“What are we going to do?” Qalo murmured as quietly as possible, hoping the deranged man, busy petting the werewolf like it was his favorite dog, wouldn’t overhear them.
“What do you mean? We’re going to kill that thing!” Talax responded, aghast. The creature had already killed half the village; the corpses on the cave floor indicated it needed to be stopped.
“But he said it’s his daughter,” Qalo’s voice held confusion, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.
“So? Are we going to let the monster kill freely just because the man said so?” Their conversation was no longer a low whisper, drawing the attention of both the man and the werewolf.
The werewolf unfurled its towering form, rising on two feet. Talax stared wide-eyed at the creature, realizing that killing it wouldn't be as easy as he had thought.
Talax's breath hitched at the grotesque sight. The creature's fur hung in patchy disarray, dirtied and tangled with grime, its elongated claws flexed, unsettling eyes fixated on them, caked in dried blood and other despicable fluids. The creature's jaws, elongated and serrated, curled into a snarl, revealing rows of jagged, decayed teeth.
A low rumble shook the cave as the werewolf bared its fangs. Talax tightened his grip on his sword, steeling himself against the primal fear threatening to overwhelm his resolve. But just as he prepared to attack, a voice, wavering with a mixture of grief and madness, pierced the tense silence. "My daughter... my sweet daughter," the deranged man muttered, his eyes glazed with disturbing fondness as he caressed the werewolf's fur. His words reverberated through the cavern, carrying an unsettling plea that clashed with the monstrous visage before them. “Save her... Please... Save her.”
The man’s words gave Talax pause, and he turned to the only person who could help. “Aria, can we help the girl? Is there a cure?” Aria sighed resignedly, and Talax knew the answer before she spoke. “No, lycanthropy, in all its facets, is incurable. Well, there are ways for someone to revert back to human, but it’s not something you can do.”
Talax looked at Qalo and shook his head, conveying the answer to the man’s pleas. The half-orc appeared distressed for a moment but then turned to the werewolf with a determined expression, revealing Qalo’s intentions.
It was as if the werewolf took it as a cue and attacked. The cavern reverberated with the ominous snarls of the werewolf as it lunged forward with startling speed. Talax barely had time to react before the creature's razor-sharp claws closed in, aiming for a swift and deadly strike.
Despite his reflexes, the werewolf's incredible speed caught Talax off guard. He managed to partially dodge, but the claws grazed his side, tearing through his cloak and leaving a shallow gash on his armor. Pain surged through him, yet he gritted his teeth, determined to stay upright after the overwhelming attack.
"Qalo, watch out!" Talax shouted urgently as he scrambled to regain his footing. In a heartbeat, the werewolf pivoted, its wild eyes fixed on a wide-eyed Qalo.
“How is this thing so fast and strong?” He complained, raising his hand. “Werewolves, despicable things. Cursed and blessed at the same time,” Aria supplied. Talax realized that they couldn’t continue like this for long; sooner or later, someone would get scratched, and he had no idea how to manage such lustrous fur, it looked quite time consuming.
He needed to restrict the creature’s movements. Fortunately, he had just the thing for that. Seeing the need for immediate action, Talax summoned his first spell, Frost Breath. A chilling blast of icy air erupted from his lips, enveloping the werewolf. Frost clung to its fur, momentarily slowing its agility as the creature growled in frustration, hindered by the cold.
Yet, the werewolf's resilience proved formidable. Despite the Frost Breath's hindrance, its innate strength and high-level abilities allowed it to shake off the cold's effects quicker than Talax anticipated.
“Oh, come on!” He complained, dismayed as the werewolf continued with barely diminished speed. Seeing no alternative, he unleashed his second spell, Tar of Restrain. The substance materialized beneath the werewolf's feet, a sticky mass snaking around its legs, attempting to hinder its movements.
Thankfully, the combination of the two spells managed to slow the creature down enough, granting them a chance to defend against its overwhelming power. Unfortunately, the werewolf was already mid-attack, lunging towards Qalo.
The werewolf's massive clawed hand descended in a vicious arc, targeting the half-orc's head. Reacting swiftly, Qalo raised his hammer in a desperate attempt to block the incoming strike.
The cavern reverberated with a clash of metal meeting claw as the werewolf's lethal appendage collided with Qalo's hammer. Sparks flew from the impact, and Qalo staggered backward, the force of the attack dragging him several paces.
Seeing an opening, Talax lunged forward, his dagger aimed at the creature's side. The necrotic blade gleamed as it arced toward the werewolf, but the creature, with uncanny instinct, twisted aside, evading the full force of the strike. The dagger barely grazed its fur, leaving a faint trail of necrotic energy in its wake.
A vicious snarl erupted from the werewolf, and the deranged man, caught in the frenzy, cried out in anguished confusion, torn between his delusions and the chaos unfolding before him.
