Fantasy Hunter's Moon: Cruel Choreography | A Side Story

[joshuadim]

Go to the Tavern

 

[Damian0358]

Go to the Tavern

 

[K0mori]

The church.

 

[Infab]

• The Tavern

Claire pointed a gloved finger north towards the Bard's Riposte, next to the inn. "The tavern seems like a good spot." she said, "Nice bottleneck at the front, to funnel the ghouls in. Probably a large open area to work with inside. We'll have to check for other ways in and out, though."

Brassard nodded. "Excellent. The bottleneck just might help give us an edge, if there's too many of them. We can make quick work of them, as they squeeze through, with our swords."

Holloway nodded as well, before moving to a nearby body, which was mostly still together. "Alright. Brassard, let's start piling these bodies up in the center. Find anything flammable, and toss it onto the pile as well." he stated, before glancing to Claire as he lifted the body up by the arms. "Do what you need to do, Claire, then come back and give us a hand."

Claire nodded, giving the Senior Inquisitor a quick thumbs-up before strolling across the square towards the tavern. As she moved through the mud, she glanced down to see that some of the tracks also head towards the tavern. Likely from fleeing occupants or ghouls roaming about, seeking fresh prey. They'd be doing it again later tonight.

As she neared the tavern, she took in its appearance from the outside for a few moments. It looked much like other taverns that one would see, scattered across Escaria in its small towns and villages. A large wooden structure, with decorated carvings and tapestries hanging from the walls. Simple but eye-pleasing flooring and tables, a nice bar with a smooth top for sliding drinks along. Bar stools that seemed to have been crafted more for durability than looks. The structure had two floors, large plates of thick glass adorning the front on either side of the entrance while six smaller windows lined the building's front above them on the second floor. This tavern was missing the doors that usually hung inside main archway of the entrance, and soon she would see why. They had been ripped off the hinges and now lay on the floor just inside. A lot of bodies moving quite quickly and roughly through the entrance must have pulled them from the walls.

They seemed to be simplistic doors meant to be pushed inward or pulled outward in either direction, allowing one to simply push their body through without the need of grabbing a door handle or knob. This also meant that they couldn't be locked either, so there likely had been someone that stayed up during the night to watch over things inside during the nocturnal hours.

Claire drew her sword as she stepped into the archway, in the event that she wasn't alone inside the building. Blood stains were scattered across the floor and a few overturned tables, with a few bodies and fleshy chunks lying next to the stains or near them. One of the tables had even been broken, with splinters and table legs having been stripped off and used as makeshift weapons. A similar case involved some of the bar stools. It didn't save them, of course. Everyone was either dead or a ghoul now.

As she moved through the main seating area of the tavern, she would pause at each of the bodies. She'd press the tip of her sabre into their flesh, making sure that they were truly dead and not just faking it. Silver, to test the waters. If they were ghouls, the silver would have burned and caused them to cry out in pain. These people were actually dead. They'd need to be burned too. It was likely some of the other buildings also had bodies in them, so they would also need to be searched before the sun set.

She glanced over towards the bar, before moving over and peering over the counter behind it. One body. Likely the bartender, dressed in a stained white shirt, brown pants, and an apron. She made her way around, and tested him as well. He was also dead. Good. She glanced up to the booze that was still in stock, and not shattered all over the floor beneath her, and noticed a bottle of rum. Perfect. Something to enjoy later. She took it from the shelf, and made her way back around the bar. Time to check the back rooms, then move on up to the second floor.

There were four rooms at the back of the tavern. On the far left, behind the staircase leading up to the second floor, was a door which lead out into the alleyway between the inn and the tavern. Good. There's a way out if they needed it. The door close to it, visible from the front entrance, was a toilet. She didn't bother to check inside. It smelled horrid.

A larger door on the right, near the bar, lead into a storage room. Inside, extra chairs, tables, dry goods, booze, and an assortment of other items. They could use the chairs and tables to barricade the large windows at the front. The booze would help with setting the pile of bodies on fire... or the building if they had to escape. Alcohol was highly flammable.

The final door was next to the bar, leading into the kitchen area. No one seemed to have been cooking in there during the night, so there wasn't any spoiled food to speak of. The stove was cool to the touch, pots and pans had been cleaned and put away. Dishes sat inside the sink, appearing to have been in mid-wash when the ordeal started. Near the sink, clutching a long butcher's cleaver, was what appeared to be the chef. He was also dead, having had his throat ripped out by a mangled mess of sharp teeth and chunks of his body missing due to the ghouls' ravenous hunger for flesh and blood.

"...This was a massacre." Claire muttered to herself, gazing down at the corpse. She popped the cork off the bottle in her hand, taking a swig of its spiced contents before turning about and heading back into the main area of the tavern. Time to check the second floor. Up the stairs she walked, her sword's tip gently tapping against each step as she ascended.

