dropping the incomplete chapter 2. chapter 1 Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. I feel the cold air fill my lungs; I feel it covering my body. I feel the cold metal trigger against my bare finger, the wood furniture in my left hand warm in comparison. I blink and the world goes dark for a second. Breath out. My eyes open into the reticle of a large sight, its crosshairs centred on a large buck. It stands idly, tail flicking in annoyance or agitation. The wind blew against its side opposite from me, carrying its scent a few hundred yards through the scattered trees and bush between us. Breath in. It stood at least six feet at the shoulder; its rippling muscle visible beneath its skin. Its neck craned up at least another foot and a half, and crowning its head was a massive pair of antlers, their bleached bone colour speckled with flecks of dried blood. Breath out. It was flanked by two others, of similar, though slightly less significant size. They stood perhaps an inch or two shorter but missed the telltale marks of having been blooded. My eyes flicked along my target, and I had to remind myself to blink. Breath in. It visually appeared very similar to an Elk from the old world, but past the surface, all similarities ended. It stood taller, was better muscled, and its antlers more ornate. It did not shed its antlers either, but kept them for life; they grew as the buck matured. Its mouth opened further back, like a dog, revealing a row of curved canine-like teeth and terrifyingly human molars. I knew from personal experience that behind that jaw lurked another, even more, terrifying set of jaws not unlike a moray eel. Breath in. Breath ou- The rifle bucked in my hands, the loud report blasting and echoing through the diffuse of trees which surrounded me. The bucks, cowardly as they were and frightened by the sound turned to run. Bleated cries escaped their mouths, a mixture between a dog and a goat. The one who my sights had been upon bucked his rear legs, twisting his body to turn 180 degrees and bolt. His forelimbs refused to respond. Even as the report reached him and the fear entered his eyes, they collapsed beneath him. His body hit the snow which had blanketed the ground beneath him for some months before with all the grace of a drunk driver. His former comrades paid him no mind, fleeing the clearing in a blur of hooved feet and kicked up snow. Satisfied they were out of the picture I flicked the flag safety on my rifle, then slung it over my shoulder and set myself to approach the beast. The life had not left his eyes when I reached him, and he eyed me warily as he became aware of my presence. Electricity sparked between the prongs of his antlers but they danced no further than a foot around him. Finally, with a shuddered death rattle the life left his eyes and his body ceased twitching. Satisfied, I approached the corpse. Pushing it onto its side revealed a clean shot into the side, dirtied by the beast’s impressive ribcage. The round had glanced off one of his ribs and deflected forward, probably shredding one lung in its tumbling path but completely missing the other. Flipping it to its other side the beast's impressive bulk became even more apparent, as no exit wound presented itself. The beast’s impressive physiology had eaten the round, which even now likely lay in some newly created cavity in its chest. Wasting no more time I pulled my knife from my side and set to work. A Large incision to the chest allows me to excavate a completely shredded and torn lung, followed shortly thereafter by an unblemished twin to prove my theory correct. If I would have had help, I would have kept it, but it weighed nearly six pounds alone, and I would need to shed several unnecessary organs if I meant to haul it back before dark. Its essence stained my hands and the ground beneath me as I worked, and I knew I had to be fast; lest some opportunistic predator draw the notice of the coppery smell. Next came its stomach, followed by the hundred or so feet of intertwining internal organs behind it. The viscera pooled beneath me and in timely order, I had cleared out much of its abdomen. I buried the organs as best as I could under the snow, but even had I brought a shovel the frozen ground beneath the snow would not have yielded any success for my efforts. Satisfied by now I had bled the elk thoroughly, I messily sutured the large incision I had made, then made a large cut in both rear limbs. Spreading the holes with my thumbs, I forced the large hooves of its forelegs through them before standing and observing my work. It wasn’t the cleanest but it would work for the journey back to Civilization. Before I did anything else, I tied two lengths of bright orange string around its antlers, then retrieved a small flask from the medical kit I hung from my belt at all times. I swirled the