“Where are you going with those slaves? Whose blood is that?” Her tone accusing and threatening violence.

“It's mostly wine, no time for that. The Baron has commanded me to get water for the fire.” I flash the seal once again and herd the rest out.

The Captain is caught off-guard, stressfully looking between the roaring fire and the expensive herd that gathers unchained.

“Stu, Stan! With me.

We will escort these slaves to the well. The rest of you head to the top and help our Lord.” She commands two burly men to assist her. They wrap around the sides of the herd, the Jailkeeper and his dog taking the rear. Surrounded, we are escorted into the township and towards a well that’s buzzing with more of her men.

The quiet settlement feels abandoned, the high-end houses shuttered and dark. The poor have pegged their tents and shacks closed too as their beacon of government burns. It seems the Baron’s greed hasn’t made him a popular man.

Tiff has the group running, and a few guardsmen are already pulling up water and filling buckets. I’m surprised my plan got the Satyrs out of the Tower unscathed. However, I had hoped my Uke would get us into the forest.

With the additional troops at the well, she has eight armed troops and a dog. I need to split them up.

We start ferrying the buckets to the Towers base, it sloshes around as we run. A number of the Satyrs seem to exaggerate the movement, spilling half their contents. I hold down a laugh at their silent protest.

I halt at the door, stopping the others from rushing in.

“Get in there you useless sacks of fur!” Tiff screams.

A few of them sullenly move in to face their doom.

“No! They’re too valuable. Send your men.” I say.

Indecision plays out on her face, an understanding of who's expendable. In the end, her wicked human greed wins over loyalty to her troops.

“Get up there!” She orders several of the guards, including me.

“I was commanded by the Baron himself to watch over these slaves.” I riposte.

This frustrates her even more, though the power of the pendant around my neck kills any argument.

Only six remain to continue the water supply, dropping buckets by the door. As the Captain looks away, I silently check that my inventory ability is functional. The idea of pulling my Riptail is reassuring though the thought of those bone jaws snapping me in two is a likely outcome.

With the Satyrs, we outnumber them almost two to one. But even before their beatings into the slavehood, they are just children. No Thorns in this herd. I need a distraction, I need my flock.

Cattle Senses

The repetitive task of collecting water is easily done with half my mind, the rest focuses through Cane’s. The image is dull as if it’s reflected through a dirty mirror, the distance must be affecting it. He stirs in the hidden encampment, feeling my presence.

To me, I think as loud as possible.

A scream goes out that kills my focus. The line stutters to a halt as others cry out in alarm. We turn in time to see a shower of debris crash to the ground, crushing several men and Satyrs near the tower base.

The huge chunks shatter and shoot shards in all directions to elicit more squeals of pain. The bloodhound is caught in the spray and howls to the sky.

“My boy! My Boyyyyyy!” The jailkeeper yells. Heroically leaping to the dog's rescue as the rocky rain continues. He scoops up the great beast in his tiny arm and runs for cover.

“Orda pray our Baron got out.” Tiff says while staring at the top of the Tower. The roof and supporting walls now litter the ground.

Abandoning my pale of water, I rush in aid of those trapped, though no sounds escape the pile of rubble.

“Stop them!” A man yells beside me.

The Satyrs seize the moment and sprint for the trees, men give chase in the moonlight. A guard beside me whips his cape back dramatically and grasps a mystical bow that forms before him. He pulls the glowing string back and aims at a scraggly fawn.

He releases a gasp as Suze impales his back, his legs give out as I sever his spinal column. The string snaps causing a noticeboard across the street to explode.

A woman, flinging white pebbles with a sling, turns at the sound of her colleague collapsing. I dive sideways into a smooth roll that even Toomas would be proud of. Her missile whistles past my head and smacks a pole, encasing it in silver webs.

The lantern it holds swings wildly from the impact. Panning the light across the street. I rush forward, throwing Suze as the woman takes aim again. She flinches away even as the knife flies wide.

As she turns back, my arm arcs through the air, Riptail forming and whipping across the final few feet. The jagged bronze edge cuts her sling apart and tears her hand open. The professional guard unsheathes two long stilettos, their sharp edges flashing in the lamplight as she twirls them with expertise.

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No chance I’m letting her get close to me.

Equipping the Tear whip in my free hand, I unload on the lightly armoured woman. My weapons keep her at a safe distance but fail to cause any damage. She bends and dodges with athletic grace, always a second ahead of my attacks.

How could Devonport ever consider her a second-rate hero? My answer comes as she ducks Riptail and catches the Tear whip in the air. Yanking me forward and onto her knives. The intense corrosive effect kicks in a heartbeat later. She screams in agony, dropping her blades as her life force is absorbed and her skin melts away. Riptail retracts into a sword as I chop into her neck.

The tentacle continues to absorb her as she bleeds out. An energising sensation pumps through me from the whip’s handle. Refreshing my wary body with renewed vigour that sadly ends with her death. It reminds me of the God’s elixir but with only a fraction of its potency. I inspect the milky blue weapon, my new lifeline to the high of empowering.

I look for the others. The Satyrs are only just disappearing into the gloom of the forest, the remaining guards close on their hooves. I take off, touching the guards' remains en route and looting their bodies of spirit and goodies.

