The Pale Hunt

The dimly lit room in the Pale Hunt's base reeked of old wood, spilled ale, and faint traces of blood of monsters. Their hideout, deep within the commoner district in heart of Ared's capital, was hidden beneath layers of normal looking shops ensuring their business remained undisturbed by prying eyes. 

Around a rugged wooden table, five individuals sat, each representing their own skills which was necessary for a group of collectors like them.

Darrick "Silent Fang," the leader, leaned back in his chair with a smug smile. His scarred face was half-hidden by shadows, his piercing eyes scanning the room. He exuded a calm menace, the kind that commanded attention without needing to raise his voice. He idly spun a dagger between his fingers, its blade gleaming with faintly glowing runes.

"Other fifteen collectors still haven't returned," Silas "Ghost" said, his voice barely above a whisper. He sat hunched over, sharpening a pair of wicked-looking daggers. His movements were meticulous, almost hypnotic, as if sharpening weapons was as natural to him as breathing. "Not a single trace of them. That's unusual, even for a haul this big."

Elira "Shadeweaver" snorted, her lips curling into a wry smile. She'd claimed the most comfortable chair, her legs crossed as she twirled a lock of her raven-black hair. "Unusual? I wouldn't say that. They might have a double coressed us and took those materials somewhere else. Cunning bastards! I never trusted any of them. Darrick, next time! Listen to me and don't take big hauls like this."

"That's fifteen people gone," Eryn "Black Arrow" chimed in, her brows furrowing. She leaned against the table, her longbow resting beside her. The bow was an elegant piece, clearly not of ordinary craftsmanship. She tapped her fingers against the table, her voice laced with unease. "Do we even need these creatures? Seems like too much trouble for some scaly monsters."

The room fell silent for a moment, all eyes turning toward Darrick. He smiled, slow and deliberate, before gesturing toward Eryn's bow. "That bow you're so fond of, Eryn" he said, his voice smooth but edged with steel. "Tell me, Eryn, do you think it's ordinary?"

Eryn blinked, taken aback by the question. She glanced at her weapon, her fingers brushing over the dark wood and silvery inlays. "Of course not, brother" she said. "It's… well, it's a masterpiece. It is your gift for me after all."

Darrick's smile widened, though his eyes remained cold. He pointed toward the bowstring. "The silkweb from an Arcane Spider's glands. Durable enough to never snap, yet flexible enough for precision shots. The wood? Harvested from the heart of an Elder Grove, treated with blood from a Mountain Drake. And those inlays? Teeth of a Shade Beast, carved into runes by expert enchanters. Every part of that bow is the result of hunts like this."

Eryn's lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She glanced at her bow again, her unease slowly replaced by understanding.

"And it's not just your bow," Darrick continued, his tone growing more commanding. "The armor you wear, the weapons you wield, even some of the enchanted trinkets we carry—all of it comes from hunts like these. Monsters aren't just trophies; they're resources. And rare creatures like lamias? Their value is beyond imagining."

Elira chuckled, leaning forward with a sly grin. "He's not wrong. Lamia scales alone fetch a fortune in the right markets. Their venom? Highly sought after for both assassinations and alchemy. And let's not forget the magical properties their organs possess. Mages and nobles would pay handsomely for even a single vial of their blood."

Mordrek "Reaper" who had been silent until now, let out a low grunt of approval. The massive man rested his scythe against the wall, its blade stained from countless battles. He said little, but his presence alone was enough to affirm his agreement.

Silas leaned back, his expression unreadable beneath the shadows of his hood. "So, what you're saying is… we shouldn't be worrying about the fifteen collectors who vanished. We should be thinking about how much gold we'll be swimming in we get from this.."

"Exactly," Darrick said with a sharp nod. "This is the largest shipment we've ever attempted. Fifteen gone is a loss, yes, but the reward outweighs the risk. Beside think about the reputation this would bring us. Right now, we are known among the people, but after that parade we did, we are rather popular."

Eryn sighed, her unease fading as the others' excitement grew contagious. She picked up her bow, running her fingers over the silkweb string. "When you put it like that… I suppose it makes sense. But it still feels off. Something about this hunt."

"That's just nerves," Elira said dismissively, pouring herself a glass of dark wine from a nearby pitcher. "We've done this a dozen times before. This is no different. If anything, it's a bigger payday than we've ever seen."

Darrick raised his glass, his voice commanding as he addressed the group. "We're the Pale Hunt. We thrive where others falter. This haul will cement our reputation as the best in the trade. So drink up, laugh, and savor the thought of the fortune waiting for us."

The tension in the room dissolved as the group raised their glasses in unison, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. Mordrek even allowed himself a rare smile, though it was more a baring of teeth than anything else.

"To the Pale Hunt," Silas said, his voice low but filled with dark amusement. "And to the fools who dared to stand in our way."

"To the Pale Hunt," the others echoed, their voices blending together in a toast to their own infamy.

As the night wore on, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, each member recounting their most memorable hunts. Elira's tale of outwitting a tribe of goblins with nothing but an illusion spell and a poisoned dagger earned laughter and applause.

But as the chatter ebbed and the group fell into quieter conversations, Darrick and Elira exchanged subtle glances, the kind that spoke volumes in silence.

Moments later, the two slipped away, their departure so seamless it took a few minutes before anyone noticed.

"Where'd Darrick and Elira go?" asked Silas, lazily swirling the dregs of his drink.

"Probably plotting their next outrageous story," Eryn replied with a chuckle. But the knowing smirk on her lips said otherwise. He always knew that her brother Darrick was in a relationship with Elira.

Upstairs, the faint creak of a door closing echoed through the quiet house.

It didn't take long before muffled sounds drifted down the stairwell. At first, it was subtle—an unmistakable laugh, then a hushed whisper. But soon enough, there was no mistaking the rhythmic thud of a bed frame against the wall, accompanied by soft gasps that grew louder with each passing moment.

"Ahhhhh! Darrick, faster," It was the erotic noises of Elira that came leaking out of the door, even giving Silas a hard time. He had always being conscious around her since she was rather skimpy when it came to her clothes but he never dared to make a move on her knowing she was in love with Darrick.

The group in the lobby froze, eyes wide as realization dawned.

"Are they seriously—" Silas began, only to be cut off by an unmistakable moan that reverberated through the walls.

"I think it's time we all go to sleep," Eryn said, standing abruptly and gathering her things, though the faint flush in her cheeks betrayed her composure.

"Or maybe," Silas quipped, "we should pitch in and get them a place of their own."

"That, or reinforce the walls," someone muttered, earning a round of stifled laughter.

As the noises continued upstairs, punctuated by increasingly enthusiastic exclamations, the group exchanged resigned looks. It was going to be a long night.