This part of the tavern was usually reserved for the living quarters of some of the tavern's staff, to her knowledge. A few of the doors were open, allowing her to peer inside and examine the rooms and their contents. Pretty drab, really. Simple things that you'd see in, say, an inn or other housing complex. One room had a desk inside, a corpse slumped over it. It was a woman, in a fancy Escarian dress. She was covered in bite marks on her arms... and had a pistol shot through her skull. A small flintlock pistol lay on the floor, below her hand.

Suicide, to avoid turning into a ghoul herself.

"...At least you went out on your own terms." whispered Claire, gazing at the woman's head, before checking the desk. A few documents, some silver coins, and some ammunition for the small flintlock that the woman had used. It was too small to be properly used inside her own pistol. Shit.

The room that sat at the front of the building, above the entrance, appeared to have been the woman's quarters along with a private area to greet and entertain guests. The furniture here looked much better than that in the other rooms, and the room itself was decorated far more exquisitely. Fine green carpet, purple wallpaper with golden engravings and designs. Fancy, masterfully carved chairs and tables. A sofa with purple cushions to match the walls. A fancy bed, with silky sheets.

She was definitely the owner of the establishment.

Once Claire was satisfied, looking about the room one last time, she departed and moved back downstairs. Brassard had just entered, looking around herself. She looked up to the stairs, and smiled as she saw Claire descending. "Anything of note?" asked the inquisitor-in-training, her hands coming to rest on her hips.

"A few bodies here in the main room, one behind the bar and one in the kitchen by the bar. A few more are upstairs. All need to be burned." responded Claire, before taking another swig of rum. "There's a storage room in the back that has more tables and chairs. We can use them to block the windows down here. There's a door in the back behind the stairs that leads out into the alley. We can use that to escape if things get too bad, then burn the building down around the ghouls."

As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she approached Brassard and offered the bottle of rum. Brassard simply shook her head, refusing. Claire shrugged, before stuffing the cork back into the mouth of the bottle. She took one last look around the interior of the tavern, before looking back outside. "We'll need to find a good place to put the horses." she soon muttered, just loud enough for Brassard to hear. "Out of the way, so they aren't attacked by the ghouls."

"Holloway suggested behind the church. That way, he can keep an eye on them." responded Brassard, turning around to look outside as well.

"What, is he going to stay inside the Church?" asked Claire, glancing to Brassard with an eyebrow raised. "Thought we were all sticking together?"

Brassard shook her head. "He said that for this, its probably best if we separate a little. Split the ghouls up, so they're in thinner numbers, and then cut them down."

Claire eyed Brassard for a moment. Usually the best idea, when dealing with large groups of ghouls, was to stick close together and cut through them as a group. That way, no one was alone and at risk of being overwhelmed. However, thinning the heard through division and manipulation could theoretically work. Especially since they were able to bottleneck the ghouls a bit in some of these buildings.

"...Do you trust his judgement?" Claire eventually asked. Brassard cut her a look before nodding rapidly.

Claire then sighed, before speaking again. "Alright... well, let's get these bodies piled up and burning." she muttered, before stuffing the rum bottle into her shirt and moving towards the closest body inside the tavern. This was going to take a while.

--- --- --- --- --- ---
​

Night came, with Claire sitting at the bar in the tavern. Eyes glued to the inferno that had manifested in the center of the square, bottle of rum in one hand and her sabre clenched tightly in the other. The pile of bodies was rather sizable, with chunks of flesh, some furniture, some hay, and other flammable materials tossed on to allow it to burn easier. Holloway had done the deed, making a simple firebomb from a bottle of whiskey and an alcohol soaked rag. Now, the Senior Inquisitor sat alone inside the church, likely in the bell tower which offered a perfect view of the square.

Brassard had chosen the inn next to the tavern, having walked through it and inspected it during the body clean-up. There were a few ways out of the building, but she and Claire had agreed that Brassard's best bet would be to use the one leading directly out the back, near the exit of the alleyway between the inn and tavern. That way, Claire could meet her if things got too hairy.

As Claire watched the burning pile outside, she took another drink from the bottle of rum. She always hated this part. The waiting. The wait to see if the target would take the bait and approach. It was always quiet, always tense. Thankfully, ghouls made noise when they approached. They weren't as smart as, say, a werebeast or a vampire. Those types of creatures stalked their prey. Ghouls were rabid and attacked on impulse.

She glanced down into the bottle after a moment, looking at its contents. She had drank half the bottle over the course of the day. This was nothing, of course. She used to drink several bottles at a time when she was younger if she wanted to get shitfaced. This was just to take the edge off of a tense situation. She then glanced to the tables and chairs she had stacked against the windows, and the now bare room around her. She was ready for this, at least.

An hour passed, but she soon began to hear it. Groans. Snarls. The ghouls were coming. They had taken the bait.

She took one last swig of her rum, before corking it and pushing it aside on the bar. She stood, moving over near one of the tables near the doorway so that she could get a better view outside. Then, she saw just how many there were.

A few hundred, at least. Enough to fill this village, as well as two or three others.