Loot added to inventory:

2x Steel Stilettos

Ruined Flax sling

Hardened leather armour

2x Watcher Co cape

2x Watcher Co guard insignia

Flask of whiskey

Pack of Eboneys

7x Shillings

11x Pennies

Scout/ Disrupter Spirit collected

Ranger/ Baiter Spirit collected

From a monster’s purse into mine, I’ll trade with Livingston and start gathering items for the tribe. Anything that will help protect them from slavers and hunters in the future. I see torches amongst the trees, they throw off shadows of supernatural shapes.

I’m aware of the nocturnal creatures that prowl out of sight, a primal fear whispers to stay in the town. But my rage towards the hunting men overcomes it, at least I know what beast in the dark.

As I hit the treeline, a great boom causes me to skid in place. I beam with delight, hoping their rutting Tower just crushed the whole Guild.

But the Tower still stands, the fire still lashes the sky with no end in sight and a nightmare has just kicked the heavy front door down.

The She-goyle’s armour glows like a blacksmith’s furnace. Radiating so much heat that the doorframe she stands in begins to smoulder. How in Omnia’s wet dream did she survive that hell?

A shrill of delight behind me announces the capture of a Satyr. The noise travels through the silent town, all the way to the She-goyle. Her head snaps up, embers explode from the movement as she spots me standing in the open.

“Rut me sideways.” I yell at myself.

I run to my flock's aid, not even looking at the she-goyle. I know exactly what she seeks.

Amongst the foliage, Tiff and two guardsmen hog-tie a few Satyr on the ground. The rest have fled into the wilderness. Her nasty abilities give me pause. I could use my own Will, but the Depths still haunts me and those Satyrs will rip each other apart if I use enraging mist.

Cattle Senses

A hazy glow paints the Captain, Cane’s eyesight is poor in the dark. The waft of burning wood is far stronger, along with the body odour of others. So I was wrong. They’re all around him, waiting for a signal.

Well, I shouldn’t disappoint them.

Shielding myself behind a large trunk, I use one of the stilettos to slice my wrist. I’d rather use my hippo’s reservoir of blood but can’t risk startling the Satyrs if I sneak towards him. Even outnumbered, my flock is unarmed and vulnerable.

As the blood flows, the blade glows. I chop small chunks off my arm and slather them.

Mirror Image

I sit down, expecting a severe head rush that never comes. Only a sudden sapping of strength that burns off the whips temporarily high. Three clones stand from the bubbling mess, thank Mother it’s too dark to see these ugly bastards.

I arm them with swords and knives and point towards the monsters of Order.

“Make some noise.” I command.

Their twisted lungs and diaphragm undulate a harrowing screech as they rush through the undergrowth, straight towards the torchlight.

Tiff and her guards leap into action, weapons out as my blood clones throw themselves upon the enemy with uncoordinated madness. Screaming murder as they lash out with blades and naked limbs. The guards easily recover from the sudden assault and defend themselves. My blood images tremble as metal chops their unprotected flesh apart.

Tiff summons the jaws of a Nile crocodile, it latches onto my ally's face and spins in a death roll. Shredding it apart until an explosion of blood announces the end of its Mayfly life.

I dash forward.

“For Mother!” I yell, hoping it's an obvious enough signal.

Riptail ignites with searing blade as I leap through the spray of a dying clone. The guard can’t wipe the bodily fluid from his eyes in time. I open his abdomen with a hiss of vaporising intestines. A chorus of battle cries echo my own from the darkness.

Tiff and her final man turn in horror as the Satyrs descend on them, bearing rocks and branches. The fallen man tries to hold his stomach together when a fur tide engulfs him. They mercilessly beat him to a pulp as karma takes physical form.

A dense network of tendons sprout from the Captain's hands, spreading to form a shoal of Piranha's mouths. The group's momentum falters at the ferocious ability, it stalls them from closing the gap as tiny mouths snap out.

I cross blades with the last guard, his swordsmanship and enchanted weapon easily holding me back. Tiff advances, ripping into my people as she laughs at their pain.

The untrained Satyrs panic at the show of Will and try to retreat. Smashing into each other in a panic. The young boy, still chained by his collar, is yanked to the ground as the herd becomes entangled. The onslaught of tiny teeth descends on him as he squeals in terror.

I try to push through, but the guard is unrelenting and almost takes my arms as I become distracted by the fawn's screams.

The ground shakes from a bounding thud, bushes rustle violently as Cane charges at full pace. Head tilted sideways, his maws wide open as he hits Tiff on the flank. His jaws snap shut, crushing her between his tusks. Her bony tendons wither and dissolve as she gasps for air. A gush of red puke escapes her open mouth as her body collapses.

Growth/ Ensnare Spirit collected

Cane continues his charge with the Captain’s limp body dangling from his lips like it's his new favourite toy. He hits my opponent from behind. Knocking him flat on his face and stamps till the man’s head pops.

It’s over. We escaped. Even through the layers of red covering my face, I smile.

“We did it!”

The Satyrs cheer. Hugging each other and me. They cry with sheer joy and dance around in glee. The nightmare that was their future is over, they’re free.

The youngling, now missing chunks all over his body, stumbles towards me.

“Are we safe now?” he asks.

“Of course, I won’t-

A scream cuts me off. The Satyrs point back into the forest.

Angry embers and the orange glow mark the path of a meteorite that shoots through the darkness towards us.

I forgot about the She-goyle.

“Runnnnnn!”