The rain, the thunder...it would be hard enough for The Bull to hear a regular man coming through the forest-- though, really, most of a village's untrained soldiers make such a noise in what passes for their armor-- but what's coming now isn't a man. It's death perfected, on near-silent feet.
But he's not coming for The Bull's head, not immediately anyway. The village had put out a contract but Eskel had been unable to identify the monster based on witness description (and one hilariously crude drawing), piquing his curiosity. Not a lot of novel experiences in the world when you've lived for more than half a century. He'd gotten a general direction to move in from some people who clearly knew more than they were telling, but could not be pursuaded to say more. Sure, he could have Axii'd the truth out of them, but it always made him feel dirty. So he'd set out in an approximate course and did it the hard way: studying every little detail of the landscape.
So he's moving quietly enough, and his silver sword is drawn but it sits defensively in a relaxed grip. The "monster" that's been attacking the town clearly isn't some kind of ravening beast, or there would far more bodies. Whatever it was was snatching women, but they weren't turning up violated or eaten (or both), and the guards had been badly hurt but as far as Eskel can tell the beast didn't have truly murderous intentions.
He was reminded of a man his brother Geralt had met long ago: an avaricious nobleman turned into a lonesome beast who accidentally found himself fielding "sacrifices" of local maidens (who were fed, clothed, fucked silly if they asked nicely, and sent home with caskets of priceless treasure). Perhaps this monster had appetites beyond the merely digestive. Eskel was a little amused by the idea of coming upon the great horned beast and his harem of missing women having a marvelous time in some forest bacchanal.
Ugh, not that the weather was conducive to such things, he thinks, as far drops of rain start to run down the neck of his flashy jacket. By the time he follows the almost imperceptible trail of tracks, tree damage and little bits of unidentifiable fur, the thunder rattles in his very bones as he keeps all his sense on high alert as he steps out into a clearing where an immense shape is just slouching towards a sort of tent that must be where it lives. It's wearing clothes, which is always an encouraging sign that it might be a beast of reason.
Funny, he can almost identify the scent he catches on the wind, something in the fiend category...but not quite. It's weird that it's almost something he's intimately familiar with. But that doesn't make any sense, so he shakes it off.
"You must be the guy that's grabbing girls from the village." He says, by way of announcing himself. He doesn't sheathe his sword, but he keeps it relaxed at his side, the posture of his approach open and non-threatening.
no subject
But he's not coming for The Bull's head, not immediately anyway. The village had put out a contract but Eskel had been unable to identify the monster based on witness description (and one hilariously crude drawing), piquing his curiosity. Not a lot of novel experiences in the world when you've lived for more than half a century. He'd gotten a general direction to move in from some people who clearly knew more than they were telling, but could not be pursuaded to say more. Sure, he could have Axii'd the truth out of them, but it always made him feel dirty. So he'd set out in an approximate course and did it the hard way: studying every little detail of the landscape.
So he's moving quietly enough, and his silver sword is drawn but it sits defensively in a relaxed grip. The "monster" that's been attacking the town clearly isn't some kind of ravening beast, or there would far more bodies. Whatever it was was snatching women, but they weren't turning up violated or eaten (or both), and the guards had been badly hurt but as far as Eskel can tell the beast didn't have truly murderous intentions.
He was reminded of a man his brother Geralt had met long ago: an avaricious nobleman turned into a lonesome beast who accidentally found himself fielding "sacrifices" of local maidens (who were fed, clothed, fucked silly if they asked nicely, and sent home with caskets of priceless treasure). Perhaps this monster had appetites beyond the merely digestive. Eskel was a little amused by the idea of coming upon the great horned beast and his harem of missing women having a marvelous time in some forest bacchanal.
Ugh, not that the weather was conducive to such things, he thinks, as far drops of rain start to run down the neck of his flashy jacket. By the time he follows the almost imperceptible trail of tracks, tree damage and little bits of unidentifiable fur, the thunder rattles in his very bones as he keeps all his sense on high alert as he steps out into a clearing where an immense shape is just slouching towards a sort of tent that must be where it lives. It's wearing clothes, which is always an encouraging sign that it might be a beast of reason.
Funny, he can almost identify the scent he catches on the wind, something in the fiend category...but not quite. It's weird that it's almost something he's intimately familiar with. But that doesn't make any sense, so he shakes it off.
"You must be the guy that's grabbing girls from the village." He says, by way of announcing himself. He doesn't sheathe his sword, but he keeps it relaxed at his side, the posture of his approach open and non-threatening.