potion inside its flask for a few seconds like I had been instructed to do, then lifted it to my mouth and drank thoroughly. The taste of copper filled my mouth, alongside an unpleasant feeling; as if I had just licked a surface that contained a large static charge. Finishing the unpleasant draft, I knelt to one knee, then drew the elk’s incredible burden upon myself. I would estimate no less than a hundred pounds of miscellaneous viscera lay buried by the thin layer of snow behind me, yet the creature still weighed in excess of six hundred pounds. The potion had filled me with unnatural strength and with some difficulty and a measured grunt, I rose from my kneeling position; setting back to Civilization, the town which I called home. Civilization was not aptly named, a small town of fewer than forty buildings, and less than a hundred residents. The largest building in the town was the small church which stood at two stories with its minaret. I walked briskly through the town street, the shuttered doors and windows on all sides a sullen reminder that I was just as alone here as I had been in the wilderness surrounding the city. The sun was beginning to set, silhouetting the front of the church with its amber glow. The church, however, was not the destination, and I knew I had to hurry even as I felt the potions strengthening effects seeping from my tired limbs even as I bore the weight of the beast upon my back. Approaching the desired building I raised my fist, pounding on its door three times with a closed fist, before slumping against the doorframe for support. I heard movement on the other side but it would be nearly an entire minute before it was answered. The butcher was a short, squat, and balding Ukrainian man, who merely grunted as he drew open the door, eyeing the creature on my back before allowing me in. Not a word was spoken between us as he helped me stagger the creature inside his shop, dropping it onto a large wooden table covered in telltale knife marks of a cleaver. I sighed in relief, slumping to the floor against the table as my previously strained muscles screamed in joyous relief. Almost against my will my eyes shut, carrying me away from the world. I awoke to my shoulders being jostled and a soft feminine face entered my vision. “Anon?” she asked pulling me grudgingly to the land of the waking. “You need to wake up Anon.” It was a statement now, not a question, and so I complied, shuffling to my feet as I became aware of the staccato chopping behind me. I was still in the butcher’s shop, and he was nearly halfway through the carcass, steaks already sitting nicely in butchers’ paper to the side of the table, some larger chunks of carcass hanging on hooks from the ceiling. “Thanks, Miranda,” I say, blinking to clear the sleep from my eyes. She was a stout Dwarf, barely an inch shorter than her husband. Her face was framed by curly golden locks, and her cheeks permanently reddened by blush. “How long have I…” “Only about twenty minutes” she responded. “Petruso said you could use the rest.” This I highly doubted, as I had never heard him verbalize anything more complex than a grunt, but his defaulted silence was as well-known as his profession in this town. “He estimates the buck was over seven hundred pounds Anon, why’d you go for it?” “Didn’t have a choice,” I admitted truthfully. “It had already been blooded. Couldn’t risk another man-eater so close to town.” She nodded in agreement, then placed a few small crystals into the palm of my hand. “Seventeen scalps,” she said, “plus you get half a dozen steaks when Petro’s done.” I closed my hand and muttered my thanks, retrieving the antlers from the counter where they sat. “Can I leave the hide to you again…?” I asked “Of course,” Miranda replied, busying herself by packaging the meat her husband had already finished. “Thanks” I stated to the both of them, nodding gratefully to the butcher as I left. My next stop was the town hall, a small building whose door was unlocked, so I let myself in. I was greeted by warmth and the smell of books, as well as the startled squeak as a small elfin child bolted from the lobby. The town hall held patronage to the mayor and his son, who dutifully ran the town, its bank, and the small collection of books he called the library. Erin, the mayor, soon after greeted me, his son Leif hiding behind his leg. “Anon!” he cried with enthusiasm. “It is truly great to see you, how did you do?” “I netted myself a big one” I replied, his natural bluster infectious, and a smile forming on my face. “So I assume you want those processed?” He asked, drawing out the final word while he stared pointedly at the antlers in my hand. I nodded in confirmation and he led me back into the small room he called the bank. A large device sat in the corner, and I preemptively dropped the antlers into the cauldron beside it. I