sharp as steel. Her arm came away sting and shaking with the force of the impact, and that was despite her getting the angle right.
She understood immediately that one misstep would almost certainly cost her an arm, if not her life outright.
The creature continued to slash at her, and Alanna felt herself wearing out quickly. Her new feat would ordinarily have changed that, but she already had no stamina left.
She leapt backward, grabbing a vial from her pouch, and threw it towards the faceless. Not understanding what Alanna was trying, it attempted to bat away the vial with its arm, only for the fragile glass to shatter on impact and the liquid within igniting in the air.
It screamed inhumanly as it was covered in a shower of burning droplets. Alanna took a few breaths as it burned, but saw that her advantage was short lived. It tore off its own disguise, allowing burning skin to fall to the ground, exposing the creature in all its foul glory.
Its flesh was a sickly pink, thickly wrinkled, all raw meat with no skin of its own. Its mouth was little more than a gaping hollow in its head and its eyes were set deeply inside the cavities of its eye sockets. Its legs ended in stumps. It was a grotesque mockery of a humanoid.
It came at her again, grunting angrily with every movement.
She knew she couldn’t stay on the defensive. She counterattacked, lashing out with her sword, but the creature blocked her with one mantis claw, then struck with the other. It tore a gash down her side.
“You have taken 8 damage!” a notification pinged in her head.
She backed off. She clutched the wound, then used her blood-slicked hand to take a vial out of her pocket. The creature backed off, expecting more Alchemist’s Fire, but instead Alanna downed it. This one was a Regeneration Elixir. She felt the pain diminish and the flow of blood stop, but it would be a while before the elixir would heal her fully. A healing potion would be far more effective, but it would only heal any injuries she had in the immediate. The elixir would last for an entire hour, in case she got even more hurt.
The creature looked at the blood on its claw, then its mouth pursed, the skin around it contracting to turn the mouth into something of a long sucker. It drank the drops of Alanna’s blood from its claw. Then it turned its head to Alanna, tilting it slightly with renewed interest.
“Tasty,” it said, its now gurgling voice a mockery of Rumi’s.
Alanna felt goosebumps run up her spine at the creature’s words and had to stop her sword arm from trembling. “Shut up,” she replied, trying to think. This thing was outclassing her and there was no way Nywen would get here on time.
Both of them were interrupted by the villagers shouting. The town had awoken due to the noise they had been making and they were raising the alarm. She could see the hesitation in the faceless’s movements. This time she took advantage immediately.
She charged and by the time it reacted she was already swinging her blade. It deflected her hurriedly, clumsily, and she stepped forward, swinging again inside the creature’s guard. Those claws were dangerous, but not if she was directly in its face.
She swung at its neck, but the creature’s head bent backwards impossibly, bonelessly. Alanna was shocked but not enough to stop her attack. She wouldn’t be able to land a good hit on its head like this, so she continued the momentum of her earlier swing, turning it towards the inside of its arm, striking it just above the elbow.
The blade cut deep. “You have dealt 7 damage!” The creature screamed and pulled away from her, but Alanna was not done. She brought her blade around and stabbed its torso several times, aiming for its heart, its liver, its belly, anything she believed would deliver a fatal blow. “You have dealt 3 damage! You have dealt 2 damage!” the notifications kept coming. It swung its other arm at her, batting her away from it as it retreated. “You have taken 1 damage!”
Then she saw its flesh crawling where her blade had split it, for lack of a better term. The sliced flesh rejoined its other half, stitching itself back together, stopping the flow of blood. The creature swung its wounded arm experimentally, seeming to have restored its mobility.
Alanna swallowed. It had some kind of ability to repair itself, and its head was very hard to hit. However, she saw that its repairs were not perfect. The flesh remained split and wet with blood. Not true regeneration then, she concluded. That turned this fight from impossible to just very difficult.
Alanna felt her arm shake with her exertions. She didn’t have much strength left. She was too tired, even though she knew her life depended on her ability to keep going.
The creature began to approach her again, no doubt sensing her weakness and eager for payback. Then reinforcements arrived, just not the one Alanna expected. A hail of arrows landed around the creature, several embedding themselves in its grotesque hide. It gurgled in pain.
It looked around and saw a mob of angry villagers, many with bow and arrow, hurling insults and projectiles at it. Alanna smiled in relief. Alone she wasn’t sure she could take this thing, but with a village full of hardy swamp-folk at her side? That made it doable.