Good gods. Her eyes widened, and she cut a glance to the church's bell tower. She couldn't see Holloway, but hoped he was seeing this too. There was no way in hell they were going to kill all of those ghouls by themselves, especially as separated as they were. It'd take a sizable force of inquisitors or even a small chunk of Escaria's military to quell this.

• Stick with the plan. You have to steel yourself.
• Make more firebombs to use, from the alcohol in storage. Burn 'em.
• Move into the Inn, where Brassard is. Strength in numbers.
• Flee. You're not winning this fight.

 

[Breadman]

3

 

[Damian0358]

1

 

[joshuadim]

1

 

[K0mori]

4

 

[Infab]

• Stick with the plan. You have to steel yourself.

Calm yourself, Claire. You've fought ghouls before. They're like mindless, rabid dogs. They're fueled by their hunger. They can be easily put down, regardless of their number. You just have to focus. There's a plan in place: funnel them through the entrance, and dispatch them. Split between three buildings, they should be dealt with quickly enough. If the bodies pile too high in the entrance, move towards the rear of the building and continue. Once the building is overrun, escape through the exit and set the building on fire using a firebomb.

Claire glanced down to her sabre, inspecting the blade. She had sharpened it days prior, making sure it was in good working condition. It'd do the job as quickly and efficiently as she could swing it. She gripped the handle tightly, before standing. "Well, let's begin." she muttered to herself, stepping over and slapping the side of her blade against the frame of the entrance.

The ghouls closest to her building heard, their heads snapping around to face her. Their eyes wide and bloodshot, their teeth razor sharp and resembling broken glass. Failed vampires, all of them. Devoid of sentience, and only sated by the taste of blood and flesh. Not much different from zombies, but zombies were a little more difficult to put down.

They soon began to approach, at quite a decent pace. Zombies shambled and walked. Ghouls walked, jogged, and even ran. Whatever it took to catch their prey. As three ghouls reached the doorway, they were met by sharp swings from Claire's sabre. One was beheaded, another disarmed and stabbed through the underside of the jaw, and another was stabbed through the temple after being knocked sideways by a sharp punch.

More arrived afterwards, and then the real work began. Claire pulled back into the building, allowing the ghouls to be funneled through the entrance like water through a pipe. Soon, as expected, the bodies began piling up. It seemed Brassard was doing well enough in the neighboring building, as she could hear Brassard cutting down her own group of ghouls and shouting in Escarian at them to draw more in to combat.

However, things started to go a bit sideways.

As Claire moved towards the rear of the building, drawing more ghouls into the room, she heard the rear exit open behind the stairs. She glanced back, just in time to see a trio of ghouls rush through towards her. Shit, they found the rear entrance! She spun about, slaying the trio as they arrived with swift slices and stabs, before hearing glass shatter. Looking back to the front, she saw that the ghouls had shattered the windows on either side of the entrance, and were now forcing their way through the barricade using their sheer combined weight.

"Shit." she muttered, eyeing the mass coming through. They were coming in like a flood now, and were starting to make their way in through the rear. She'd need to go up in order to escape.

She moved towards the staircase, cutting down two ghouls as she moved, before rapidly ascending to the second floor. A few ghouls followed, which she spun around and promptly kicked back down the stairs before darting down the hallway at the top. She had to get to that main room above the entrance. The one with the windows. If she could make it outside the window, she could scale along the front of the building, and make a jump to the balcony over the entrance of the inn.

Down the hallway, through the door, and to the window she went. Once she arrived, she got a good view of the environment outside too. The ghouls were focusing mostly on her building as well as the inn. A glance towards the church, however, forced her to pause.

There were no ghouls at the doors of the church. They weren't even approaching it. What the hell?

She still couldn't see if Holloway was in the bell tower, but at the moment, she had more pressing issues at hand. She glanced back to see the door to the room was now vibrating. Ghouls on the other side, hammering away at it to get inside to her. She needed to act quickly. She grabbed one of the chairs, and slung it towards one of the windows with as much muscle as she could muster. It collided, smashing the window and sailing out into the crowd of ghouls below. A moment later, she climbed out onto the ledge just outside.

Below her, hundreds of ghouls. Ravenous, gnashing teeth and outstretched arms. Trying to get to her. She looked down at them wide-eyed for a moment. One slip, and she was dead. She slipped her sabre into its sheath, before she began to inch her way across the ledge to the side of the building. The Inn's balcony was a sizeable jump away, but she had to reach it in order to escape.

As she neared the edge, she heard the door crash inward inside the room she had just left. They had made it through, but wouldn't reach her in time.

At the edge, she paused and peered downward. Ghouls roamed about below, looking up at her, but they couldn't reach her. Now, she had to just jump across. There was a railing she could grab, and pull herself onto the balcony. No mucking this up, Claire.

One... two... three!

