I pulled my hat down low over my eyes and drew in a deep breath. Scarlet had left earlier this week, claiming that she had business that she had to take care of that could not wait. She'd given me an odd look in the process - but I presumed that had more to do with me not protesting her departure than anything else. Still, my… at this point, right now, I had no idea what to call the redhead. She wasn’t my lover - we’d not laid together like that since just after we killed the manticore. She wasn’t my girlfriend either - she was still too emotionless for me to call her that. My.. companion? Whatever she was to me, my not resisting her leaving had probably struck the woman as a bit odd. Or, it hadn’t, because maybe she thought I just presumed she had reached her ‘good’ condition and was heading back to the Hand. I didn’t think that was the case though.
On my part, I had not protested her departure, because I myself had business. A flier I had seen while making a trip to the local tavern had caught my eye. A priest, asking for aid as he went to fight an abnormal entity, a monstrosity that dwelled within dreams. He apparently had some kind of connection to it - and sought help in finally laying the abomination to rest. It had taken me some time to travel here, to where the flier announced the meeting place was. I had left not long after Scarlet had, actually, and she must have remained on my mind because several times I thought I had seen her as I traveled. Still, I had to put the redhead out of my mind for now, and focus my thoughts upon the coming foe.
A beast that preyed upon the slumbering minds of man and deity alike? What Huntsman worth his salt wouldn't feel the urge to take up arms against such a beast? I certainly was drawn to the call of battle against such a thing. I wondered who else might have seen and been answering the call. I gripped my Saw-Spear tighter. A foe within the mind. Would such a battle draw upon our sense of self, more than upon our physical forms? It was an interesting puzzle. If it did draw upon our sense of self, what we saw ourselves as - just what, would I appear as? A drow, a man? Or .. something else, as a result of knowing that I was not normal, touched by the moon and the genetic serum that altered me more with every day.I knew what I was, before all else. A hound of the Hunt. But… what did that mean? Bah, these ramblings would likely not matter. What would, would be the sharp edge of a blade, biting into flesh and dragging it down to our level.
I tilted my head back as I came to a door, marked with the sign that the flier had said to look for. Good, this was the place. I pushed open the door, and an older man greeted me rather energetically, as a small group of people shifted back and forth in chairs. So, a few others had already assembled to help hunt down this living nightmare. Good, more blades for the hunt. Aside from the old man, none of them looked particularly noteworthy, but appearances can be deceiving. I slipped into the shadows near the edge of the room and remained quiet, observing from the darkness until someone tried to get my attention or asked something of me.
