Hunters

Ch. 4: Hunters

They traveled in a natural, rhythmic pace, adjusting their path as they instinctively sought the Hidden Highways and Byways, the secret paths known only to those attuned to the wild. To anyone watching from afar, the trio would appear as fleeting shadows, slipping through the grasslands as if they were one with the land itself.

The morning was serene, the sun’s warmth gradually chasing away the chill of the previous night’s storm. Yet as they approached noon, dark clouds began to gather once more on the eastern horizon, rolling in fast, their shapes like thunderous beasts prowling the sky. The first gusts of wind sent the grasses bending in waves, and soon enough, icy droplets began to fall, turning the sunlit morning into a gray and stormy landscape.

By mid-afternoon, the rain was relentless, drenching them to the bone, but they pushed on, unyielding. As the grasslands gradually gave way to scattered hills, Knickon paused, scanning the horizon with a wary gaze. “We’re getting close to predator territory,” he murmured, eyeing the low mounds that dotted the landscape. “Keep sharp.”

They slowed their pace, moving cautiously. The ground beneath them had softened, leaving deep prints with each step. Here and there, they saw signs of previous hunts—scattered bones half-buried in mud, remnants of prey that had fallen victim to the predators that ruled these hills. Kitty lifted her nose, scenting the air, and let out a low growl of warning.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the western horizon, Knickon’s keen gaze spotted something among the rocks—a pile of gnawed bones, fresh and scattered, indicating a recent meal. Footprints, large and deep, led away from the site, half-covered in mud.

“Ogres,” Gren said grimly, crouching to examine the tracks. He looked up at Knickon and Kitty. “Big ones. And not just one or two.”

Knickon tightened his grip on his axe. “Ogres prefer the flesh of men,” he muttered. “They hunt in packs.”

As if summoned by his words, a guttural roar echoed through the hills, followed by heavy footsteps and the clinking of metal. Out of the darkness emerged a group of twelve massive ogres, their eyes gleaming with malice, their thick hides covered in crude armor. They moved with brutal purpose, brandishing spears and casting nets with practiced skill, eager to trap their prey.

The barbarians sprang into action, their eyes blazing with fury. With a fierce roar, Knickon lunged forward, swinging his war axe in a deadly arc that cleaved through the first net hurled his way, severing it as though it were mere cloth. Gren was beside him in an instant, his greatsword glinting in the dim light as he decapitated an ogre in one swift, powerful stroke.

The ogres, realizing they had underestimated their prey, charged with renewed aggression. They thrust their spears, roaring as they tried to overwhelm the two warriors with sheer force. But Knickon and Gren were a storm of muscle and steel, parrying and dodging with practiced ease. Knickon’s axe cleaved through limbs and torsos with brutal efficiency, while Gren’s greatsword moved with deadly grace, each swing lopping off heads and splitting armor.

Meanwhile, Kitty circled the battlefield in her snow leopard form, her powerful form slipping between shadows. She prowled with an eye for opportunity, and as the ogres became absorbed in their brutal melee with the barbarians, she shifted back into her human form behind them, raising her hands and muttering an incantation. Black lightning crackled around her fingers, and with a fierce shout, she released a bolt of arcane energy that tore through three ogres at once, leaving smoldering, smoking holes in their chests.

The remaining ogres faltered, caught between the relentless fury of the barbarians and the deadly magic of the witch. But there was no escape. Gren, in a frenzied rampage, cut down two ogres with a single sweeping strike, his greatsword slicing through them like a scythe through wheat. Knickon’s war axe whirled in his hands, cleaving through bone and sinew as he fought with a wrath that seemed to shake the very earth beneath him.

The battle was swift and brutal. One by one, the ogres fell, their monstrous bodies littering the ground, their blood soaking into the earth. When the last ogre hit the ground with a final, thunderous crash, the trio stood victorious amidst the carnage, their breaths heavy but triumphant.

