To say that recent events left Darkveil in a state would be an understatement. The damage to the city from the earthquakes and explosion of Mount Drakolt have left the locals scrambling for supplies to repair their homes and left even more without homes altogether. Though, the people of Darkveil are resilient. They have to be. Few that live in the city have other places to flee to given past and current transgressions. While some would say the city built by and for criminals finally got what it deserved, the sorry state the citizens have been left in is still a sad sight to behold. 

Everett doesn't recall ever having made port in Darkveil before, but the rumors of pirates from Thorock and naval forces from Zeinav City do elicit some sort of stir in the depths of his fragmented memories. The idea of battle at sea, the sound of cannon fire, the smell of burning wood mixing with the salty air. It's oddly familiar. 

But so far no conflicts have erupted on the high seas, even with the looming shadow of the Legion of the Dark Sun somewhere off on the horizon. It would not be much longer before those elite soldiers arrived at Darkveil's docks, and by the dead gods, all hell would break loose once more. 

After all, criminal types are not well known for respecting authority or obeying the law. 

The half-elf sits on the docks, watching as nervous smugglers and merchants argue over the prices of goods for repairs and such. He'd managed to get a small job as a deckhand on one of the merchant ships but decided to hang around after hearing about how dire the situation here was. While he might not look it, he could provide some muscle should the smugglers decide to stop using their words and start using their swords. 

Everything seems on the level currently, but tensions are high and tempers are starting to flare as one of the merchants refuses to haggle on the price of lumber. 

He rests his hand on the hilt of his rapier just in case anyone decides to make any suspect moves. Though that's a pretty tall order given that there are plenty of people mulling about on the docks and the vast majority of them are beyond shady. It's a miracle that he hasn't been targeted for pickpocketing or a walk-by stabbing at this point. 

    Donovan's heart felt heavy seeing his home in such disarray. The place he had spent the better part of a year hunting in now in shambles from the recent earthquakes and eruptions. Though he knew better than anyones else that the people would get through this, they know how to survive. Though it wasn't his job to help in the rebuilding, his job was cut from a different more messy cloth. He hunted those that stalked in the night and prey upon the innocent populous of Darkveil, he fought the malicious violence of those creatures with a righteous violence of his own. Though before even that you must track and find the source of those acts.

    Donovan had learned to tune out the useless noise of the crowds around him, the only sounds that registered in his mind were the breath beneath his mask and the rhythmic foot falls that carried him forward. He had found evidence of a beast that had been stalking the docks the last couple of nights, and like a moth to a flame the hunter showed up. Each step closer to the docks he could feel his patience wearing thin, he took a heavy sigh trying to calm his nerves "you are a hunter, get it together Donovan" He scolded to himself as he rested his hand on the hilt of his newly acquired long-sword. Although the weight of it didn't feel quite right to him just yet as he was used to his cleaver unfortunately it was shattered by the last beast he crossed paths with. This didn't deter him in the slights as a good hunter always adapts.

    The smell of seawater poked through his mask which indicated that he had finally made it to the docks, he drowned out the near constant yelling of the surrounding crowd and began his tracking. He knew the smell of beasts pretty well at this point but due the salt air it made it harder for him to pick up on anything. Thus his head shot to the ground looking for tracks of anything that didn't seem human. Though he was too engrossed in his search and wasn't paying attention to his immediate surrounds as his shoulder bumped into someone, this seemed to snap him out of his intense concentration. His head snapped to the person he had bumped into, a one armed half-elven man, how peculiar they must know where the creature is. "My apologies for running into you, but by chance have you seen a creature of the night or a beast of violence staking the areas around here?" he spoke in raspy tone as he questioned the gentleman.

Everett looks at the man who just bumped into him. He's a bit surprised to get an apology as most people in Darkveil are pretty quick to just hit and run when it comes to confrontation. 

"Oh, that's alright so long as you didn't just pickpocket me. I'm afraid you won't find anything of real value if you did, I'm pretty broke right now," he laughs a bit before eyeing the man up and down. 

Yup. 

Looks like the typical Darkveil shady person. Nothing out of the ordinary here. 

"A creature of the night? That's pretty broad." He thinks for a moment, glancing about the immediate area and all the shady ass folk going about their shady ass business. "I'd say most people in Darkveil would probably identify as such."

