>>445396

As you watch the landscape flash past through the grimy train window, Lize hums softly to herself – humming some oddly familiar tune – and painstakingly cleans the disassembled pistol. With a look of intense concentration spread across her face, she looks between a crumpled diagram and the metal pieces, poking and prodding at them with a small brush. It keeps her happy, and mostly quiet, so you let her focus on the task. As she works, you slip out the old photograph of you and Kolyat, sinking into reminiscence as you look at it.

Growing up, you'd loathed the older man, resenting every chastising lecture and punitive beating he'd thrown at you. When you became a fully fledged Hunter, though, and he looked at you with more pride than you'd ever seen in his eyes... it became that much harder to put a name to your feelings. He had been hard on you, pushing you to the point of breaking, but only so that you could live up to your true potential. Now, after many years, you'll be meeting him again. You can't help but wonder if-

The screeching of the breaks, a deafening howl of metal, cuts that thought short.

-

Cursing, the sound of her words stolen away by the harsh squealing, Lize scrabbles to keep all of the pistol's component parts together as the train shudders to a halt. When the train is still, she lifts up the cage of her hands and peers inside, her lips moving softly as she counts the tiny springs. Only when she's apparently satisfied with what she finds there does she look up to you. “What the hell was that all about?” she asks peevishly.

Trouble, you mutter as you rise and draw your own pistol, you'll check it out. For a moment, it looks as though Lize is about to argue – then, looking down at the pieces of her handgun, she just nods. Before heading out, you reconsider your options and reach for the Maus rifle – better to be prepared for whatever might be out there.

Cold air, wet with billowing slush and snow, meets you as you step outside the carriage, trudging towards the head of the train. The gloom ahead is pierced by the white light of the train's front lantern, already illuminating a hulking mass blocking the rails ahead. At a distance, it could have been a boulder, something that risked derailment, but as you approach it becomes clear that the blockage is one of flesh and bone.

Surrounded by the train's crew – their dark blue garb merging with the darkness as much as their flashlights fight against it – the corpse looks like a fallen mountain. A bovine, it's obvious that the animal didn't die a natural death. At first, it seems like the crew is about to turn you away. When they realise you're a Hunter, though, familiar expressions appear. A mix of relief and fear, as though they might have swapped one problem for another.

You've seen those looks before.

>>445398

“Shouldn't get cattle this far out,” the bravest of all the crew offers, “They keep them fenced in, see? This one must have broken loose, but...”

But, you ask him, but what?

“Nearest farm is a few hours away. Something must have chased this thing all the way out here,” he steps around the cow's ragged corpse and lifts up one ear to show the metal tag speared through it, “Here we are, Roseholm. I know the family, they got a ranch maybe... maybe two hours from here if you're walking.”

As he talks, you circle the fallen cow and examine it from different angles. One hoof is twisted, as if the iron rail had caught it and broken the ankle. If the animal had been chased, that fall would have been the end of any flight, allowing its pursuer to close the gap and descend upon it. The kill would have been quick, but far from clean – the cow has been carved open, its thick hide marred by gashes and claw wounds, and the entrails picked apart. It's hard to tell exactly how much has been eaten, but it can't be much – there's a lot of meat left clinging to the bones.

“Don't rightly know what to do,” the crewman shakes his head, “All we can do is try to move this aside and keep the locomotive running. We're behind schedule already, so...”

Leaving him to ramble, you focus on the ground – at the meagre remains of tracks. The falling snow has covered much of them up, but what remain give you a strange picture. Something chased the cow here, just as it first appeared, but after the kill, it turned back and went back the way it came. Back towards...

Hey, you call to the crewman, he said the Roseholm family was close by. What direction?

“Can't be too precise, but I'd say about...” he pauses, shaking out a paper map and pointing his flashlight at it, “About that way.” He points, more or less, in the same direction as the fading trail.

Going back for seconds?

“Listen, we can't stick around here much longer,” the crewman offers you an apologetic smile, “As soon as the track's cleared, we're rolling out – whether you're on board or not. I don't want to leave you behind, but...”

But they've got a schedule to keep, you finish for him, right? Scowling at the gloomy horizon, you consider your next move. This Roseholm family, you ask, how many?

“Eight folks, with a few hired hands,” the crewman pauses, “They're isolated, like. Nobody else around. If it comes to trouble...”

They'll be on their own, you mutter, unless you step in.

>Head to the Roseholm ranch alone – Lize can meet you in Canid
>Take Lize and head for the Roseholm ranch
>Return to the train and ride for Canid. Finding Kolyat is the priority right now
>Other

>>445400
>>Take Lize and head for the Roseholm ranch
I don't like the idea of taking her into a potential hunt but I find the idea of leaving her in Candid, where everything is going to shit, alone an even worse idea.

>>445400
>Take Lize and head for the Roseholm ranch
Make sure to reassemble that pistol first

>>445400
>Take Lize and head for the Roseholm ranch
She's safer with us, let's bring her along and see what happens.

>>445400
>Take Lize and head for the Roseholm ranch
well Lize, time for your first session of pants-shitting terror

>>445400
>Take Lize and head for the Roseholm ranch
Pose as a team, 'cause shit just got real.

>>445400
>Head to the Roseholm ranch alone – Lize can meet you in Canid

File: Lize.jpg (136 KB, 700x727)

136 KB JPG

No, you're not going to leave these people alone, not when there might well be a dangerous beast stalking their land. At the same time, though, you're not about to let Lize ride into Canid on her own when you've got no idea how bad the situation is. You'll take her with you to the Roseholm ranch, even if it means bringing her into a hunt. It'll be a trial by fire, but perhaps that's the best way to learn.

You just hope she can keep up – and that she's got her pistol back together again.

“Wait, sir, wait a moment!” the train crewman calls out to you, “If you're heading out to the Roseholm range, take these.” He holds out the map and the flashlight, the earnest look on his young face imploring you to action. “The Roseholms, they're good people. Don't rightly deserve having trouble like this brought to their door.”

Nobody does, you tell him as you take the map, but it happens anyway.

-

“We're leaving the train?” Lize repeats, when you bring her the news, “Walking, I mean?”

It's not far, you assure her, how's that pistol looking?

“Good as new. I mean, assuming it came all assembled. If not, then it's as good as when you first put it together,” Lize holds it up to show you. The slide isn't on backwards, and the grip panels aren't falling off, so that's good enough for you. “So what's happening, anyway? They said something over the radio about an unavoidable delay – like, some kinda obstruction on the line maybe?”

Something like that, you nod as she pulls on the heavy parka, a dead animal on the line – and you're going to find what killed it. The way you hear it, it might be terrorising a local farm. A beast that hungers for animal flesh isn't always sated by such – it could move up to hunting people.

“You think maybe that's what's been causing trouble here?” she asks as you step off the train and into the cold air once more, “I mean, we're – what, a few hours away from Canid? How much ground can these things even cover, anyway?”

Hard to be sure until you know what you're dealing with, you shake your head, information seems thin on the ground at the moment. Maybe the Roseholms can tell you something about it – but maybe not. Eyewitness reports can be incredibly unreliable, especially when they spread and take on the nebulous form of rumours. Still, dubious information can be better than nothing. It gives you somewhere to start, at least.

“So this ranch thing,” Lize looks around at the bleak wasteland, “It's close, right? I mean, we'll only be walking for-”

A few hours, you tell her with a shrug, not a big deal.

“A few hours?” she repeats, “Oh, for fu-”

The train engine surges with renewed life, cutting off the rest of her curse. With the ponderous speed of a giant shaking off its sleep, the train grinds into motion, leaving you behind.

[1/2]

>>445441
Ts-ts-ts, young lady.

>>445441

For all her complaints, Lize keeps up with you, maintaining an even pace as you lead her across patchy ground, slushy snow and even something close to a marsh. It seems incredible that someone would build their home so far from any other civilisation, but you won't judge. Some people prefer privacy – you can understand that.

“So, Old Wolf Kolyat,” Lize says the name aloud like someone announcing a regal title, “He's retired now?”

He was a Hunter first of all, you begin, but as he got older he retired to teach the next generation. Even so, he never properly gave up the hunt – he'd come out of retirement every so often and vanish for weeks at a time, only to return flush with victory. Except, one time, he barely came back alive. He never said what he was hunting, but it got the better of him – nearly tore his leg off. An injury like that, he couldn't recover, he couldn't even teach in any practical sense. Now, he's retired for good.

“Oh,” silence falls as Lize considers the situation, “That's gotta suck. You think maybe...”

What, you press as she falls silent once more, what's she getting at?

“Just, you think maybe he wished he hadn't survived?” her voice is hushed, unusually tentative, “I mean, it's gotta be rough. One day, you're roaming the wilds all free and powerful, and the next day you're a cripple. I just figure, maybe some folks would prefer to go out in a blaze of glory. Could be wrong though – what do you say?”

She could always ask him for herself, you offer with a cold smile, but you can't recommend it.

“Uh, yeah, I think I'll pass on that,” Lize clears her throat, tramping across the snow in silence for a while before adding, in a hushed voice, “I guess I don't need an answer. Better not knowing.”

-

Lights on the horizon.

The Roseholm ranch is lit by the dirty light of low-quality oil, impurities burning yellow and grey. Compared with the encroaching darkness, however, even that tainted light comes as a welcome sight. Waving for Lize to stick close, you put a little extra haste into your steps and draw closer to that oasis of light. Closer still, and the ragged shape of a broken fence makes itself known. A hole has been torn clean through it, as though something of great and terrible strength seized the wire and pulled it down. The gap, widened by the stress of a burly cow forcing its way out, yawns. It's a wonder that any of the animals have remained inside.

The four remaining cattle are restless, staring at you with mute stupidity and grunting with heavy breaths. Stirring, their movements attract some new attention – the barking of dogs, and the sudden flare of an electric flashlight.

Then a gunshot, shattering the night air.

[2/3]

damm it i have to sleep now noo
kep at it, il see you in like 8 hours
dont get ud killed anons

>>445474
Man, I hope we didn't get shot.

>>445474

At the sound of that shot, Lize drops low and clutches her pistol close. For one brief moment, you see the urge to fire in her eyes – the desire to shoot blindly into the darkness at whatever threats might be out there. The moment passes, and cold logic reasserts itself. Still, she keeps a tight grip on the pistol, ready to use it at a moment's notice.

“You out there!” a shaky voice – unsteady, but still possessing a good power to it – calls out, “Leave us alone, you hear me!”

Hold your fire, you shout back, you're human.

“What?” the beam of the flashlight finds you, pinning you in place and blinding you. Despite the urge to get out of that piercing light, you hold firm and let the gunman examine you. “Human, right as you say,” the flashlight clicks off, leaving you blinking desperately, “Come up here, slowly now.”

Something in you rebels against the command in that voice, but you force the impulse down. This is his land, you'll play by his rules – for now, at least. Lifting Lize to her feet, you cautiously approach the house as a heavyset man opens the front door. He has a pair of baying hounds at the end of a short leash, and holds an antique rifle in his other hand – the black pit of the barrel hovering over you. The hostility you see in his eyes isn't directed at you – not really – but the whole world. Living out here, with beasts stalking the night, it's not surprising that he'd be paranoid.

“Dogs don't much like you, stranger,” the man warns you, as the hounds circle you, sniffing and growling all the while.

They tend not to, you reply simply. Lize pets one of them, and it grows a little more friendly – towards her, at least.

“Name's Isak Roseholm,” finally, the man lowers his gun, “How about you get inside where I can see you all proper, like?”

“Sure beats talking out here,” Lize remarks, “Hey Henryk, we found the right place, at least!”

Grumbling all the while, Isak leads you into his home. The windows, you notice, have been boarded up, the frames studded with nails. Just like in Nebel, you think, rustic home defence. Setting down his rifle, Isak collapses into a chair and sighs heavily. At the sound of his return, a pale wraith of a woman emerges with a steaming cup, handing it to him and then regarding you with wide, frightened eyes.

“My wife, Alva,” Isak grunts, “Now, how about you tell me what you're doing here?”

>I heard you might be in trouble. One of your cattle was killed
>Have you heard about what's been going on in Canid?
>We just needed a room for the night, that's all
>Other

>>445498
>>I heard you might be in trouble. One of your cattle was killed
>>Have you heard about what's been going on in Canid?

>>445498
>I heard you might be in trouble. One of your cattle was killed

>>445498
>I heard you might be in trouble. One of your cattle was killed
"It somehow got dragged all the way to the train tracks and just left there for some reason."
>Have you heard about what's been going on in Canid?

>>445498
>I heard you might be in trouble. One of your cattle was killed on the rail tracks.
>But the beast went right back here, is there something here it wants?

>>445498
>I heard you might be in trouble. One of your cattle was killed
Also ask about canid

>>445498
>>I heard you might be in trouble. One of your cattle was killed

>>445498
>I heard you might be in trouble. One of your cattle was killed
>And the killer seemed to return this way afterwards
>Have you heard about what's been going on in Canid?