With a sudden lunge, the werewolf lunged forward, claws slashing through the air with a swiftness that belied its size. Talax reacted instinctively, dodging to the side as the claws narrowly missed him, the force of the creature's strike sending a gust of wind rushing past. He landed with a wet welch on the cave floor, feeling decayed remains all around him that made his stomach churn. He immediately rolled, fearing that the werewolf would follow up its attack, but he was proven wrong.
Meanwhile, Qalo, wielding his hammer with fierce determination, circled the creature, searching for an opportunity. He studied the werewolf's every move, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. With calculated precision, he aimed for the creature's weakened legs, aiming to exploit its slowed reflexes.
Spotting the creature distracted by Talax, Qalo seized the chance. With a mighty swing, Qalo's hammer connected once more, this time finding its mark with a resounding thud. The werewolf stumbled, its balance disrupted by the force of the blow, but it remained on its feet, its resilience astonishing.
Talax clenched his teeth and did something entirely new to him: casting spells while lying on the ground, as though it were the most ordinary thing. With a swift incantation, he summoned the Bubble of Confusion, a shimmering sphere of water that enveloped the werewolf's head, momentarily clouding its vision and causing disorientation.
Qalo wielded his hammer with unyielding force, targeting the creature's weakened limbs, while Talax rose, gripping his Galewind shortsword tightly.
The werewolf, its head shrouded in the watery prison, thrashed wildly, disoriented and temporarily blinded. It howled in confusion and frustration, its movements erratic and uncoordinated.
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Amidst the chaos, Qalo's hammer struck with thunderous impact, battering the werewolf's legs and causing it to stumble. Sensing the crucial moment, Talax darted forward, his sword poised for a decisive strike. Exploiting the creature's vulnerability, he lunged forward, the sword piercing through the chaos and finding its mark, driving straight into the creature's heart.
A guttural howl of agony pierced the air as the werewolf convulsed, writhing in anguish. Talax held firm, twisting his sword until a final shudder passed through the creature, and it collapsed.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by their labored breaths and the deranged man’s faint whimpers, Talax withdrew his sword, its blade stained with the werewolf’s blood. He and Qalo exchanged a weary yet triumphant glance, the burden of the battle gradually lifting from their shoulders.
Turning towards the man, Qalo took hesitant steps, approaching him. The man wept, his gaze fixed on the werewolf’s lifeless form, murmuring, “My baby, my baby is gone.” Qalo crouched beside the man, offering consoling words in a gentle voice. “Let me help you. Lean on me.” But the man was inconsolable, pushing the half-orc away.
"Your wife is searching for you. She sent us," Qalo informed the man, evoking a violent reaction. Trembling, the man shook his head in denial. “No, no, no. I can’t face her. Not after this. Mika…” His eyes flitted briefly toward a small, grey form nearby, but he averted his gaze swiftly, unable to bear the sight. “...And now Alina, both dead... No…”
Talax observed the exchange absentmindedly, his attention more fixated on the werewolf lying on his feet.
“Talax, not to be insensitive, but you can’t take him anywhere,” Aria suddenly announced, snapping him from his reverie. “What do you mean?” he asked, bewildered. “Can’t you see? The man has multiple wounds, all from the monster’s claws. That kind of werewolf is highly contagious. In a few hours, probably less than that, he will turn.”
Talax froze, lightning-fast memories flooding back, the description of the monster. He turned to the man, and indeed, the man’s body was marked with claw scars. Whether the creature spared him intentionally, aiming to transform him, or if it was simply a consequence of the struggle, the outcome remained the same: the man had to die.
A longsuffering sigh escaped Talax, catching Qalo’s attention. “What’s wrong?” Qalo asked, his eyes filled with concern. Uncertain of how his friend would react to the news, Talax forced a fake smile and said, “Would you mind waiting outside? I think I should talk to him.”
Qalo regarded him with a troubled expression for a moment before acquiescing. “I’ll wait outside,” he declared as he rose. Qalo stared at him while he crossed the small cave, asking a silent question that Talax didn’t answer.
Alone with the man, Talax approached him with measured steps. He despised what he had to do. The grieving father wasn’t a monster, at least not yet. He wasn’t a vile man like Edward. He was simply a shattered figure, a man who lost his family in a single night.
He sat next to him, and he touched his shoulder, patting him reassuringly. “I can’t even imagine what you experienced, or what you are feeling...” He murmured compassionately. “All I can say is sorry.” Talax turned to the man, his face having transformed into a ghastly visage of crippling age, each line and wrinkle deepened by his spell, Touch of Death.
Softly exhaling, Talax drove his dagger into the man’s heart, mirroring the spot where he had stabbed the man’s daughter. “Sorry,” he uttered once more, laying the man's body next to his son.
“I’m sorry you had to do this, Talax, but it was the right thing,” Aria offered. Talax shrugged, his response tinged with weariness. “I’ve done worse. It’s starting to feel... normal. That’s what disturbs me.” Aria stayed silent, and Talax said no more.
Exiting the cave with hushed steps, Qalo waited impatiently by the entrance. His eyes darted past Talax, scanning for the man. Not finding him, his expression twisted with horror and betrayal.
