Of the Night

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Eh, probably not one of my best ideas, but this’ll do. Iuno’s mind rambled as he watched his shot land squarely on the red creature’s side, to which it replied a murderous growl. It then came down on four legs and started speeding towards his direction in an even faster rate.

If he was like any of the average, everyday guardsmen, he would’ve given up on his life at that very moment when the crimson beast leapt up in the air and over him. By that point, he could only pray that his death will descend upon him in a quick and painless manner.

Fortunately for him, he isn’t like that at all. Besides, where would be the fun in that? That path is only reserved for those who have no ability to fight and for those who would want the easy way out. And for Iuno, as he would like to believe, neither of those two roads are befitting for him to take.

As soon as the beast reached the apex of its jump, Iuno kicked off the ground and dove forward on the solid ground. He felt the creature’s sharp claws knock off the stuffy standard-issue guard helmet that he had on, revealing a messy mop of blond hair on the top of his head. He felt a bit disorientated from the blow, but braced himself nonetheless as he hit the pavement and started rolling over it.

Looks like anesthesia in that bolt isn’t affecting it yet. I need to stall for more time. He thought as he scrambled to his feet. With no time to prepare another shot, his hands shoved its way inside one of the pouches hanging by his waist as he straightened up.


Putting in some extra effort, he flung the small spark bombs at the creature as it turned towards him again. Hopefully, those novelty trinkets would be able to blind the beast long enough for him to load up his second shot.
 
DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING DING

The murmurs of disturbed townsfolk, awakening from their deep and peaceful slumbers, were the first noise to fill the air, following the ringing of the alarm bell. Then came then sounds of people preparing, preparing for battle, for suffering, for death: women screaming, men shouting commands, children crying. "Fetch me my armor!" says the head of this household, of that household; "Go not! Go not!" says the woman of this household, of that household; that is, unless there is a crying babe in the house, in which case the woman can be heard singing, trying lull the youth back to his or her tender sleep.

A guard or two poured out from each tower, an mercenary from each tavern, an armed father or elder son from each home, well-armed with weapons both conventional and unconventional, swords and pitchforks and spears and spades; well-armored with plates of steel and leather, and rings of iron and gold. "A wolf-man! A wolf-man!" A guard, descending from the tower where the bell rang, announced. The news spread quickly, as more men echoed the notion; and so, the screams were made louder, the cries were made shriller. And the men, they moved more slowly, more cautiously, now more contemplative as to whether or not they should go forth, risk their lives against something other-worldly, something much more terrible than a stray pack of wolves or a band of outlaws, something which may more easily take their lives away.

Then an even more terrible cry from afar, "Fire! Fire!". It seems one of the respondents to the alarm bell knocked over a lamp, and now a whole block to the east is ablaze. The blaze is bright enough to make the night seem like the dawn to most in the town, and most of the responding men quickly divert their attentions to this mortal sun, dropping their weapons and commanding their servants to fetch them buckets filled with water. The screaming weakens, as more women decide that screaming is too weak to express their fears, and so instead they drop like flies, swooning. The crying of the children also weakens, as the new warmth of the air makes it much easier for the kids to fall asleep again. The town returns to its former silence, even though the panic of the air has intensified.

And what of Osweald? Osweald is in the house of a friend of his, a barber-surgeon, a house far to the west of town. The barber-surgeon, whose name is Albe, is stitching closed the gash in his neck. As the panic in the town increases, he (Albe) remains calm, as he knows that if he loses his cool, Osweald's predicament might become lethal. When the silence returns, he finishes, commands Osweald to stay and rest, then goes out to help the fire. Osweald, of course, does what the good barber-surgeon commanded him: he grabs a good book, "Don Juan's Reckless Son, by Jeor Mitchel Byrhon", then starts reading while reclined on his friend's surgery-bed.

"The sun has set early in Sebilla. It is almost half past 8..."
 