>>445498
>I heard you might be in trouble. One of your cattle was killed
>Have you heard about what's been going on in Canid?

You heard there might be some trouble up here, you answer him, one of his cattle was killed. Somehow, the thing made it all the way to the train tracks before it was slain. It was tagged with the name of the ranch, and there was a trail leading back. You thought that whatever killed the animal might have come back for more.

As you explain the story, Alva moves silently to the window and peers out through a crack in the wooden boards. “Herd looks restless,” she murmurs.

“Course they do,” Isak snaps, “I only just fired a warning shot – proper waste of a bullet, too.”

“No, they look very restless,” Alva insists, “Something wicked is stirring the air tonight.”

Silence falls once more, an uneasy peace disturbed only by Isak grumbling under his breath – vaguely slurred words about the reliability of womanly superstition. Draining his cup, he stares daggers at Alva's back for a moment. “Check on the children,” he orders, “If there's business to be talked, I'll be the one to do it.” Simply nodding, without complaint, Alva slips away and heads upstairs. Lize watches her go, a slight frown on her face. “Now, I don't rightly like talking business in front of the young one,” Isak nods at Lize, “But I figure you're travelling together for a reason. You'll want to know what's going on here, I take it?”

You would, you begin, does he have any idea why the beast might have come back here?

“The meat, I figure,” Isak takes a pipe from some deep pocket and fills it with a clumpy mass of... something, “Not much else to eat around here, less you make the trip to Canid. If you're looking for some mystery to solve here, stranger, you won't find one. Man or beast, a thing has to eat.”

But not much, you think as you recall the surprisingly intact cadaver, it didn't eat much at all.

“If that woman's right about one thing, though, it's that something wicked is going on,” Isak admits, rubbing a gnarled hand through his thick beard, “Bastard's been toying with us for a fair while now. Doesn't always take a cow – sometimes, it'll just prowl and make them nervous. Other times, it'll cut them – just lightly, mind, long scratches down them. You ever hear one of them big cows scream, stranger?”

You've heard them bellow, you reply cautiously, you've heard that much.

“Ain't the same,” Isak dismisses you with a flat gesture, “Ain't even close.”

Once again, silence chokes your little gathering. From the floor above, you hear the soft sounds of Alva's footsteps, and a voice hushed to the point of illegibility.

[1/2]

>>445538

Has he heard, you ask after a long and deathly pause, about what's been happening in Canid?

“The killings,” Isak nods, “Fair caused a bit of a stir. First one happened right when things were getting bad here – now, everyone's talking about city folk getting attacked, and nobody has a damn for old Isak. Fine with me – I don't need them, the lot of them.”

What you're asking, you press, is whether he thinks there might be a connection. Could it be the same beast slaying animals on his ranch and people in Canid?

“Don't rightly care if it is,” Isak stares at you with sullen belligerence, “Might be, it would make for a nice change if this bastard left me alone and tormented someone else instead. You saw those four brutes outside – all I've got left, and they ain't enough to live on. This monster's pushed me to the brink, and we're all just waiting for it to finish the job. Let it come, I say,” he pats his rifle, “I'll be happy if I bring this beast down with me.”

“Going out in a blaze of glory,” Lize mutters to herself.

So this beast, you ask, has he ever seen it with his own eyes?

“Not once,” Isak shakes his head, “But my boy, Johann, he says he did. Got up in the darkest hour of the night and took a look out his window. Saw the thing prowling, tugging at the fence. Just a nightmare, I say, but he won't be put off. Even painted a picture of what he saw.” At the mention of painting, Isak gives a dismissive sniff – obviously, art isn't an appropriate activity for a growing lad.

“Can I see it?” Lize asks, leaning forwards, “I mean, can we see it?”

“Upstairs, tucked away somewhere. Alva might know,” with a stubborn wave, Isak gives you permission to roam, “But I don't want you bothering her. She gets confused easily – a city girl at heart, that one, and she never got used to life out here. Too quiet for her, so she starts getting all kinds of ideas.”

You'll mind your manners, you assure him as you rise, but you really do want to see this painting. Seemingly indifferent to you – you could live or die, and it seems like Isak wouldn't bat an eyelid – the ranch owner simply puffs on his pipe as you slip upstairs. The narrow staircase opens out into a broad landing, a row of sealed doors filling one wall. Alva waits here, and you wonder how much she overheard. Maybe everything. When you approach, she turns and regards you with watery eyes.

>Your husband says you might know about a painting...
>I'd like to hear your version of events, Alva
>How are the children dealing with this?
>Other

>>445551
>I'd like to hear your version of events, Alva
>How are the children dealing with this?

Then
>Your husband says you might know about a painting...

Lets get all the pieces.

>>445551
>>I'd like to hear your version of events, Alva
>>Your husband says you might know about a painting...
Lets ask about the painting after her story.

>>445555
Seconded

>>445551
>>Your husband says you might know about a painting...
>>I'd like to hear your version of events, Alva
>>How are the children dealing with this?
Maybe have Lize ask the social questions while we do the hunting ones.

>>445563
yeah get the painting to look at while liz does the womanizing.

>>445595
Nah we can talk to her together. Lize and Henryk are a good combo in getting information like we saw when we talked to Nethe.

>>445598
It's more about being true to our word to Isak yknow.

>>445601
Meh, the hick can deal. Just let us do our job and we get off his land faster.

Alva almost seems to be examining you, scrutinising you carefully, and you can't help but return the favour before speaking. She's tall, for a woman, but rail thin and haunted by a looming shade of anxiety. Then again, considering the circumstances she's been living under, that shouldn't come as much of a surprise. The greyish pallor of her face almost looks like dust has been ground into her skin, and her hair is much the same colour. Her overall impression is one of illness – of a terrible wasting disease.

Then she coughs, offers you a timid attempt at a smile, and the pall breaks. You can speak once more. Isak has told you plenty, you begin, but you're curious – you'd like to hear her version of events, if possible.

“My version of events?” she asks in a colourless voice, “I'm afraid I don't have anything to add. I mostly handle the chores and take care of the children, so I don't have much occasion to get involved in these matters.” As if remembering something, shaking it off from the depths of her mind, she glances across to the closed doors. “Please, speak quietly – the children are sleeping.”

The children must be under a lot of stress, you murmur, how are they coping with this?

“Johann doesn't sleep much, and it's fitful when he does. The others are better, although they know less. Sucy, our youngest, doesn't understand what's going on,” Alva looks, once again, at the row of doors and heaves a heavy sigh, “I don't know if it's the right thing to do, protecting them like this. Perhaps not knowing is worse – they imagine things, and they hear Johann talking in his sleep. I'm scared for them, of course, but...”

“But?” Lize prompts gently, “But... you feel like you should be doing more for them?”

“All I can do is try to raise them right,” Alva nods weakly, “And I wonder if I'm even capable of that much. Ever since that dream, Johann has been... restless.”

She believes it was a dream, you ask, and not something he really saw?

“Isak told you about the painting, I heard him. If you saw it, you'd understand,” a brittle note enters Alva's voice, as if she doesn't quite believe her own words, “You'd know that nothing alive could be like that.”

Well then, you try to assume a gentle smile, perhaps you could see this painting?

“If that's what you wish,” Alva turns away from you, crossing the landing to a closet and pulling out a wrapped package. Hiding the painting with her thin body, she strips off the brown paper wrapping and gazes down at the canvas. Suppressing a shudder, she carries the picture over to you.

It's like no beast you've ever seen.

[1/2]

File: Portrait.jpg (71 KB, 800x800)

71 KB JPG

>>445620

Taking the portrait over to a flickering gas lantern, you let Lize speak softly with Alva – their voices so low that they border on whispers. Even if they had been yelling at one another, you don't think it would register with you – that ghastly portrait has captured all of your attention.

Not furred, like most of the beasts you've seen, but pale with the white flesh of a drowned corpse, the creature's face is disturbingly human – almost a skull. Long fingers, tipped with claws, hang from the hands, while the lean body has the suggestion of a great and terrible strength. Looking at the portrait, one thing becomes blatantly clear – Johann is an artist of no small talent, to capture the intensity of the horror and loathing the beast inspires. Gazing down at the canvas, you find yourself gripped by indecision. You want to say that it's an image pulled from some nightmare, an ephemeral terror that still haunts Johann's sleeping mind, but the image has a certain... visceral nature that you cannot deny.

This is it, the real thing. It all seems to fit – the claws, although painted with a certain crudity, could easily have left the wounds you saw on the cadaver. Such a skeletal creature, in addition, wouldn't have much need for feasting. But still... what the hell is this thing?

“Henryk,” Lize whispers, tapping you on the shoulder, “I had a word with Alva, I think... I think you should have a word with her. She's keeping something from me.”

Shrugging softly, you turn to find Alva a few meagre paces away. Meeting your eyes for a fleeting moment, she coughs into her closed fist. “I...” she begins, before shaking her head, “I should get back to my husband. I need to help him keep watch.”

>Could I get a Diplomacy roll – that's just 1D100, aiming to beat 60/80. I'll take the highest of the first three results

Rolled 57 (1d100)

>>445625

Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>445625
Here goes...

Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>445625

>>445630
Jeejee

It's imperative that you get a complete picture of what's going on, you murmur to the nervous woman, anything less than that is dangerous. Not just to you or her, but to everyone at the ranch – her children included. You feel like the lowest form of life, bringing her children into this, but you know it's the only thing that might sway her.

When Alva's eyes widen, you know that your words have hit their mark. Glancing downstairs for a split-second, her thin tongue slips out to nervously dampen her lips. “I saw it,” she whispers, “It was just once, and not for long, but I saw it.”

It, you repeat, the thing in the portrait?

Alva nods once, the gesture stiff and awkward. “It was evening. I was out for a walk – I don't often get the chance to wander on my own, you see – when I heard something rustling the undergrowth. There was a breeze that day, so I thought nothing of it at first. Even when I heard it breathing, I didn't realise what it was. Then, it stood - it revealed itself to me.”

So what happened, you ask softly, did it try to hurt her?

“No, nothing like that,” she shakes her head, “It meant me no harm, it just watched me, studying me. It could think – I promise you this, stranger, it had the eyes of a man.”

Her words, as hushed as a rush of air, hang between you for a moment. That, you pause to swallow hard, that was the only time she saw it?

“Yes, but I think it's been close to me before. Watching me, without ever letting me see it. You must know the feeling, stranger, of eyes falling upon you from afar. I feel its eyes upon me, day and night, whenever I step outside. Yet, not once have I felt malice from it,” her lips quaver for a moment, “What does it mean?”

You wish you knew. Isak's warning – that his wife might very well be delusional – surfaces again in your mind. Perhaps she did see something, but her thoughts took that glimpse and went spiralling away into wild fantasy. But then... what if her words are true?

“Alva?” Isak bellows, “What's taking so long?”

“Excuse me,” Alva shakes her head, turning away and scurrying back to her husband. Sighing angrily, you watch her leave before slowly following her downstairs.

[1/2]

>>445694
This thing...

It was deliberately trying to get our attention, someone's attention, by blocking the train and leading back here.

Something is not what it seems here on this farm.

>>445702
Might be a distraction while shit goes down in the actual town

>>445712
But the way it isn't attacking the people here or eating anything. How it's just watching without malice like Alva said. How it just up and revealed itself.

It makes me think this thing has human level intelligence but can't communicate normally and is trying to tell someone something.

>>445625
>ayy lmao probing cows on an isolated farm
we xcom now

>>445694

“So you've seen it then,” Isak guesses, “That damned painting. I only wish Johann spent nearly as much time working as he does moping about his dreams.”

You don't say anything to that, simply glancing across as Alva sets a stool down by the window and taking up a silent vigil. Yes, you reply after a moment, you saw it. It certainly makes for a very vivid image. When you first saw it, you weren't quite sure what to make of it. Even now, you're a little puzzled.

“Always was a bit of a fantasist, that one,” Isak doesn't even look at you as he continues to ramble away, “Too much of his mother in him, too much of the city. Me, I've got strong blood – right from the north.”

Lize glances around, seeing if Alva noticed the slur, but the unhealthy looking woman pays it no mind. Her attention is focussed on peering out into the night, although you wager she's got a keen ear open. It looks, for a moment, like Lize might protest on Alva's behalf, but then she wisely bites her tongue.

“I don't know if you're here with plans to fix this mess or not – I don't rightly care much either way – but I'll give you one kindness, stranger,” Isak finally fixes you with a sullen, hostile glare, “You don't want to go out now, in the dead of night. It's not safe, not even for an armed man like yourself. There's room here for guests, and you can be gone by morning. I wager you've got business in Canid, the way you were asking about it earlier – settling in here for the night might well be your best hope of getting there.”

