CHPT 195: Wolfish.
True night has fallen.
All over the city of SkyHaven, candles are blown out in a flash, beds are occupied and doors are triple locked. The time of humans is gone. The moon is out, and it's followers have emerged from their burrows, caves, dens and Darkways to roam— to hunt.
Among these beings pulled by the moon and the rich enthralling night air, a much more complex creature stalks within the luxurious quarters of a high class human estate. A creature led by more than just a lizard brain— primitive thoughts. A creature that was once human. Some would say, that only makes the being more dangerous.
With its human mind working in tandem with the body and senses of a monster, this being became a threat sitting in its own vastly unknown category. A Shape-Shifter. The last of its kind, with its own motives and personal vendettas that its planned to act out under the black night sky that stretched across the world like a cloak of darkness.
Speaking of darkness.
The Shape-Shifter walked in silence through the unfathomably large human estate with its wolven companion— brother, blending in with the shadows like a pair of ghosts.
They moved down the soft carpeted hallway in perfect sync, freezing and stopping to listen to any changes within the building in absolute unison. No need to check one another or issue any commands in hushed whispers. They were a pack. A pack of two, connected in mind and body by a beastially magical wire stronger than steel.
They continued moving through the dark home amidst the slumbering snores and slowed breaths of sleeping humans until they exited the building, soundlessly.
***
Claude stood with his back to the large Aslan Estate entrance with Frosty close by. He took in a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he scented the rich familiar night air before letting out a mind clearing exhale.
"[The time you ran the greatest risk of being caught was when you opened the door. Not because anyone inside had superb sensory capabilities, but because Heroes are incredibly light sleepers. You're now in the clear, Claude. The night is yours to roam.]" Arne assured, just as focused as the young Lupine he guided.
"Light sleepers?"
"[Sleeping in Tangents is an incredibly dangerous and anxiety filled experience. Much like Soldiers of The First Line, all Heroes eventually learn to sleep with one eye open.]"
"Let's hope the Raiders adopted that strategy." Claude replied before he and the PitWolf vaulted the gate.
When he hit the ground on the other side, a pool of shadows spilled at his feet before materializing into the Phantom Wolves who'd been howling and clawing with the urge to be released. The night called to them as well.
It called to them all and left them with no choice but to do what all Wolves do. Run.
***
An hour and some time later, Claude was roaming the outskirts of SkyHaven. He moved with the pack of Wolves, wearing his usual set of Night Running gear and heading north at high speeds.
Driven by the promise to find the Raiders tonight, he moved with a newfound sense of urgency that rattled his limbs and expanded his lungs with a wild burst of energy. He was on the clock now. Get to them in time, or find their bloodied remains.
The pack ran for miles, blowing past Leadland Forest and the first camp he'd encountered where he faced the Kobolds and further beyond. Passing large ponds and leaping over running rivers to disappear into thick green forests on the other side.
Eventually, they all slowed to a walk. Now in completely new territory. The map was needed.
He pulled out the wrinkled paper, stained by Wolf drool and began looking it over thoroughly, running his hands over the symbols of Raider encampments that he poked holes through— marking that they were checked. And absent of any Raiders.
But, his travels weren't all simply one big failure. As stated before, he was getting closer, the campfires were left warmer, the canine scents stronger and the blood fresher with every new camp. All he had to do was keep searching.
***
"[Allow me to propose an idea, Claude.]"
"Hm?"
"[This map is telling us more than the location of the camps…]" Arne said while Claude ducked under a low hanging branch.
"[Look at the location of the camps we've hit so far, look at how they're a line of small settlements in the center of the wild.]"
"Ok...?" Claude said before retracing the old camp locations on the map.
It wasn't exactly a straight line, but it was a trail that he quickly noticed nonetheless.
"[Now, what's one thing none of these camps have been relatively close to?]" Arne asked, "[Something all life needs..]"
"….Water."
"[Precisely. They're away from water, forcing them to be moving always, these are not permanent spots.]"
Claude nodded along in understanding, "Yea we knew that. Raiders are nomadic, aren't they?"
Arne was silent, "[Ive been doing some thinking. And you're right, most are. But these Raiders had deep connections, directions engraved into the wild leading to each camp, and the intel to infiltrate a literal Guild.]" He said with his final words stinging Claude deeply.
With his emotions aside, Arne was right. When the guide laid it out in such a way, it seemed like the camps were more like rest points for all Raiders contributing to one large band of filth. Filth that had to have a base of operations where they could recuperate, amass loot and plan to sneak into modern human society.
"[Where would a sensible….base be located, Claude. A base where they could settle down and plan?]" Arne asked, seeming to read his thoughts like the pages of a book.
