Heavy, suffocating silence fell upon the forest, as did the deep darkness of night. The only thing that shattered the silence were the grumbling creaks of protest the old cart issued each time it begrudgingly rolled over a bump on the road. Which was quite often. It had been a long time since this road had been maintained. The only thing that cut through the darkness was the gentle glow radiating from the lantern swaying to and fro with the innocent carelessness of a child as it hung at the front of the cart; a stark contrast to the constant abyss clawing at the edge of its illumination. Then, the cart stopped. A voice grumbled out, “This is as far as I go.”

It was the cart driver, a grem with brown wrinkled skin that resembled the bark armoring a tree and a deep groaning voice that sounded like straining wood. From under his mossy-green hood, Krazdan looked at the grem for a moment, then the grem looked back at Krazdan as disgust squeezed the grem’s features into a grimace.

“No need to thank me. Just keep out of my mind witchdoctor.”

Krazdan bowed his head to the grem, then handed him a small sack, the jingle of coins could be heard. The grem accepted the bag, opened it, then looked at its contents. Then the grem looked back up to Krazdan and gave a slight nod.

“That’s a little better witchdoctor.”

Krazdan had dumped quite a bit of resources into this particular venture. He took several odd jobs here and there, though he only took those jobs because they interested him and not really for the money. He didn’t have much need for solars. He didn’t have a home he needed to maintain, didn’t have any family that depended on him, he was able to either hunt or forage any food he needed, and he never stayed at inns for he preferred to sleep outside. So, eventually, he had managed to acquire a small fortune during his travels through the Marsh Flats and Moonglade, though after this endeavor, he’d be flat broke. He had to spend fifty solars just to convince a driver to travel this way. Krazdan never really minded traveling by foot, but he had heard the Shadewood forest was particularly dangerous and for this expedition, Krazdan didn’t want to take any chances, which is why he also hired a bodyguard of sorts, Killian, was the name, or something like that anyway. A hundred solars upfront and another hundred to protect Krazdan until he was done.

Why was Krazdan doing all of this? For research of course! A monster is said to lurk these woods. So very little is known about this creature despite its lethal nature. The only thing that hearsay and rumor agree upon is that this creature can perfectly mimic its victim’s voices, but only repeats the victim's last words. Something about this creature intrigued Krazdan, perhaps it was its shroud of mystery, Krazdan always loved uncovering knowledge that was hidden, or maybe it was something else he couldn’t really put into words.

Within Killian’s mind a discordant melody of numerous voices screaming, laughing, weeping, and muttering incoherently assailed his consciousness as Krazdan formed a psychic connection between Killian and his own diseased mind. (Message)

“Well, this is our stop I suppose, hehehe. We’d best get moving afore our quarry escapes us.”

As Krazdan began disembarking the cart, the grem spoke up again, “Others have come before you. With weapons and magic. They all died. Even my sister tried to slay that thing. She was strong, cunning, and experienced. But she died too. You’ll die as well. I pray your last words don’t bring you dishonor.”

When Krazdan had first approached Killian with this job, the swordsman was initially hesitant. He had no great desire for money, and taking this job would take up time he could be using to do something that he considered useful. Besides,something seemed… off... with Krazdan. A tingle that ran down Killian’s spine when they met, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint [Tracker Extraordinaire].

But once Krazdan had explained the job in full, Killian accepted. He wasn’t in it for the solars, and he didn’t particularly care to bodyguard the cloaked man, but this creature he mentioned sounded dangerous. It was a threat to people in Moonglade, and taking care of that was exactly the sort of meaningful use of his time that he had originally thought this job wasn’t. So he had accepted.

The solars were appreciated as well.

Killian curled his lip as Krazdan’s discordant voice slithered into his mind, and he followed the scientist off of the wagon. “Yes. Afore that happens.” He muttered, more to himself than anyone else. The wagon driver gave his dark warning and took off, leaving the two men standing alone in the dark.

"He was a cheery fellow."

Killian looked around, eyes straining. “What next, sir?”

He used a professional tone and title with Krazdan- he was, after all, on the clock, and the other man was technically his employer for the time being.

“Part of the reason why I hired you specifically Killian was because I had heard you had some tracking experience. Since we know so little of this creature we’re hunting, it will be nearly impossible to track it down directly.”

Krazdan paused for a moment, looking into the depths of the Shadewood.

“Do you like apples Killian? What am I saying, of course you do. Almost everyone likes apples, but almost no one loves apples, if you understand my meaning."

