Within my skull, using my way to sense Ether, which is basically just closing my eyes and feeling for something, I see a beautiful thing. There is no longer a vague bubble I cannot sense within, acting as the core and origin of most of my Ether. Now there is a dimly glowing symbol. No, a Sigil. It looks identical to the one I recently saw in The Cabin.
An eye that has a look in it. One of defiance in hopes of eventual freedom. Surrounded though by chains that tightly wrap around it. It appears a bit more abstract and less natural within my mind than when it was inscribed into the pages of the tome on that purple table.
I begin to follow the directions. After viewing the shape of my Sigil, I try to sense what it feels like. Slowly I let my mind drift around the beautiful piece of art that rests in my skull. And over time, I began to get several emotions and sensations that entered my mind. I feel boldness, opportunity, and a deep sense of fulfillment. I also hear the swaying of grass in the wind. Not just the grass around me that I'm trying to shut out; no, I hear two separate instances of a high grass swaying.
I have absolutely no idea what that means, so I continue to the next step. While looking at and sensing my Sigil, I slowly say its new name within my mind. Striving Philosopher. The second I finish this arbitrary step, I feel a wave of calm settles over me. Followed by a deep sense of understanding with my Sigil. Like I just inherently know its traits and personality, if one can call the emotions I get from it a character.
It strives for freedom, life, and adventure. Similar to me. Maybe that's why it resonated with me in the first place.
Then, after acclimating to this weird state, I begin step three. Carefully, very carefully, like it said, I create a small amount of Ether, about the identical amount I made the first time I used my core for Ether. But, unfortunately, with that tiny amount I create comes a great deal of pain. I feel like a hammer just slammed into my head as I try to focus and not lose my grasp on my Ether.
I try to continue to the next step. Bringing the bit of Ether out from the area that surrounds my Sigil. The second the piece exits the threshold of where the bubble used to be that has now shrunk to become the Sigil in my mind, well, pain erupts.
The pain is so great I begin foaming at the mouth, forcing me to spit or I'll choke on my own saliva. It truly is all-encompassing. Despite the Ether still being in my skull, it hasn't even entered my neck yet; I can feel a sensation similar to every toe getting cut off at once, a snipping like bone on steel. This pain is far too much to bear, and I am forced to quickly release the Ether I created into my body.
This only worsens it as the Ether begins to sink into my body, further increasing the misery.
I begin convulsing due to the overload of my system. Finally, the pain and seizure of my body make me fall onto the dirt, unable to simply stay seated. The agony lasted for close to ten minutes after I lost hold of the strand of Ether I had made. And for what felt like forever, I just lay in the dirt gasping for breath through the aftershocks of trying the "treatment" for acute Ether saturation.
I guess that using Ether is a no-go for a little while. Just using that little bit felt like it was going to kill me. Unable and unwilling to muster up the will to move or get up, I just crash on the dirt and fall asleep, once again exhausted.
**********************************
Renee "Litestep" Hayes
I awake feeling as though I am hanging upside down. Woozy and with a splitting headache, signs of a concussion. Before I open my eyes, I try to remember what brought me here.
The last thing I remember is the kid I had stabbed probably close to thirty times, standing back up, bleeding an inhuman amount of blood, then charging back at me. Then while we fought for the knife, and I almost won, he roared at me. After that, I saw Ether given tangible form, which doesn't usually happen until the 3rd or 4th Sigil except for Sigil's like Scholar or Occultist, exit his mouth and create a shockwave.
Then, the bastard Gus, who I plainly should never have recruited, ran away just as I was knocked unconscious.
Is that it? Yeah, I think so. Nothing else is past that.
So, I open my eyes. And I'm hanging on a tree attached to it by a familiar rope at the end of the forest. I can see the open road that leads to Silvia just a ways away in the distance. Turning to look around, I also see Reuben, the kind giant hanging from a tree just like me. He's still knocked out, drifting from his rope in the air. That kid must have hit him like the fucking steam train.
My voice reaches out to Reuben.
"Reuben! Wake up!"
He doesn't respond. Dammit. Gotta do it myself.
I spend several minutes reaching for the pocket knife hidden in my boot and using it to cut the rope holding me up. I land nimbly, using my hands to catch myself. Then I climb up Reuben's tree and cut him down.
He falls to the ground, and the impact finally wakes him up. He looks around in confusion before he sees me climbing from the tree. Then, Reuben moves over to me and wraps me in a hug. Then, while tightly squishing me with care, he cries out to me.
"Oh, thank goodness you're okay. I had a dream where we all got beat up by a little kid. Where's Gus?"
I push away to exit the hug before I tell him what happened. Of our defeat and Gus' betrayal. Of my newly lost daggers that I just recently acquired. Anger flares within me before I speak.
"We did get beat, Reuben. Really fucking bad. That kid was a monster, Especially with whatever artifacts he used with the Bloody Palm. No other way he would be that strong. I can't find our fucking packs, and I have no damn idea where my Adder's Fang went, either. At least your heavy-ass greatsword is on your back."