My my, how persevere! Elizabeth liked that. They were approaching her hut now - a small house in the middle of a clearing. It was built of wood, straw and a natural cement made of the strongest tree-sap and some other things that the line of Ceran Witchdoctors had up their sleeve. At the back of the hut was a small garden of herbs and saplings that Elizabeth grew and bred herself with seeds she collected from different forests, cities and towns. A couple of torches were placed here and there, with small skulls of lamb and baby does slung on the top. Elizabeth paused, breathing in the clean, forest air, mingled with hints of fresh mint and wild ginger. This was home.

Now with her personality uplifted, she walked towards the door. Her grey eyes scanned the area for some movement.. Where were those two little rascals? Oh well, they'll appear later. They better behave - they have a guest tonight.

"So," Elizabeth finally called out to the darkness in between the trees. She rested her hand on her doorknob while she fumbled around her bag for the keys. "Are you here for business? I doubt that though."
 
"Drat. I should have known with the vines and taller grass that she had realized I was there." she muttered.
The witchdoctor knew she had followed, so it would make the most sense to abandon this chase altogether. But she had traveled this far she might as well stay. Ryn crept to the side slightly, so at least she was in a different place than the witchdoctor might expect, and spoke.
"No, no business."
 
The spark bombs startled the large creature. Her vision briefly blinded as she stepped back. There was noise large amounts of noise, people screaming and yelling, the smell of fire. Shaking her head the creature that Bevan had become spotted the small man. She roared at him and ran off before she could be shot at once again. She scaled the city wall with ease before running into the forest. She felt safe within the trees. Bevan made her way deeper and deeper into the forest. Eventually she stood up, the arrow had still been protruding out of her shoulder. Yanking it out she yelped and tossed it aside. She had started to feel sluggish, her movements seemed slower, her vision becoming hazier by the moment.

She didn't know how long she had been walking for but eventually her large body collapsed. The forest surrounded her, the scents and sounds being the last thing she could recall before everything faded away.
 
Oh hey, her voice was somewhere else. No need to look for her though. The grass she stood on was like her feet - she knew where she stood upon. The closer she was to her hut, the more vibrations she could pick up. Her entire home was built on magic and she could defend it with magic. She remained silent for a few minutes while looking for her keys, which jingled together when pulled out, then unlocked her door with a small 'click'. The wooden door opened with a slight creak when she pushed it. It was dark in her home if there were no candle light.

Like a deer, her ears twitched to her surroundings.. There was a second intruder, but this one was a little far away. Big bodied? Was it a man? No, this one had fur. Bears are rare, wolves were uncommon, but they still roam the forest.. This one was lying still though.

"Would you like to come inside?" Elizabeth suggested the girl, wherever she was. "Unless you want to be eaten by a bear, but hey! You followed me this far, you can't possibly be scared of bears or wolves."
 
Cautiously she moved forwards. The light of the torches cast away the shadow that she always moved in and it made her uneasy. There was something odd about this person, the hut, and the forest around her. And there was something else off in the distance, some feeling that something big was moving about. Better to be in the hut with a strange witchdoctor than in the forest with something much larger than she was. The whole time she kept her eyes darting across the clearing, memorizing any and all of the best escape routes but not moving her head. The hood still hid her face, at least that made her feel more hidden and therefore safe.
 
“Ah, Iuno. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Iuno looked up from examining the ground before him as he heard the rather familiar voice of a certain strict and uptight female that he knew call his name, followed by the sound of countless footsteps marching towards him.

“As always, Sylva, you and your men always fashionably late when it comes to things like this.” He replied, amused, as he stared at the figure leading the incoming group of armed men, where a stern silver-haired woman stands. She may not look like it at first, but this woman is actually the ever-so-serious captain of the town guards, who also happens to be a long-time friend of his.

Ignoring his snide comment, the woman called Sylva glanced at the ground leading out to the forest. After a few moments studying it, she then looked back at Iuno, her seriousness none the lesser.

“I assume you recently fought with something feral here?”

“If by ‘fought’, you mean ‘slightly inconvenience’ it, then yes, I just did something like that.”