didn’t know how it worked, a weird mixture of science and sorcery which confounded basic sense, but before long Erin had worked his magical fingers across the devices many knobs and levers, and it began to grind in earnest. From experience I covered my ears as it began to scream, transforming matter to pure energy, then back to matter again. The screeching continued unbearably for what seemed like an hour but was likely only a few seconds, before his fingers flew across the machine again, silencing it. With a clinking sound, the device dumped a crystal out of a slot, falling with a faint by comparison clatter to a tray beneath it. Leif grabbed the crystal, bringing it to me with all the energy a young boy extruded. “Here Anon!” he stated, carrying just as much flamboyant bombast as his father. I thanked them both curtly, aware from experience I might be dragged into listening to them recite song or poetry if I dared to dally further, then left and headed for the church. The large abbey doors creaked open noisily, spreading light into the darkroom beyond. It was cold in here, nearly as chilly as the air outside, and my breath fogged the darkness in front of me. I navigated the dark church with experience, working my way up the aisle and behind the raised lectern, fumbling blindly until I found the machine I was looking for. The small generator behind the podium sat unmoved and unpowered, a thin layer of frost coating its metal shell. “Bah! Get away from there you!” I heard a voice shout from my left, but it was far too late. One of the red crystals I had received from Miranda slotting nicely into the generator, which quickly began to purr with zealous energy. I felt a hand smack the back of my head playfully, and I turned to confront my attacker. “You’re gonna freeze to death in here next time.” My statement did not affect the figure behind me, his priestly smock unable to be seen beneath the layers of furs he wore. “Bah! I’m just fine” he snorted in retort. Slowly the small cathedral began to warm, the lights on the ceiling flickering to life, and I followed its sole occupant as he retreated to his small room. It was thoroughly packed, a small wood-burning stove roaring at full, the rest of the room occupied by a pair of beds, a small shrine between them, and a wardrobe. I settled into the room, stripping off my heavy woollen jacket and toque before slumping on the bed. The day's fatigue spread through my muscles and I had to resist the urge to flop directly to sleep. “Taken this and eat.” He said, forcing a warm bowl beneath my nose, its steamy fragrance tickling my nostrils, and I gladly drank from it. The taste of peas, carrots, and the warm beef broth they floated in coated my mouth, each swallow reinvigorating my tired body. After I finished the bowl, and another after that, I stripped off my sweaty outer garments, clambered into bed, and fell into a peaceful sleep. chapter 2 I awoke gradually to the sound of humming from beyond my room, alongside the sound of a heavy brush rubbing a washboard. My own clothes were nowhere to be seen, so I took the hint and left my bed. Pains immediately wracked my body, spasming muscle cramps crawling across my back and shoulders. I fell heavily to the floor, gritting my teeth until the pain subsided enough to move. Setting my jaw firmly, I struggled to my knees. My vision washed dangerously for a moment, but I soon rose to my feet with some effort. The potion of strength I had used the previous day had performed admirably, but at a grievous cost to my body. Though I hadn’t felt it at the time, the strain it had placed my poor muscles under became all too apparent now. Leaving my room, I staggered into the cloistered hall of the church beyond. Father Gerald knelt before a simple wash pale filled with a bubbling solution, washboard in hand and my clothes in a pile next to him. “No rest for the wicked eh?” He shot me a playful glare then resumed his humming while he stropped. “I slept just fine” I retorted attempting to hide the pain in my voice “You’re the one who woke first, Gerry” He was a small man, maybe five foot ten at full height, which was permanently diminished due to an arthritis slouch which impacted is posture terribly. His small form belied little of his energetic attitude, however, and what he lacked in height he more than made up with an air of witticism and positivity. “Bah!” he cried, a phrase he oft used when displeased “I couldn’t stand the smell of your sweat-stained clothing, much less of you.” He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. Only then did her turn from his work, and I saw concern flood his sharp features as he saw my hobbled shuffle. “I drew you up a bath, and I added those oils the herbalist said you would need. Did his potion do its trick?” “It did, it worked wonders,” I admitted with a nod. “Bath in the