He means that in jest and not as a slight against anyone in particular. It's just the vibe he gets off of the people of Darkveil as well as what he's heard from other sailors more familiar with the quirks of the local populace of criminals and weirdos who don't fit in elsewhere. Hopefully the mysterious man has a good sense of humor and doesn't feel compelled to respond to the joke by sticking a blade between his ribs. 

Looking back at the man, he offers an apologetic smile. 

"In all seriousness, no, haven't seen many creatures or beasts, just people."

Whatever the man was hunting, it sounded interesting. He'd be lying if he didn't say he was a bit board with just waiting around while the merchants conducted their business. Maybe if his contract is concluded quickly, he could aid the man in his search, if he was open to having someone tag along.

"What exactly are you looking for, if you don't mind me asking? I heard there was a massive dragon attack in the area recently, but I think some other folks already took care of it."

Something about saying that stirs something in him. Something sour and uneasy, like an unpleasant memory with details that have been long buried but are trying to peek out of the dirt to see the light of day. His brow furrows at the sensation, but he shakes his head and focuses on the conversation with the odd man. 

    "No pickpocketing intended," Donovan reassured, a subtle twitch of a smile playing on his lips at Everett's mention of being broke. The dark atmosphere of Darkviel indeed bred a certain type of individual, and he was well aware of the city's reputation. As Everett made light of "creatures of the night," Donovan's expression remained stoic, not quite catching the intended jest amidst the gravity of his mission. The paranoia ingrained by the year of hunting obscured the humor in the moment. Donovan responded earnestly, "Indeed, Darkveil harbors its own breed of darkness, but tonight, my attention is drawn to something more sinister—a harrowing creature, a blight of the night."

    He considered sharing more about his quest, sensing a genuine interest from Everett. "There have been sightings of a flock of harpies stalking the docks, their intentions unclear but undoubtedly malicious. I seek to confront and vanquish this threat before their presence brings further harm to the unsuspecting denizens of this city."Donovan, always wary and focused, awaited Everett's response, still uncertain of the depths of the man's humor. The tension lingered, but as the conversation continued, Donovan's guard began to ease slightly.

    Amidst the ambiance of Darkveil, Donovan's attention shifted slightly from the conversation. He began to scan the immediate surroundings, a reflex honed from the year of hunting. The shadows seemed to dance in anticipation, as if hinting at the secrets they held.

    His keen eyes caught a glimpse of something unusual on the ground nearby—an enigmatic black feather, distinctly different from those of common birds. The feather's design was intricate, dark as midnight, and tapered to a razor-sharp point. It was a clear indication that the creatures he sought were close, and the evidence lay at his feet. Eager to confirm his suspicions, Donovan bent down to carefully pick up the feather. He turned it between his gloved fingers, noting the smooth texture and faint iridescence that shimmered under the moonlight. The feather bore an eerie beauty, a stark contrast to the looming threat it represented.

    His gaze shifted back to Everett, the gravity of their impending encounter with the harpies settling in. "It appears we're on the right track," Donovan remarked, displaying the feather to Everett. "This is no ordinary avian plume—it belongs to the harpies I am pursuing. They're close" 

"Harpies?" He thinks for a moment, he recognizes the word and can vaguely recall what they look like almost as if he has run across them before, but the memory is hazy and shrouded in shadows. "They're bird-like with human faces, right? Pretty voices? Lure people overboard?" Sounds about right when said aloud. 

He watches as Donovan moves to pick something up off the ash-covered ground. Curious, Everett ends up standing up from where he's sitting to peer over the monster hunter's shoulder at what he has found. It's definitely a beautiful feather, and it's definitely out of the ordinary for the grimy city.

"Close, huh."

He glances around the port, considering where a nest of harpies would be likely to be. A tall rooftop, an empty warehouse, or a tower would probably be pretty ideal for the avian ambushers...but then he looks back at the ships sitting in the harbor and moored in the bay. An involuntary shiver runs down his spine as his skin rises in goosebumps.

"Think they're hiding on one of the ships? Harder for someone to track footprints across water. And they can fly, so it'd be easy to go back and forth."