Sylva sighed as she paced towards the gate. “Iuno, I have no time for your theatrics, so please take this seriously.” She muttered exasperatedly. “I have part of the town on fire and now I hear this that a crazed wolf creature is running amok the streets. I already have enough on my plate as it is.”

Iuno shrugged. “Well, you’re in luck. I managed to plug a sedative on that thing, so it couldn’t have gotten far, nor would it be able to fight back to its full ability should your men run into it.”

Sylva nodded thoughtfully as Iuno relayed that piece of tactical advantage to her. “That certainly could be useful. Hopefully, we could put that thing down without much effort.”

“However…”

She began as her blue eyes followed Iuno, who had started walking towards town.

“What of you? Are you not going to sortie with us?”

Iuno shook his head and waved a hand back at her. “Nah, I don’t really get well with groups, so I’ll leave that to you. Besides, I have another trail that I should be following.”

Sylva stared at him quizzically as he gave that rather cryptic remark, but Iuno has his reasons for saying it like that.


Mainly because there’s no way she would believe him if he said that he’d be following the scent trail of a lumbering drunkard that had ran all the way to the other side of town.
 
Elizabeth entered the hut once she heard the grass gave way to the girl's footsteps. "Close the door on your way in, won't you?" she asked the girl as she looked for her matches. "Mosquitoes can be very troublesome, you see." Her hands found a small box, and the witch doctor lit one with a single strike. She went around the hut, lighting the candles that she needed most; one at her study and one for a lamp in the living room. The soft light revealed a room that served as a living room and a study room. A few chairs made of sturdy wood were placed here and there, and a medium sized table was placed against a wall with small cabinets below it. There were a lot of shelves on the walls with jars full of various ingredients - pickled, powdered, dried and fresh, all corked in those glass containers. There were one or two that contained living creatures such as frogs and newts. There were two other doors - one from the left and one to the right. The left led to her bedroom while the right was.. probably her kitchen.

Elizabeth blew out the match once she was satisfied with the amount of light in the room. Now where were those two kids? They were usually around to greet her once she came home. Not that she missed them. They're quite the handful, but she couldn't help but feel slightly worried about them. "Where are you two hiding..?" she muttered, scanning the room with her grey eyes. Elizabeth removed her cloak to hang it up, revealing herself. Like the witchdoctors before her, her curvy body was covered in a moss green color. Her wild, long hair was an even darker green, like the trees in the forest. She only wore a deep purple cloth that bound around her bosom and a matching pair of panties where her front was covered with a long loin cloth. Her anklets had feathers dangling below them, and they swayed as she walked. There were even a few on the strip of cloth that she wrapped around her head like a headband.

She turned her head while she placed her bag on the table, looking for the girl. "Come in, come in," she called to her.
 
There was a set of peculiar sounds surrounding her. Light quick paced footsteps. Sounds of intrigue and giggles, whispers of curiosity in small voices. Bevan groaned as she stirred, whomever watched was startled and stood in place.

She forced herself up slightly. Looking around with hazy eyes and partially muted senses. A child sat infront of her and watched her with an innocent smile. The red haired woman stared back in confusion. The child must have been no older than her own. Another soon followed suit the second one looking just as interested in the red head as the first.

She sat up and looked at the two who met her gaze. "What are you young ones doing in the forest at this time? It is not a safe place for children." Bevan spoke, the two simply smiling brightly at her. "You should head on home little ones. I am not the safest to be around on this night."

They said nothing as Bevan realized she had been speaking to them, that she was human. Looking down at herself she spotted no fur, no claws, nothing to show of her cursed other half. "How can this be?" She asked herself. Meeting the gaze of one of the children Bevan raised an eyebrow. "Are you two the ones behind this?" The child simply shrugged.

There was movement in the forest, Bevan's head looked back turning around the children were off with echoing giggles. "No wait! Please!" She quickly got up and followed. If these children had something to do with relieving her of her curse she wished to know.

Although she could not see the children as she ran she could sense them and that was easy enough to follow. She could also hear footsteps in the distance behind her, metal clanking. It must have been mercenaries or guards.

