CHPT 341: Savior, Slaughterer....

Monday Morning, December 17th, 2240

The night was long-- as long as it was red. As if everything under the night sky was thickly lacquered in blood and snowy sands. The Monsters roamed, spreading carnage and pain, the pack sifted through it all, making their own path of progress and understanding. When the sun finally came, peaking out from behind the sky-scraping mountains, the world felt as if it had gone calmer. As if their work had actually impacted anything. It felt nice, but that's all it was. A feeling-- not an actuality.

They barely made a dent in the violent ecosystem of the wilds within the Vada District. And their real enemies were untouched. The touch of the desert was no worse off than it was before they stepped out with their weapons drawn. Maybe one day Claude and his feral family would make a real impact when they stepped out into the night. Then again, that's what this was all for. Preparation-- further effectiveness. They had to be ready for what lied beyond-- he had a responsibility to make sure they were. All he needed was time.

The question was, how much would they have.

The question gripped him with wolven jaws, holding his heart in it's icy fangs that froze him in a rock-hard chassis of anxiety.

It was an intense thought. But he was just a bit too tired to be all that affected by it. He'd gotten enough exercise to finish his Daily Requirement for the next two or more days-- slowly becoming the norm. All that excess preternatural Lupine energy was gone with the disappearance of the night and it's madness, leaving him in a conflicted state of relaxation.

DING!

[Repeatedly exceeding the time of your required exercise has raised all Physical Stats by one point!]

Speak of the devil.

"[A successful night run, I'd say.]" Arne said, voice barely making it over the cacophonous squawks and flesh tearing sounds emanating from the flock of Vultures feeding on the corpses of the Monsters below.

"...We need to keep going." Claude's words came out rough, a night spent yelling commands and understandings on top of roaring and howling before every other fight seemed to turn his voice into a grumbling low growl.

Not a soul would've heard him but Arne anyway as the Vultures continued to feast. He watched them in silence as he sat in the busted in attic of one of the few standing cabins in the village. It's roof was gone in portions, allowing him to let his feet hang outside and cast the rest of his body in the cool shadows as the sun rose. Behind him, the pack sat on the wooden floorboards resting silently while he and Ursula were supposed to keep watch for any more Satyr's. She'd loudly fallen asleep long ago, now resting against his back with her head slung over his shoulder like a loudly snoring dead weight.

"[I hear you, mate. But greed consumes all of it's participants. Don't let yourself forget it.]" Arne said, in response to Claude's previous statement.

He didn't bother with a reply, continuing to watch the Vultures stuff their beaks and scrawny necks full of dead Satyr meat. Their feathers fluttered, greasy black flecks reflecting the continually rising sunlight as they blotted out the sun from the wretched monsters beneath that had tasted the metal of his spear and Ursula's axes only moments before.

They had a village street full of food. A village street full of the fundamentals to their growth and power-- their evolution.

Greed didn't seem so bad as he watched them gorge in all the excess spoils of war....

Before he could think anymore on the matter, his senses caught a distant sound for the first time. Faint-- almost too faint, swallowed up by the Vultures in the midst of their monstrous banquet.

He activated (Sensory Focus) in a heartbeat and shut his eyes, letting his ears paint the picture his eyes couldn't.

The sounds of the Vultures suddenly picked up a few notches to the point of discomfort, behind the powerful sounds he could hear rodents testing the area-- more birds circling above as their wings sliced through the winds. He could even smell roaming Coyotes in the distance, edging closer in response to his interesting smells. Everything else seemed normal. Wood, blood, vegetation, herbs, old food, clothing and fear. That was the difference. The fear was fresher than usual-- easily mistaken for the usual old fear of the fallen.....only now he could hear movement and whispers. The sounds were growing.

The relaxation that once allowed him a fraction of peace had vanished, tightening up his muscles and twisting his face into an anxious scowl in a flash. He pulled his hood on and masked up before laying Ursula down in the attic and dropping to the floor nearly without a sound.

As soon as he hit the ground, he began walking through the sea of scavenging Vultures, watching them calmly scoot out of his way while others faintly nipped at him in territorial aggravation.

He came to a stop in front of the cabin across the street, trying to ignore the way the Satyr blood pulled another part of him to the surface.

It was easier than usual to ignore for one reason. He caught the sound and scent. There were no more monsters. Only people. Humans. Afraid and unsure of what had become of their home. They wouldn't be happy to see the decimation, but at least they'd be able to know the threat was gone....at least for now.

Claude took a deep breath and pushed his way through the broken door, entering the destroyed insides of the cabin. A round table once occupied the center of the room, it now laid in wooden splinters all across the floor tangled up in a dirtied wool blanket. Across from the entrance, at the back left corner of the room, a wooden railing trailed the remains of a stomped in staircase that led to another attic.

He took another inhale, scenting the air full of fresh scents that lingered in the air in remembrance of the events that took place long before. A Satyr had kicked in the door behind him, he could smell it's fur swirling around him, leading to the stair case where it must've engaged in a chase, bounding up the steps with more power than the cabin could handle-- causing it to bust through the weaker steps with unnatural ease. For some reason it didn't stay.....the carnage outside was probably too enticing to ignore. How lucky.

He continued to sort through the scents until he found himself at a door further ahead in the kitchen area. He could smell the rotten food behind him as he reached for the handle and twisted it open.

Immediately, cold air hit him like a physical fist, accompanied by the scents of mold, rats and fear along with the sounds of people. A loud and incredibly numerous clutter.

He made his way down the steps, immediately taking note of how they were becoming easier to hear with each step. Children, mothers, fathers, older siblings trying their best to keep the base in their voices to sound strong. There were entire families in the basement.

Claude hit the floor, meeting the eyes of the people at the same time as they did since they never heard him on the way down.

"AHH!" A woman screamed reflexively, though it was heavily muffled.

He barely budged, too stunned while he looked over all the people hunkered down and bunched up into a corner. Thick clothes ran over their mouths in an attempt to hold everyone in a state of silence to some degree. Some held weapons-- a lot of the fitter looking young men and women.

One carried a longbow, he'd been standing. Bags hung from around his eyes and his left arm was riddled with veins that burst from his skin due to overuse of the muscles. It didn't take a genius to assume he'd been standing watch all night, ready to skewer whoever came down the steps.

Only his readiness had drained by the hour until he had next to nothing left. Now all he could do was mutter a few words as he dropped his bow from his bleeding hands.

".....Y-You one of those Heroes?"

Claude didn't like the question, "The Satyr's are gone..I can take you to a nearby city. The Enforcers there can help you."

In an instant he watched everyone collectively untighten with a heavy sigh. He knew the feeling...sort of.

After a few seconds, everyone hesitantly rose to their feet but made no moves towards him or the stairs. He took that as his que to lead them out and turned to head up the steps.

Another benefit of Night Runs. He could do what the Heroes weren't....he could make a difference in an entirely different way. In the way he always wanted to.