The creature began to charge, but not at her, at the villagers. Several of them had spears and did their best to form an improvised spear wall between it and the archers, but these were just peasants. Their spears were primitive and they had neither the skill or discipline of adventurers or soldiers. It could, and would, break through and leave a trail of bodies in its wake.
However, Alanna was faster. The faceless realized too late it left the biggest threat behind it, and Alanna punished it by carving a furrow through one of its legs before leaping out of the way of its counterattack. It gurgled and clumsily held its mantis claw against its wound to staunch the bleeding as its flesh knitted itself, but Alanna was already dancing around it in a semi-circle, positioning herself between it and the villagers.
“I am your opponent,” she said threateningly, flourishing her blade.
She saw fear and anger warring in its beady eyes. It knew it was outnumbered and would probably lose the fight as a result. However, its gaze went back to Illithor’s house, and it ran there. A hail of arrows pursued it, but only one struck home.
Alanna knew what it was trying to do. It was trying to get indoors, out of reach of the archers… Or it was trying to get to Illithor and then escape. She would not let it.
As soon as she followed it in through the door she knew her suspicion had been right. It was heading straight for Illithor. There was a desperation in its movements, its limbs moving awkwardly around the arrows stuck inside of it. Alanna had to be fast, or it would reach Illithor.
She pumped her legs as hard as she could. It felt like she wasn’t so much running as sending herself flying through the air. It reached Illithor’s bed. It brought its head down towards Illithor’s neck, its mouth already forming a sucker.
Alanna bounced off of the floorboards. The faceless was too desperate, too focussed on its prize, before Alanna’s blade flashed.
“You have dealt 16 damage!”Its head rolled free of its body, which collapsed to the side.
Its head squirmed on the floor like a worm. “Not again!” it gurgled. “Not… Again…” it gurgled one last time before its squirming slowed, then ceased.
Alanna collapsed. Though short, that fight had taken everything out of her that she had. But she saved Illithor. She’d won.
The townsfolk cheered as she dragged the creature’s body outside. She waved her sword at them in celebration, but she was hurting all over, most of all the wound at her side, which had torn open in that last chase. The elixir was still in effect, but it was going to feel painful and raw for at least another hour.
One of the villagers offered her some water and she took it eagerly. She sat down on the steps outside Illithor’s house, resting, when Nywen came running up, covered in sweat and looking completely out of breath.
Alanna grimaced. Nywen had already been mad at her for letting the harpy go, and now she had run ahead of the Rogue to go fight a monster by herself. She expected a tongue lashing like no other… Maybe worse.
Nywen looked at the corpse of the monster on the ground, then at the bloody rip in the side of Alanna’s leather armor. She immediately ran up to Alanna, inspecting her up and down with clear worry in her eyes. “Are you okay?!” she asked. “You’re hurt! Did it get you? Do you need a healing potion?”
Alanna blinked. She expected anger, not concern. “I’m fine. I already drank… Something, to help with that wound. I’m just a little bruised otherwise.”
Upon saying those words, Nywen immediately took her in a tight hug. Alanna raised her arms up but didn’t grab the half-catfolk, unsure what to do, until she heard Nywen sniffle.
“I was so worried about you!” Nywen started, her voice breaking. “You ran ahead of me so fast. I tried using Rogue’s Sprint to keep up, but you were so far ahead it ran out before I could even get close.”
Alanna’s hands trembled.
“I thought you were going to die!” Nywen continued. “We’re a team, but you’re the rookie! I’m the one who’s supposed to look out for you!”
Alanna felt wetness on her neck. Nywen’s tears. “I’m… I’m sorry,” Alanna said as she hesitantly returned the hug. Nywen was warm, and wet with the sweat of her exertion.
It suddenly struck her how long it’s been since anyone touched her. Since anyone hugged her. She felt tears welling up in her eyes at how good it felt. She clutched Nywen tightly to herself, fighting the urge to cry. It was as though she had a raw wound in her soul for so long she had stopped even noticing the pain and finally someone put a salve on it.
She didn’t want to stop. She stopped counting the seconds they touched together because the idea that it may end caused her physical pain. She couldn’t get enough of Nywen’s warmth, her softness, her scent… That’s when she realized she may be enjoying this a bit too much.
Finally, Nywen broke the hug. She patted Alanna on her head, making her bunny ears shake left and right. “You did good, Alanna. You’re the hero today. Drinks are on me when we get back to Wildbrooke.”
“Y-yeah!” Alanna said as Nywen walked down the path. Alanna then turned away, trying desperately to think of unhappy thoughts to make her erection go down.