She jumped, flinging her body across the gap and reaching for the balcony's railing. A hand met it, and clamped down tightly. Her body slapped against the side of the building, and she slung her other arm up to get a better grip on the railing. She struggled for a moment, trying to gain the leverage to pull herself up. Her boots slid down the wall, never finding a good grip. Soon, however, she was able to lift herself upwards with her arms. Slowly, she pulled herself over the railing, slinging her leg over, and eventually rolling onto the balcony's floor. Knocking over a chair, and shoving a table aside.

"...Finally." she muttered to herself, before climbing to her feet. Inside, she could hear Brassard still fighting the oncoming ghouls. She needed to meet up with her, and try to find a way out of this.

She moved towards the door, and shoved it inward. The inside of the inn was a bit better decorated than that of the tavern next door. It, of course, had to appeal to less drunken patrons and more-so to those staying for a night or several. Red carpeting, dark wood wall panels, extravagant wall mounted oil lamps. The rooms were decorated nice, with clean white sheets on the bed and comfortable looking furniture along with a polished metal bath tub to bathe in.

At the end of the hallway ahead of her, she could hear Brassard's voice. They must have pushed her in far enough that she was heading up the staircase to the second floor exit in the back.

"Brassard!" she called out, drawing her sabre and darting down the hallway quickly.

"Claire!?" responded Brassard, in confusion. The inquisitor-in-training soon appeared at the end of the hallway, looking towards Claire as she approached quickly.

"We need to get out of here! There's too many of them!" she urged as she arrived, motioning towards the exit nearby. As if to interrupt them, a pair of ghouls appeared from the stairwell, which Claire promptly stabbed and shoved back down the stairs. They fell into other ghouls that were climbing up, knocking them back downward as well.

"W-What about the plan!?" asked Brassard.

"Forget the plan! There's hundreds of these gods-forsaken things, Brassard! This would take a group of your inquisitors or a small army to sort out!" replied Claire, moving past Brassard towards the exit. "We go out the back, circle around to the church, and get our horses!"

"Alright!" was all Brassard said in response, quickly following after Claire as she bolted out the door onto the rear stairwell of the building.

Of course, there were ghouls back here as well, but not as many as in the front. Claire cut down the ones on the staircase, decending and landing in the mud and dirt at the base. Brassard cut down more, cleaving through three of them with her own sabre as she followed after Claire. They circled around, moving through alleyways and behind buildings as they moved towards the east. Soon, the church was in sight... and Claire had a far better view of the bell tower now.

"Holloway isn't in the bell tower." said Claire, glancing back to Brassard.

"What?" she replied, shocked. "That's where he said he'd be!"

"Well, he's not." Claire then pointed towards the window. "No one is up there. You'd see his shadow, because of the bonfire's light."

True enough, the only shadow one could see was that of the rope leading up to the bell. Brassard's expression shifted to one of total confusion. Where was the senior inquisitor? The man that was supposed to be helping them, and training her?

As they circled around to the rear of the church, a grisly sight forced both of them to freeze in sheer terror.

Their horses were dead. They had been ripped apart, chunks of flesh strewn in different directions. Their bellies were split open, innards scattered across the ground. That was only half of why they had frozen in terror.

A hulking creature was crouched over what was left of Claire's horse, Noël... feasting on its intestines. It was covered in a dull grey fur, a long tail waving behind it as it fed. Claire knew exactly what it was, and she didn't have the means to truly fight it. Still, she'd have to.

​

"Brassard." she whispered, "Run. Into the woods. I'll distract it. Head due east. There should be an Escarian fort not too far from here. A day and a half's run, at most."

Brassard looked to Claire in shock. "I can't just leave you here!" she responded.

The creature's ears shifted, and it paused its feasting.

"Brassard, run. NOW! Don't worry about me." Claire demanded, cutting a look to Brassard before drawing her pistol with her off hand. One shot. That's all she had left. Just one shot in her musket pistol, and her sabre.

Brassard looked rapidly between Claire and the creature, her eyes darting back and forth, before she turned and bolted in the direction of the treeline. As the inquisitor-in-training ran off, the creature slowly stood upright. It was easily four feet taller than Claire was, the hunter forcing herself to look up at it as it straightened up. Oh... you're a big one.

It turned about, and soon it's eyes met Claire's. Before her stood a werewolf, and a proper one at that. Probably a pack leader, but without a pack. Her eyes travelled downward briefly. Male.

"...Tossing a guess into the wind... Holloway?" she said aloud, reaching over and cocking the hammer back on the musket pistol.

The werewolf didn't seem to respond to the name. Maybe its not Holloway? Though, that didn't matter much. It was still a very large, and intimidating, threat.

• Fight. You can deal with this thing right here in the open.
• Into the Forest. If you pull it into the forest (away from the direction Brassard went), you could use the trees as cover while fighting it.
• Lead the Ghouls to it. A very, very risky idea would be to lead the ghouls here to it. They could potentially swarm it... or just overwhelm and eat you while the werewolf watches.
• Run. Run away, just like Brassard did, but in a different direction. If you run far enough, and evade it, it may give up hunting you.