As the echoes of battle faded, they followed a trail of disturbed grass and broken earth to the ogres’ warren—a crude cave dug into a nearby hillside. Inside, they found a hoard of stolen treasures: coins, jewels, weapons, and armor, all likely taken from unfortunate travelers and caravans that had crossed paths with the ogre hunters.

The trio decided to camp in the warren for the night. Knickon and Gren gathered firewood from the dry corners of the cave, sparking a fire that filled the space with warmth and light. Kitty retrieved her carving tools and cooking supplies from her satchel of holding, setting to work with practiced efficiency.

As she sliced open the ogre bodies and extracted their organs, she explained, “Ogres are strong, and their organs can make potions to enhance strength, smell, and endurance.”

The brothers listened, intrigued, as they drank from the ale they had looted from the evil druid’s tower. Between swigs, they shared tales of past battles, recounting the time they had slain Ogren, a lord of orcs, whose fortress had been hidden deep in the north jungle. They laughed and argued about who had claimed the most kills in that glorious fight, reveling in the memories of their victory.

By the time their stories were done, Kitty had finished brewing six potions from the ogre organs. She handed two each to Knickon and Gren, keeping two for herself. "Remember, you should use these before a battle. They will give you the essence of the Ogre for about ten minutes. Strength, Endurance, and sense of smell." she said with a smile.

They slept in a circle, their backs to each other, trusting the others to guard against any night threats. In the early hours before dawn, they stirred as one, rising just as the black sky began to lighten with the promise of a new day.

Kitty packed her supplies as Gren asked while eyeing the piles of loot the Ogres had collected, "Kitty, how much stuff can that Satchel of Holding of yours actually hold?"

"Let's find out!" Kitty said brightly as the three of them stuffed the loots into the satchel which included, 14 Mithril coins, 36 Platinum coins, 84 Gold coins, 154 Silver coins, 143 Copper Coins, 11 pieces of fancy jewelry, 25 gleaming gem stones, and a mundane magic ring which Kitty quickly Identifies as a minor Ring of Plant Control. Additionally, they collect 2 sets of ring mail armor, 3 long swords, 2 iron helmets, 1 camping backpack, and 1 fancy Silver Dagger with some kind of a royal emblem on its hilt. Once all of the loots was stowed the three of them gathered at the at the mouth of the warren. The grasslands were quiet, drenched in the previous night’s rain, shimmering under the first rays of dawn.

Kitty paused, her eyes filling with awe as she took in the beauty of the sunrise over the plains. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, almost to herself.

Gren nodded, adjusting his armor.

Knickon stretched, his muscles taut and ready for the day. “We’ve still got two days before Halsbeth,” he said. “And with all the extra loot we've got, we should be well off when we get there..”

Kitty glanced at Gren with a playful smile. “Mind holding this for me again?” she asked, handing him her satchel. She slipped out of her clothes, folding them carefully, then took a step back.

In an instant, her form shimmered, transforming into the majestic snow leopard, her powerful body gleaming in the morning light, her blue eyes sharp and focused.

Gren laughed, stuffing her clothes into the satchel and slinging it over his shoulder. “All right, Kitty" he said with a laugh, and in moments the three set off into the grasslands alive with the burning light of the sun's rising.

-----

The sun hung high in the sky under a pockmarked blanket of clouds, casting sharp shadows across the undulating hills of the grasslands. Knickon, Gren, and Kitty moved with purpose, their strides long and unyielding as they traversed the Hidden Highways and Byways—a network of unseen paths known only to those attuned to the land. The chill in the air was a stark contrast to the bright sunlight, and a biting wind whipped through the tall grasses, carrying with it the scent of distant salt from the ocean to the east.

By late afternoon, the trio's senses heightened. The familiar signs of a predator's domain became evident: the acrid stench of decaying flesh lingered on the breeze, and the once harmonious sounds of the grasslands had fallen into an uneasy silence. Their eyes scanned the horizon until they spotted the Merchant's Road—a well-trodden path that wound its way toward Halsbeth. There, amidst the desolation, lay the shattered remnants of a merchant's cart.