Canid, you think to yourself, might be your best hope for answers. If the beast that's been stalking their streets matches the description of this monster, you'll know for certain what you're dealing with. The idea of accepting Isak's “hospitality” doesn't sit quite right with you, but he might have a point. It's dark, and judging by the sound of the wind outside, there could be harsh weather moving in.

>I'd be happy to accept your hospitality
>I'll take my chances with the night. I might even be able to find your beast
>I'd like to ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>Sorry for the delay, had some internet problems.

>>445733
>I'd be happy to accept your hospitality
"But I am going to do a patrol tonight to see if I can find anything. Once I am done I'll use your guest room for the rest of the night."

>>445733
this sounds good:
>>445740

>>445740
>>445733
This.

Also if she is willing I think Lize should go with us. I have a hunch this might be less of a hunt and more trying to put our heads together to figure out what's going on.

>>445733
I'll sit outside and keep a lookout for this beast

>>445733
>I'd be happy to accept your hospitality

Let's though have a nap before our patrol to see if Arty knows anything interesting.

>>445780
Art usually makes us go to sleep if she wants to talk to us. We can't really force the connection by going to sleep.

You'll be happy to accept his hospitality, you lie, but you're willing to work in return for it. You'll do a spot of patrolling before settling in for the night – you might be able to get a feeling for the beast.

“Suit yourself,” Isak grunts, “I won't lie, I'll feel better with another pair of good eyes out there. I've got some fixing up to do – I wager you saw the fence on your way in – and it'll be good to have someone else keeping watch.”

“What do you want me to do?” Lize offers, “I can help – I mean, two extra sets of eyes must be better than one, right?”

“Good eyes, I said,” Isak fixes Lize with a baleful look, “I wager Alva can find something for you to do around the house. Chores, of the like.” His lips twist in a vaguely contemptuous smile, “You don't have a problem with that, do you?”

Again, you're almost certain that Lize will take the bait, but then she backs down. “No problem,” she mutters, before adding in a whisper, “You old goat...”

There's nothing wrong with doing a little work around the house, you tell Lize in a very deliberate tone, she just needs to listen to Alva and perform her duties. Lize gives you a funny look for a moment before realising, nodding eagerly at the task you're giving her. Stick close, your unsaid orders go, and see if Alva has anything else to say while Isak is gone.

“Can't hurt to push a broom about for a bit, I suppose,” Lize feigns a heavy sigh, “You stay safe out there, boss.”

-

You were right about one thing – the winds have picked up, blowing about fresh sprays of slushy snow and light rain. Grimacing against the cold rush, you pull up your scarf to cover your face and set your sights on the dark horizon. Visibility doesn't count for much, with the swirling snow and rain, and your flashlight only carves a narrow path through the night. Letting the beam of light pan around, you stand guard as Isak drags out armfuls of supplies – wire for the fence, and a heavy wooden stake to anchor everything together.

Even with the wind roaring and howling in your ears, you can hear the man cursing and grunting complaints as he labours away. Standing guard until most of the work is done, you consider the best route to patrol. A wide circle around the entire property would be best, checking for any signs of life that might have survived the harsh weather. You're not expecting much, but you might get lucky.

“I'm finished here!” Isak bellows after a while, “I'll wait here while you take a look around. You see anything, you come find me, you hear?”

Understood, you call back, you'll keep him informed. Then, turning your back on anything else he might have to say, you begin your patrol of the property.

[1/2]

>>445793

You take things slowly and carefully, letting your flashlight beam fall where it will as you brave the storm raging around you. The light seems frail and weak compared with the night, and the shadows it cast only seem to add to the threatening air. All the while you follow that long, loose circle of the property, you prepare yourself for the sudden rush of something attacking from behind, but such an ambush never occurs.

It's almost disappointing, in a way.

The feeling of disappointment forming within your gut is suddenly ripped away as your light falls upon something red, vivid against the white background. Rushing forwards, you try to shield the dark red, glistening mess from the falling snow and take a closer look. Torn and ragged, you nevertheless recognise the meaty pulp as something pulled from inside an animal – a cow, of course. The bovine you found earlier wasn't eaten at all – it was cut open, and a portion of the entrails were scooped out. Scooped out, and laid here, in the shadow of the ranch itself. You let your flashlight beam play up, the light winking off glass – a window.

Grimacing, you turn and run to get Isak, a terrible theory forming in your heart as you hurry.

-

“Son of a bitch!” Isak curses, “That's our room up there, our window!”

The room that he shares with Alva, you press.

“Of course, who else would I be sharing a room with?” he snaps, “I don't know what you degenerate cityfolk get up to, but-”

Settle down, you shoot back, you were just making sure.

“I told you, this bastard is playing with us, with me!” Isak rages, kicking a clump of snow over the entrails, “It's a damn good thing Alva didn't see this – she's got a weak stomach, she wouldn't be able to sleep for a week if she knew that thing had been right outside our room. If that bastard, whatever it is, can climb...” Abruptly, as if the idea had been enough to horrify him into silence, Isak stops talking and focuses on burying the entrails. Standing a few paces away, you let him cover them up. What you don't tell him, not yet at least, is that you didn't think this was a threat. This wasn't intended to intimidate anyone, no matter how it appears.

No, this is something else entirely.

[2/3]

>>445817

“A gift?” Lize repeats, once you've finished your patrol and made your way back inside. Isak, his mood black, had simply taken Alva upstairs and left you to make yourself comfortable downstairs. Thankful to be away from him, you settled into explaining your theory to Lize.

It makes a certain kind of sense, you insist, it showed itself to her without attacking. Now, it's leaving presents beneath her window. Isak thought they were meant for him – of course he would, he's an arrogant fool.

“Yeah, but...” Lize shakes her head, “Man, I don't know. You make this thing sound like a pet cat, bringing home dead mice and junk. You really think that's what's going on here?”

Rising, you pace the room as you think. It's a charmless room, with lots of bare floorboards and ancient, worn away rugs. The only thing that suggests any pride at all is an old page of pager in a gilded frame. Isak's League papers, you realise, granting him the right to butcher animals and prepare their carcasses. If these weren't up to date, he'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble with the Ministry.

“Henryk?” Lize repeats, “How certain is this theory of yours?”

Still just a theory, you tell her with a shrug, but it's what your instincts are telling you.

“Man,” she shakes her head, “Some first time, huh?”

>Maybe we can learn more in Canid, tomorrow
>Do you have any theories?
>Did Alva say anything while we were away?
>Other

>>445836
Is it like courting her in some weird way?

>Do you have any theories?
Other perspectives always help.
>Did Alva say anything while we were away?

Then
>Maybe we can learn more in Canid, tomorrow

>>445836
>>Do you have any theories?
>>Did Alva say anything while we were away?
Interesting. Maybe he's just looking for a babe and we might be able to use Lize to communicate with it. Unless he's after Alva specifically, which would be curious as well. I wonder how long it'll be allowed to roam about before we take it down.

>>445836
>Did Alva say anything while we were away?

Theory: It's a homunculus. Someone in Canid made several, this one escaped and fell in love with Alva.

>>445874
It did have the 'eyes of a man' according to Alva. It's certainly not just any beast.

>>445836
>>Do you have any theories?
>>Did Alva say anything while we were away?

>>445836
The cow at the rails wasn't a gift to Alva though. A gift to the train workers? The train itself?

>Do you have any theories?
>Did Alva say anything while we were away?

Well, you offer as you slump down, does she have any other ideas? You'd be interested in any viewpoint she had to offer – and you mean that, you're genuinely curious.

“Ugh, you'll laugh,” a sour look touches Lize's face, “But I thought maybe it wasn't a beast doing this. I thought maybe it was a guy – like, some kind of rivalry that got way out hand. A business thing, or something like that.”

Interesting, you muse, that would certainly explain the degree of intelligence on display. The claw wounds you saw on the dead cow are an issue, but someone could fake those with a knife. The tracks that led you here were indistinct – hard to identify as either man or beast. Even the painting Johann made had the vague silhouette of a human. Fear and delusion could have combined to produce that monster, a madness shared by both the boy and his mother.

“Not so silly after all, huh?” Lize's face turns to a smile, “I mean, I'm not saying that that's what this is, just that that was my first guess. You gotta wonder about motive, though – leaving piles of guts about the place isn't what I'd call sane or rational, you know what I mean?”

If this was all rooted in a business rivalry, you shrug, maybe they were left as a threat after all. Overall, you don't have enough information to make a more definite call yet – you still need more solid facts. Speaking of information, did Alva say anything else while you and Isak were away?

“All kinds of stuff,” Lize sighs, “And, I mean, it's pretty hard to know how much of it was worth reporting on. I kinda feel like she's lonely, doesn't get the chance to talk to anyone much. We did some work, nothing major, and she talked a lot about her past. She grew up in Canid, nearly made a life for herself there and everything – had plans to marry a guy. I guess they didn't work out, because she ended up here – unhappily married.” Another sigh escapes Lize as she leans back to stare up at the ceiling. “She's got a lot of regrets, y'know?”

Looking around this grim ranch, stuck out in the middle of nowhere and stalked by some unknown enemy, you can't really blame her.

You've done all you can do here, you decide, you'll have to search for more answers in Canid tomorrow.

“Later today,” Lize corrects you.

Later today, you repeat. At least you'll get a few short hours of sleep before first light.

[1/2]

>>445949
Hmm what was Alva's last name? Before she married.

>>445949

Your sleep, when it finally arrives, is unbroken – no dreams to disturb you, no vaguely worded warnings from Artemis. You barely seem to have closed your eyes before morning has come, and the smell of cooking wakes you. Isak is yet to rise, but Alva is hard at work frying up flat cakes of potato.

“Isak will be up soon,” she tells you, “He'll be able to take you into Canid. We have a dog sled for when it's snowy. Before you go, though, I made something for you to eat. It's not much – we don't have a lot of meat to spare – but...”

It's fine, you assure her, they put a roof over your head last night – that would have been enough. You do have a question for her, if she wants to help you. Before marrying, you ask, what was her name?

“My name?” Alva looks puzzled by the sudden question, “It was Tesar. Alva Tesar... why do you ask, stranger?”

Just curious, you reply as you file the information way, you were just wondering. Before you can say anything more, though, Isak stomps down the stairs and casts a dark look at you – a look that speaks of a miserable, sleepless night.

“I'm taking a run into town. Room on the sled if you're interested,” he grunts, turning and heading out almost immediately. Glancing back at Alva, she gives you what might be the slightest trace of a shrug, as if pleading with you for some patience.

You need all the patience you get to deal with her husband.

-

The trip into Canid is not a peaceful one, with Isak's dogs barking and braying all the while they pull the sled across new snow. At least the weather has cleared, giving you an almost dizzying view of vast, open sky. Still faintly visible, even now, the moon looks down upon the scene like the eye of a corpse, surveying all and understanding nothing. Isak says nothing to you as you ride, only occasionally shouting out a command to his dogs. You get the feeling that he prefers things this way – speaking only to those who will obey without thinking. It's only when you arrive at Canid itself that he speaks to you.

“We're here,” he says bluntly, “Don't rightly know what business you have here, stranger, but I won't wait around for you. If you want to enjoy my hospitality again, you'll need to walk – and repay my kindness in full.” Gathering a few empty sacks and throwing them over his shoulder, he doesn't wait for a reply – simply wandering off in the direction of the marketplace.

[2/3]

>>446021

“Glad to get some time away from him,” Lize admits, stretching out and allowing herself an indulgent yawn, “So, this is Canid!”

This is definitely Canid, you confirm. The narrow streets and squat, rustic houses could only belong in one of the two southernmost cities – Canid or Artyom. Even so, some traces of modern architecture had slipped in – blocky concrete homes with the air of bunkers have sprung up around the outskirts to house a growing population. Now you've arrived, though, where to start? The Ministry would have information about the recent killings – you might be able to compare notes with what you learned at the Roseholm ranch. Then again, you wanted to find Old Wolf Kolyat as well – even retired, you're certain that the old Hunter would be keeping track of things here.

Then again, you might benefit from just wandering the streets for a while and listening in to the local gossip. It might bear no real relation to the truth, but knowing what the people are saying is never a bad thing.

>Find a Ministry outpost
>Seek out Kolyat's home yourself
>Wander the streets a while and take in the mood
>Other

>>446026
>Wander the streets a while and take in the mood

Then
>Find a Ministry outpost

>>446028
seconded

>>446026
>>Wander the streets a while and take in the mood
>Find a Ministry outpost

>>446026
>Seek out Kolyat's home yourself

>>446026
>>Seek out Kolyat's home yourself
Probably have to wander around for a while anyway to find it.

>>446041
>>446028
I think wandering the streets first is a good idea, but then go for Kolyat's home after

>>446026
>Seek out Kolyat's home yourself

File: Old Wolf Kolyat.jpg (170 KB, 700x700)

170 KB JPG

It seems strange – indulgent, even – to go for a casual stroll at a time like this, when there are creatures stalking the land and killings going unsolved, but sometimes it's really the best thing to do. Someone with a perceptive eye and a keen ear can learn a lot just by roaming the streets, immersing themselves in rumour and speculation, eager gossip and fearful whispering.