bathroom?” “No, I decided it would look better in the town square. Bah! Of course, it is!” I smiled despite the pain and started towards the bathroom, even as Gerry continued to prattle behind me. “This generation, I swear. Next thing you know they’ll ask if the beds are in the bedroom and the bread in the bread closet…” “I thought our bread closet had brooms in it.” “Bath now, or no dinner!” he retorted forcefully. I shrugged my shoulders and entered the bathroom, where a large wooden tub sat over an array of copper pipes. The water inside hissed steam, turning the small room into a sauna. The water was murky with several swirling ointments clotting the surface, swirling as the water beneath them tried to rise as steam. I searched for and found the small temperature valve next to the glowing copper pipes, and twisted it fully off. The steamy water was more than warm enough, and my body shuddered involuntarily as I climbed in, then sunk beneath its surface. Closing my eyes, I relaxed and allowed the hot water to soothe my aching muscles. Whatever concoction had been placed inside began to work almost immediately, and an unpleasant needling feeling began to consume my body as the ointment soothed aches and unknit cramps, the torrent of pain gradually subsiding into a soporific haze. After a short time, Gerald entered the bathroom, placing my clothes in a heap by the door. He cleared his throat with a loud “harrumph” then began. “Acratia had asked for you while you were away yesterday, he seemed rather urgent.” “What about?” I inquired morosely, any thoughts of taking today to relax fluttering away like a nest of birds hearing a gunshot. “He said someone was looking for you. Didn’t say much else to me.” Gerry said with a regretful smile. He and Acratia did not get along very well, as Acratia was firmly atheistic and Gerald was a Christian priest. “I told him I would send you as soon as you were back, but you weren’t in any condition to be running around the town last night.” His statement was true enough, and I balefully left the tub to gather my clothes. I set off a few minutes later, shutting the chapel door firmly against the cold behind me. A nasty wind had picked up and was whipping snow into my face within seconds of being outside. A few children were outside nonetheless, no doubt slacking from some chores by building a small snowman in the town square. The snowman wore a world war two era soviet helmet, and the children were currently fashioning him together with a uniform out of various other bits of army surplus. I smiled at the sight, then continued through the town. I smelled the tannery before I saw it, the putrid stench of tanning vats assaulting my nose from a fair distance away. There, I found the remarkably average looking wood elf leaning over an open vat, inspecting the contents inside. “Acratia,” I said in greeting, and he turned to me. He had a round face, or at least as round as an elf can have. His ears poked out from his long brown hair, which hung well past his shoulders. “Anon. I am so very glad to see you.” He looked me up and down, before shaking his head. “Come. Join me inside.” His house gave me tonal whiplash every time I entered it. Its bare-bones, naturalistic interior covered with plants and various anime posters and figurines. Acratia was a huge weeaboo, and absolutely adored anime nearly as much as he adored nature. “Tea?” he offered, but I politely declined. His tea was barely palatable at the best of times, and I didn’t particularly want to change it today. “How’s Lacy?” I asked as he poured himself a cup that smelt heavily of pine and cedar. “Fine, fine…” He responded, waving away the question with his hand while he sat down. “We had some visitors yesterday, from down near the torrents.” “Visitors? What kind?” my brow furrowed. Why would they head this far north? “Trappers. They wanted a small game pelt, and they’ve nearly milked their town's area dry. They heard we didn’t do a lot of trapping so they came up here. Asked around for a guide, but didn’t want to wait for you to come back.” He shook his head regretfully. “They set off a bit before you came back yesterday. Said they would head east along the river.” “East?” I asked, a level of concern rising in my voice. “There’s still that pack of wolf spiders we haven’t dealt with there.” “I told them as much.” Acratia said with an exaggerated sigh “They decided not to take the council of a tanner.” I doubted his profession had soured them of him so much as his abrasive personality did. Acratia was brutally straightforward and always spoke his mind, even when it was to his detriment. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a sinking feeling of dread in my chest. “While I was out yesterday…” I began, my thoughts racing. “I found a white horn burrow.” “Did you?” Acratia said in mock bewilderment “I suppose you also found snow and trees?” “No, no…it’s not that,” I said, already dreading the next sentence to leave my mouth. “It had been picked clean, not one body left. I…I think the wolf spider pack blooded themselves on the white horn tribe.” My time at Acratia’s house was shortly after that. I barely had time to bid him farewell before I rushed out the door, the aching in my limbs returning as the effects of whatever had been in the bath began to wear off. I reached the Herbalist’s in good time, throwing the door open heavily and staggering in. Herbal fragrances wafted into my nose from a hundred diffusers and psychedelic tapestries violated my eyes from the walls. A petite male sat hunched in front of a desk, grinding something with a mortar and pestle, and he turned to address my entry. “You’re supposed to be resting right now.” He spoke. Alex was the town herbalist, and a weird one even as they went. Not only did he forsake the company of others for his plants, but he also dressed in skimpy women’s clothing. He was short and had a soft frame with narrow shoulders and an incredibly feminine face. One could easily mistake him for a girl between his long hair and feminine apparel. “I wish I could,” I responded flatly, knowing my words likely wouldn’t register against the oncoming torrent of verbiage. “By the way, did you like the oil I made for you? It used poppy and lavender to relax and soothe as well as a few of those new detoxifying roots some of the kids found growing near- “ I cut him off before it could continue. “Alex, I need to head out again” “That not possible, or at least not advised Anon, you see- “I cut him off again lest another torrent of words well forth. “It’s an emergency. I need to go now; I might be gone for a day or two.” Alex regarded me for a second, but something in my tone must have convinced him not to argue back. “Well I suppose I could…” he began, dragging out the word as he walked to a nearby cupboard and began to rummage around inside. “…maybe try something like this?” he began muttering to himself as he collected small vials containing pre-minced, boiled, or evaporated ingredients. “Come back in…” he paused again, thinking. “…half an hour max. it will be done by then.” Nodding silently, I turned and left. For all his peculiarities and lack of social awareness, Alex was a reliable herbalist and I didn’t doubt for a second an appropriate potion would be waiting for me when I came back. I hobbled back to the church as fast as I could, the pain I had felt in my muscles this morning reawakening now that I needed to use them. I reached the building without incident and flew through its doors like an icy wind. The inside was well lit and decently warm, a stark contrast to the icy hall I had come home to last night. I rushed into my shared quarters, finding my heavy jacket and my rifle, which sat uncleaned laying at the foot of my bed. “You seem to be in quite the rush.” A bemused voice sounded from the doorway behind me “Now isn’t the time Gerry.” I stated simply in my rush. I found a few boxes of thirty-odd six and shoved them into my waist bag. “What’s happened?” Gerry responded, his voice adopting a tone of urgency in contrast to his usual playfulness. “Trappers came by yesterday. They entered the forest. Wolf spiders were blooded. Might be manhunters.” I said breathlessly in a jot note fashion, my mind preoccupied with everything I might need. I felt a reassuring hand rest on my shoulder, a quick comforting squeeze calming me slightly. “Then do what you need to do. Stay safe” He said. I hear the clinking of metal behind me, and a necklace is dropped into my lap. “Come back. May God watch over you.” With those words Father Gerald left, leaving me alone to finish packing. I hurried back to the herbalists, my heavy coat, rifle, and now laden bag slowing my process considerably in the face of the still-raging winds. I nearly fall in face of these obstacles several times, already strained muscles straining further to keep me going forward. The door to Alex’s Herbalist shop flies opens as I near it, and he helps usher me inside. His small hand guides me from my back towards his small workbench, where two vials sit, one stopper. “Drink one now, another later.” He speaks. The potions were a light red concoction, like a stained-glass window. “They’ll keep you going.” I take the unstopped one and lift it to my lips, then pound it back like a shot of whiskey. The concoction courses down my throat, and within seconds I can feel my body restore its vitality. All the aches and pains I had acquired and dealt with ebbed out of my body, leaving the feeling of soothed relief. I affix an easy grin to my face and turn towards Alex. “Thanks. Really, this means a lot to me.” “It fiiiiiiiiine” He responds in a light tone, drawing out the final word. “I always want to help out my favourite customer.” He