How to gut a shadow – Chapter 1

The end of the second month eta-Gravula (Granule), 151 years after the impact of the Fallen Black Star

Ngoyamen. The heartland of the continent, one of the largest and thickest provinces inside the borders of the former Ahterilion Empire over one and a half century past. A terrain of steppes, grasslands, deserts, and minor forests. A topography known as much for its open fields and financial bounties as for the hardhanded heat and unforgiving fauna. This province attracts people every day of every year from outside its imagined lines, mainly in the form of merchants and general travelers, but it should not be bypassed that criminals of each genre correspondingly will be drawn into its rich midst. Not to mention the danger of myriad predators, other deadly animals, and of course, the moving shadows themselves.

For Eyren, Ngoyamen is a useful place to drop by every now and then, partially in order to stock some fascinating oddments or goodies that she likely can’t attain elsewhere, unless she’s determined to make the distances of her tenures ten times lengthier and voyage throughout the entirety of the continent. Merchants from far and wide will buy and sell the wares of their home regions somewhere along the center of the province, giving the populace a fine occasion to taste of distant quarters free of combing the corners for them. And though this is a worth she wouldn’t dismiss, it’s not the real rationale to her own regular drop-ins. While foreign wares and unusual nuggets can be a lovely thing, it’s the news and messages from remote stretches which brings her own investment towards the cities. Her elected profession, if one can so much as deem it that, is palpably dependent on this manner of shared knowledge. Occasionally, it takes the form of petitions for aid or news of disasters, but it could furthermore act as warnings or even outright threats for people to keep out of said fields. Whereas Eyren would naturally recommend that denizens follow this guidance and not get encompassed with the latter, in case a disaster is indeed lurking behind the corner, she judges her own circumstances differ. For her, should the nature of the issue consist of a danger at the highest order to the land, then it’s not just a selling point, but may genuinely be urgent that she breaks inside to lend a hand.

Then again, what she hadn’t forecasted as she was making for one of the cities in northern Ngoyamen, was to scrounge up a commission in the middle of nowhere. It isn’t offbeat that villages or ranches get beset by those dark monstrosities which are her main prey, but she rarely learns of the need for an expert of her caliber until she reaches one of those larger settlements. She won’t contest that it was a questionable encounter which she had with that stray wanderer along the road, who somehow recognized both her identity and her search for a fresh charge, but not adequately for her to shrug off the suppliance. She’ll have to keep this in mind when she fetches the destination, in order to override possible ambushes or other subterfuge. Eyren doesn’t occupy a ton of enemies or variant ill-wishers who’d salivate at taking her life, but you can never be too careful.

The region she does make an appearance at is not a foreboding spot, at the very least. As the image that had been painted to her, it’s a minor town or even just a village, containing a handful of mud houses with straw roofs, fairly sturdy in their structure and likely conducive to keep the cool in the heightened heat that’ll sweep over the area in a couple of months. While the current climate is warm but not boiling, it’s rather nice and sufficient to sometimes make her wanna sit down and sunbathe in the green-yellow fields of grass which has fringed their trip at every step, especially this tolerable one before noon.

Amid the buildings of the nameless village, roughly a dozen people are skirting about, engaging in daily tasks or just lounging. When they lift their attentions from this serenity, they can spot the duo of creatures strolling into the ambit of their village. The first one is a young woman, statistically in her early 20s. Her skin showcases a light grey hue, while her hair that only delves down to the middle of her neck comes in a black dye with streaks of crimson, the style of it pretty bland except for the slanted fringe. Along her pretty sharp nose and down by her chin are two separate scars, seated over her rounded facial features, whereas ocean blue eyes look around above the former. Another notable attribution would be her pointed ears, something that in the regions to the north are known as ‘alfellan ears’, named after mythological beings from ancient times. This package is deposited atop a body and a heap of gear, obviously. Chainmail armor is strapped around the torso, with steel protection for the wrists, shoulders, knees, feet and elbows. Accompanied by the long sword at her belt and the metal shield slung over one shoulder, it’s indisputable that this woman is a fighter, a notion strengthened by her quite muscular build below and assisted by her taller-than-average height. Enveloping this arrangement then is an unclosed coat in a dark red-brown color, what could be called burgundy red, framed by a short white fur collar. Near the front of the coat’s collar sits a minor badge-like item in steel and ebony, with an icon of a mountain underneath a crescent moon.