She continued to run after the children. They were faster than she expected. As she ran there was a harsh stabbing in her gut. She groaned and gripped her stomach as she continued her pursuit. Her body was fully returning from the anesthetic that had entered her blood. She growled lowly in frustration.

The children's sounds still echoed through her ears. Her nude form was soon forced to the ground once again. "No!" She growled in pain and irritation. Claws forced themselves out, bones breaking and reforming, her body began expanding. The guards that were in pursuit approached quicker. Her eyes burned the true colour of her other half as she roared towards the oncoming group. The change was practically over when they arrived.

She stood nearly double her natural height, her body thick and strong, radiating an intimidating raw power. Bevan prepared for the fight with the group of soldiers. She wasn't far from the small hidden hut within the woods. The sound would most likely travel to the nearby witchdoctor and her new friend.
 
He awakes, startled. His return to consciousness, however, is quicker this time. He realizes the good barber-surgeon is going to ask him to do something, probably something related to the fire. He grabs the book so as to make himself look busy. The good barber-surgeon enters and shouts something to him. He shouts back.
"What do you mean get your lazy bum off of your chair?" A return to a softer volume, " I thought you asked me to rest."

"Yes, well the fire's grown. It's consuming baker's alley as we speak. We need more hands, and I think you could be useful" says Albe the barber-surgeon to his patient, while wiping the sweat and soot off his brow with his sleeve.
"That's what you think. I'd rather finish my book. I'm already at chapter nineteen!" is Osweald's defiant reply. He buries his head deeper into the novel, then grabs the nearby bottle of medical spirits.
"The book has only- wait, are those my spirits?"
"What spirits?" Osweald gulps down the spirits.
"Godammit", mutters Albe to himself. "Took me twelve patients to get that..."
"By the way, where did you get this mead? It's amazing!"
"Och..." Three fingers gently massage the barber-surgeon's forehead. "Know what? Nevermind. You seem too drunk to be of any help anyway. Just... Where's my iron-handled bucket? I'll need it."
"It's over there." Osweald points to the shelf where he got the bottle of spirits. The bucket is in one of its compartments. It smells..."...Of vomit! Did you vomit in here?" screams Albe to the drunkard. "Vomit? Me? I never vomit!" screamed back Osweald. Then he vomits, on the desk next to him, on the book he's supposedly reading, on the couch he's sitting on, on himself.
"I need some willow-milk." Albe grabs a bottle of willow-milk on the shelf. He drinks it sparingly, knowing that some of his patients might need it more than he does, however painful his current headache is. "Know what? Nevermind. You seem too drunk to be of any help anyway."
"You already said that", responds Osweald, in a weak and rather murky voice. Then more spews, this time on the floor.
"Oh... Well, when you're more... err, available, then clean up your mess, alright?" Albe empties the bucket of puke on the floor of his now-trashed office.
"Oh, of course. Have I ever failed you, Doctor Quinnlon?"
"You're failing me right now..." the good barber-surgeon murmured to himself. Then, to Osweald: "I'm not a doctor. Just a barber, with certain medical talents." He exits.
Osweald: "Oh yes, right. Then Barber Quinnlon. Or just Albe. We're close friends, anyway! Right?"

"Oh wait, he's gone. Well, this is quite a mess I've made. Hmm..." Osweald goes into Albe's bedroom, then grabs a fresh set of clothes from the good barber-surgeon's closet. He strips naked, then clothes himself with the clothed he took. "A bit short, a bit stiff, but alright all around. I guess it's time to go."
"Wait, no, better leave him something first. Thank you note, maybe." He grabs the book he vomited on, scans it for dry pages, then tears off the cleanest one he can find. With the quill and the bold, red ink from the nearby bureau, he writes on the page 'Thanks for the patching up. Will pay you later. And it's your office, not mine. Maybe I'll pay you double for it'. He leaves the page in one of the bureau's drawers, then exits.
 