Unnervingly, Krazdan's unusually large, bulbous eye looked towards Killian while the more normal looking one continued to stare into the forest.

"In that village where we hired the cart, there was a little girl with hair that was crimson like a ripe red apple, and she wore a little dress that was dyed the same color. You might have seen her too. She used to live with her mother in these woods. Her mother was an herbalist of sorts that liked to keep herself isolated, though some would call her a witch. One moonlit night, that little girl was with her mother gathering characaps, a type of mushroom that is quite difficult to find and harvest. According to the girl, they were attacked by this creature we’re hunting, but the mother was able to hold it off long enough for the girl to escape. The site of that attack should not be far from here, if you can help me find the girl’s tracks, we might be able to retrace her steps back to where her mother was attacked.”

The psychic connection between Krazdan and Killian was filled with the heavy fog of dour contemplation.

“Poor thing. The girl is well liked by everyone in the village, so I’m sure she’ll be fine…”

The psychic connection vibrated violently, as if trying to shake the fog out.

“Anyways, let’s find our trail.”

Killian took the hint well enough. Time to do my job I guess. As he stepped forward, Krazdan regaled him with a long-winded story about a girl. Killian shuddered almost imperceptibly as the other man’s large eye swiveled to him, but he listened intently to what Krazdan was saying. A mother and child were attacked?

As always, hearing that innocent people had been hurt or worse, whether at the hands of man or by the whims of beast, filled Killian with a cold rage. Why couldn’t this world just be safe, why couldn't simple people lead simple lives, avoiding the horrors this world had to offer? What kind of creator makes a world like this?

And as always, he shoved those thoughts and emotions to the side. Getting upset didn’t help him to do his job. Asking ‘why?’ didn’t help him save lives.

Krazdan remarked that there were likely tracks, and Killian nodded. “I’ll see what I can find.” He said quietly, and moved to the edge of the road, kneeling down and examining the underbrush that crept out of the woods and teased its way onto the path.

Krazdan made a comment about how the girl would most likely be fine, and Killian made a mental note to check up on her when they got back to the village. Still, here and now, he needed to focus, so he pushed the girl from her thoughts.

His eyes scanned the dirt and leaves, and from time to time he got up and moved to a new spot, investigating every branch and plant [Investigation Kit]¹. After five or so minutes, he held up his hand and beckoned Krazdan over. He pointed to a slight impression in the ground, then to a smashed plant deeper into the trees.

“Someone came through here. It's a few days old, so I can’t pick up as much as I’d like, but I’d guess they were someone small. Could be a child, Human or Elf. Could be one of the smaller races, an adult. Give me another minute, and I’ll get you the general direction they came from.”

Killian leaned back on his haunches and peered deeper into the shadows. If there was dangerous monster out here, it had better start running. The Sworddancer was coming for it.

Oh, yeah, and a mad scientist.

---

^{1. Investigation Kit: A collection of the necessary tools for any investigations, its use over time while searching will generate information on the scene. During the first post of use, the user gathers information from a specific area that reveals the number of individuals, their weight, and their height over the last few hours. During the second post of use, direction of travel, track details (shoes, paws, etc), and general movement (did a fight occur, do they have a limp, etc) are all revealed to the hunter. During the third post of use, cloth fragments, hair/fur particles, and other such physical particles that would be relevant to the scene are discovered.}

After Killian found the direction the tracks came from, they followed them deeper into the forest. Under the canopy of trees, the darkness was even more oppressive save for when a scrap of moonlight managed to slide its way between the leaves and branches overhead. The Shadewood held not the quiet of night, but the silence of death. No owls hooted and no insects stirred. Nothing in the forest dared to disturb their surroundings for they knew there was always something lurking, waiting for them to give their position away.

After spending about half an hour following these tracks to their source, Killian would hear Krazdan’s voice in his mind again.

“Look up ahead.”

A gentle, pale glow illuminated a tree a few paces ahead of the duo. Krazdan walked ahead towards the light.

“This is a characap, those mushrooms I mentioned earlier.”

As he neared the tree with the mushroom on it, he noticed something on the ground. Krazdan kneeled beside it before calling out to Killian.

“It’s a body. A body of the dead variety to be more precise. Give a minute to examine it.”

The most apparent thing about the body before him was it was decapitated, with the head nowhere to be found.

“The body appears to belong to a female. Some discoloration and bloating suggests this body has been here at least two days, but no longer than five. It’s been decapitated with a nice, clean cut. Doubtless the head was severed with some sort of blade, not torn off by some animal, however, the beheading does not appear to be the cause of death.”

