Library: The Hunter

By the forest, on a cliff edge, a campsite perched, precarious. A clearing, surrounded by trees, with a sheer drop to the north, the lights of Oakvale below, and Daerwon beyond. At the centre, a stone obelisk; some ancient monument perhaps, its purpose long forgotten. Five tents, five chairs surrounding a crackling fire. A beautiful Gettrellyn evening; clear, cool, moonlit. The first man speaks. Tall, burly, covered in furs. "You get this too?" holding a letter. The other four nod. "Some brownie brought it. Poor thing'd been walkin' days, tryin' to find me. Anyway, I dunno what I'm huntin', but if the pay's good, I'm in." The second, a wiry fellow, angular. Speaks so quickly he almost interrupts. "Yeah? Yeah, where you from, then? What's your quarry, what d'you hunt?" The first puffs out his chest. "Rothikgen, that's me. The northern tundra, cold and unforgivin'. I hunt the beasts, skin 'em, then wear 'em." He gestures at his furs. "Blast me with hoarfrost an' these'd still keep me warm." The second smiles. "Hunter too, me. Desolathya. No fancy furs, but I'm fast. Fast." The third raises an eyebrow, almost accusatory. The second notices, bristles. "There's no shame in it. No shame. I run fast to catch the animals, and, yeah, I run the other way too. Stumble into some undead tomb, anger something I shouldn't? Don't want a lich putting its bony fingers on me, casting some hex. No. No way." The third, smaller than the Rothikgen hunter, but muscular, stern. "In Furnachia, we do not back down. I hunt the biggest game there is." The fourth snorts. "You think you hunt bigger?" The third does not smile. "The jungles. The swamps. The volcanoes. Home to the largest, the foulest, the deadliest things that walk. And I have killed them all." The fifth hunter, silent until now, her face covered, cowled. "Is that so? They say a great beast walks this forest." Her eyes flit to the trees. "None have caught it. Many have died trying." The third is on his feet before she finishes, and marches to the treeline, looking up. "If it is out there, I will fell it." The fourth hunter rolls his eyes. "Well, he might think he hunts the biggest game, but there's nought can outweigh a whale." The second smiles. "You're a sailor? Lucentium, yes?" "Aye, but not just a sailor. A captain. We've sunk pirate galleons, harpooned sea monsters, battled the waves and the storms, me and my crew. And they say I tie the finest knots east of Lorenchia." The fifth. "Do you, now?" "Aye." He takes a rope from his bag and, deftly, ties it around his wrist, loops pulled tight. "Take me an hour to get out o' this now." "Tying onto something small is easy." The fifth looks around. "What about that obelisk?" "Easy." He takes the other end of the rope, lassos it around the obelisk, and fashions a series of knots that hold it fast. "See?" The second turns to the fifth. "So? What about you? What do you hunt?" She pulls down her hood. The jet-black skin of a Drow. "Why, I hunt humans, of course." It is over in seconds. The first hunter, realising he is the prey, leaps from his chair and reaches to grab the fifth. His furs come too close to the fire and catch alight; he screams as the flames consume him. The second hunter snarls and launches himself at her. He is fast. Too fast. The fifth sidesteps, and he cannot stop, tumbling over the cliff edge into the darkness below. The third hunter, still looking up at the treetops, waiting for some vast beast, never sees the snake in the grass. A single bite, and he collapses almost instantly. The fourth, unable to free himself from his self-made bonds, can do little as she approaches, dagger in hand. "You are all so concerned with what you own, and what you can do." She guts him like a fish. "But a hunter, a true hunter, sets a trap."

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