"…..Here." He replied, pointing at a larger camp marker near a vast blue painted body of water. It wasn't the last camp in the north, but it was positioned at the center, near water while the rest branched out like spider webs. It made perfect sense to Claude now with Arne's perspective provided.
"[That is where you need to be, that is where you run the highest risk of finding them. But, you may run into whatever's been hunting them as well. Be careful.]"
"Noted." Claude replied before forcing the image of the map and his desired location to stay in his mind and guide him and the Wolves on their run further north.
***
Another hour passed like the rushing winds on their fur and skin. They were near the desired location. Frosty and the Phantom Wolves sniffed the ground viciously, all in search of any scents associated with Humans. Claude hung back, letting the pack lead him like a group of bloodhounds while he used his height advantage to look for any markings on trees or pieces of clothing on bushes just as Arne had taught him.
They were deep into uncharted lands. Dense forestry everywhere with their only source of light being the moon and stars that broke through the green canopy above. He hadn't seen any signs of village life for miles as he continued to search.
After a few minutes passed of him searching with his base level enhanced senses, his impatience grew and he decided to stop in the middle of the forest and take it up a notch.
The pack crowded around him like canine sentinels while he closed his eyes and honed the rest of his senses to razor sharp points of precision. In seconds, his hearing magnified and the faint scents that hung on the air and trees became more potent as if every smell within the wild was right under his scar riddled aquiline nose.
His (Sensory Focus) skill was in full effect. He just had to choose which scent to follow.
The world— now in its newly perceived level of sensitivity told him a story of the wild all around him for an unknown distance. Hopefully the Raiders base of operations was within his sensory enhanced range.
Nearby, birds talons scraped against thick branches as they landed in trees and smaller predators on the forest floor kicked through grass— squeaking and yipping while he took in a deep inhale.
He sifted through the scents with as much focus and attention as he could muster. Tree bark, wood, vegetation, sweet fruits, freshwater, blood, piss. The scents of the wild were often unpleasant, but none of it alarming so far.
After a few more inhales, he was alerted to something. Not a scent, but a sound— loud enough to startle the pack and hurt his focused hearing.
"AAAR—grrrsh!"
The distant echo of a man yelling before being brutally silenced fell on his ears, loud enough to scare away a large flock of nocturnal birds to his right.
Woosh!
A gust of wind hit his face as he stood up, igniting his insides and filling his veins with adrenaline. Not because of the wind itself, but the smell it brought with it.
"[They're here, aren't they?]"
Claude didn't bother answering as he and the pack took off in the direction of the human shout, and an odd but familiar canine scent.
He flew through the forest as a green eyed blur, eager to reach his destination— eager to exact his revenge before whatever was hunting them could steal it from him.
Slowly, the sounds were made clearer, scents stronger and newer. Human scents. Fear, anxiety, anger.
After a few more seconds of running wildly, he skidded to a stop and stalked silently— the pack copied his movements, now hearing the distant murmurs of voices and pained groans inside somewhere. But before he could worry about that, something was outside, closer to him, a set of clearer sounds.
He pushed onwards, trying to keep himself from going full attack mode and possibly getting them all killed. The forest was getting thinner. A clearing was up ahead.
He was correct about a clearing. But if he tried to guess anything else, he would've been way off. Way off.
He sat perched at the top of a thick tree branch above the forest, not exactly at the entrance of the clearing but high enough to see the base inside.
The sight in front of him left him seething. He now realized what the canine scent was.
Ahead of him, dozens of feet below in the center of the clearing sat the largest tent he'd seen. He questioned if he could even consider it a tent.
Built around and supported by a thick tree the base was at least 40ft tall all covered in salvaged metal, steel beams stolen from Old World structures and stretched animal skins that hung over the top like a mess of hair. The building was hideous, but he could tell how functional it was— used to be.
The base was now trashed in many areas, covered in slash marks and blood. Just as the other camps were. Just as the other camps were because the ones who hunted them were here.
He watched one in shock at never seeing the monster before. They looked horrifying in person, reminding him of what he'd seen on the Full Moon— an unnatural mix of two terrifying creatures.
A group of them stalked around the front of the base, heads aimed at the floor and walking in an uneven gait on all fours while others walked on two inhuman short legs with their snouts to the sky. They all wore armor, shabby and bloodstained but fitting of their gangly fatless physiques that bore the markings of old vicious injuries.
These were the monsters hunting the Raiders that smelled of canine. The Raiders fought back, he could tell by the scars on their snouts and fur, but no human who isn't Reborn is surviving against a pack of them.
He didn't even question what he saw in the clearing, rounding up the Raiders for an unknown reason and guarding them for something. He knew exactly what they were.