The second identity is not human, and can easily be tagged as her mount, for it’s an animal companion. This beast is naturally leaning forward on two thick and sturdy legs, with minor front ones hanging from the strong and bulky torso as if some form of hands; all four limbs being clawed. Coated in scarlet-and-black furlike feathers, with a stripe of larger black feathers over the spine, massively sharp fangs within its maw and lemon-yellow serpentine eyes, most people within this region know this as a common animal to Ngoyamen, for these raptors are popular among warrior castes. Generally these beasts stand from somewhere around two to two and a half meters in total, and this one makes to be around the latter half.

All things considered, these two do not come across as a pair of formal representatives out on a surveillance of the region, in particular as they don’t carry any regional markers. On top of everything, there’s a relaxed air revolving the two. When the raptor attempts to sway its head to chase off a couple of bugs that’s vexing it, Eyren sticks up for her companion and flings her hands at them. Afterwards, while stroking the raptor’s feathers, something playful comes over her, and she begins pulling instead, which tickles the predator. It swings its dome around to ‘assault’ the human, which mainly entails attempts at mock nibbling on Eyren, who chuckles and jumps backwards, continuing to tease the animal. This only perseveres until the raptor lets out a whiny noise and the woman ceases, nuzzling into her mount’s neck.

“Alright, alright, girl. I get it, Razz. I’ll stop now.” The raptor lets out a pleased purr and nudges her head back at her beloved partner, showcasing their affinity.

In a short while after arrival, Eyren and Razz locate a scarce bit of hubbub in this otherwise sleepy village, which is summed up by a number of people arguing. What stands in her favor is that they’re not chitchatting with a local tongue, a linguistic material she’s only mildly versed in up here, but rather the most widespread language anywhere in the continent – Ahteron, originating from the east and the old Empire.
“My friend, you will only regret this folly in the end”, says a middle-aged man, his skin a light brown and hair a greying blue. Most of all, Eyren notes his minor avian features, distinguished foremost around his grey eyes. This is not an uncustomary aspect, for practically the whole of humanity bears some outer animalistic qualities, including Eyren herself. He’s clad in simple white and beige robes, but ones decently taken care of. “Nothing good comes of crossing this form of abomination.”

“You dare name me ‘friend’ after spouting this?!”, expresses the explicitly anger party, who’s both shorter and older, his clothes far less immaculate and of plainer quality than the other man, which Eyren associates with a farmer. His arms show to be a bit furrier and the tail that sticks out the back reminds her of a beaver’s, not to forget the grey beard and longer hair over the darker brown skin. “This monster has harassed my home and family for over two damn weeks! I have to get someone to kill it or I’ll lose my whole livelihood! You call yourself a Tenkeeper, but what would the Shades say if they heard your pitiless words now?!”

A Tenkeeper, is it? A title that she isn’t unfamiliar with, clearly, as no one in any corner of the continent would be. They’re the lowest ranked and the most commonly met from the religion that’s the furthest comprehensive of all: the Shades of Creation. A Tenkeeper can pretty much be unraveled in every city and town anywhere, for they are the ones giving regular citizens, villagers and farmers the ticket to hear the words and grasp the will of the Shades, the ten deities of this faith that has lingered for centuries and was once spread ubiquitously by the Empire.
“And what will you do if your coins lead to more slaughter, hmm?”, the Tenkeeper confronts him albeit with a coolheaded approach. “If you feed this monster with additional prey? Because this is how it will wind up. Those monsters are too dangerous, too destructive. We must wait for the regional lord to send his troops to dispatch it, or you won’t be rid of your plague.”

The farmer sighs heavily and waves his arms with clear irritation.
“It’s been two weeks, Keeper! How long am I supposed to wait to get my home and life back?! Do you seriously trust that he’ll even listen at all? I surely don’t! No one up on their plushy thrones gives a rat’s ass about us small folks! It’s all just a big hassle to them, which they’d care to go away. And besides, this must be done quickly! It’s not some screwy, roaming thing out there! This beast is my cousin, I know it is. He loved our farm, but when he left to sign up with that merc band, he musta conked out and come back as one of those fiends, to see it one final time. Therefore, this duty can’t be satisfied by one of the lordly henchmen, it has to be me who hires someone and sees him off. Only then will he make it down to Mannaze.”

