The Huntress sat alone, high in an overgrown tree. The tree sat among many others, hiding her vantage from the common eye. There she was a hunter overseeing her prey. Or, in this case, three young n. Why she watched these boys, she didn’t know, only that her instincts told her to.
Maybe her age was finally catching up. Maybe she wanted a team that could rival her own prowess. Maybe she saw sothing in them, sothing subconscious, sothing that told her these boys were going to do despicable or great things. Maybe she was just bored.
Whatever the case, the Huntress watched them. Stalked them. Hunted them. They were important to her. To the point she might murder indiscriminately if sothing were to happen to them. They were her mark. They were hers to… to…
She craned her neck, shifting the thin branch she stood atop. The slight movent jostled the tree, sending the dead leaves from early winter to the ground. If soone high ranked was nearby, her presence would surely be noticed. Internally she cursed at herself. The boys ssed with her mind. Made her think less as a hunter and more as a mother.
She spit the word in her thoughts, instantly writing it off as a singular mont of pure mania. Her, a mother? She scoffed at the notion, especially after watching the scene in the village.
Glenny, the one she had spent the most ti with, stumbled out of a shop and threw up. Sad, really sad. How could soone who adapted to the Sightless King fall to a sll?
Jude ca out next, a look of horror on his face. Booms and whirlwinds of power radiated through the doorway, enough that the Huntress almost moved.
Where’s the smart one? she asked herself, resigned to see how things played out a bit longer.
Leave it up to three boys, three newborn adventurers to piss off the quest giver. How did they manage that? She might never know. Well, she didn’t have a guess. The cores. Fighting and killing a nad mutation of undead? The quest giver being a Legacy of the Witch? The two more than likely—
The Huntress abruptly stood, her weight causing the entire tree to lean. She watched Leland flee from the small shop, trip over himself, then claw away in fear. The boy’s friends were there, dragging him away, but the damage had already been done.
Shiny gold bow in hand, the Huntress lined up a warning shot. If the stupid shopkeeper dared chase after her boys, then… well…
She pulled her bow back, her muscles straining like the very branch she stood on. As if on cue, the Legacy of the Witch stepped out of the building, her frazzled hair sticking straight up. Electricity, the Huntress tsked, knowing what that ant. There were very few elental types of magic that could outrun an arrow.
Lightning was one of them.
The woman didn’t step out of her shop more than a single step. She yelled and yelled, her grand showing of magic nothing more than a dog’s bark. The Huntress laughed, lowering her weapon. How could she be so foolish? To think she almost intervened with sothing so trivial.
Still, she liked the look of the old woman. She loved seeing the young get chewed out by an elder. In fact, when she was in the capital, yelling at the fresh Inquisitor recruits was her favorite pasti. So, she sat back down, shifting the tree one last ti, and listened.
The old woman gestured wildly, yelling, “How dare you! How dare a Calamity near my ho!”
The Huntress humd at that, idly wondering what the crazy bat was talking about. “A Calamity” was not a term she was familiar with, nor was it sothing she expected to simply be able to research. Legacies of the Witch tended to know certain, unique, information especially when it ca to Lords and the Ancient Ones. Sothing about reading the bones or reading fate. Either way, the Huntress always listened to what Legacies of the Witch had to say.
“Begone! Begone!” the woman yelled, cracking small bolts of lighting around herself. “Never co back! Otherwise I shall curse you, like you do so many others! Pain! Only pain will befall everyone you love if you near!”
Like you do so many others, the Huntress echoed, her mind spinning.
Obviously she was talking about the smart one, but what could it an? Curses, while not necessarily rare, weren’t sothing many Lords handed out as a part of their Legacies’ primary spells. But… what if they were? Leland’s hand tattoo was that of a crow, sothing that made the Huntress think his beneficiary was the Lord of Crows.
