Nessalir the Red

Across the grand expanse of Ailefgar lies the Wildwood. It extends its reach across every corner of that world, connecting all its lands in a vast network of roots and trees. Many and varied are the strange creatures that call home the Wildwood, and none exist who would dare claim dominion over its countless shadows and secrets.

Into this endless and eternal forest the hunters were ushered. Each went by a different gate, away from the palace of Eldorith, and each took with them only what they could carry. Across her back, Nessalir had a bow and a quiver of arrows, gifted to her by her royal patron. At her sides hung her usual weaponry: a sword and a hand ax. In her red-clawed hand, the drakkowar held a torch, so that she could see in the darkness of this moonlit night.

The skies were clear, and the moon shone bright, yet the shadows of the canopy above were long and deep. The flames of her torch would be her lifeline as she hunted the Questing Beast.

She moved with the practiced ease of a huntress, for though Nessalir was a warrior, first and foremost, she had been trained in the arts of the hunt, as well as the less glorious arts of warfare: scouting, ambush, and the hiding of troop movements. Thus did her boots avoid the twigs and underbrush that might otherwise mumble and cry out at her presence. Thus did she traverse swiftly through the woodland.

Nessalir knew that her first task should be to locate the Beast's trail, and to this end, she swept back and forth through the Wildwood, using her claw to mark her passage upon the trees, so that she might recognize the places she had already been. She was methodical and meticulous in her search, taking note of every broken branch and every indentation upon the forest floor. Yet even so, it took her nearly an hour to locate the first sign of her quarry's passage.

It was a bush, flattened slightly, and upon its disturbed branches hung a tuft of black fur.

"The Questing Beast's fur is black as shadow," the queen had told her before her departure. "It is soft and silklike to the touch, and it smells like the sea." Eldorith had placed a hand over Nessalir's heart, and the queen, her old friend, smiled at her before kissing her cheek. "May your blade be true, my Hunter."

Taking the fur from the brush with her human hand, Nessalir felt its softness in her fingers. She brought it to her nose and inhaled, confirming that it carried the briny scent of salt and seawater. Why such a creature should smell of the sea, the drakkowar could not say, but regardless the presence of this tuft was a sure sign that the Questing Beast had come this way.

Quickly, Nessalir lit a torch and examined the ground. She found grass laid flat, and the footprint of a great six-toed beast in the soil. The bark of a tree, just above her eye-level, had been scraped with the Beast's passage, and it had left another small piece of fur upon the marking.

Nessalir smiled in satisfaction. She had found the Beast's trail, and now all that was left was to follow it to her quarry. Soon, she would return to the queen victorious.

Following the trail, she soon arrived at a small stream, barely more than a creek. The water trickled down its path, over rocks and roots. Nessalir made to leap over the water, when a strange clicking noise halted her.

Casting her gaze around for the source, at first her eyes simply glided over the creature sitting in the water and watching. It was downstream of her by about five paces, crouched upon a tree root only an inch or two beneath the running water. The thing was about half the size of a man, with blue, leathery skin, and three huge bulbous eyes. Insect-like mandibles clacked over its mouth in warning as it observed her.

Slowly, Nessalir extended a foot over the stream, never taking her gaze off the creature. As soon as her boot hovered over the surface of the water, it sprang into action.

It leapt from its perch and alighted upon the shore, and now that it stood at its full height, Nessalir marveled at how long its limbs were--arms and legs thin as twigs and twice the length of its body. The thing's mouth opened like a flower, exposing rows of spine-like teeth, and it hissed in fury at her intrusion. Then it was dashing for her, its spindly limbs flailing as though it did not know how to control them.

And yet its every movement was precise, and the whole of the creature moved fluidly as it attacked. Nessalir ducked beneath the swing of its arm, dropping her torch as she did so, and drew her sword, striking out at a leg as she passed. Her blade made contact, and violet blood sprayed from the creature onto the forest floor.

The thing squealed like a pig before rounding on her, but Nessalir was already moving again. As it brought an arm down on her, she caught it with her clawed hand and drove her sword directly into its belly. She cut upward, slicing through the monster's flesh, and purple fell from the wound to stain the earth below.

With a few more pitiable clicks, the creature fell backward. It spasmed once, twice, and then went still. Nessalir wiped her blade on a fern before returning it to its sheath.

She would need to be more cautious going forward. Clearly there were other dangers beside the Questing Beast lurking in the Wildwood.

Retrieving her fallen torch, Nessalir jumped across the stream and relocated the Beast's trail. She continued to follow it deeper into the forests of Ailefgar, until soon enough she came upon a clearing. In the glow of her torch, she saw a figure crouched in the center of the clearing, which she recognized as one of her fellow hunters, examining the form of something lying upon the ground.

For a moment, Nessalir worried that she was too late, that someone else had already claimed the head of the Questing Beast. But as the other hunter stood and turned to her, eyes wide with shock, she saw that the body at his feet was not a beast at all, but rather an Elf!

Prone upon the dirt with the shaft of an arrow protruding from his neck was the hunter Orov dy'Cangen. And standing over his corpse was Finn dy'Blodyn.

"Murderer!" Nessalir cried, and drew her sword.