Chapter 19: Stonehorn Crossing

Three days later, the air grew warmer, filled with the mingled scents of woodsmoke, baking bread, and damp earth. Orkesh, Manicia, Mina, and their silent escort, Rook the bouncer whom they agreed to name him, arrived at Stonehorn Crossing. The town hummed with a full, rustic energy. Wooden buildings, some with thatched roofs, others with simple stone walls, lined cobbled streets. The marketplace, even from a distance, was a riot of color and sound.

Different mixed species bustled through the streets. Goatfolk, their woolly coats thick, haggled over prices. Small, quick kobolds darted between legs. Foxkin, their tails swishing, bartered over furs. Frogkin, their skin glistening, tended to stalls selling strange swamp herbs. And the Lupen, a wolf-like species, moved with a confident swagger, their gazes sharp.

Overhead, the larger, bear-like Ursarok, known for overseeing administration and order, moved with a quiet authority, their presence a constant reminder of who truly maintained the peace. This town, flourishing due to its role as a main hub for commerce and trade, was a rare sight: a place where mixed species, for the first time, weren't actually trying to kill each other.

Onlookers paused, their conversations dying down, their eyes fixed on Orkesh's group. Their stares lingered, particularly on Rook. Even wrapped and covered in thick, dark robes, his build didn't look like a natural beastkin. He was too tall, too broad-shouldered, his posture unnaturally rigid, like that of a human, a very large one. The kobolds, laden with leather packs full of tradeable products, walked the narrow streets of Stonehorn.

As they passed a small bakery, three Lupen guards stepped into their path, blocking the way. The middle one, a tall Lupen with a jagged scratch mark over his left eye, smirked at Orkesh.

"Well, well, well," the Lupen said, his voice a low sneer. "Here goes the infamous conman Orkesh. Who did you con this time, huh? Let me check what you have there, just for inspection." He reached for Orkesh's pack.

Orkesh said nothing, his small body tensing. Manicia, however, reacted instantly. Her eyes narrowed, and she grabbed Nu's hand before he could grab the pack. "Hands off, one-eye," she spat, her voice low and dangerous. Her free hand instinctively went to the hilt of her dagger, a silent promise of confrontation.

Nu's smirk widened, his lips curling back to reveal sharp teeth. "Then, I assume, you're not complying with Stonehorn's law?"

Orkesh glanced at Manicia, shaking his head subtly. Manicia, her jaw tight, slowly let go of Nu's hand. Orkesh was about to speak, to show the products, when Rook stepped forward. His cloaked form moved smoothly, placing him between the kobolds and the guards. He was taller than Nu, and noticeably broader, an imposing figure even cloaked.

"May I know the purpose of this inspection?" Rook's voice was a deep, synthesized baritone, perfectly polite, yet vibrating with an unnatural resonance that carried an undeniable weight. "And may I assume you are not overstepping your duties as guards, since the gate guards already conducted an inspection on our goods upon entry?"

Nu's sneer deepened, but a flicker of something else, something akin to unease, crossed his face. The voice was… wrong. Too deep, too perfectly modulated, too unnatural for any beastkin. A cold dread pricked at his fur, a primal fear of the unknown.

He was part of the Lupen race, known for their pride and strength, second only to the Ursarok in the Hillwilds. To feel this fear, to be challenged by a cloaked stranger whose voice chilled him to the bone, was an affront to his very being. He glanced at the onlookers, their eyes wide and curious, already whispering. He wasn't about to let these inferior beastkins see his race humiliated, see him humiliated. His pride, bruised and threatened, flared into anger. "You are obstructing an officer of Stonehorn, in his duties!" he barked, his voice rising, trying to regain control of the situation, to mask the tremor of fear he felt. He commanded his two fellow guards, "Surround him! Attack!"

Both Lupen guards surrounded Rook from both flanks and quickly engaged, their short swords flashing. They struck Rook in the chest, the blades hitting with a dull thud, not going all the way through. They exchanged a quick glance, thinking he was wearing some kind of heavy armor.

Rook, waiting for that justification, the unspoken order from his lord to never attack someone unless they attacked first, reacted. His gloved hands, seemingly without effort, gripped the blades stuck in his chest. With a sickening snap, both swords broke, their metal shards clattering to the cobbled street. The two Lupen guards froze, their eyes wide, paralyzed in fear, their faces paling beneath their fur.

Nu, seeing his companions cower, snarled, "Cowards! How dare you stain the pride of the Lupen!" This is a disgrace! My men, paralyzed by fear from a mere cloaked figure? And that voice… it still sends shivers down my spine. But I am Nu! I am Lupen! I will not be shown up by this… this thing. His own fear, the cold dread from Rook's voice, transformed into a burning rage, a desperate need to reassert his dominance. I am Nu, a Lupen, second only to the Ursarok in strength! This cloaked stranger, would not humiliate me in front of these lesser races. He charged, a furious blur, his own sword aimed at Rook's head. It's impossible for anyone, even someone who looks like a human, to ever fight against me and win. I will show them the strength of the Lupen, a strength that will crush this insolent. I will make an example of this… this outsider. They will remember that the Lupen stands above their prey!

But reality slapped him across the face. Rook's fist simply came across his jaw. Nu staggered back, his head snapping to the side. He asked, How? When did I get attacked? I didn't even see him move! The two other Lupen, shaking off their fear, attacked back with surprising speed, but Rook moved faster. He bumped both of their heads together with a dull thump, and they crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Rook slowly walked and approached Nu, who was still sneering, still questioning reality, trying to comprehend how he hadn't seen the attack. Rook's fist connected again, a precise, powerful blow. The punches for Nu seemed like they came out of nowhere, appearing from thin air. Then, a surge of raw anger, a primal instinct, overwhelmed him. His back suddenly surged, his muscles rippling, and he grew bigger, slightly taller than Rook now. His fur thickened, his teeth elongated, and sharp, long claws sprouted from his fingertips. He had used his bloodline magic: werewolf transformation.

The onlookers gasped, scattering back. Even Orkesh, Mina, and Manicia, despite their relief at Rook's prowess, cried out, "Rook, be careful!"

The transformed Nu puffed out his chest, flexing his sharp, long claws. "How's that, monster?! You must be paralyzed and pissed your pants in fear! Fear me!"

His boast was cut short by a sudden, jarring impact. A white blur, moving with impossible speed, delivered a dropkick to Nu's hip. Nu staggered, his massive body blown away, skidding across the cobblestones.