She followed after the witchdoctor, shutting the door as asked, and examining the hut. Candlelight illuminated the various jars on shelves around the room. Some were less pleasant to look at than others.

Why she had been invited in she didn't know, most people didn't trust someone who wouldn't show their face.

"Nice frogs." she muttered under her breath.
 
"Oh yes," Elizabeth nodded to the frogs. Their wet, webbed feet slapped on their glass cages, all of them trying to climb out in vain. "The slime they secret makes a good base for some balms. I gave them all names." She pulled open a drawer and fished out a long, narrow pipe painted in red and adorned with feathers and beads at the end. With another hand she opened a packet that was in the same drawer, and took a pinch of what looks like type of tobacco. Elizabeth stuffed it down the end of her pipe before finding another match.

"So," she started. "If not business, just what kind of motivation drove you to follow me all the way here?"
 
"Curiosity, boredom, although I wasn't exactly planning for you to know I was there the entire time. Most people aren't at all observant, and they almost never look up. I have nothing better to do with my time than follow anyone who seems at least halfway interesting."

She sat on the back of one of the chairs, her feet on the seat and her elbows on her knees. The place wasn't all that bad, solitary, out of the way, and few would want to journey out this far into the forest. It was something different than the rooftops she ran across night after night.
 
"That's a boring motivation," Elizabeth commented with disappointment in her voice, as if the girl failed her exam. She sat down in the chair next to the table and reached for a match on her desk to strike it. "What's your name, kid? You can call me Elizabeth."

Before she could though, the small plant by the side of her desk twitched a little. The witchdoctor's neck snapped towards it, eyes wide as saucers, as if she heard something she didn't want to hear.

"We got company," she growled, standing up immediately and stuffed the pipe and unlit match into her bag. Quickly, she began hoarding whatever balm, potion and herb that deemed important to her and into another, slightly larger burlap bag. "How are you with giant, hungry werewolves? Because there's one heading on our way. Here. Right now."

There wasn't even time to wear her cloak.
 
Even though Iuno took it upon himself to follow the drunkard that he ran into earlier, he is actually finding it hard to do anything at all in regards to that matter. Contrary to his expectations, this task proved to be a more difficult challenge than tracking down the red beast that he had fought earlier as the smell of fire and smoke coming from the burning part of the town had already covered up the trail that he had been following, not to mention that the shouts and screams of the disturbed and panicked townspeople are making it hard for him to concentrate.

At this rate, the only chance I’m ever going to run into that guy is if I accidentally bump into him. He thought as he surveyed the town below while he stands atop the rooftops of houses. This is merely one of the perks for roaming around in a town where he had grown up; he knows most, if not all, of the vantage points that he can get himself into. Although, he usually does get yelled at by Sylva for doing something like this, he thinks that now would be an exception to that rule.

Speaking of that woman, she and her men must have already caught up with the creature now while Iuno makes no progress in his self-appointed task. He began to wonder if he should’ve gone with them instead.

I hope she’s faring better at things than I am right now.



“… Gods, this creature is quite a monster.” Sylva couldn’t help but whisper under her breath as she stared at the crimson beast in front of her. Its roar earlier was enough to send goosebumps running down the length of her spine, and seeing its horrific visage up close was even worse. How in the worlds did Iuno manage to fight toe-to-toe with this monster is a mystery to her.

If its appearance alone was enough to affect her this much, she could only imagine the degree of intimidation her men is put under now. However, she couldn’t show any signs of weakness. Or rather, she shouldn’t, otherwise she’d risk sending her group’s morale straight down the earth. She has to remain strong, not only for her, but for them as well, as their fearless leader. Thus, she pulled her silver sword from the scabbard hanging by her hips and pointed it at the creature.

“Hold steady, men! Our orders are to capture it, but if it’s not feasible, then we must resort to driving it away from our town!” She shouted, letting her conviction be carried along with the tone of her voice. “We will not let anyone fall prey to its claws!”