Besides, it's been too long since you were last here. You want to savour this time. The city – although it seems odd to give Canid such a grandiose term, after spending so long in the capital – is build at the edge of a great forest, rife with ancient evergreen trees, and every gust of wind that passes through the streets brings the sound of rustling branches to your ears. Relaxing at first, but the sound more and more comes to resemble conspiratorial whispering. Without the aggressive noise of a city like Thar Dreyse, it almost feels like the nearby forests are mocking you, your attempts at uncovering their secrets.

When you enter the marketplace and hear genuinely scheming whispers, it almost comes as a welcome distraction. People talk, in appropriately quiet tones, about how the Ministry has abandoned them, giving up any attempts to keep the people safe – yet there's nothing rebellious about the mood, instead it carries a note of resignation. More than once, however, an unusual term reaches you from the background hum of voices.

Paleface. It has the air of a nickname, and people whisper it in the half serious, half joking tone of one invoking an urban legend. It never quite reaches the stage where people overtly blame this phantom for the recent deaths, but the implication is there.

Even with nothing more than a nickname, it's starting to sound like the creature stalking Roseholm ranch is the same beast haunting these streets. Slowly but surely, the pieces are falling into place.

-

Kolyat was always the type to make sure everyone knew his business, and the entrance to his secluded home is no different. The jawbone from a whale, polished to perfection, forms a macabre archway that practically demands humility from all visitors. Lize gives you an uncertain look as you pass beneath it, as if she's suddenly regretting her decision to come with you, but she says nothing. You just forge a path ahead, your sights set on a lonesome figure sitting on the front step of the house.

Old Wolf Kolyat, and it looks like he's been expecting you.

As you approach, he rises to unsteady legs, leaning heavily on a thick cane. About sixty – he was always coy about his age, for reasons you're starting to understand – he looks good for his age. His eyes are clear and sharp, flicking between you and Lize with a dark absence of humour.

[1/2]

>>446124

“Henryk Hanson,” he says, his voice thinner than his face would suggest, “It's been a long time. Here to check up on me, are you? And you brought a... a friend.” He looks at Lize with hard eyes, staring for a long time as he tries to figure her out.

More of a friend of a friend, you reply quickly, your friend's nephew. It's a long story, but you've been landed with keeping an eye on her.

“Uh, yeah,” Lize glances across at you, masking her confusion and plucking a random name off the top of her head, “Eliza... Eliza Tesar.”

At the sound of the name, Kolyat's eyes narrow slightly. You're almost certain that he detected the lie, but he makes no mention of it. Leaning heavily on his cane, he shuffles backwards a step and waves you both up. “Very well, Hanson, we'll talk a while. I'm sure we have a lot of catching up to do.”

That's right, you agree, you had a lot of questions for him. Not just that, but you wondered if he might appreciate the chance to do a little training. Nothing tough, but...

“Training?” he interrupts, “Her?”

“You got a problem with that?” Lize shoots back, “I can handle a pistol, that's a good start, right?”

“Very well, girl, I'll give you a test. If you can pass this, maybe you're worth a little more of my time. Wait there,” Kolyat barks out the words, before turning and lurching into his house. You give Lize a slight shrug, advising patience, and then your old teacher returns. Glaring at Lize for a moment longer, he thrusts a piece of paper into her hands. “Hunt down these items,” he orders, “And we'll talk.”

“Okay, I can-” Lize reads the list, her face falling as she does so, “Honey, black bread, sausage meat... this is a shopping list!”

“And there should be a store in town. Give them my name – I can settle my debts later,” as if emphasising his point, Kolyat raps his cane against the steps, “Go on, why are you still here?”

“Man,” the girl grumbles to herself as she starts to leave, “I didn't come here to hunt bloody groceries...”

[2/3]

>>446164
>“Okay, I can-” Lize reads the list, her face falling as she does so, “Honey, black bread, sausage meat... this is a shopping list!”

kek

>>446164

When Lize has gone, Kolyat sinks into his seat once more and gives you a bitter look. “She doesn't have a hope in hell of being a Hunter,” he mutters, “And you know it. She doesn't have the blood for it, does she? I can tell, just by looking at her.”

Maybe, you admit, but would it really hurt to teach her a few things about fighting?

“If you wanted to take pity on something pathetic, Hanson, maybe you should have found yourself a stray dog. Much less trouble,” shaking his head, Kolyat leans to the side and spits, “Hell, I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do. Retirement has long since lost its shine, and the chance to shout at some fresh meat... well, you're right, it can't hurt to try.”

Thanks, you tell him, but that's only half of what you came here for. You've got some questions to ask him.

“And I've got a question for you, Henryk,” Kolyat looks you hard in the eyes, searching for something unnamable in them, “And I'll know if you lie. You answer me this, without any dishonesty or diverting the issue, and I'll share my knowledge with you. Do we have a deal?”

Silence for a moment, broken only by the giggling whisper of the trees.

Deal, you agree eventually, it's a deal. Ask away.

“So be it,” Kolyat doesn't break eye contact, and he dares you to try, “How long has it been? How long has she been speaking to you in your dreams?”

>I think I'm going to pause here for today, picking things up tomorrow. I'll stick around for a while in case anyone has any questions or comments
>Thanks to everyone who posted today!

>>446189
I had a hunch he might know about Arty.

Thanks for running Moloch.

>>446189
Aw shit

When we're finished in Canid we should take a quick detour through Artyom to check out that Temple of Artemis.

>>446189
Oh shit, we now have a buddy to talk about Artemis with. Thanks for running Moloch.

>>446189
Hey Moloch can you post the NBQ map for me?

File: The Free States.png (264 KB, 816x1410)

264 KB PNG

>>446223

Sorry for the delay, my internet isn't playing ball tonight. I also have a map for the northern territories that I can post

File: The Northern Hunting Ground.png (368 KB, 1446x810)

368 KB PNG

>>446244

>>446244
Thanks Moloch

>>446199
You're right, Artyom is right there after all. Couldn't hurt to check it out.

>>446244
How big is the Free States Island? Ireland size? Britain?

>>446402

I didn't have a precise size in mind, but I'd say it's generally close to the size of Britain. Not a particularly large place.

omg he knows
she im guseing the reasion his such a badass hunter was becouse she made him into one, just what shes doing now to us
well i guse we tell him the truth ever since i got shipwricked up north

>>446623
The old wolf's "Retirement" might have forced Arty to pick someone else to do her dirty work.

That said, if it was one of her Beasts that did this, they'd have killed him - and Arty would probably have done the deed herself if it was the old wolf getting sloppy. Implies circumstances outside either of their control.

File: 1469144833007.jpg (28 KB, 781x501)

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>>446781
You know that begs the question: how much influence does Arty have on her Hunter?

She can somewhat force us to go to sleep for a meeting and she did compel that boat driver to pick us up in the first thread by going in his dreams, but that is about the extent we know about her abilities.

If we decided to walk would she just move on to the next Hunter? Would she kill us? Can she kill us? Kolyat is still hanging around (assuming he was a previous chosen Hunter) and the way she talked about the Hunter's that 'strayed' it didn't imply that she killed them, just was annoyed and let them go to move onto the next Hunter.

Does she get more influence and power when we collect fragments. If so, does that influence wither away as the beasts/fragments are reborn?

Lotta questions.

>>446796
yer i think she cant really do much but do dreams atm but as she gets made more comptle shes should be able to do more in the real world

>>446189
well that's good at least. He's looking good at sixty, far older than what I figured Henryk's shortened life expectancy would be.

Artemis said that you weren't the first, that she had claimed other Hunters before you. Hunters who fell in battle, whose hearts were swayed away from the Hunt, who abandoned their duties out of fear or weakness. You knew there were others.

But you never thought Kolyat, your old teacher, would be one of them.

“Lost for words, Henryk?” finally, a smile – bitter and sardonic – finds its way onto his face, the jibe causing some semblance of life and animation to flood back into you. “Yes, that's better,” Kolyat chuckles, “That foolish mask of shock was ill suited you. Very well – you've answered my question in a manner better than any words. Now, it's time to elaborate. Like two men around a campfire, we can trade our stories. You will begin, of course – this is my territory, after all.”

Of course, you reply as you gather your composure. Kolyat is toying with you, playing like a cat tormenting its prey. Perhaps you were a little too quick to show your relief at finding someone who has experienced this task for themselves – scenting weakness in that desperation, Kolyat is only too happy to hold that advantage over you. Still, if you want answers to your questions, you'll need to play things his way. As he said, this is his territory. So, as Kolyat watches with an intensity bordering on wolfish hunger, you tell him your tale.

You start, as you rightfully should, at the start of it all – with your ship dying, getting sent to the bottom of the ocean and leaving you stranded on a small island. There, Artemis came to you for the first time, promising both power and salvation.

“She'll do that,” Kolyat nods sombrely, “And she can deliver on those promises, too. When she appeared to me... Ah, but I'll let you finish. Better to compare finished works than early drafts, wouldn't you say?”

Hardly thankful for the interruption, it takes you a moment to find the dangling thread of your tale and once again pick up the narrative. Perhaps because of this disruption – a well timed jab designed to shake loose any attempts at misdirection – you launch back into your story without omission. Speaking of Artemis' other face – Arktis, the spirit that devours men – and of the doom awaiting you both, speaking of witchcraft and communion with the nameless northern gods. With the air of a man undergoing confession, you unburden yourself of every secret that this great hunt has revealed to you.

It feels good, like a great weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

[1/2]

>>448086

When you're finished telling your story, Kolyat takes his time thinking it over, softly tugging at his dark beard as he thinks. Still without saying anything, he lurches to his feet and heavily marches into his home. Alone, sitting out on the front steps, you start to wonder if Kolyat really believed your story. Having put it into words, it sounded fantastical – the product of a mind brought to the edge of delusion.

Then he returns, two tarnished metal cups pinched between the fingers of one hand, and sits back down. You take the cup that he offers you and look down into it, your eyes already stinging from the acrid smell. Southern rum, as dark as tar and nearly as appetizing. It always was his drink of choice.

“I was up near Port Steyr, deep in the woods, when she first spoke to me,” he begins quietly, “Taking some time for myself, to keep the eye sharp. I was supposed to be alone... I wasn't. Pack of northern bastards, barbarians looking for easy prey. Eight of them, and all I had was a bow. Of course, I ran – I know when a fight is futile. They were intent on hunting me down, but night found me safely hidden. Then... I slept. She appeared to me, and she offered me my life. Did you hesitate, when she made her offer? I didn't – I knew what survival would cost me, and I took her bargain regardless.”

Kolyat falls silent, his face set in a grim mask. His eyes, though, are alive with excitement as he recalls those dark memories. Draining his cup dry, he sets it aside and continues with his story.

“Picture it, Henryk – blackest night, eight unwashed barbarians stalking the woods in search of me. I didn't need to see them to hunt them down – like a beast, I hunted by scent, tracking them down and cutting their throats. Even now, even after everything I've done... that night remains my greatest hunt.” His eyes darken, his brows dipping in a vile frown. “And now,” he adds, “I'll never surpass that. Not with this damn leg of mine.”

He never told anyone how he was injured, you point out, was it one of them? One of the great beasts that wounded him?

“That is was,” he nods, “Number... five, I believe it was. A boar, bigger than anything I've seen, and swollen with some kind of disease. I took to a spear to it – even after I split its skull, it was able to tear open my leg. It died, but so did my time as a Hunter – now all I do is sit here, getting old and watching the world go to hell around me.”

Barking out a hard laugh, Kolyat shakes his head in disgust. “So that's my story – miserable as it is. What do you want to know? My experience might as well benefit someone.”

>What do you know about Artemis herself?
>You're old, but you seem to have kept your mind – what's your secret?
>Let's talk of practical matters – I hear there's a beast around
>I had a question to ask you... (Write in)
>Other

>>448090
>>What do you know about Artemis herself?
>>You're old, but you seem to have kept your mind – what's your secret?

>>448090
>What do you know about Artemis herself?
>You're old, but you seem to have kept your mind – what's your secret?
Did you accept her gifts?

>>448090
>>You're old, but you seem to have kept your mind – what's your secret?
>>Let's talk of practical matters – I hear there's a beast around

>>448090
>What were numbers one to four? I'm wondering if the sequence is the same.
>What do you know about Artemis herself?
>You're old, but you seem to have kept your mind – what's your secret?
>Let's talk of practical matters – I hear there's a beast around

>>448090
>What do you know about Artemis herself?
"After you were too injured to continue what did she do? Give her condolences and go to the next Hunter?"

"Should I take a trip to her temple while I'm here?"
>You're old, but you seem to have kept your mind – what's your secret?
"Her gifts are accelerating how fast my blood is becoming potent and I fear I'll lose my mind if I keep accepting them by the end of this. If I get to the end of this.