Reuben notices my anger due to my high amount of cursing and comments on it.
"Calm down a bit, Rey. We'll get you a new set of daggers. We can even sell off my sword if we have to. We're a team. We do things together, remember? What happened to Gus?"
I take a moment to calm down. But it doesn't really work. I'm usually quite level-headed, or at least like to think so, but I'm far too pissed off right now. I answer his question, though, as I motion him to follow me towards the road to Silvia in front of us.
"He abandoned us. As I was knocked out, he ran away as fast as he could. Thought he was a bit 'fraid and jittery, but never thought he'd run away on a fight."
Reuben looks surprised, then follows me in anger as he kicks a rock on the barren road we reach.
"Are you serious? Blazes. I thought we could trust anyone Willis recommended for a team?"
Gus was a new member of our team. Recruited just a week or so ago by recommendation Willis, the man to go to for information and gear at Silvia. Gus was rumored to be an excellent tracker, always alert, and very sensitive to danger. That was true. Maybe he was too sensitive to the point that he scared himself shitless and ran away.
"I guess not. There are always a few bad apples, right?"
Reuben agrees with me as we continue to walk down the road in silence for a while. Eventually, though, he breaks the silence.
"So, that kid. I guess the Bloodhound bit off more than he could chew, huh? The poor old man probably thought he was the perfect student, only for him to be mad."
That could be the case. Maybe. However, something didn't feel right while we were fighting, especially now that we are alive. My gut tells me it's not what it seems.
"Yeah, that may be the case. Though, something didn't quite feel right. I mean, like, why are we still alive? With how bloodthirsty he looked, surely he would have killed us. Even if just to keep the information that he killed his teacher to himself."
Reuben touches his chin before nodding.
"You're right. Nothing felt right about that encounter. Like there was something just at the end of my mind. I dunno what. Maybe the kid was just too scary, and he freaked me out. Like, did you see how he broke those restraints? Those damn things have held a Direbear."
I nod before recounting my own story after Reuben got knocked out.
"Well, you wouldn't know that kid at his worst. I stabbed the lil' fucker like close to thirty times, and he just stood back up and ran at me while bleeding a literal river of blood out of all his stab wounds. But then, the worst part was how he beat me. Basically just roared at me and made a shockwave strong enough to rattle my brain."
The only thing Reuben says in response to that is a groan.
"Damn. Let's walk a bit faster."
For a while, we walk. Still limping from his earlier injury, Reuben groans the whole way, but he's tough and can pull through. Finally, after a few hours of walking, we see buildings in the distance and some commotion approaching us.
Finally, we reached Silvia.
As we walk closer, I recognize the commotion. It's a platoon that returns. But their numbers are decimated; nearly fifty Hunters who move in unison to take down significant threats have been reduced to only six.
Not just that, but as I get close enough to hear the voices, I nail one down as someone I know. Grant. The Sheriff who's the vice leader of the Redhawk platoon. Pushing my way through the people who are gawking, I get close.
And Grant looks terrible. The cherry dark-skinned man I once knew is gone. He's missing an eye and his left arm. He looks so downcast that I can't even bring up the courage to speak to him. Finally, however, he notices me, but hearing him through the chaos is pretty hard.
"Renee! You and Reuben make it back, alright? Glad to at least see you made it out of that hellhole."
The Andreis Forest near us? I know it's dangerous, but it's typically used as a shortcut through to the dunes.
"What do you mean Grant? What happened? We only came across two people on our trip in the Andreis."
Hey looks a bit happy for me but is overcome with sadness.
"That's quite lucky. My platoon encountered a Shade who ambushed us with nearly a dozen Phantoms following it. Only me and five other of my boys made it out. The Capt' held 'em all off while we ran. You didn't see any spectrals while in the forest? Or anything else? There's been non-stop reports of sighting of creatures that shouldn't be 'round here."
A Shade?! Holy shit, that's big news. If I had known spectrals were in the area, I would have never gone in to retrieve that artifact from Dudley for Captain Neal. Spectrals are one of the worst types of enemy to come across, well, I guess, except for demons and otherplanars. They are hard to sense and predict and even harder to hit.
Shades are some of the worst. They are capable of turning other people's corpses into Phantoms that are bound in servitude in it. I gotta go report this and the crazy kid to the Post quickly. Not just that, but depending on the kind, they can be far worse. A Tawiscara, a particularly nasty shade with far too much time to grow, was recently slain by the Hallowed One up north and killed thousands before it was finally put down.
I get shivers just thinking about it.
"Damn, Grant. Sorry for what happened. I gotta go report what happened on our trip. The Bloodhound fell in combat. If you need a team for a little bit, Reuben and I are here for ya."
The news I drop onto Grant makes him look even worse as he curses several of the living gods.