Approaching cautiously, they surveyed the scene. The cart was overturned, its wooden frame splintered and goods scattered haphazardly. The ground was marred with deep grooves and dark stains. Knickon knelt beside a large pool of blood, his fingers brushing the warm, wet surface while he assessed what had transpired based on the clues left behind..

"Two horses," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "At least four humans—driver, merchant, and two guards."

Gren moved to the side, examining a set of massive footprints embedded in the earth. Each print was larger than any creature they had encountered before.

"These tracks," Gren said, his voice tinged with unease. "They're unfamiliar. Whatever made them walks on two legs and stands between eighteen to twenty-one feet tall. Fresh too."

Kitty, her keen eyes scanning the surroundings, added, "There's no sign of the bodies. Blood and broken bones, yes, but no remains. Even the horses were dragged off."

Knickon pointed toward a trail of disturbed grass leading away from the road. "Dragged off that way."

Kitty crouched beside the bloodstains, her fingers tracing the edges. "This blood is fresh. If the creature has fed recently, it might be lethargic—a prime opportunity for us."

The prospect of facing a formidable foe ignited a spark in the brothers' eyes. The promise of glory and the thrill of battle were irresistible.

"Let's hunt," Knickon declared, gripping his war axe with renewed determination.

They followed the trail, moving with the silent precision of seasoned predators. The path led them through dense thickets and over rocky outcrops, each step bringing them closer to their quarry. As they ventured deeper, the signs of the creature's passage became more evident: broken branches, deep gouges in the earth, and the occasional smear of blood.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows that danced ominously across the landscape. The air grew colder, and the wind carried an eerie stillness. Finally, they reached the mouth of a cavern, its entrance framed by jagged rocks and partially concealed by overhanging vines. The stench of death emanated from within, a foul odor that turned the stomach.

Gren peered into the darkness, his grip tightening on his greatsword. "This is it."

Kitty nodded, her expression resolute. "We need to be careful. We don't know what we're dealing with."

Knickon grinned, the thrill of the impending battle coursing through his veins. "Caution is for the weak. Let's finish this."

With weapons drawn and senses alert, they entered the lair, ready to face the unknown terror that awaited them.

The cavern's interior was vast, its walls lined with the bones of countless victims. The floor was slick with blood, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of iron. In the center of the chamber lay the creature—a massive, grotesque being with mottled gray skin and eyes that glowed with a malevolent hunger. It towered over them, its muscular frame rippling with power.

The creature let out a deafening roar, its maw opening to reveal rows of jagged teeth. It lunged forward, its massive hands reaching out to crush the intruders.

Knickon and Gren moved in unison, their years of fighting side by side evident in their seamless coordination. Knickon swung his war axe with deadly precision, aiming for the creature's legs, while Gren targeted its torso with powerful thrusts of his greatsword.

Kitty circled the beast, her hands weaving intricate patterns as she chanted an incantation. Dark energy crackled around her fingers before she released a bolt of black lightning that struck the creature's side, eliciting a pained howl.

The battle raged on, each strike met with ferocious resistance. The creature's strength was immense, its blows capable of shattering stone. But the trio fought with unwavering determination, their combined skills and unbreakable bond turning the tide in their favor.

With a final, coordinated assault, they brought the creature to its knees. Knickon delivered a crushing blow to its skull, while Gren drove his blade deep into its heart. Kitty unleashed a final surge of magic, ensuring the beast would rise no more.

Breathing heavily, they stood over the fallen monster, the adrenaline of victory coursing through their veins.

"That was... exhilarating," Kitty panted, a triumphant smile on her face.

Knickon nodded, wiping blood from his brow. "A worthy foe."

Gren sheathed his sword, his eyes scanning the cavern. "Let's see what treasures this beast was hoarding."

As the trio ventured deeper into the cave, the air grew colder, and the shadows seemed to cling to the walls like dark memories. Knickon, Gren, and Kitty moved cautiously, their senses alert for any hidden dangers. The cave's silence was broken only by the distant drip of water and the soft scuffle of their footsteps.