>>448090
>What do you know about Artemis herself?
>You're old, but you seem to have kept your mind – what's your secret?

>>448102
>>What were numbers one to four? I'm wondering if the sequence is the same.
This is worth asking.

So what does he know about Artemis herself, you ask, was she able to tell him anything that she hasn't yet told you? Shaking your head and risking a sip of the vile spirit, you sigh out in frustration. You asked at the College, you mention, but they had only a few scraps of information to share with you – information of dubious quality at that.

“There are mysteries in this world that the College can't solve, and answers that cannot be found in any book... although I dare say that the College would never admit that much,” Kolyat laughs to himself, “No, what I learned, I had to delve into oral tradition to find. I'll let you guess what that implies.”

The witch cults, you guess, but surely he didn't stoop to that level?

“Why, because of a few laws and regulations?” he snorts dismissively, “Questions of morality, legality, all those things matter little to men like us, out on the frontier. They may be barbarous in nature, but the witch cults have much wisdom to share with men like us. They've known about Artemis for far longer than any civilised man – although they know her by a different name. Well then, Henryk, would you sully yourself with the knowledge of barbarian witches?”

A long pause, the silence stirred only by the sound of you swirling the liquid in your cup. You want to know, you tell him, you can't afford to be picky.

“Artemis – Arktis – is old, old enough that maybe she herself doesn't remember her exact age. It's said that her soul was split into twelve fragments and scattered throughout the world. We both know this to be true. These fragments, though, are trapped in a cycle of death and rebirth – they are drawn to her for only a short time before making their way back into the world, into new bodies.” Setting down his cup, Kolyat draws a wide circle in the air, “You see, Henryk, this task must be done quickly – before the fragments you've collected have a chance to escape. I wager that her realm was empty when you first found it?”

She was the only thing there, you confirm. She gathers her power with every fragment that returns to her, you ask, does that power escape her when they too leave?

“Exactly so. She's trapped in her own cycle, never quite gathering the power to break her shell. Trapped for countless years, watching her Hunters try and fail to free her...” Kolyat offers you a ghoulish smile, “What do you think that does to her, to a mind like hers?”

Shuddering briefly, you realise that some questions are better left unanswered. When he was injured, you ask instead, how did Artemis take it? You can't imagine her just giving condolences and moving on, but...

[1/?]

>>448111

“It took a long time for her to accept it,” Kolyat admits, “Even while I was laid up in bed, and the doctors weren't sure if I'd survive or not, she spoke to me in my dreams. Every night, pleading with me to continue – swaying between mania and melancholy. Eventually, she got the message – by the time those beasts started to vanish from her domain, the dreams came less and less often. Still, sometimes I feel like she never quite left me. I'll dream of her, and she tells me things.” Meeting your eyes, he forces a laugh. “She told me that my replacement would come,” he tells you, “But I never thought it would be you. You were late, Henryk.”

Trouble with the train line, you shrug, among other things.

“Shame. If I'd known it would be you, I could have prepared better,” he smirks, “Really prepared a feast.”

If he'd done that, you argue, he wouldn't have been able to send “Eliza” out for some shopping.

“True,” Kolyat concedes the point, “But that's not all you had to ask me, was it?”

No, you had other questions to ask. The beasts he fought – what were they like? You'd be interested in comparing them with the ones you've slain.

“Let me see...” the old Hunter leans back and raps his cane against the floor, “The first one was pathetic – a bloated fish, trapped in a foot of filthy water. I speared the thing, and that was the end of that. The second one... it found me first. A great horned beast, it rammed the train I was riding in. Damn near killed itself in the process too. I took a newspaper clipping at the time, it was reported as train crash, it should be around here somewhere. Three...” He pauses for a long time. “Number three was a woman, one claiming to be the high priest of some ancient religion, claiming to hold the spirit of a lost Knight within her heart. We spoke for a long time – in fact, she taught me most of what I know about Artemis.”

So they spoke, you press, and then what happened?

“Then... I strangled her to death,” Kolyat's smile is bleak, heartless and cold, “I think she knew it was coming – she didn't resist.”

They all seem to match what you've experienced so far, or close enough. What about number four, you ask, what was that thing like?

“Vile,” he tells you simply, “Like a festering pile of entrails that had come to life. The smell clung to me for a week afterwards, all shit and burning flesh. Whoever said we had a glamorous job was dead wrong.”

You're not sure if anyone has ever said that. With each beast he killed Artemis offered him a gift, you ask, did he take them?

“Ah, her little trick with the bloody hand,” Kolyat smiles with vague nostalgia, “I took it, every time. Even so, it seems like I just wasn't good enough.”

[2/?]

>>448121

Did he know that her gifts carried a price, you ask quickly, hastening him towards his doom even as they heightened the potency of his blood?

“Oh, not at first. When I learned that, I nearly abandoned the cause. In the end, she made me a promise – it's true, her gifts drag the bestial side of the blood closer to the surface. Nothing can change that. But, with an act of true divine intervention, the hunt can be transcended – and men such as us can be released from our fate.”

You'll take a guess, you say with a humourless smile, if she has all twelve fragments...

“She can offer salvation. Yes, that's what she told me,” Kolyat nods, “And, I can't say why, but I believed her. Of course, it's all redundant now – I had my shot, and I wasted it.”

Still, you point out, he's old and potent of blood – yet his mind remains his, and there's not a touch of beast about him. He found other way of defeating the curse, he must have done. What's his secret?

“I spoke of what the witch cults have to offer us,” Kolyat's voice grows hushed, his eyes slipping from your face to stare blindly into space, “This... was one of them. I do not wish to speak of what rites we performed, for I dearly wish that I myself could forget them, but... they were effective. I need not fear THAT doom.” You start to say something, then, but Kolyat cuts you off. “Do not ask more of this, Henryk, for I cannot answer. The cult that performed these rites was destroyed not long after I sought them out. It seems that... someone reported them to the Ministry.”

They were no longer useful, you think with a crawling revulsion, so he got rid of them.

“Perhaps some other cult could assist you, but I would not know where to find such a group,” he shrugs angrily, “And I would not wish their rites upon you.”

If you want to pursue that line further, you'll need to find someone more willing to divulge their secrets. For now, though, you had something else you were curious about. You've heard that there is an old temple to Artemis not too far from Artyom, you ask, would he recommend visiting it?

“If you have a historical interest in such places, perhaps,” he shrugs, glad to answer a less dangerous question, “I can't say what answers might sleep there, or what dangers, but it could be interesting indeed. You'd need to take a boat, of course, but that's a small hurdle.”

A hurdle you'll cross when you come to it. For now, you'd like to speak of more practical matters – you've heard about a beast in the area.

“Perhaps,” Kolyat raises an eyebrow, “If it truly is a beast.”

>You don't think it is?
>I figure you might have taken an interest in it. Found out anything?
>It's been causing trouble up at the Roseholm ranch as well, I hear
>I had other questions... (Write in)
>Other

>>448126
>>You don't think it is?
Guess Eliza isn't all that bad, she had the same idea.
>>I figure you might have taken an interest in it. Found out anything?

>>448126
>Seen a very....detailed....painting of it. Paleface indeed.
>It's been causing trouble up at the Roseholm ranch as well, I hear
>I know it acts with some purpose, but it's still killing people, right?

>>448126
>You don't think it is?
"I've had my suspicions as well due to some odd accounts and evidence."

>It's been causing trouble up at the Roseholm ranch as well.
"It seems to have a strange attachment to a Alva Tesar out there. Yes I know you already know that Eliza was bullshitting, probably the first last name that came to mind for her. Anyways it's been leaving offerings for her and she said it had 'the eyes of a man'."

>I figure you might have taken an interest in it. Found out anything?

>>448126
Oi, Neighbor Lady might be a good one to ask about witch rites.

>>448151
If there could possibly be a way to bridge the subject. Kind of heavy to just bring up, suspicions or no, not to mention she may not be affiliated with or know of this cult if she is a witch.

Though it's not a bad first step I don't see any other way than just coming out and asking which could be risky or awkward.

>>448126
>I figure you might have taken an interest in it. Found out anything?
>It's been causing trouble up at the Roseholm ranch as well, I hear

>>448154
"Is weaving a hobby of yours?"

Good starting point I imagine

>>448126
>>I figure you might have taken an interest in it. Found out anything?

He doesn't think it's a beast, you ask with vague surprise, does he have another theory?

“The Ministry is starting to consider that it's a man doing it – murdering people, at least. I don't have the full story, but one of the most recent victims had their body hidden. Rather, there was an attempt to hide it – and this only happened after the Ministry started to publish details of the case. Either a beast would hide the bodies from the start, or they wouldn't hide the bodies at all. I dare say that a creature of the woods doesn't pay much attention to the newspapers or the radio broadcasts.”

You share a laugh at that, the small joke serving to lighten the mood a little. You'll admit, you've had your suspicions about it – so did Eliza, in fact. Little things really, accounts that didn't quite fit with each other, small irregularities here and there...

“So what do you know?” Kolyat studies you carefully, “I should have known you'd start sniffing around. Never could resist that curiosity of yours, could you?”

Guilty as charged, you say with a smile, you've been asking a few questions around the Roseholm ranch. Whatever this thing is, it's been causing trouble up there as well. It's actually been seen up there – one of the boys, Johann Roseholm, saw enough of it to paint a detailed portrait. It certainly bears a resemblance to what you've been hearing about this “Paleface” thing, if the rumours are to be believed.

“Yes, I've heard those rumours. Talk of something with a skull for a face creeping through the alleys. A man in a mask, if you-” he stops, narrowing his eyes a little, “Did you say the Roseholm ranch?”

Whatever it is, it's been doing strange things up there. Killing and mutilating livestock, but not eating them – rather, it's been leaving offerings of meat outside Alva Tesar's window. It even showed itself to her once, and she said it had the eyes of a man.

“Tesar...” Kolyat's gaze drifts away for a moment, before returning to you, hard and sharp, “Your girl...”

It was a fake name, you admit, probably the first one she could come up with. She didn't intend any harm by it, and-

“I don't care about that,” Kolyat tells you flatly, “I just... Forget it, you were asking about these killings?”

Sure, you reply slowly, you assumed he would have been following them – even retired, a Hunter has his instincts.

“Well, you're right about that much – I've been listening in. Truth be told, though, I don't have a clue what's really going on here. These attacks have elements of both man and beast. Perhaps a killer trying to cloak his actions in the guise of a beast's attacks?” Shaking his head, Kolyat gives a weary laugh, “I'm just an old man indulging in speculation, don't mind me.”

[1/2]

>>448171

“Oh look,” Kolyat points with his cane, stopping the conversation dead, “There's your girl. Took longer than I thought.”

Following his cane, you spy Lize approaching – burdened by a heavy basket and, if the movements of her lips are any hint, cursing her head off. At least she stops that silent diatribe when she gets close, pasting an insincere smile across her face. “These streets don't make any sense at all,” she calls out, “At least in the capital, things are all straight and neat. This place must have grown like a bloody tumour!”

“Charming girl you found,” Kolyat mentions, off-hand.

She has her talents, you reply without so much as considering your choice of wording. As Kolyat laughs – a deep, throaty chuckle – he stands to beckon Lize closer.

“I got your damn stuff,” she announces, “Everything's there – everything you wanted. Makes for a heavy load and all. So, you gonna tell me what this was all about? It's some kinda secret test of character, isn't it?”

You wondered that as well, you point out, he did the same thing when you came to train with him. First it was shopping, then it was cleaning every weapon in his house, then other menial tasks – too many for you to remember exactly. It seemed like an eternity before you got to the actual Hunting part.

“An old trick of mine,” Kolyat chuckles, “Anyone too hot-headed to do a little menial work isn't suited to being a Hunter. Anyone too weak to give up halfway through isn't suited to being a Hunter. Those who were patient enough to knuckle down and put in the hours, though, they have potential. Congratulations girl, you've passed the first test!”

“Great,” Lize grumbles, “What's the next test? And please, don't tell me it's cleaning your damn house...”

“Normally, it would be,” the old Hunter says with a smirk, “But... this is a special case. I'm not training you as a Hunter, I'm just going to show you a few things about defending yourself. What about you, Henryk, feel like keeping an eye on your pet project here?”

Is this really the time for that, you ask, when there could be a beast stalking the streets?

“If you think you can succeed where the Ministry has failed, go ahead. The local investigator is out of his depth, and I wager he'd welcome your help,” Kolyat shrugs, “But until something changes, I suspect answers will be slow in coming.”

>I'll stick around, then, and make sure you don't push her too hard
>I think I'll ask in at the Ministry
>I wanted to ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>448182
>>I think I'll ask in at the Ministry
have fun you kids
rember the more you sweat pain you do hee the lest blood youl spill out there

>>448182
>>I think I'll ask in at the Ministry
Lize can handle herself for a while, time to find some leads.