The Tenkeeper shakes his head.
“Stop speaking such blarney. It’s utterly absurd, and you know this. The Shades frown upon you invoking their glory for lies.”

Catching the outline of this discussion, Eyren briefly calls to mind how repeatedly she’s minded tales surrounding this exact topic, which admittedly is partially how she got entangled with her modern profession in the first place. Generally, either citizens can’t for the life of them suss out the provocation to being harassed by this level of monsters, or they’re altogether spot-on in their speculations and those not affiliated with their dens simply can’t or won’t believe them. It would be both favorable and wise for someone with extended proficiency to then step in and endorse them, which is a role that Eyren doesn’t reprove of taking.

It’s here Eyren elects to encroach on their controversy.
“Personally, I could make a case for that it is assuredly his cousin”, she goes in her own northern accented Ahteron, attracting them to bear for her direction. “Herdbrand that have been morphed from people are notorious for reverting to premises they’ve formerly nursed an affinity for.”

“What?”, wonders the farmer, scrunching his nose in clear unawareness. “Who in Shades’ name are you?”

Eyren beams friendly enough at the duo and lifts a hand in greeting, with Razz trudging casually at her heels. There’s no reins or anything which the warrior has hitched to her partner, but this aside, the raptor courses behind her compliantly.
“Eyren Katlattar, Anti-Shadow Herd specialist. I also moonlight as a bounty hunter on and off.”

“Anti…what?”, wonders the Tenkeeper. “You can’t be serious.”

“Suffice it to say, I am. I’ve taken on my fair share of these beasts and so far, I haven’t forfeited else than a sliver of blood from time to time.”

The farmer gawps at her with an amazed and growingly avid look.
“Truly? That’s…that’s astounding, miss Katlattar! An expert in tackling Herdbrand is news to me, but I won’t decline the help. Name your price and you’re hired! Although uh…provided it doesn’t cost a small fortune. I’m not a well-off man…”

Eyren smiles at him anew and she’s halfway to furnishing him with her fee, when the Tenkeeper verbally steps in between.
“Please, my good man, don’t be swindled by this charlatan. It’s suicidal to even dream of fighting these grotesqueries, the disgraces to Renu’bal’s creation that they are. No living person can brave these menaces all on their own. It’s just not possible.”

Snorting at his message, Eyren drives her attention towards him.
“I’m not alone. Got Razz with me”, she asserts and points her thumb at the raptor, who squawks happily in recognition, wagging her tail not very unlike a canine.

The Tenkeeper is not hit with any exceeding gratification through this phrase and joggles his head sidewise.
“You jest, but what you’re doing only makes light of a tremendously serious subject. One that may spell damnation for more than just this poor man and his farm.”

“I was joshing you, sure, but I’m not spinning any tales. I’m more than experienced in this level of task and I can handle myself. Supposing you don’t credit my mouth, then come see what my swordhand can do.”

“This is mere empty talk. ‘Experts’ in the Shadow Herd and their demonic members is a fictional contrivance, and something every soul ought to be wary of. The only result this vow will bring is doom; for you and for these people.”

“You’re the one who’s prattling along, but I don’t mind proving you wrong.” She veers at the farmer. “If you can spare a hundred impercesm, I’ll get rid of this hang-up of yours in a day.”

The old farmer scratches his cheek in thought.
“That’s…about what I spend on my farmhands, but I don’t have any of those left, so I suppose I can.”

The Tenkeeper lifts his hand in capitulation and expires sadly.
“I fear we shall flog ourselves for enabling you to sacrifice your life in this ill-judged manner…nevertheless, I’ll petition Mannaze that your death will at minimum be a swift one.”

On that note, Eyren lays a hand on the hilt of her sword and smirks self-assuredly at him.
“You’re better off praying for these people’s future harvests, Keeper. It’s more at risk than I am.”