Suddenly, a low, guttural growl echoed through the cavern, sending a shiver down their spines. Before they could react, the monstrous creature they had previously defeated lunged from the shadows, its wounds partially healed, eyes burning with a renewed fury.

The troll's massive fist struck Knickon with the force of a battering ram, sending him crashing into the cave wall. Pain exploded in his side as he felt ribs crack under the impact. Gren roared in defiance, swinging his greatsword at the beast, but the troll swatted him aside like a mere insect, sending him sprawling across the cavern floor.

Kitty's eyes narrowed with determination. She raised her hands, chanting an incantation as arcs of black lightning crackled around her fingers. She unleashed a bolt of energy that struck the troll square in the chest, causing it to stagger back with a howl of pain. But the creature's regenerative abilities were formidable; even as smoke rose from its charred flesh, the wounds began to close.

The troll's gaze fixed on Kitty, recognizing her as the immediate threat. It charged, claws extended, ready to rend her apart. Kitty stood her ground, preparing another spell, but the troll was upon her too quickly. Just as its claws were about to strike, Gren, with a surge of adrenaline, leaped from the cave wall, using the momentum to bring his greatsword down in a powerful arc. The blade cleaved through the troll's neck, severing its head from its body. The monstrous form collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Breathing heavily, Gren extended a hand to Kitty, helping her to her feet. She climbed into his arms for a moment of embracing gratitude, her eyes still wary as she glanced at the fallen creature. "It's a troll," she said, her voice tinged with realization as she stepped into action. "They can regenerate. We need to act quickly."

Kitty retrieved a potion book from her satchel, flipping through the pages with practiced speed. "There's a recipe here," she murmured, "a regeneration potion made from troll's blood. It should help heal Knickon's injuries."

Gren nodded, moving to assist Knickon, who was propped against the cave wall, clutching his side in pain. "Hang in there, brother," Gren said, his voice steady. "Kitty's got a plan."

Kitty set to work, extracting the necessary organs and blood from the troll's corpse. She combined them with various herbs and ingredients from her satchel, heating the mixture over a small flame until it formed a thick, bubbling concoction. Pouring the potion into a flask, she handed it to Knickon. "Drink this," she instructed.

Knickon grimaced at the pungent smell but complied, swallowing the potion in one gulp. Almost immediately, a warmth spread through his body, and the pain in his ribs began to subside. He took a deep breath, feeling the bones knitting back together. "Thank you, Kitty," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

With Knickon on the mend, the trio decided to make camp in the cave for the night. Gren explored the back of the cavern, his eyes catching the glint of metal amidst a pile of bones. He unearthed a set of ancient armor and a black greatsword, its blade etched with unfamiliar runes.

"This belonged to a warrior," Gren mused, examining the craftsmanship. "Looks like he met his end here long ago."

Kitty approached, her eyes narrowing as she studied the sword. "There's magic in this blade," she said softly. "Not of divine origin, nor of man. It's... ancient, neutral. Crafted for a purpose."

Gren hefted the sword, feeling its balance. "A vorpal purpose," he said with a grin. "This will do nicely."

As the fire crackled and the night deepened, the three companions shared a meal, their spirits lifted by the day's victories. They spoke of past battles and future adventures, the bond between them growing stronger with each shared experience.

The next morning, as the first light of dawn filtered into the cave, they prepared to continue their journey. Knickon stretched, his muscles popping his ribs all now healed. Kitty asked Gren to hold her satchel before she transformed into her snow leopard form, her sleek fur gleaming in the soft light. It was at this point that Knickon decided it would be best if they used the cart on the road to lug the head of the Troll to Halsbeth, they will likely get a bounty for its kill. Gren agreed, and so it was that they left the Troll's cave together acting like horses for a cart burdened with the massive head of a huge Troll. With renewed vigor, the trio set out toward Halsbeth, ready to claim some glory and some spiced rum too! With luck they should make it there after nightfall.

Gren and the Vorpal Blade