says with a giggle as I get up and leave, the second vial joining my ammo in my waist bag. With it secured and my pain is thankfully gone, I departed town for the forest. The cold wind blew sheets of crystalline snow shards through the rapidly darkening forest. Dusk was settling quickly into the young evening, tinting the land in a rapidly darkening hue. Trees cast long shadows, their bare branches darkened to black knives, silhouetted against the setting sun. The trapping team had been large, maybe ten people, and their tracks were easy enough to follow. They had tied markers to trees, marking an easily discernable path as they went, clearly intending to come back along this same route. I could only pray they would be able to make the return journey. The snow was moist, sticking to the tread of my boots, and wetting sheepskin of my jacket. Tracks were easy to follow in this kind of snow, as it was light enough to allow for easy indentation but heavy enough to resist the wind that howled around me like rabid dogs. Before long, the orange glow of the sun trickled away, replacing itself with the subtle purple hue of a moonlit night. Tracking becomes harder, but still possible as shards of moonlight fell through the jagged branches. I had been on the trail for a few hours at this point and doubted they could be much further ahead when I heard it. The howl of a predator. It echoed, long and sullen into the cruel night. Then another joined, adding its cry to the first. Then another, and another. More joining in until they bloomed into a symphony that could only mark one thing. I took off running forward, rifle gripped tightly into my hands when the gunfire began. The first shot flashed through the trees, splitting their air like thunder. Silence hung in the hair for a moment after, then more shots began in earnest. I broke into a clearing just in time to see a man go down underneath a dark shape, his silver revolver glinting in the moonlight as it flew out of his hand. The dark shape wasted no time, tearing into his throat with gusto before it turned to me. It had eight legs, and eyes to match. Its snout whetted in the man's blood contained a jaw full of sharp canines, and a forked tongue dripping with saliva. It was the size of a large man, and the taut muscles underneath its matted fur gave me no misconceptions about its weight. Years of experience worked for me, my rifle cocked and brought level with my shoulder as I observed these details. The rifle bucked in my arms. It was a hasty shot but I wouldn’t miss at this range, and sure enough, its head snapped to the side, the round glancing off its snout and a gaping wound appearing in its torso, one that would spell death for any regular creature. But the wolf spider was not a regular creature. Myths had stirred about its genesis, whether through successive millennia of breeding and evolution, the failed experiment of some mad sorcerer, or demons of eldritch origin. Any or none could be true, but one truth remained, these creatures were apex predators. They were completely devoid of anything that would prove useless to them, which unfortunately included the ability to feel pain. I was readily armed with this knowledge though, and even as the first round left my rifle my hands worked the bolt with mechanical efficiency, before firing again. Its head snapped back forwards and its eight legs tensed to pounce when the second shot left my rifle, crossing the short distance between us and piercing through the roof of its open mouth. I saw the spray of blood and viscera as the round exited the top of its skull, leaving a hole larger than my fist in its place. The creature went limp, collapsing onto the carcass of its last kill and the ground beneath them both. Across the clearing a tall form with a Kalashnikov sprayed wildly into the trees, their rifles muzzle flash illuminating the clearing as if it were day. A dark shade gliding across the forest floor behind them refused to illuminate, however, and my rifle swung to intercept it. The creature began to leap even as my sights rushed to line up, letting out a loud growl as it bound towards them. My own rifle barked in return, and my heavy round connected with its body in mid-air, knocking it sprawling onto the ground in front of the tall figure. Any thoughts about its continued survival however ended prematurely as the next several rounds from the Kalashnikov tore into its cadaver, gore spattering the trees around it. The clearing was silent for a moment thereafter, before two new shapes broke into the clearing. Both were human men, one bleeding profusely from a series of lacerations to his right bicep and chest, the other looked fine, but his feet wobbled unsteadily beneath him as he ran. chapter 2 was not fully completed, just wanted it off my back before I left. It was a good server while it lasted.