 

[K0mori]

2

 

[Breadman]

2

 

[joshuadim]

4

 

[Damian0358]

3

 

[Infab]

• Into the Forest. If you pull it into the forest (away from the direction Brassard went), you could use the trees as cover while fighting it.

Claire slowly glanced to the treeline nearby, her eyes rolling in their sockets to look out the corners. The trees. The trees can provide protection. At least, a little. It's worth a shot. Though... I have to get him to chase me, and not Brassard.

She glanced down to her musket pistol. I could shoot him, but a musket pistol isn't gonna punch through that tough hide of his. I'd need a rifle for that. She glanced up to the werewolf once more, looking him over. Hmm... time to play dirty, I guess.

A moment later, her arm snapped up and she fired the musket pistol. Her target? The werewolf's crotch. The shot connected, the silver ball and steel pellets ripping through its groin and spattering blood across the ground beneath it. The werewolf yelped loudly in pain, much like a struck dog, as it dropped to its knees and clutched at its nether regions.

That would only piss it off, really, as it would eventually heal. However, that's what she needed. Its rage, focused on her. She tucked the pistol back into her belt, before darting for the treeline. Away from the direction Brassard went, and away from the direction of the mass of ghouls. Don't need to get caught by those.

She soon heard the werewolf howl behind her, enraged and now tracking her. Thankfully, by the time this had happened, she was at the treeline. She slipped into the woods, putting as much cover between her and the beast as possible. About twenty meters in, she stopped and pressed herself against a tree.

Alright, time to think. Form a plan. I've fought werewolves before, but I was actually prepared for it before. Right now, I don't have much. Sword, flintlock pistol, flint, and just enough materials to load the pistol but without a projectile. I can use some rocks, if they're small enough to fit in the barrel. Getting hit with rocks at a high velocity will hurt like hell, and maybe stun it. I can finish it off with my sabre, but that's gonna take some good cuts and stabs. I have to pace myself, and strike at just the right moments.

She drew the pistol out, and cocked the hammer halfway back again. Gunpowder... wad... She grabbed a few small rocks and pebbles from the ground next to the tree, shoving a few into the barrel, before putting a bit of scrap paper in over the rocks. Once everything was seated with the short ram rod, she cocked the hammer back fully. It was ready to go. I hope this doesn't just fucking explode on me.

Just as she lifted the pistol up, branches on the tree across from her to the left cracked and burst as the werewolf barreled through it. It bounced off the tree, using it as leverage to launch itself at her from her side.

Her eyes went wide. He's a hell of a lot faster than I thought! She spun around to the right, rolling around the side of the tree to avoid the incoming werewolf, before moving around behind the tree and darting further into the woods. She needed to figure out just when to strike it. She could hear him bounding around behind her, moving around the tree to chase after her. For a brief moment, he actually did manage to catch up to her as she moved around another tree. His claws swiped at her, slicing through her shirt and creating shallow gashes across her back.

The pain was sharp, but not enough to give her pause. She needed to keep moving, deeper into the woods. She'd kill it at some point, but she needed to put distance between them and Brassard. A hundred meters she ran, darting between trees. Avoiding the werewolf and its sharp claws and teeth. Eventually, however, bad luck would strike. Her foot found an exposed root, forcing her to trip and fall onto the ground.

The werewolf was on her within seconds, as she rolled over onto her back. A sharp swipe sliced open her shirt, large gashes ripping through the flesh on her abdomen and chest. She cried out in pain, before quickly pointing her pistol at the beast's face and firing. Rocks and pebbles exploded from the muzzle, hitting the beast squarely in the eyes. It roared in pain, clutching at its face as she managed to scramble up and turn to run.

However, something was in the way.

She heard Escarian, shouted in her direction. Get down! She dropped quickly, falling back to the dirt. Then, she heard the sound of a musket rifle firing... then two pistols, one behind the other. The werewolf cried out, struck by the shots, before crashing to the ground behind her. She looked back, to see the werewolf thrash about briefly briefly before going limp. It was dead.

She sighed, letting her head rest against the ground for a moment, before looking up to her savior.

​

It was an Escarian Royal Musketeer, his blue/red uniform and dark colored cloak giving his status away. He tucked his pistols away, and picked his rifle up off the ground, as his eyes shifted from the dead werewolf to Claire.

More Escarian. Are you alright? I was passing by, on my way to the fort, and saw the fire from the road. What happened?

Claire shook her head. "Ghouls attacked Ditoise. I went there with two Inquisitors to hunt them, but there were too many. The male inquisitor disappeared, and the female ran off into the woods towards the fort to get help. This... thing killed our horses and was going to kill me... He sliced me open pretty good." she said, looking down to the wounds across her chest and stomach. "...I need a healer."

"Atracan, eh?" responded the Musketeer, before slinging his rifle onto his back and moving to help her. "I have a horse nearby. I can take you to the fort."