In response to her call, the men that was with her shouted their approval resoundingly and started to advance steadily towards the beast with armaments raised. Sylva remained near the frontlines, eyeing the creature intently for any sudden movement that it might make.
 
The fire spreads. Now it's consuming Alchemists' Lane. Explosions are heard. The people think it's thunder, and so they rejoice. They expect the heavens to open sometime soon, and end this hellish inferno. But no, these explosions don't signal the end of their trials. In fact, they signal the beginning of the worst of it. Soon, the fires will get to the cellars of these potion-breweries and react with the alchemists' reagents. A mist of death will then arise, and consume all.

"Stop! Stop!" shout the Alchemists, trying to warn them of this doom. But no one seems to hear them, as still more and more men run up to the fire with buckets in hand in a fruitless effort to stop it. Eventually they (the Alchemists) give up, and instead try to secure their own salvation by going to as far a closed and upwind area from the fire as possible. No one even notices them do this, except for Albe; he, however, thinks nothing of it.

Osweald, meanwhile, is trying to find a nice, quiet, far from the fire place where he could continue his rest. He is careful in his walk, trying not to bump into or trip the many respondents to the fire. However, he fails in his carefulness once, bumping into a young man of twenty. The man scolds him for not aiding the men in extinguishing the fire; he scolds back, telling the youth that he is much too young to be condescending against him (Osweald). He continues on his way, until at last he finds what he's looking for, in the form of the guard's tower next to where his throat was slit. "Might be illegal, but I don't think the guard who's post is this'll be returning anytime soon." He enters, climbs the ladder, then lies down on the tower's straw bunk and slips soundly into sleep.
 
"I'm Ryn." she pulled two throwing daggers from her belt. She had managed to steal quite a lot of them from a weapon's merchant while he slept, as well as a mild poison. Not enough to kill something the size of a werewolf, but enough to weaken it. "With any luck I won't die."

She got off the chair and opened the door to the hut, peering outside. There was a faint trace of smoke on the air. The great red wolf crashed through the trees towards the hut and Ryn hurled one of her daggers, pulling another one from her boot.
 
"That's good to hear." Elizabeth peeked out the door when Ryn opened it. "Nope!" Her eyebrows raised when the werewolf crashed through the trees as it nears her hut. Ryn hurled a dagger at it, but of course Elizabeth wasn't convinced that that was enough to stop it. "Absolutely nope. We're going through the back door."

She proceeded to (or attempted to) drag Ryn back into the hut and kicked the door close. "Do your thing!" she called to the little pot plant on her desk as she ran for the kitchen. The plant twitched, then started to shake as if it was having a seizure. When Elizabeth opened the door to the right which connected the kitchen, it turns out that the whole hut was shaking violently. The cauldron at the center was shaking and some jars fell and crashed to the floor. There was another door at the back, which Elizabeth dragged Ryn through in a hurry.

Outside, walls of earth and rock were rising from the forest soil and a small gap was seen in front of them. The forest floor was still shaking, but the witchdoctor didn't look like she was having a hard time. Elizabeth ran for it before the wall closed itself. "Protect the hut!" she cried to her garden, as if it was more important than her life, and she was through the wall and running into the forest.
 
She didn't struggle as she was pulled back into the hut.
"Do your thing!" the witchdoctor, Elizabeth she had called herself, said to a plant on the desk. The hut starting shaking and the ground trembled, and she was yanked out a back door. The earth was pulling itself up from the ground in great walls.
"Protect the hut!" Elizabeth shouted, though at what Ryn did not know.
She ran out into the forest, looking back over her shoulder and staring at the walls of earth. "What in the name..."
But then she turned her head forwards and dashed ahead until, for at least a moment, she was safe from the great wolf.
"What should we do? Run? Fight?" she asked.
She took a cloth from her pocket as well as a small bottle, uncorking it and pouring a small bit of liquid onto the cloth. She wiped the liquid onto her daggers, then stowing the bottle carefully back into a pocket on the inside of her cloak. Ryn picked a leaf off of a tree and stuck the blade through it, the area around the cut turning dark. "Good."
 
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