With a grunt, Krazdan flipped the body so its back rested on the ground and the belly faced the sky. Krazdan’s eyes widened in surprise as he beheld a large crater in the woman’s chest, large enough to stick a foot in.

“I think this might be the cause of death.”

Krazdan stood up from his kneeling position.

“Judging by the characap and the body, I believe this was where that girl was attacked, though this doesn’t seem to be the handy work of a mindless monster. This woman was clearly decapitated by a weapon of some sort, though I’m not sure what caved her chest in. Maybe the monster wields weapons? No one’s gotten a close enough look at this creature and lived to talk about it. Even the girl never got a good look at it.”

Krazdan narrowed his eyes pensively.

“Strange that nothing saw fit to scavenge this corpse, most coyotes and the like rarely pass up a free meal, even the maggots and beetles have yet to feast on it."
Krazdan finally looked up from the corpse and towards Killian.

“Could you put your tracking expertise to use again Killian? Perhaps the perpetrator left a trail.”

Killian was silent as they walked, following in reverse what was likely the little girl’s footprints. This was the part he hated about the path he had chosen to walk in life; seeing the terrible things that happened to people. He really hoped the mother was still alive when they found her.

… She wasn’t.

Krazdan examined the body while Killian did a quick search of the perimeter. There were a lot of marks around this area, and about twenty feet away from the body, the dirt was darker than the rest of the soil. Killian crouched down, keeping one ear focused on all the details Krazdan was orating, and took a pinch of the dirt, rubbing it between his fingers. Blood.

“She was probably killed over here.” He said softly. He then moved over to the scientist and the body, and knelt next to them. Killian agreed with Krazdan’s assessment- the cut was too clean for an animal to have done it.

The swordsman frowned as Krazdan pointed out that even the maggots hadn't touched the body, and a tingle went down his neck. Something was very wrong with this whole picture, and every sense Killian had was warning him of danger [Tracker Extraordinaire]. Krazdan asked him to find a trail, and he nodded, and started to rise.

His hand fell to the hilt of his sword as a voice called out, deeper in the woods. The voice was distant and faint, but undeniably a person. A woman, crying out in terror.

“Run, Anika! Run!”

The voice faded as quickly as it had started up, then, even further away, they could hear it again.

“Run, Anika! Run!”

The pitch and intonation of the line was identical to the first time they heard it. Killian felt sick. “I don’t think we need to find a trail, sir. I think we just need to follow the voice.”

Killian drew his sword, ready to follow Krazdan or lead the way, whichever course of action the scientist wanted of him .

“Yes, let’s not dally then.”

They trudged through the forest, following the sound of a mother’s final plea. “Run, Anika. Run! Run, Anika. Run! Run, Anika. Run!”

They finally escaped the darkness of the Shadewood’s canopy as they entered a small clearing. The moon blazed proudly through the night sky, coloring the field in front of them an ethereal white. A figure dressed in a black cloak that was tightly wound around its body was kneeling in front of a pond with its back facing Krazdan and Killian. From its direction, the voice that Krazdan and Killian had now learned to be accustomed to called out, “Run Anika. Run!”

It stood up, towering higher and higher, until it reached its full height, standing as tall as two men put together. Then it turned towards Krazdan and Killian. Though it was humanoid in proportion with two arms and legs, a long beak reached out through the hood of the cloak and the face of a raven stared at the two men with the hazy grey eyes of a corpse. Its tears held the moonlight as they caressed its feathered cheeks. At its side it held a longsword whose hilt bore an insignia of some sort, though Krazdan didn’t recognize what it belonged to. Its cloak parted as it turned toward the duo, revealing its body that was draped in obsidian feathers. On the creature's chest, the moonlight reflected off of glimmering eyes that peered through the feathers. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t just eyes that hid under the veil of feathers, but entire faces. Faces of humans, grems, elves, and humanoids Krazdan didn’t even recognize. The face’s lips parted as they all sang their self-written dirges, “Help! Die! Please don’t leave me behind! I can’t feel my legs! It’s eating me! Help me, please help me! I can’t move! It burns! No! Run Anika! Run!”

The monster then took a practiced stance, not of a beast fighting on instinct, but of a master swordsman. Though Krazdan was not a fighter himself, he had done academic studies of fighting styles in the past. This thing held its sword over its shoulder in something known as a “window stance.” A stance that favors quick strikes and deceitful feints but lacks power and reach. This thing continued holding this stance, waiting for Killian and Krazdan to make the first move as the faces on its chest continued to scream out their final goodbyes to the world.