"...Alright. Would you... send someone after the girl inquisitor too? Her name is Évelyne Brassard. Long brown hair, green eyes..." she continued, as the Musketeer slipped her arm around his neck and began to help her along.

"Don't worry. I'll get someone out here to find her, or I'll look for her myself." was his response. Soon, the light grey horse was in sight. He was definitely a Royal Musketeer, with all the official looking gear that had been fitted to the horse. The saddle even had the sigil of the Musketeers branded into it.

Claire almost chuckled when she saw it, but instead glanced to the man's face. "What's your name?"

"Claude. Claude Guilloux."

--- --- --- --- --- ---

End of Prologue

--- --- --- --- --- ---​

 

[Infab]

--- --- --- --- --- ---

Chapter One
A Conversation with Death

--- --- --- --- --- ---

October 3rd, 1740​

Claire had immense respect for healers. Able to mend the body, repairing damaged skin, muscle, tissues, and even organs with holy magic, they were often sought after when normal surgeons just wouldn't cut it or you needed to mend the body without leaving nasty scars. Fort Valenroux's healer was a young priest by the name of Fabien Seyrès. He had come into service at the small church located within the fort's central keep, and had just finished a brief confession session with another musketeer when Claire was brought in.

It didn't take very long to mend Claire's injuries. They weren't too deep. It was mostly muscle and skin that needed mending, thankfully. Afterwards, she was allowed to rest in a private room inside the keep normally given to guests. Hours passed, and morning eventually came. With it, word that the Musketeers had located Brassard and were bringing her back to the fort as well.

Where the hell did Holloway go? Did he leave during the attack, or before when we weren't paying attention? I don't think I saw his horse among the remains, so he didn't leave on foot. Where did the werebeast come from? Was it drawn in by the fire as well?

Several questions ran through Claire's mind, as she lay on the bed in a fresh white blouse shirt and her leather pants and boots. Those thoughts soon shifted to others, as she looked down at what gear she still had with her. All of it was gathered on a simple wooden chair at the foot of the bed. So much to replace. Though... I wonder...

She soon stood, moving over to the bloody shirt that she had been wearing just hours prior. She shifted through it, eventually finding the letter she had tucked into her shirt before the events of the previous night. It was... of course, partially covered in blood. Fuck.

She unfolded it, and flipped it over. What she found surprised her, her eyes widening. Words had been revealed on the parchment, but only in the stained areas.

Thanks to whatever means the letter had been written with, the text was only legible if the page was soaked in blood. What the hell? Who writes letters like this?

The other half of the parchment was clean, so she'd need to stain it as well to read it fully. She moved over to her sword, drawing it out far enough to slide her palm down the blade. A thin cut was given, and once enough blood had oozed from the wound, she smeared it across the clean side of the letter. Soon enough, more text was revealed.

Claire McLachlan,

First and foremost, let me apologize for the strange enchantment placed on this document. Due to who I am, and the different families I am associated with, secrecy is a must. There are those that would seek death and ruin brought down upon our heads, and would only use this and other documents sent in this manner to bring that to fruition. I hope that the instructions on how to read this document were passed on to you. If not, then I can only hope you've figured it out without too much difficulty.

Now, secondly, I should confess up front that I am a vampire. In particular, one of good standing amongst my house. I know that it is normally your duty to hunt vampires, but I can assure you, most of us are quite different from the wretches that you often encounter out in the world. I, and the others, do not wish to harm humanity. We only wish to remain quietly amongst ourselves, and interact only with the public through business or when otherwise needed. I also tell you this because I know you're not associated with the Church or one of the hunter's guilds. You answer to no one, and you have your own thoughts and morals you abide by instead of a charter or proclamations from some god. You may make up your mind about me or others as you see fit, and need not rely on what someone else tells you.

Now, I send you this letter as a formal request for your services as a huntress and investigator. You will be handsomely rewarded for your services, of course, in the form of coin or other goods. Should you wish to accept my offer, I shall be in the town of Frérac in northern Escaria for the next three weeks. I will be staying at Madamé Rousselot's Inn & Tavern. Ask for a man named 'Kromer'.

If you do not wish to accept, I ask that you simply burn this document. No further effort will be made to contact you, and you can continue your life as if I never sent this letter.

Thank you for your consideration.

S.K.

Claire cocked an eyebrow as she read over the letter. A vampire, wanting to hire me to investigate something? Why me? I'm no one special. She brushed the remaining blood from her palm off on her pants' leg, and scratched her head. This is strange, but then again, everything's been strange the past two days.

She used her old shirt to dry the letter a bit, before folding it up and sticking it inside her new shirt that she was wearing. Then, she tore a strip of cloth from her old shirt, and used it as a makeshift bandage untill her palm stopped bleeding. She'd have to look into things in Frérac later. For now, she had other things to do.

• Venture out into the Keep. You can see what Claude and the other Musketeers are up to, and you can thank the priest.
• Leave the Keep. The courtyard seems like a good place to get some fresh air and stretch your legs.
• Wait in your room. It seems like a good time to just rest, until Brassard arrives.