Does the Lord of Crows use cur—
The fall of a single leaf stopped her thoughts cold. With the speed of a jackrabbit, the Huntress spun, drawing her bow and loading an arrow. She yanked the string back, not even knowing what her target was, only that she was in danger. Raw power roared to life at her arrow’s tip, enough to defend herself against the enemy. An enemy that could sneak up on her.
In the center of her vision, she found the source. A bird. A single black, maybe deep purple, bird. It stared at her, judged her, mocked her. It cawed once before flying off.
As it left, the Huntress realized just what kind of bird it was. A crow.
She slithered down the tree, fading back into the brush, and disappearing. The warning was clear enough.
A few hours later, the boys were back on the road. They walked, albeit much faster than normal, away from the village with the crazy woman. They were also silent. A silence that was gnawing at Leland. Jude and Glenny kept stealing glances at their friend, at least until it was clear they were not in danger.
“So,” Glenny eventually said. “What was that?”
Jude answered first, “So people just don’t know how to make a fair trade.”
Leland laughed at that, all semblance of stress falling away. “Did she really try to steal those higher quality cores from us?”
Glenny’s eyebrows rose at that. “And what? You two took them back?”
Shrugging, Jude said, “They are ours.”
“Then what was with all the yelling? Particularly the apparent hatred for Leland.”
“Oh right… that…” Leland muttered, looking away. “She recognized my Legacy tattoo.”
Jude and Glenny’s eyes widened a bit. “Oh.”
“She called you a Calamity,” Glenny said quietly, as if the forest had ears.
“She did, didn’t she?” Leland said before taking a deep breath and looking at his tattoo. “I really wish my Lord would help figure out how to progress forward.”
Glenny and Jude shared a look.
“Uh, Leals, what are—”
“The tattoo pecks ,” Leland said frankly. “Sotis it stares at , or rather, glares at .”
Again Glenny and Jude shared a look. “That is… strange, right?” the rogue asked, looking at his own tattoo.
Jude, however, was less subtle. “Hello?!” he asked the back of his hand. “Hello! Lord of the Berserker? Can you hear ?” He then shook his wrist, squinted at the tattoo of a battle axe, then held it up to his ear.
The others laughed at that.
The next week was filled with tedious travel. They also turned in the Hearth Bat quest, receiving a nice chunk of change for their efforts. With the extra money, the boys decided to buy three mounts to make the trip that much faster. It wasn’t until the second day with the horses that they each questioned why they hadn’t bought mounts sooner.
Eventually they arrived at Frostford. The town itself was decently large for a being so far north. The guardian beast that protected the lands brought many hopefuls, thus causing the originally small frontier fort plenty of reason to grow.
From a vantage atop a large hill, the boys overlooked the town. From the distance they could see Frostford’s skyline. Short wide buildings were present here, along with blazing chimneys, each producing thick gray smoke. A warmth radiated from the town, lting the frozen ground and turning the streets to slick mud.
But that didn’t stop the townsfolk from going about their days. Most worked with a shrinking tiline on their minds, as the festival was coming up soon. In fact, most of the town was already decorated by strears, extra mana lights, and plenty of small stages for street perforrs.
The boys walked their mounts to the high town walls and waited in line for entry. From where they stood, off to the side of the city, was the coast line. Or at least, they could see the ocean. Frostford owned no beaches and no harbor. The town was situated on top of a steep cliff, one that dropped off directly into salty water.
There were, of course, paths down to the water, along with the occasional dock with bound rowboats. But other than fishing, the ocean port was not used for comrcial purposes.
The guardian beast wanted it that way.
“Eyeing Frostclaw island, aye?” the guard asked the boys since they were first in line. “Here for the festival?”
Jude looked over, his vision scanning the steep cliff. There, just off the coast, was a small island of deep green trees. “That’s where the herb picking competition is going to be?”
The guard nodded. “Adventurers, are we then?” He then pointed to a separate line, one much longer than the one the boys had just waited in. “Adventurers have to enter the town through that gate.”
The boys looked at the gate and the encompassing line, groaned, then walked to the end.
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