"Fuck fuck fuck. Devildamn Genisia. Fuck Mephisto. The Devil better pardon him. I was going to ask him to hunt the Shade with me for revenge. He didn't take missions anymore, but I reckon he'd do one for Werner. Dudley may not have been as high in Sigil as Capt. Werner, but I'd trust no one else but him to go hunting for something like that. What the hell killed him? A Hierarch? Planebreaker? Had to have been at least 6th Sigil to put that old man down such that he couldn't weasel his way out in some way."
Yeah, I thought so too… I really need to report on our failure, though. And tell of Gus' betrayal. And get Reuben to the doc.
"No, you just have to wait for the report or for me to tell you in the bughouse. Seeya later, Grant. Offer is always open for me and Reuben to help you out."
He nods at me dejectedly.
"Yeah. See ya. I don't know if there's much you two could help out with, though. I will go to Nealson and see if she can do anything for the platoon. Can't let the Redhawks end like this. For Werner."
I then pull out of the crowd and find Reuben. He's over on the side talking to some short lass. Probably a local of Silvia. I make eye contact with him and then head to the Post at the front of the town.
Silvia is a medium-sized town home to close to two hundred Hunters at any point in time, with probably twice that number in the surrounding area on bounties. The Post is the part of a town that Hunters check in at to let the higher-ups know the status of their bounties. It's also used for payout.
This time though, I head to the solid concrete building at the town's forefront. The only such building made of concrete in the whole town. And I step up to the counter, pulling out my badge that indicates my rank. I keep it in a sealed pocket so I don't lose it. They are relatively expensive.
The man who rests behind the counter sits slightly straighter seeing someone he has to serve. Unfortunately, I don't recognize this man. The usual one behind the counter is Mike, an old friend, but obviously, he's not here today. The unfamiliar man clears his throat before asking an obvious question.
"Name?"
I sigh. The fucker could just read it on my badge.
"Renee Hayes."
"Title?"
"Why are you such a hardass? Mike's never this difficult. Just read my badge."
"Title?"
Man, come on. I don't have time for this bullshit. I almost just died a bit ago. Soon this asshat will have someone much less patient than me stab him in the face.
"Litestep."
"Okay. Was your mission to recover the Bloody Palm a success?"
"No."
"What occurred that prevented you from succeeding?"
This type of back-and-forth exchanges for quite a while as I described how my team almost died, how Edmund Dudley fell, how Gus deserted, and how I lost my newly acquired 2nd Flamme Daggers all because of a psychotic kid who was definitely either overusing Ether or possessed by something.
Then I watch as the man writes down the events for the next ten minutes. Asking questions here or there. Eventually, he puts his pen down and asks one final question.
"So, this kid that you fought, his abilities included being hard to kill, incredibly bloodthirsty, skinny, fast, strong, and the ability to roar shockwaves. You are the first to document this boy. What title would you like to give him?
There is always a silver lining to all bad things. And for Hunters, that's commonly naming whatever made you retreat, whether it's a new species, which is relatively common, or a new powerful Outlaw. It lets you make your mark in the world. Discover or name something that may last longer than you. Feels more solid and physical than just the gratitude of those far away to the east in their pretty cities.
I have never had this chance before. I've only been a Hunter for a few years and have slowly made my way up since making the team with Reuben, me the striker, him the big shield and distraction. So, I have to think for a while before deciding.
Skinny, fast, brutal, and hungry for blood. The way he would fight even with apparent mortal wounds. The psychosis. The starvation in his eyes. The need for release. I ask the man another question, worried about my thoughts and their meaning.
"When was the last Wendigo sighting?"
He looks surprised at my question, eyebrows raised. Then he looks behind him and grabs a ledger. He spends a minute flipping through papers before finding whatever he's looking for. Then, without even looking up, he answers my question.
"Last sighting was in 1653, close to thirty-one years ago, in an obviously now removed city called Clarent in Vallens by Lake Fell. Maddox's fame to claim was slaying it, you remember? If you want to title this kid Wendigo, it's free. Few, very few, are willing to name something the same as those abominations. Bad luck.."
Maybe he's right. Wendigos are heavily cursed creatures, said to bring bad luck, hunger, and a hundred other things in their wake. But something makes me stick to that. I feel like it's an apt name for that little monster.
So, I nod and confirm the title for him.
"Yeah, set that as the title."
He takes a second to pull out another piece of paper, this one quite large. Then he stamps something on it before drawing my description of the boy in less than a minute. He hands it to me after he's done.
"Go put this up in Sally's Saloon. I set him as a 4-Star Bounty. And special requirements are that none under 3rd Sigil can even join the team for the bounty hunt. Anyone less than that will get butchered by this killer of the Bloodhound, The Wendigo."
I take the poster and head to Sally's Saloon to meet some friends and have a good time after the recent near-death experience. It's been days since I had some strong liquor. Hopefully, this break will end soon. It should, though; it is odd.
Why are beasts, Outlaws, and the occasional demon attacking now? After over two decades of peace here in Tornridge, they strike? Why? I came here to chase the occasional hiding Outlaw or rare beast, not fight hundreds of crazed enemies.
What changed here?