 

[K0mori]

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[Damian0358]

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[Infab]

• Venture out into the Keep. You can see what Claude and the other Musketeers are up to, and you can thank the priest.

Guess its time to go see what the others are up to. Claire grabbed what few things she had, and stepped quietly out of the room into the long hallway outside. Sunlight gleamed through the widely spaced windows, filling the hall with light. At one end, to Claire's right, there was a maid tending to the guest rooms. To the left, some Musketeers had gathered and were chatting about something in Escarian. Claire moved to the left, walking down the hallway and past the Musketeers. She overheard a little of what they were saying. Something about a group of bandits down in the area of Vagnane, down on the border of Au Gres and Chalmette Florissant. None of her concern, honestly.

Moving through the keep, she would encounter mostly Escarian soldiers moving about. Tending to their usual duties and routines, of course. The Musketeers were simply guests, just like she was, though of a more important standing as they answered to the ruler of Escaria. Eventually, she found herself entering the central chamber of the keep. Decorated in the typical embellishments and ornamentations of the Kingdom of Escaria, it seemed that this room in particular served as a sort of command room thanks mostly to the square table at the center with a map of the nation stretched across it. Markers had been placed across it, labeling the major cities of Escaria as well as the forts and castles that still marked its landscape. There were also other markers, signifying something else.

Standing near the table was Claude, speaking to two other Musketeers. Fabien, the priest, was also standing nearby. He seemed to be looking mostly at the map, reading over the names of towns and cities in Escaria.

There was also a blonde woman standing among the Musketeers, wearing an inquisitor's garb. Instead of a tricorne hat, she wore a wide brimmed hat similar to what Brassard and the musketeers wore. She also wore a pair of green tinted glasses, the hexagon-shaped lenses reflecting some of the light as she looked around.

Claire decided to approach Fabien first, moving to his right and greeting him quietly. "Hello, Father Seyrès." she said softly, smiling.

The priest looked up, and returned the smile as he noticed who it was. "Ah, Lady McLachlan. Good to see you up and moving about." he replied, "How are your wounds? Any discomfort?"

She gently shook her head. "No, thankfully. You did an excellent job. I appreciate your help." she said, before looking to the map. "...What's with the little red flags? Battles?"

Fabien shook his head. "From what I understand, its large clusters of ghoul sightings. The Musketeers think its fledgling vampires, but it seems odd to me. Why such a drastic rise in the span of a few weeks?"

"A few weeks?" asked Claire, glancing to the priest.

"Yes... It started down in Pérignan. Then, Argenlet followed by Bénin and Colomur. Now, we have Ditoise. Entire towns turned into ghouls."

"What does the Church think about it?"

"The Church is of the same mentality as the Musketeers, apparently."

Claire glanced to the Inquistior standing nearby, before giving the priest a pat on the shoulder. Then, she moved over to where the musketeers and the inquisitor were standing and talking. "Good morning." she said as she stepped up, looking mainly to Claude.

The wavy brown haired musketeer shifted slightly, looking over. He then smiled. "Ah! We were just talking about you. Good to see you're up and moving." he said, before motioning to the other two musketeers. "This is Régis Lafaille, and Bernard Chéreau." He then waves a hand towards the Inquistior standing with them, who introduces herself.

"Senior Inquisitor Cassandra Bainbridge." replies the woman, giving Claire a polite but slight nod of the head and smile. "I heard about Ditoise. I'm surprised you and Inquisitor-to-be Brassard made it out alive. A werewolf and hundreds of ghouls? Quite an ordeal."

"Yeah. We managed to kill a few of them, but were on the verge of getting overwhelmed. There was another Senior Inquisitor with us, but he seems to have vanished. His horse was missing, when we went to get ours." responded Claire.

"Ah, yes. Claude told me. Senior Inquisitor Holloway." said Cassandra, motioning a hand towards Claude. "Its a strange occurance. I've never heard of him abandoning a duty. He must have been taken by surprise, or noticed something and went after it. Perhaps he saw the vampire that made those ghouls?"

Claire shrugged. "Who knows?" she muttered, before glancing to Claude. "Any word on Brassard?"

Claude nodded. "She arrived just a few moments ago. I think she's out at the horse stables with the other musketeers. She'll be here shortly."

• Question Claude. Maybe he has some thoughts on the attacks?
• Question Cassandra. Another member of the Inquisition could give insight into things like the attacks or Holloway.
• Look over the Map. Maybe you can make a connection of your own regarding the attacks.
• Wait quietly for Brassard.

 

[Breadman]

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[Damian0358]

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[K0mori]

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[Infab]

• Question Cassandra. Another member of the Inquisition could give insight into things like the attacks or Holloway.

Claire glanced to the inquisitor once more. "What else can you tell me about Holloway? You certainly know far more about him than I do, I imagine. I've only known him for a day, at most." she soon asked. "Brassard seems to think highly of him."