Donovan is the monster hunter here, clearly. The man seems to have hidden expertise and knows his quarry much better than the amnesiac sailor. In his brain, he knows he probably shouldn't make suggestions to a professional on the job, but something inside him says that it's a reasonable possibility. Call it instinct, since that's the only real explanation. 

The sound of bags of coins being exchanged between parties behind him draws his attention. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees that the merchants and smugglers were nearly done with their exchange, and luckily no knives were out. Seems his contract is soon to come to a close, which means he could be available to help Donovan if he is open to the idea. 

"If you would have me, I might be able to help in your hunt. I'm half-decent with a sword," he jokes, poking light at his own lack of his right arm. 

    Donovan brought the darkened feather close to his nose and inhaled deeply. The scent was distinctive—part avian musk and part acrid sourness that came from their unique physiology. There was no doubt now; it was the unmistakable scent of a harpy. This feather was indeed evidence of a harpy flock.

    Nodding in acknowledgment of Everett's deduction, Donovan appreciated the sailor's insightful thinking. "You've got a good grasp of their behavior. Ships provide ideal cover, especially for creatures that can fly and wish to ambush from above," he agreed, acknowledging the logic behind the suggestion.

    As Donovan began to move away from Everett and toward the docked ships, the shadows around him seemed to behave unusually. They quivered and danced, their movements almost synchronized with Donovan's steps. It was as if they were responding to some unseen energy emanating from him. This phenomenon wasn't entirely new to him; the hunt often stirred something primal within, affecting the very essence of his being. However, how the shadows flickered and seemed to reach out subtly, almost yearning, was unsettling even to him. Donovan pushed aside the eerie feeling, focusing on the task at hand—the hunt for the harpies that lurked nearby.

    His senses were on high alert; Donovan began to walk towards the docked ships, every step taken with caution. "Harpies are cunning, striking from above when victims least expect it. Their modus operandi revolves around surprise and confusion," he explained, offering Everett some insight into harpy behavior as they moved.

    Approaching the a ship, Donovan's trained ears caught a faint sound—the subtle, distinctive fluttering of wings. It was a sound he knew all too well. He halted, raising a hand to signal Everett to stop as well. The noise was distant but unmistakable—the harpies were close. The hunt had officially begun. He slowly drew his longsword from his hip and recited his hunter’s creed: “Oh Hunter, blessed saint. An honest death is like a blessing. Let death come once and for all. For plenteous blood will be lost.” The shadows around him seemed to flicker further away from his form as he turned back to Everett, a smile evident even below his mask. “Let the Hunt begin,” his voice carrying a different tone from before.

As Donovan starts to move ahead, Everett quickly goes over to the merchants and smugglers, closing out his contract with them and stashing a small bag of coins handed to him before he jogs to catch up to the hunter. This little detour would mean he'd need to find a different ship to work on later since the merchants weren't willing to wait for him before departing themselves, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem given how many ships were eager to leave Darkveil's port given the current circumstances. 

Maybe if they clear out these harpies that would earn him passage on the ship they have infested, assuming the captain wasn't in league with the terrible birds, or already long gone and dead. 

He puts those concerns to the side for the time being. No point in worrying about any of that before they've tracked these creatures down and figured out what they are up to being so close to a densely populated city. It is a bit odd that the harpies would be comfortable being so close to civilization. Local guards certainly wouldn't tolerate them anywhere else in Charon, but considering Darkveil's hired militias are less organized and more about profits than actually protecting the general public, perhaps that's why the harpies have managed to settle in and make themselves comfortable. As long as they didn't hunt anyone of wealth, they probably could get away with picking off the occasional beggar and thief here and there.

Catching up with Donovan, Everett notices the flickering shadows. How curious, he's not certain if he's ever seen shadows behave that way around someone before. Though to be fair, he hasn't met many monster hunters before. Something about that thought doesn't sit well with him, as if it was a false statement. Given his memory loss, maybe he had known plenty of monster hunters before, but recalling any details about them just gives himself a headache.

He shakes his head, once again putting that train of thought to the side. He had to focus on the task at hand lest he become a liability to Donovan's hunt. 

"Any ideas on how many we can expect to face? What's the largest flock you've come across in your hunts?"

Perhaps it is too presumptuous of him to assume that Donovan has hunted many harpies before, but the man comes across as being an expert, so he figures asking can't hurt. Having a better idea of just how many foes to expect might come in handy if a fight does break out. 

