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“So, you don’t think it’s a werewolf doing the killings?” Kai asked, trying to shoulder the large bag.

Her master looked up from the ground, wiping his hand slightly. “Positive. For starters, none of the killings happened during a full moon. Werewolves may be monsters, but they typically follow a routine. They rip out a heart, and eat it on a full moon. That keeps them sustained for bout a month until the next full moon.”

“Couldn’t they, I dunno, kill a cow or something?” Kai asked.

Randal shrugged. “I mean, they could. But given the fact they’re overwhelmed by bloodthirsty instincts, it’s hard to stop. But, another thing. These bodies were all torn to shreds, but no hearts are missing.”

Kai wrapped her hands together with some cloth to try and warm them up. “So…what killed them?”

“Ain’t that the million dollar question of the night.” Randal muttered. He suddenly got an idea, but it would be super gross. “Kai, I’m gonna need you to look away for a bit. I’m gonna check and see what organs this guys still got.”

“Eww!” Kai gagged. She promptly looked away, and covered her ears to prevent hearing any sounds. Randal stuck his gloved hand inside the chest of the latest murder victim, and began feeling around. Despite the obvious disgusting nature of it, it was also the most insightful.

He pulled his hand back out and began washing it. “Well, good news and bad news! Good news is, I’ve narrowed it down and it’s not another werewolf, Vamp, or monster hunter.”

Kai looked back, her face scrunching up at the smell. “Okay, I’m going to guess the bad news is that you know what it is?”

“Oh yeah.” Randal began drying his hand. “His liver is missing, along with any organs next to it. Only one creature is that picky. A Striga.”

Kai gulped, and grabbed her staff. She seemed terrified now. “A striga? I thought those were myths! Like myth-myths!”

“They’re incredibly rare. Rarer than Julai smiling these days.” Randal replied. “Only way to make one is via a curse. So we got two avenues, the monster itself, and the self centered son of a-“ Randal stopped, as he saw Kai trembling in fear.

“-gun. Son of a gun.” He finished, covering up his prior foul language. “Tell you what, why don’t you go into the tavern and start asking questions to the people about this? Stay indoors. Striga hate light, so you’ll be safe there.”

“What are you gonna do, master?”

Randal looked outside. “I’m gonna go see if this Striga wants to talk.”

Two hours later

Randal is thrown into a brick wall, his ribs utterly shattered, his leg missing, and his arm broken. He coughed up some blood as a monster in the dark shrieks. “Well, fuck me.” He commented. “Oh I just hope when I get revived I’m not in that things belly.”

Ooh! Nice twist!

Yeah, these characters have been in my storyboards for a while! Randal is a sorcerer who can’t die, as a soul shard brings him back. I tend to use this as a joke for the strips I made for the Heroforge discord.

Kai on the other hand…she has no such safety net

The village council looked down their table at the newly-returned Hunter, gently polishing the steel of their flintlock. The whisper of cloth on metal was the only sound in the room, following their revelation.

"Wh...what do you mean it wasn't a werewolf?! No other crea-" one started, only to be interrupted by a raised finger.

"No other creature you know of. Although lycans are about the worst you get in this territory, I've seen-and dealt with-creatures that made even the most stalwart lycans lose their bladders and retreat. But I know for sure this ain't a werewolf. For one,"

A set of molds was placed on the table, each in varying states of completion.

"Profile of the bite mark. Too big to be a Lycan, but too oddly shaped to be a normal wild animal. I sent another set to some friends in the Guild, see if they can make sense of it. Second..."

A sheaf of paper plopped onto the table, dates scrawled on it.

"List of the dates of the killings. Werewolves only transform on the full moon, although some have the ability to partially transform towards the ends and beginnings of the lunar cycle. All of these were near the exact middle of lunar cycles, where even the most heavily afflicted Lycans would effectively be normal people, which brings me to my final point..."

A set of jawbones clattered onto the table, several of the elders recoiling with disgust. Heedless, the Hunter grabbed one, running a finger along the teeth.

"All of the victims WERE werewolves, likely sating themselves on game and livestock. Werewolves don't go after each other as a rule of thumb. Look, on this one you can even see the channels made in the jawline by the repeated extension and retraction of canines." The Hunter let their remarks hang in the air, for the council to process before coming to a response.

"W-well, Hunter...what is it, then?"
"I'm not sure. Other Hunters that come out this far haven't documented anything like this, chances are its something that wandered out from the heartland. I've sent a courier to Northon to relay the forensics to some more seasoned Hunters at the Guild Outpost, but it'll probably be a week or two before we hear from them. For now..." The Hunter stood, straightening their tricorn as they holstered their flintlock, turning to leave.

"I've got more field work to do."

As the heavy oaken doors closed behind them, the Council collectively sighed a breath of relief. As vital as they were, Hunters were...unnerving, almost inhuman.

Inhuman, they chuckled quietly, licking sharpened fangs. With the werewolves out of the way they could have this entire town to themselves as feeding grounds. They just had to throw the Hunter off...