Cassandra nodded slightly. "Well respected amongst the Inquisition. A man of duty and focus. Sees jobs through until the end, and makes sure things are handled accordingly." she replied, folding her arms. "He has a knack for dealing with hostile entities, which makes up for his lack of... well, people skills. I've heard tales of him taking out a variety of different creatures, with the most notable recent one being a highland banshee."

Claire cocked an eyebrow. "A banshee? I'm surprised he could still hear us, then, if he tangled with one of those."

"Yes. The trick is cotton. Stuff it in your ears before you engage them." responded Cassandra, "Though, if the banshee starts focusing its screams at you in a sonic attack, that might not help. He must have caught it by surprise if he were able to take it out without too much damage." Cassandra then raised a finger. "Cotton in the ears also helps with sirens. They can't lure you in with their sweet songs if the song is all garbled when it reaches your ears."

Claire nodded. "Yeah, I've heard that one before. I used to be a pirate."

Cassandra cocked an eyebrow, and smirked. "Ahhh, a swashbuckler, eh? I bet you're happy the King had those laws tweaked, then." she said, with a faint chuckle. "Otherwise, you would have been at the end of of a rope."

"Yeah. Got a brand instead, and less job opportunities. The past tends to haunt you." responded Claire.

Cassandra's smirk grew larger. "Oh, it certainly does. Believe me." she muttered softly.

Claire then shifted her attention to the map, changing the subject. "So, what do you think of the attacks? All these ghouls, entire towns being turned..." she said, stepping over behind Cassandra and waving her hand towards the little red flags.

Cassandra turned about, and glanced to the map. "Well my superiors think its, of course, fledgling vampires. I've fought several, and it fits how most of them tended to operate." she responded, "Several of them focus more on just drinking blood. Sating the hunger. They're not worried about the aftermath of biting someone. What the victim might turn into once the infection takes hold."

"And the others?"

"The sheer thrill. Holding someone else's life in your hands, and the power to turn them into something just like you, or into a complete monster... or simply a dry corpse. That sort of power and control. Its something deep within the dark recesses of the psyche, and being turned draws it to the forefront. So I'm told." Cassandra glanced to Claire after a moment. "There's also the lust it pulls forth, but you hear less about horny vampires and more about the bloodthirsty killer type."

Claire cut her a look, before looking back to the map. "...So do you think its fledglings?" she then asked, "Ignoring what your superiors think."

Cassandra shrugged. "Could be. Though the attacks have happened rather frequently compared to how things have happened in the past. Plus, past incidents hadn't resulted in entire towns being turned. Only a few dozen or so." she stated, "...Honestly, I think this is the work of vampires with more experience."

"Something coordinated?"

"Maybe. Vampires are fast, and experienced vampires are smart. A town full of peasants would be slaughtered quite quickly by a vampire with even a slight amount of experience or a few years under their belt. Even faster if there were several experienced vampires working together. But, really, we won't know until one of them makes a mistake. Then, we can figure out how to track them and slaughter them."

Eventually, Cassandra shifted. She turned about, looking back to Claude and the other Musketeers. "Its been a pleasure, but I must be going. I've an inquiry to join in on over in Bastion. Reports of a witch's coven have popped up, and my superiors want me to assist in the investigation."

"Ahhh." responded Claude, "Well, good luck to you, Inquisitor. Witches are always bad news."

"Eh. Depends on the person, from my experience." she responded, before glancing to Claire. "Good luck in your endeavors, Claire." she said simply, flashing her a smile, before moving towards the exit.

Claire watched her leave, eventually turning back to the map as the door shut behind her. Claude soon joined her, stepping past his fellow musketeers to stand next to her. "So what are your plans, Claire? Sticking around until after the ghouls have been cleaned up? Or moving on to greener pastures?"

"Well, I'd love to have a chat with Holloway, but it doesn't feel like I'll be seeing him anytime soon." she responded, before pointing towards the city of Frérac on the map. Just near the border with Helmland. "I received a letter containing a job offer, from someone who's going to be in Frérac for the next few weeks. Its funny, though."

"Funny how?"

"The letter was from a vampire. They claimed they 'weren't like most vampires', and simply wanted to hire me for an investigation."

Claude gave her a look of confusion. "...A vampire sent you a job offer? Why you?"

"They said it was because I wasn't with a guild or with the Church." she responded.

"That... doesn't really explain why it was you specifically, but..." he said, his voice trailing off.

"Yeah, I know. Still, its a job offer, and I don't get many of those." she then said, straightening up.

"I imagine not, with that brand." Claude then said, with a chuckle. He then turned to face her. "...I can go with you, if you'd like. I'm not currently needed anywhere, and if anyone asks, I can just say that I'm assisting with local hunting efforts. The commandant would understand. Plus, if things aren't what they seem, then you have a Musketeer to back you up."

Claire glanced to Claude, studying his face for a moment.

• Accept the offer. You could use the company.
• Decline. You tend to do things solo.