He quiets down as the pair approach the moored ships and stops in his tracks at Donovan's signal. The man must have incredible instincts and hearing, as all Everett hears is the quiet creaking of wood and the slosh of sea water against ship hulls. 

Seeing Donovan draw his sword, Everett draws his rapier as well. He gives an affirming nod, though is a bit curious as to the dour man's shift in tone. If he had to hazard a guess, Donovan really liked hunting. Well, if that is true, then he would do his best not to get in the hunter's way. 

He gestures towards the moored ships. "I've got your back."

   Donovan probed his memories for the answer to Everett's question, his mind racing through past encounters with harpies. "A single harpy flock can range from 5 to 15," he whispered, his voice barely audible over slapping of water against wood, and the very faint flapping of wings followed by an accompanying squack. "It mostly depends on the size of the queen of the flock and if she is able to get enough nutrients. Unfortunately for us, I am unable to determine how many we will be facing, and yes, I have faced a flock of them once before."

    His fingers tightened around the leather hilt of his blade, a silent gesture of readiness. He met Everett's eyes, the urgency in his own unspoken plea for caution. "They have excellent hearing, so I would suggest remaining as silent as possible during our approach."

    Donovan slowly advanced toward the moored ship, keeping his body low and his footsteps silent. The eerie scent of the harpies wafted through the air, a noxious blend of rotten meat, saltwater, and the acrid odor of feathers and birdlike creatures. The closer they got, the more overwhelming it became, making Donovan's stomach churn with unease.

    As they reached the ship, Donovan carefully peered over the edge, ensuring it was clear before he started to climb on board. The ship's interior was dimly lit, and shadows danced on the creaking wooden planks. The scent grew even stronger as he made his way deeper into the lair. It was clear that they were in the heart of the harpy territory.

    Suddenly, a chilling gust of wind washed over him, and Donovan felt a sharp prickling on the back of his neck. He froze in his tracks, sensing the presence of something else in the darkened ship. Slowly, he turned to find himself face-to-face with a Harpy Queen, a grotesque and majestic figure with feathers and talons that gleamed in the low light.

    The Harpy Queen's piercing gaze locked onto Donovan, and her voice, both seductive and menacing, filled the air. "What's a human like you doing in my lair?" She asked, her eyes narrowing as her wings flexed, ready for action. Donovan knew he had to choose his words carefully if he wanted to survive this unexpected encounter. Though an urged pinged in his mind and he wasn't sure if careful was the right way to go now 

    Donovan's voice took on a colder, more brutal edge as he delivered his threat to the Harpy Queen. His eyes bore into her with unwavering resolve. "I didn't come here to negotiate," he hissed, his grip on his weapon tightening even further. "I an a sacred hunter and I'll ensure you and your entire wretched flock end up as nothing more than a gruesome tale to be whispered in the darkest corners of this world. Don't test me."

    

The way Donovan talks about harpies reminds Everett of what he's heard of insect colonies like bees, wasps, and ants. Were they really that similar? Well, Donovan is the expert, so it's best he trusts him.

Everett nods at the suggestion that they should try to keep quiet. How feasible that is will depend on just how creaky the ship's deck is though, and given that harpies don't likely take very good care of their lairs, it probably will be very creaky. 

The scent of the harpies is absolutely foul. How anyone could walk by without questioning just what the source of the reek was is probably a testament to how people in Darkveil just don't ask any questions about suspicious goings on. Or they're just really desensitized to the smell of rancid meat. He'd believe either is possible. 

Everett makes sure to follow Donovan closely, but not get in the man's way as he stalks their quarry. It's hard not to gag as they enter the confines of the ship's hull. The stench is intense enough to make his nose burn and his eyes water. And it's in that moment of distraction that the harpy queen herself makes her presence known. 

For a moment it seems like Donovan might actually try talking to the imposing harpy. That's bold of him. Given they've lost the element of surprise, it might be the best option to avoid a direct confrontation. But then again, it might put the harpies on high alert and make it impossible for them to get close a second time. 

Then Donovan declares his intentions to eradicate the queen and her whole flock. 

Well. Diplomacy is now completely dead in the water. 