"[Gnolls…..Gnolls have been hunting the Raiders?]" Arne questioned in disbelief.
Claude grunted— unable to speak or control the wolffish morphing of his features. He was enraged, a pack of monsters was trying to steal his revenge. But more so, he was confused.
He'd read about Gnolls. He knew that they were like Lizardmen, following predatory urges and overdosed with bloodlust. The only time they weren't on the hunt for blood was when they tried to make more of themselves. A gruesome process that involved them procreating with canine animals and feeding them human meat. The meat of humans entices all monsters, but Gnolls especially. Even as babies— inside the wombs of a Wolf, jackal, hyena or even dog, when they get a taste of human flesh, the canine carriers of the offspring are eaten from the inside out. Bringing forth a new vicious Gnoll and killing a member of the canine species.
He'd hated them and feared for Frosty ever since his father told him that very fact. A race of canine abominations that used Wolves as vessels for their children, an insatiable urge to procreate that they followed until death. Leaving dead canines in heaps in their wake.
And here they were. In the flesh, in the way of the light of judgement he planned to shine of the blood faced Raiders. He wouldn't let them, and in the process he'd avenge all the canines they killed to get here.
"Bassstarrrds…." He growled before moving to jump from the tree and prepare to attack.
"[Wait!]" Arne said just as Claude heard a feminine scream ring out from behind him at his right.
"[Listen..]" Arne said, refocusing him.
Claude's sharpened ears twitched as he picked up on a faint conversation that was getting louder. Two people were nearby.
"Please!….I'm sorry I killed them. I had to….it's all I know!" The familiar feminine voice pleaded in between sobs.
"No more talking woman. As of this moment, you only exist to further my plans and research. Just like the rest of you nomads….hopefully you lot don't die like the rest." An unmistakably plain yet strained voice replied. Male.
He didn't hear anything else until they stomped through the bushes and emerged into the clearing.
He was baffled.
A man. A man walked into the clearing— the very expanse of grass littered with Gnolls covered in armor and armed with massive weapons. They didn't seem bothered by his presence. In fact, they acted a much different way. Submissive.
The Gnolls he passed, crouched low with their ears flat and tails curled under their short legs.
His surprise over the subject was only risen by the woman he was yanking along by the arm.
She continued to plead and beg, apologizing over killing someone she thought the man knew. He immediately understood after seeing her face. After seeing her shoulder length black hair and long eyelashes.
"Rikah.." He said in an almost dazed state. Since he saw the clearing, he hadn't blinked once.
She disappeared as quickly as she came, vanishing inside the tent from the man throwing her inside carelessly.
The man barked orders to something inside, followed by a snarl and Rikah screaming in terror.
Claude's muscles flexed in preparation to lunge forward but he forced himself still as the man walked in his direction.
He was a medium sized man in height and build. Bronze skin stretched across his slightly undeveloped muscle— as if he wasn't very active until now and his black hair fell around his shoulders in a loose curly mess. Oddly enough, he looked like Claude in a way. The same long curved nose— only wider, much less scarring, slimmer eyes and a beard.
"[She thinks he's you….]" Arne said suddenly. "[Rikah thinks he is you, coming for revenge.]"
Claude kept the fact at the back of his mind, surveying the man still.
He approached one of the Gnolls calmly, but Claude could smell a slight bit of fear from him. Meaning it was much stronger up close.
"Hey!" The man yelled at the monster. "Go watch the back! Cant have anymore interrupting us like last time."
The Gnoll sniffed at his feet and growled silently. As Claude thought, the creature sensed his fear.
Instead of the man stepping back fearfully and being ripped to shreds, he reached for an odd pendant around his neck that held a pale blue glow. He clutched it like his life depended on it.
Out of nowhere blueish white smoke spilled from the fisted hand he had around the pendant, soaking into his skin and nose like a drug.
He shook and twitched as the odd colored smoke continued to fuel him.
While this happened he quickly noticed the Gnolls around them all shying away in fear and whining softly.
When Claude's eye fell back to the man, he no longer held the pendant that glowed and steamed against his chest. Instead he loomed over the now docile Gnoll and snarled like an animal.
"GO TO THE BACK YOU MANGY BITCH!" He spat while pointing behind him with clawed hands.
His- now glowing, yellow eyes portrayed a intense level of inhuman wildness that demanded respect from the Gnolls. He now knew why the Gnolls followed this man. He wasn't a man.
"Arne."
"[Yea.]"
"What the hell is he?"
"[Shape-Changer….like yourself…Claude this just became very da—.]"
Claude growled angrily. "What exactly is he?"
"[…He's a WereWolf.]"