“You... You didn’t! Tell me you didn’t kill him!” Qalo’s voice trembled with anger. Talax sighed, rubbing his temples. “I had to. A single scratch from the werewolf can turn you…” His words hung in the air until realization dawned.
“Qalo, please, what kind of wounds did the woman have?” Qalo seemed confused. “The woman? Don’t change the sub...” His eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, no!” He blurted out, giving Talax his answer.
“Damn!” Talax cursed. “We need to go!” Qalo nodded in agreement and both friends sprinted back to the village. The forest whizzed by, branches pushed aside, and bushes hurdled.
Talax sensed catastrophe had struck even before they reached the hamlet. The air reeked of blood, low moans echoing through the silence, transforming the once serene forest into an eerie place.
"We're too late," Qalo whispered, a sentiment echoed by Talax aloud. They emerged from the dense forest, breaths heavy, only to confront a nightmarish scene, the small hamlet drenched in blood.
The dirt road was littered with severed body parts and pools of blood, that shone wetly under the moonlight. There were a few villagers, that had managed to stay alive, all of them though, at the brink of death. Their fates already sealed.
What was most concerning though, was that the werewolf, the man’s wife, was nowhere to be seen. “Help... me...” A hand grabbed his leg, and Talax with surprise realized it was the woman’s friend from earlier, although it was difficult to recognize, half her face was disfigured, and she lacked several limps.
Talax bent over and with a soft voice said. “Shh.” The woman’s already unseeing eyes turned glassy as soon he pulled his knife from her throat. Qalo stood frozen behind him, observing the scene with horrified eyes.
Talax averted his yes and murmured. “Let’s go, we have to find the monster.”
Talax stopped every so often to end a doomed life. Unfortunately, there were more than he had initially thought, and after some hesitation he handed Qalo one of his spare daggers. The big man stared at the knife in his hand for long moments with a blank expression on his face, until Talax stepped in.
“Qalo, we have to do this. I know it is hard, I know it seems cruel, but it’s better than a mindless existence that only causes more death.” Qalo looked at him with searching eyes, as if seeking an answer to a question he didn’t even know to ask.
After a while though he gave a decisive nod, and with a face made out of stone, started helping Talax in his gruesome task. While Talax was bent over, he saw something that made his blood run cold.
He saw a tail peeking out from behind an overturned wagon. “No...” He murmured horrified and started running. Qalo looked up and when he realized what Talax had seen, he followed after him.
Talax unsheathed his sword ready to kill the monster when an unlikely sight greeted his eyes.
The werewolf was already dead, its body riddled with dozens of crossbow bolts. Talax spotted small feet beneath the bench seat, and he prayed the merchant, and his son were still alive.
Before he knew it, he was in front of two forms. The two dwarves were hiding in the overturned cubby of the wagon, that acted as a hiding place. Gormak was clutching his crossbow with a shaky hand, and his whole body seemed to vibrate from fear and adrenaline. Talax heard a click from the crossbow, and he raised his hand shouting. “Wow! Stop it’s us!”
“It’s you. It’s you.” The dwarf said with an unnaturally calm voice, completely at odds with his trembling body. “What rotten luck! Werewolves in these parts? The world has gone mad!” Gormak exclaimed, still stashed inside the cubby of his wagon.
“There are no more werewolves. We killed the one that started it all. Good job on killing this one.” He pointed Talax with his finger, the small furry mountain.
Gormak gave the dead werewolf a small glance and then turned his head as if he was scared to even look at it. “Ill fated, ill fated! Why Tychos? What have I done to you?” Gormak demanded looking straight at the night sky that had started turning a shade lighter.
Talax felt a shiver at his words, being eerily reminded of someone else, but then he felt a hand on his arm. “We have to burn their remains. We cannot let them to the wolves.” And in a lower voice he added. “With the death mana from the dungeon, I don’t want to think about what horror may appear here.”
Talax grimaced at the thought of the difficult and gruesome task ahead of them, but he ultimately nodded his agreement. When they were about to leave, however, Gormak demanded. “Where are you going? You have to help me turn the wagon. Patch will have it fixed in a jiffy!”
All three of them started groaning and heaving until the wagon’s left side cluttered to the ground with a loud groan, that had Talax convinced would turn into kindling at any second. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and everyone went about their tasks.
Qalo and Talax gathered the human remains into a repulsive heap, setting it ablaze. The resulting stench assaulted their senses, causing Talax to heave. Meanwhile, Gormak busied himself retrieving scattered wares, his cart having spilled its contents in disarray. Surprisingly, Patch remained unusually silent, wholly focused on repairing the wagon's broken wheel.
Their tasks consumed the entire morning. With a heavy sigh, Talax cast a final glance at the remnants of the settlement, The Sticks, now reduced to dilapidated structures. In time, these too would crumble, erasing any evidence that a thriving community once existed there.
Facing forward, Talax turned his gaze to the road ahead.