>>448182
>I think I'll ask in at the Ministry
"Have fun"

>>448182
>I think I'll ask in at the Ministry

>I'll stick around, then, and make sure you don't push her too hard

You'll ask in at the Ministry anyway, you tell Kolyat, just to cover all your bases. Even if you can't solve the problem straight away, you can get all the facts. Once you've got all the information, it's only a matter of time before a conclusion appears before you.

“That's what Cyril has been saying for the past week,” Kolyat laughs, “But by all means, go and light a fire under his arse. If he thinks central office has lost faith in him, it might encourage him to do some actual work for a change.”

Cyril, you ask, is he the local investigator?

“Yeah. Truth be told, he's not a bad guy. A little young, perhaps, but he started off eager enough,” shaking his head, Kolyat sighs, “This is the first big problem he's had to deal with, and like I said – he's out of his depth. You'll be doing him a favour if you can pluck a solution out of thin air. Hell, I wager he'd be happy with a new theory, even a few new facts.”

Well, either way, best to pool information, and you don't need to be here to babysit Eliza.

“You're sure you don't need help?” a note of hope enters Lize's voice, “I mean, I'm a good listener, I could be real useful. I could-”

Sorry, you tell her with an attempt at regret, but you've made up your mind – have fun.

“Fun,” she sighs, “Sure. Fun.”

She'll be fine – absolutely nothing to worry about.

-

The local Ministry outpost isn't hard to find, not when it stands like a fortress in an ocean of cottages. Like something built to withstand a siege, it has all the barred windows and metal doors of a prison cell – but none of the comforts. Undeterred by the grim structure, you present your League papers at the entrance and allow the guard to lead you inside. A few flights of stairs later, and you find yourself at Cyril's office.

“Syril Kysely,” the young man introduces himself, holding out a hand. His face is boyish, but the hair crowning his head is already starting to thin. Stress has worn him down, leaving dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes.

Henryk Hanson, you reply, Hunter.

“I suppose you've met Kolyat already,” Cyril guesses, “He's the local celebrity, more or less.”

You go way back, you mention vaguely, but he was the one who suggested you come out here. He said-

“He said I needed the help,” Cyril groans, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and taking an eager drag, “Didn't he?”

Not... in so many words.

“It's fine, he's right,” exhaling smoke, Cyril meets your eyes, “The investigation has hit a dead end. I hate to say it, but I wish a few more bodies would show up – the more killings we have, the more likely it is that we find some evidence. Without evidence, all we can do is sit about and swap increasingly ludicrous theories. I'll be sent northwards soon, if I can't report back anything.”

>Kolyat thinks a man might have done this
>Why don't you tell me what you've got so far?
>Have you been investigating Roseholm ranch?
>Other

>>448224
>Have you been investigating Roseholm ranch?

>>448224
>Why don't you tell me what you've got so far?

>>448224
>Why don't you tell me what you've got so far?

>Have you been investigating Roseholm ranch?
"There have been incidents there that could be connected to the case."

>Other
"What do you have on Alva Tesar or her family?"

>>448224
>absolutely nothing to worry about.
Moloch please, don't scare me like this.

>>448224
>Why don't you tell me what you've got so far?
>Have you been investigating Roseholm ranch?

>>448245
It'll be finnnne~

>>448224
>>Why don't you tell me what you've got so far?

Heading northwards might not be so bad, you think, but you doubt that Cyril would appreciate your optimism. Instead, you turn your thoughts to more productive questions. What do they have so far, you ask, any good theories or evidence?

“So far, we're looking at four deaths. The last of them was the only one that was hidden – the body was dragged partially into a storm drain and left there. The smell alerted us to it. As far as we can tell, the victims had no particular connection to each other. A few mutual friends, but that's not uncommon in a place like this. Even a hermit like Kolyat has a few friends in town.” Cyril crosses to his desk and sits heavily, running a hand through his thinning hair. A few strands, you idly notice, come loose as he does so.

Four deaths, you muse, and there was nothing left behind?

“You were expecting a confession written in blood?” Cyril tries for a sarcastic smile, but just ends up looking weak and weary, “The first victim, uh... Jelen, he was found carrying a significant amount of money. Whoever killed him, it wasn't a robbery. He was killed outside his house and left there, right in the street. The next two victims were much the same, both had been walking alone at night – damn fool thing to do, if you ask me – when they were attacked and killed. From what we've been able to deduce, the attacks were all very swift and violent. The work of a beast, we all thought. The last killing, though...”

Other than hiding the body, was anything different?

“Not about the killing itself – the victim, Skalicky, was practically gutted. The man himself, though, was interesting. He was like you – a Hunter. One in training, at least. He said that he would stop the killings, and hunt the beast down. Of course, that meant that he would have been looking for it, which might explain why he was killed,” Cyril taps an unlit cigarette against his lips, “But it's strange coincidence, don't you think? That is, if it IS a coincidence.”

Stranger still, you think, that Kolyat never mentioned this at all. An apprentice Hunter would have been here to train under Kolyat, but he never even mentioned having another student, much less one who was killed. As much as you want to think the best of your old teacher, this just doesn't sit well with you. Something to ask him about later, you suspect. For now, though, you've got more questions for Cyril.

Has he been investigating Roseholm ranch, you ask, does he know about the incidents up there?

“Roseholm... Isak Roseholm keeps to himself, mostly. He's even more of a hermit than Kolyat is,” Cyril pauses, digging in his desk for some notes, “Let me see... Skalicky, the apprentice, visited the ranch once, before things got bad here. Nothing seems to have come of it, though. Tell me – what's been happening up there?”

[1/2]

>>448268

When you're finished explaining events, Cyril leans back and lets out a loud groan of frustration. “Damn you Isak,” he mutters, “You and your damn privacy! If he'd told us about this earlier, we might have been able to focus our efforts better. I thought this was just a...” He pauses, straightening up and rifling through his notes once more, “Roseholm – they rear cattle there, don't they?”

They used to, you shrug, they don't have many animals left in their herd.

“Jelen, the first victim – he would have done business with Roseholm ranch. He was a trader in meat and leather, among other things. Without him around, I dare say things would have been that much more difficult for the Roseholm family,” Cyril looks excited – genuinely excited – for a brief moment before his face darkens, “Well, maybe. The other two victims had no special connection with Roseholm ranch either. I guess this isn't the lead I thought it was.”

It might still be worth something, you point out, what about Alva Tesar or any family she has? Have they ever come to his attention, as criminals or... for any other reason? You steer clear of overtly suggestion witchcraft this time. If Cyril wants to discuss the possibility, he can be the one to mention it first.

“The Tesar family. Not much to say about them, really. Parents died young, Alva was an only child. I dare say she married Isak more for support than out of love. Nothing shameful about that – this is all before my time, but I understand that her parents left a fair debt behind when they died. All that would have been on her shoulders,” Cyril sighs, finally lighting his cigarette, “She's had a hard life, that's for sure. The way some of the old folk here speak, she was only ever happy once, for a short time.”

When was that, you ask, and why was it a short time?

“Oh, she was engaged to marry – and this time, it was for love. Didn't last though, she couldn't deal with a husband who kept vanishing for weeks at a time,” Cyril offers you a crooked smile, “Maybe you've got an idea about that, being a Hunter as well.”

Alva's first love was a Hunter?

“Sure,” the Ministry man nods, “These days though, I hear that Kolyat doesn't like to talk about it much. Can't say I blame him really...”

Silence. Dead silence, uneasy and heavy, as your mind whirls with possibilities.

>Excuse me, I have to visit Roseholm ranch
>Excuse me, I need to speak with Kolyat
>I wanted to ask you something else about this... (Write in)
>Other

>>448285
>>Excuse me, I need to speak with Kolyat

File: 1468351055204.png (21 KB, 180x204)

21 KB PNG

>>448285
>Excuse me, I need to speak with Kolyat

>>448285
>Excuse me, I need to speak with Kolyat
I hope Lize is okay.

>>448285
>>Excuse me, I need to speak with Kolyat

File: A lovely painting.jpg (73 KB, 397x509)

73 KB JPG

>>448285
>A super powered hunter.
>A waifu
>some kind of monster that want to make itself know to the waifu.

It's gonna be beautiful

>>448285
>Excuse me, I need to speak with Kolyat
Inb4 Kolyat is a werePaleface.

>>448285
>>Excuse me, I need to speak with Kolyat
Aw man, I knew he was gonna end up being suspicious. Fucking hell, lets see how bad it is.

>>448298
I had a similar thought, that'd be pretty bad.

>>448285
>Excuse me, I need to speak with Kolyat

You've got to go, you tell Cyril suddenly, you've got to speak with Kolyat. This... this won't wait, this can't wait. Your announcement, the simple desperate urgency of it, causes Cyril's eyes to widen. He doesn't make a single motion to stop you leaving, though.

Smart kid.

As you hurry from the Ministry office, the churning ocean of uncertain thought rushes back to you, all centred around your former teacher. Alva, Skalicky... both matters lead you right back to him, but to what end beyond that? He's a cripple, barely capable of walking without the aid of a sturdy cane - he couldn't walk all the way out to Roseholm ranch, let alone torment them and their animals.

No use wasting your time on idle speculation – you'll have to get the answers you want straight from the source. If that means treating your old teacher like the prime suspect, so be it.

You just hope Lize is okay.

-

The first thing you hear upon arriving at Kolyat's secluded house is a girl's shout, followed by the sound of metal clashing against metal. Your pace – already hastened by anxiety – shifts to a run as you circle around the house. When the shout turns into laughter, though, you slow to a more cautious approach. Behind the house, Lize is jabbing at Kolyat with a blunt-tipped spear, while the old teacher casually bats her blows aside with a blade. A play fight, not even serious enough to be considered sparring.

Lize turns to greet you, hearing the sound of your footsteps, but Kolyat slaps her across the shoulder as soon as her attention wavers. Grunting a little, Lize quickly turns back to the teacher and focusses on him. You might as well not exist, not until Kolyat calls an end to the training.

“I'm a natural at this!” Lize declares to you, jabbing the spear into the soft soil and leaning lightly on it. Held upright like that, the weapon is only a little shorter than she is, but she could handle it well enough regardless.

“She's not bad,” Kolyat grudgingly admits, looking at you as if there wasn't a thing wrong with the world. Looking at you, his eyes are unclouded by anything – they have no guilt, no guile or misdirection, and you almost put your doubts aside at the sight of them. Almost... but not quite.

“Come, Henryk, it's about time to eat. My housekeeper should be finished with making lunch by now. Margot is a good cook, so you don't to pull that face,” he laughs, leaning heavily on his cane and stabbing his blade – a broad, machete style weapon – into the ground, “I take it you've not solved the case yet?”

He says that so easily, without a trace of obvious malice. A harmless jibe, or the mocking taunt of an arrogant killer?

[1/2]

>>448341

If a single truth has passed Kolyat's lips since you first spoke with him, it's that Margot is an excellent chef. The meal she lays out is a roast, thick slabs of meat prepared to perfection and served with rich gravy. Lize eagerly digs in, while you pick uneasily at the meat. The choice of meat – beef – strikes you as in deliberately bad taste, as if it was another subtle insult directed at you.

“So, Eliza,” Kolyat begins, breaking the awkward silence, “What did you learn today?”

“Uh...” Lize swallows, forcing down her panic along with a mouthful of food, “Traditionally, Hunters used three weapons – the bow, the lance and the blade. These days, they use rifles, harpoons and knives more often. That's... basically all you told me about it.”

“We Hunters don't put too much stock in vast swathes of tradition and history. We have our rites and ceremonies, of course, but those are as much a practical test as they are a ritual,” Kolyat pauses to attack his meal, tearing the meat apart and chewing it with obvious relish. “Practicality,” he continues, after he finishes eating, “That's what we care about – isn't that right, Henryk?”

Looking up from your nearly untouched plate, you meet Kolyat's eyes. Once again, you're struck by how... normal they look. If he started to howl like a lunatic, to bury his face in the roast beef and feast like a starved hound, it would make this easier – then, at least, you'd know there was some sickness coiling within his mind.

“I hope the meal didn't disagree with you,” he continues, an unwelcome concern touching his eyes, “Or perhaps you've been spoiled by dainty capital meals?”

>I ate earlier, that's all it is
>I'll be blunt – is there anything you've been hiding from me?
>I heard about Skalicky – he was your student, wasn't he? Before he died, I mean...
>I hear you were once engaged to marry Alva Tevas
>I need to know something... (Write in)
>Other

>>448371
>I heard about Skalicky – he was your student, wasn't he? Before he died, I mean...
>I hear you were once engaged to marry Alva Tevas

>>448371
>I heard about Skalicky – he was your student, wasn't he? Before he died, I mean...

>>448371
>>I heard about Skalicky – he was your student, wasn't he? Before he died, I mean...