Everett isn't keen on taking his eyes off the queen, but movement in the darkened recesses of the ship's hull quickly makes him realize that they need to watch their backs as well. With his rapier drawn, he cautiously turns around to face the gleaming eyes of several lesser harpies skulking around in the dark. They were already surrounded.

The harpy queen's lips part into a cruel smile filled with razor-sharp teeth designed to rend the flesh from the bones of her prey. How delicious these two morsels of meat would be, and how convenient is it that she and her kin will not have to leave the nest to hunt this night. 

    Donovan replied to the wicked queen’s smile with one of his own, not peeling his intense stare from her. The air was heavy with anticipation as the Queen lowered herself from her perch, and the ship swayed as she landed in front of the hunter. Despite now being on equal footing, the queen still towered over Donovan, yet he didn’t retreat into himself. Merely keeping his gaze on her and his hands on his drawn weapon, not recoiling at the smell of rotting meat that wafted from the queen’s mouth.

    “How bold you two are, you come into my lair and threaten me with death in MY COURT? My kin will feast on your friend, and I will save your flesh for myself for your arrogance.” The queen’s wing fluttered out as a form of intimidation, almost stretching to both walls of the ship’s hull, and the smaller harpies started to inch ever closer to Everett. Cackling as they felt had surrounded the two easy meals.

    Donovan merely pulled down his black mask so his voice would carry better as he declared another threat: “I will paint the walls of this boat red with you and your kin’s tainted blood!” The manic smile was now wider than ever as he could feel the queen about to explode with rage, exactly where Donovan wanted her to be. Then, in a flash of feathers and talons, the queen swiped at Donovan, and though lagging behind in speed, he could barely raise his blade in time to parry the attack into the wood below them. The hunter responded quickly as he swung his blade into the queen’s scaly bird leg, leaving a small gash and a small pained squawk from the queen.

    Donovan dared not to look over his shoulder as he heard the smaller harpies descend onto Everett; he thought he seemed the type to be able to handle it anyway. He shall focus on his prey in front of him. The Queen let out a screech that caused even Donovan to buckle from the pitch, and using that moment of distraction, a large taloned foot was wrapped around Donovan’s waist, and the queen rocketed through the roof and slamming the hunter into the deck above, the moon illuminating the battle that is quickly escalating

Oh gods. Maybe this was a horrible mistake.

As Donovan and the Queen exchange threats, the situation only looks more and more dire especially with all of the other harpies appearing out of the shadows. They are incredibly outnumbered, and the Queen is far larger than Everett expected. This was bad, any sane person would attempt to flee or beg for their life. 

Donovan does not appear to be a sane person. 

And Everett is in the same boat with him right now. Literally and figuratively. It's not like he can just apologize and bow out with how the harpies are acting. They clearly are not in the mood to show any mercy.

Things explode into complete chaos quickly as the Queen and Donovan start their dance of death with one another. As much as Everett wants to assist the hunter, he has his own problems as the other harpies are quick to mob him on the orders of their matriarch. A flurry of feathers and talons strike out at him, going for his face and legs. The harpies are clever enough to know how to avoid getting stuck with the tip of his blade and that knocking their target to the ground would make disarming him easier. 

Everett steps back and does his best to keep the flock at a distance, but every time he faces one down another is already at his back. He feels sharp talons rip through his coat and scratch at his skin. He's at a major disadvantage in the dark and it's not until a hole is opened up in the boards above his head that he can at least see a bit better.

Though now he's in the hull alone while Donovan solos the matriarch. It's not ideal. He feels something hook around his ankle and pull his leg out while another harpy slams into his side. The sky spins as he slips and lands hard on his back on the lower deck. His view of the sky lasts only a brief moment before several sets of wings block it out as the harpies descend on him. 

From above deck, Donovan and the Queen would hear the excited screeches of the harpies below. The Queen's wicked smile returns as she looms over Donovan trapped beneath her talons. 

"A quick death, a quick meal, you will not be so fortuna-"

A loud crack of thunder booms out from the hole.^[1] It rattles the whole ship and sends ripples through the water. The harpies screech in alarm and a few fly up from the hole to escape the sound.

Everett rolls back up onto his feet. He's pretty cut up, but he at least managed to drive the harpies back enough to regain his footing and send them reeling from the thunderous burst. 

---

[1] Thundering Boom