>>448371
>>I heard about Skalicky – he was your student, wasn't he? Before he died, I mean...
>>I hear you were once engaged to marry Alva Tevas

>>448371
>>Other
"It's that I learned two facts from the Ministry that you seem to have omitted from me when we were talking. Both led back to you."

>I heard about Skalicky – he was your student, wasn't he? Before he died, I mean...
>I hear you were once engaged to marry Alva Tevas

>>448371
>>I heard about Skalicky – he was your student, wasn't he? Before he died, I mean...
>>I hear you were once engaged to marry Alva Tevas

Is this another of your test? To see if I could refrain from doing what my blood, what you trained me to do?
Or is this how an old Hunter decide to take the elegant way out?

>>448371
>I'll be blunt – is there anything you've been hiding from me?
if he tries to deflect the question bring up:
>I heard about Skalicky – he was your student, wasn't he? Before he died, I mean...
>I hear you were once engaged to marry Alva Tevas

>>448371
>Other
"This is going to be a strange question to ask, but I want to rule something out. Have you had any...gaps in your memory lately?"

>>448371
>>I heard about Skalicky – he was your student, wasn't he? Before he died, I mean...

>>448371
Just eat
It's good food, you don't get that often

You learned a few things while you were at the Ministry, you begin carefully, and they seem to have put you off your food. Naturally, hearing about violent deaths would do that, but there was also the fact that they both pointed in the same direction – back here, to Kolyat himself.

“Oh?” Kolyat doesn't flinch. Either he was expecting this, or he has the discipline of a master, “And what did you learn?”

You heard about Skalicky, you mention in as casual a tone as you can manage, he was studying here wasn't he? Of course, that would have been before he died...

“Died?” Lize pauses, her loaded fork poised halfway between her mouth and the plate. She starts to say something else, but then thinks better of it and simply lowers her fork slowly down, freeing up both hands in case some dire emergency arises.

“His death was not a result of his training here, not directly at least,” Kolyat assures Lize, without ever letting his eyes stray away from you, “Truth be told, Henryk, I blame myself for his death – it's a matter of no small shame and regret. I'll tell you this much – he never would have made a Hunter. He was too impatient, too hot-headed. When the deaths started, he took it upon himself to track down the beast responsible. He went looking for trouble, only it found him first – but the blame for this, I take upon myself. I should have restrained him sooner, I know that.” The old man lays down his fork, as if this discussion has sickened him already. “You see, Henryk, becoming a teacher grants a new perspective on things. You must take responsibility for the actions of your students, even when they are foolish ones. I'm not a natural teacher – admitting this error was not something I wished to do.”

So he hid the boy's death, you press, and hoped you wouldn't ask too many difficult questions.

“Far from it,” the old Hunter replies swiftly, “I was counting on your inquisitive streak. Would I really have suggested you visit the Ministry, if I was worried about what you'd find there? The simple matter is, the longer you were away, the more time I had to prepare an answer I was happy to give you.”

And that's his answer, you conclude, that he was too ashamed to be the one to mention it first?

“Are you suggesting otherwise?” Kolyat raises an eyebrow, “Considering my old wounds...”

He can't hide behind those wounds forever, you think darkly. What about Alva Tevas, you ask instead, he never mentioned being engaged to marry her?

That, at least, gets a reaction from him. Almost reflexively, like a man suffering a convulsion, his hand closes around the handle of his fork, muscles tightening in his jaw. Every man has a crack in his armour, and you've just found his.

[1/2]

>>448429

“I didn't realise my personal life was a matter you were interested in,” he says slowly, at last attempting to scrape together his composure, “Or, indeed, any of your damn business. I could very well ask you about this girl you brought with you – is it any of my business what you're doing with her?”

Changing the subject, you reply in the cold voice of deliberate calm, won't make this go away.

“Very well,” Kolyat forces himself to relax, chasing the tension out of his posture, “We had a short relationship when I was younger. Largely owing to the pressures of my job, it didn't last very long – I simply wasn't prepared to offer the commitment she wanted. We went our separate ways. Everything was entirely amicable.”

And now, you mention, she's married to Isak Roseholm. Unhappily married, as it appeared to you.

“As if anyone could be happy, spending more than five minutes with that oaf!” Kolyat snaps, bringing his fist down on the table, hard enough to make the cutlery leap into the air. Lize bites back a small cry at the motion, the sudden violence of it, but you hold your nerve. There was something calculated about that strike, as if your old teacher had been hoping to end the conversation with it. Perhaps when you were his student, such theatrics would have shocked you into silence, but not now.

This might sound like a strange question to ask, you continue quietly, like you're changing the subject... but has he experienced any gaps in his memory lately? Anything he can't explain?

“Oh, I know exactly what you're getting at,” Kolyat manages, somehow, to arrange his features into a smile, “But I'll have to disappoint you. My memory is as sharp as ever – my thoughts are my own, every minute of the day.”

“Even when you sleep?” Lize whispers, “No man controls his own dreams.”

“Then perhaps a dream killed these people,” Kolyat sneers, “No, that would make it a nightmare, wouldn't it? Quite the frightful, terrible dream!”

No, you reply, this isn't a dream – is it, perhaps, some way for an old Hunter to find a graceful end? Just what was it that he did, what did he-

“Shut your damn mouth,” he snaps, lurching to his feet with an awful, ponderous stance, “This is my home, Hanson – mine! If you're going to accuse me of something, go ahead and do it, if not... we can forget this conversation ever happened. I'm nothing but a gracious host, after all.” Those last words, he spits out with more venom and bile than anything you've ever heard from him. No matter what happens, no matter what you say, this won't ever be forgotten.

>You killed these people. I don't know how or why, but you killed them
>I'm not accusing you of anything. I simply wanted to get the truth
>Other

>>448463
>>I'm not accusing you of anything. I simply wanted to get the truth

>>448463
>I'm not accusing you of anything. I simply wanted to get the truth
"Damnit Kolyat you were the one that taught me this shit. I'm looking at everything at all angles, coming up with and discounting possibilities as I go along. Sorry if this is pissing you off but I am doing my damn job."

>>448463
>>I'm not accusing you of anything. I simply wanted to get the truth
Something is, at night, killing people. IT is making a concerted effort to ruin Isak Roseholm and court Alva Tevas. It kills their cows, leaves offerings of entrails and meat at her window, and has showed itself to her at least once. She claimed it had human eyes. That combined with your reticence is fucking suspicious and you know it. Hell you're the one that taught me how to hunt you should know EXACTLY where I am coming from Kolyat.

>>448463
>>I'm not accusing you of anything. I simply wanted to get the truth

>>448463
>I'm not accusing you of anything. I simply wanted to get the truth

>>448463
>I'm not accusing you of anything. I simply wanted to get the truth
You taught us this job, now you have to face the consequences. Tell us something truthful and you can get off the suspect list, until then you're just as guilty as everyone else.

>>448463
You trained me to hunt and kill, not to be considerate of anyone's feelings. Control yourself old man.

So if he got to the fifth beast that means he got a special gift from Artemis after the 4th right? What if that gift allows him to transform into a beast?

>>448501
Might be the ritual the witches preformed on him seperated the beast and humanity within him. He's human at day, Paleface at night

>>448510
That was my hunch when I asked about gaps in his memory.

Maybe he does it unconsciously? Though I'm starting to doubt that. I'm starting to think Kolyat may be not involved but we'll have to see what he says next first.

>>448520
It's almost certainly him, we just established a crystal clear motive for what's been happening at the farm

>>448525
But it feels...too easy you know? And motive alone is not enough.

We need more pieces to this puzzle before making any concrete claims.

>>448525
Looking at the portrait of the paleface, some things don't add up.

It doesn't have a crippled leg, which is definitely a trait that the monster would have if it were sharing the same body as Kolyat.

It has claws, when our mentor's preferred weapon is a spear, But due to the fact that he is a "Master Hunter", I don't think weapon preference is something that would hinder him.

All in all, Kolyat no doubt is connected to the case somehow. Maybe the beast is a manifestation of him? Or maybe this is all bullshit and Moloch is laughing at this post

>>448534
[QM scribbling notes in the distance]

You hold your nerve. Even with the poison in his words washing over you, you hold your nerve.

You're trained to hunt and kill, you tell him quietly, not to be considerate of people's feelings. He taught you that, and now he has to face up to that. He trained you to look at things from every angle, to consider every possibility before taking action, and that's exactly what you're going to do here. This is all part of your job, and his outburst won't make it any easier. If he can control himself, you finish, it'll make things a lot easier.

Scoffing, Kolyat fumbles out a jug of dark rum and slops a measure into an empty glass, a few drops spilling out to stain the tablecloth like oil. Heedless of the mess, he drains the cup dry and fills it again. This time, he simply takes a sip and regards you with venomous eyes.

You're not accusing him of anything, you say in the voice of a peacemaker, you simply want the truth. The fact of the matter is, something is stalking the night streets and killing people. It's trying to drive Isak Roseholm to ruin by slaying his cattle, and it's courting his wife with gifts of bloody entrails. You're just trying to uncover this mystery, and this continued reticence is only making him look more suspicious.

“Perhaps I don't want to be treated like a suspect in my territory,” Kolyat pauses, “My home.”

Everyone is a suspect at this point, you tell him direly, until you have good reason to cross them off the list.

“You want to know something, Henryk?” a trace of pain surfaces in Kolyat's dark eyes, too honest to be anything other than true, “I wish I could have killed those people. I wish I could drive Isak Roseholm to ruin. I dearly wish I was capable of doing those things, but I'm not – if I could men, then I could hunt beasts. If I could hunt beasts, I wouldn't be rotting here in this damn house!” Draining his second cup of rum, he wavers in place for a moment before leaning heavily against the table. Against your better judgement, you start to offer him help, but he waves you away.

“I'm fine,” he snarls, “Just... just a little unsteady. Got to lie down for a little, that's all. Is that allowed, Henryk, or do you want to watch me sleep? Maybe post a guard outside my door?” Without waiting for a response, he turns and lurches away from you, practically slamming his cane into the ground with every step he takes. You start to take a step after him, but then stop and reconsider. You both need some time to cool your heads – pressing the issue now could only make things worse.

“So...” Lize speaks up, her voice uncertain, “What now?”

>You heard him – we're guarding that door
>I'm taking this to the Ministry. Maybe this will stop once he's in a cell
>I have to go back to Roseholm ranch. Can you watch things here?
>We should go to Roseholm ranch
>Other

>>448551
>You heard him – we're guarding that door
Just to rule out the 'He does shit at night' theory. I want to cross that off the list before we move on.

>>448551
>>You heard him – we're guarding that door

>>448557
Liz guards the door, we guard the perimeter, in case he feels like jumping out of a window, or climbing up to the roof.

Or maybe this is a fruitless effort, he might have a trapdoor somewhere that leads to the outside. Maybe a tunnel...?

>>448551
>You heard him – we're guarding that door
Is there a window he could leave from?

>>448551
>I have to go back to Roseholm ranch. Can you watch things here?

I think it's only killing people who were in contact with Alva. Would it go after us?

>>448569

>Just for the sake of clarity, his room does have a window in it, yes

>>448569
Oh maybe have Lize snoop around his house a bit too

>>448576
Guard everything

>>448573
Were other two victims connected to Alva? We know Jelen was kinda, he did business with Roseholm. But the other two had no special connection according to Cyril.

>>448576
Moloch, Isak is the only one that goes into town for runs right? Alva is restricted to the ranch correct?

>>448551
>>You heard him – we're guarding that door
I don't want Lize guarding things alone, since she might handle fairly well but she's probably not ready to fight with a beast.

>>448551
>You're watching the door, I'm watching the window. Try to find a place where someone trying to leave that room would have to pass, but which can be observed from a distance. And if something happens - do not engage. Shout for me.

>>448551
>You heard him – we're guarding that door

Here's what I don't get. If Skalicky went to the ranch before to investigate this how come Isak and Alva didn't mention him at all?

Wouldn't it be something they would have mentioned? "Another hunter looking into this eh?" or "You aren't the first Hunter to come around here"

>>448588
>Moloch, Isak is the only one that goes into town for runs right? Alva is restricted to the ranch correct?

>That's correct. Alva never strays far from the ranch.

>>448592
Seconding this,

File: 1468527472842.jpg (199 KB, 500x565)

199 KB JPG

>>448601
Like look here:

>“The killings,” Isak nods, “Fair caused a bit of a stir. First one happened right when things were getting bad here – now, everyone's talking about city folk getting attacked, and nobody has a damn for old Isak. Fine with me – I don't need them, the lot of them.”

He's implying no one came to help them but apparently Skalicky did. Why would he lie?

Something isn't adding up.

>>448602
Okay that rules out that the other two victims came into contact with Alva. I thought she may have ran into them during a shopping trip or something.

>>448607
THIRDING

>>448551
>>I have to go back to Roseholm ranch. Can you watch things here?

Somehow, you suspect that he didn't intend it as sincere advice, but maybe setting a guard on the door isn't such a bad idea. It might even be a good idea to keep an eye on things from the outside as well, just in case he tried slipping out through the window instead. The idea of the crippled man climbing out his window and scaling the wall like a spider feels like some kind of bad joke, but you have to consider it. You have to consider everything.

Find a place where she can watch his door, you tell Lize, ideally without being too obvious about it. Somewhere that he'd need to pass on the way out. You'll cover things from the other side, watching the perimeter. If there's trouble – anything at all – you want her to call for you. Don't go looking for any fights.

“You really think he might try to bust out of here?” Lize murmurs, her eyes wide with... something that isn't quite fear, but could soon grow into it.

You're not sure what he's likely to do, you tell her, but you want to cover every eventuality.

“You know... you said something back there, about something courting Alva,” Lize swallows hard, “I read a book, a kinda trashy love thing – don't laugh, this is serious – and it had something that. The guy, the hero, he left flower outside his lover's window. You think maybe...”

That maybe, you finish for her, this might have been the same thing?

“Yeah,” she shudders, “It's kinda gross, but... I can see it, you know? I don't want to call it “romance” or anything like it, but what else can you say?”

There are still too many unanswered questions, you force a shrug, too many unresolved issues. Skalicky, his actions leading up to his death, are bothering you. Supposedly, he visited the Roseholm ranch, but Isak never mentioned him at all. Someone is lying, and you want to figure out the truth.

But questions can come later. For now, you've got to stand guard.

-

Lurking out in the garden behind Kolyat's house, with the window in sight at all times, you've got little to do but pace and wait. There are crude targets set up, strung between trees in a manner that reminds you of the straw dolls crafted to draw the attention of the nameless gods. It's not a comparison that does much for your nerves. The heavy weight of the Maus rifle in your arms offers a comforting presence, but even that isn't enough to put your mind completely at ease.

Every so often, you'll spot Kolyat through the window – pacing back and forth in that uneven, pained gait of his. So much for lying down and getting some rest. He has to know that you're watching him, and that knowledge must burn within him.

Too bad – you need to be sure of this.

[1/2]

>>448668
Quick question Moloch

What makes the Ministry so sure that Skal's body was hidden or there was an attempt to hide it?

>inbe4 it's their aborted super baby that survived all these years.

>>448684

>Skalicky's body was found concealed in the sewers, a storm drain, while the other bodies were left openly in the streets. Without any obvious reason for him to be in the drains, they concluded that Skal's body was moved there.

>>448690
But he had an open gut wound. Wouldn't that leave a trail if something dragged him to his where his body was concealed?

Was there a trail of blood?

>>448690
But what if Skalicky tracked the creature into the sewers?

>>448697

>It would have left a trail, unless someone had cleaned up after it. That is also part of their belief that it was a human killer - a beast wouldn't be so prudent as to clean up after itself

>>448701

>That would give him good reason to be down there, but it's not a possibility that occurred to the Ministry investigators. Their efforts may have been sloppy, in that regard

>>448710
>>It would have left a trail, unless someone had cleaned up after it.

Or they found his body exactly where he was killed...

Retracing Skal's steps might be prudent here.

>>448668

Afternoon grows into evening, and the shadows begin to stretch out like skeletal fingers. What started as the vague suggestion of laughter from the rustling trees now feels like a mocking chorus, every bird call and creaking branch taunting you. More than once, you've felt to urge to fire your rifle in the air, just to hear something that isn't the sounds of nature. Every time, you fight back the foolish desire, but it always returns – that little bit stronger each and every time.

As the light fades, a lantern flares into life in Kolyat's room, and his pacing form becomes a silhouette. Later still, that silhouette vanishes – at long last, he has taken to bed... or so it appears.

With the darkness closing around you, tiredness descends. Not the supernatural fatigue that calls you to Nihilo for an audience with Artemis, but simple exhaustion. Leaning against a heavy tree, you let the rifle hang loose in your grip as your eyes wander. At the sound of footsteps, however, your sense snap into perfect focus. Someone is coming from the house, an electric flashlight carving out a path ahead of them.

“Henryk!” Lize hisses, “I found something you're going to want to see!”

What, you ask quickly as she reaches you, what is it?

“When you were away, Kolyat mentioned that all his students stayed with him – he had spare rooms, see? Well, you were talking about that apprentice kid, so I figured he would have stayed here as well. I took a look in some of the spare room, and I found this,” eagerly, she holds a book out to you, “He was investigating things here, he kept a journal – and look, this bit here near the end.”

Training the flashlight on a specific page, you read the cramped, untidy handwriting. Skalicky speaks of visiting the Roseholm ranch, only to be stopped before arriving by Isak – stopped at gunpoint, and ordered away.

“Weird, right?” Lize asks, her eyes very white against the darkness, “Why turn him away like that, when they needed help?”

Perhaps Isak didn't want to admit to needing help, you suggest, perhaps-

“Oh shit!” Lize curses aloud, “The door!” Chanting curses like a manta, she turns away and runs at full speed back into the house, leaving you alone with the journal – and your thoughts.

[2/3]

>>448767

Isak didn't want to admit to needing help, but it was more than that. Was it showing weakness in front of his wife, he resented, or suggesting to her that there anyone else she could turn to? He didn't want anyone, much less someone connected to Kolyat, breaking into his isolated little prison. But then, why allow you to help?

Perhaps, you consider, he no longer had a choice in the matter.

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you glance up at Kolyat's window. The lantern has faded to a dull, eerie glow – sleep having reached out to take your old teacher.

You envy him that, that rest.

>I think I'm going to have to end things here for today, but I'll pick things up tomorrow and I can stick around for a while in case of any questions or comments
>Thanks to everyone who stuck around today!

>>448771
Thanks for running Moloch.

We should really go through all of that journal.

>>448771
Thanks for running!

That was entertaining

>>448771
So Moloch, the two other victims other than Jelen and Skal.

As far as we can tell there were no connections to Roseholm, Kolyat, Alva or the other victims right? Just killed randomly? They didn't even warrant names so I'm assuming they aren't that important but I am just double checking.

>>448851

Yes, the other two victims don't really have any evidence to add to the case. As far as anyone can tell, they were just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

>>448866
Wait Moloch.

Why did Skal go to the Roseholm ranch in the first place? Or is that detail in the journal?

>>448969

Tomorrow, we'll be going through the journal in a little more detail, but the general gist of things is that Skal was chasing rumours about the Paleface, including checking the Roseholm ranch. Even before people started dying, there had been a few uncertain sightings.

>>448988
Ok just checking. I found it kind of weird that Skal went to the ranch before the killings started and wanted to follow up.

>>448771
We should ask if Isak's children go to school, and if the unrelated dudes are teachers or something.

>>448988
It couldn't be that Mr. "Good Northern Blood" Isak has done something to call up this animal to maybe kill men for him? Maybe he thought the trader was ripping him off or something. A half-remembered ritual or some bit of legend his parents left him with perhaps?

It would make sense for him to then kill a hunter possibly drawing attention back to him.

>>448988
Calling it now, the wife is a witch who learned some shit from Kolyat and he's protecting her. Maybe they were having an affair or some shit.

But she apparently dislikes everything about the farm and her husband,the creature is in love with her, Kolyat is also in love with her and has spooky witch knowledge,and in all honesty the women in this quest have mostly been evil.

Also I feel like the hints for others being at fault were just a little too obvious.

>>450190
While there is a chance you might be right and I can't rule the theory out, you are ignoring other evidence and focusing too much on one angle.

Why the killings? Jelen could work according to your theory but what about the other 3? 2 were random bystanders and Skal was investigating. If Skal was killed because Alva wanted him dead if he was getting close why did she give so much information to us that could lead back to her if she was in on some grand conspiracy.

Fact is we need more pieces before we can nail anything down concrete, starting with the rest of Skal's journal.

>>450246
I'm just tossing out theories. I have a broken leg and a nothing else to do, and the pain is keeping me up.

I just have this idea of the Wife trying to drive her husband back to the city by wrecking the ranch. That's kind of weird to me, why wouldn't it have just killed Iskar instead if someone wanted revenge on him, or to get him out of the way?

>>450268
>I have a broken leg and a nothing else to do, and the pain is keeping me up.
Shit man sorry to hear that.

And no worries I've been having weird theories too like the killer in the city is actually a man imitating Paleface's shit to shit the blame and get away with murder while the real Paleface is fucking around on the farm being infatuated with Alva.

Unlikely as all hell, but something I considered.

>>450290
True. Overall I think "More info is needed" like looking into the Paleface legend is the definite conclusion.

Also killing Paleface. We have a job to do after all.

Amazingly, this isn't actually the most awkward breakfast you've ever eaten. That dubious prize would go to a meal you shared with Priscilla's parents. Everything had been going fine and well, until her father had asked exactly what depths your relationship had reached. That was when things went seriously wrong.

This meal, eaten with Kolyat's bitter eyes fixated upon you, is only slightly less traumatic than that experience.

Despite Lize's fears of leaving the door unguarded for a few precious moments, Kolyat never left his private quarters, let alone the house itself. All your lonesome vigil got you is a chill, a stiff body and a night without sleep. Lize doesn't look much better either, her eyes hollow with exhaustion and dread for the day ahead of her. Whether she's more afraid of investigating a killer or being subjected to a full day of training is uncertain.

“Well Henryk,” Kolyat asks suddenly, his voice darkly sarcastic, “How did you sleep?”

Can't complain, you reply with all the forced politeness of a guest close to outstaying their welcome, what about him?

“Oh, I slept like the mountains themselves,” the old Hunter toys with his food for a moment, slowly spreading a thin layer of honey onto dark bread. Both items he sent Lize to buy, you recall with some bitterness. Though only a short time ago, it seems like an eternity since you shared that earnest conversation with him.

Skalicky's journal seems very heavy indeed in your jacket pocket, and the bulge it makes feels large enough to be seen from the other side of a broad street. You wait and wait for Kolyat to mention it, to challenge you or accuse you of thievery, but no such challenge comes. Perhaps he fears what accusations you might make in return, deeming the fragile peace between you too precious to risk.

“You, girl, you came here to train, didn't you?” Kolyat rises from the table, the creaking of his old and wounded bones nearly audible, “So we're going to train. Hurry up – I won't go easy on you today.”

“Man, I'm tired,” Lize whines, “Can't it wait?”

“The beasts won't wait to pick the meat from your bones,” Kolyat retorts, “If they get the better of you, they'll kill you in a heartbeat – so, you train. You must be faster, stronger, more ruthless. Survival is worth anything.”

“Hell of a pep talk,” she grumbles, glancing across to her. You give her a small nod, encouraging her to play along for now. If Kolyat is busy yelling abuse at her, he won't get up to any other trouble. “Alright, fine,” with a sigh, Lize accepts your unspoken logic, “Can't argue with that.”

“Outside. Five minutes,” the teacher grunts, leaning heavily on his cane as he marches off.

“Yeah, whatever. It'll take you ten to get out there anyway,” Lize mutters, before glancing around to you, “You gonna be fine without me?”

Just fine, you assure her, you've got some reading you wanted to catch up on.

[1/3]

>>451177

Rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes, you find a more comfortable seat to sit in and open Skalicky's journal. One look at the apprentice's handwriting, and you nearly close the book in disgust, but then you force yourself to read it – cover to cover, if that's what it takes. It's slow going at first, but you soon get an eye for the boy's script, and the pages start to fly past. When the first mention of Canid appears, you focus carefully on the words.

In short, Skalicky's time in Canid was one of boredom and menial activity – mindless tasks given to him, you understand, in an attempt to cool his head. If that was Kolyat's intention, it failed. Spurred on to go looking for trouble, Skalicky was easily swayed by rumours of a pale spectre creeping through the midnight streets. Even before the first death was discovered, people were already swapping stories of what would later become known as “Paleface”. When Isak Roseholm came into market one day, complaining about the crimes against him and his herd of cattle, Skalicky was compelled to investigate further.

The alternative, after all, would have been hard, thankless work and diligent training.

After his first, disasterous meeting with Isak, Skalicky's next journal entry is little more than a rant, complaining about the ranch owner in the move vile terms imaginable. Once the first death is reported, though, all mention of the hermit vanishes from the journal. Skalicky was obsessed, you realise, chasing after the truth with an interest that went beyond anything you expected. His notes grow more and more detailed, and yet somehow less and less grounded in reality – as though the young Hunter was starting to trust rumour and gossip over his own perception.

The last entry is near illegible, the script devolving into a tight scrawl of ink, but you can slowly piece the account together. The picture is paints is a disturbing one.

“No training today,” the entry begins, “Master Kolyat – although I fear he no longer deserves such a lofty title – was drunk within a few hours of first light, raving like a man beset by spirits. He spoke of losing control – a reference, or so I then thought, to his drinking – but then his next words chilled me. “I should have left it the roam in the dark”, he said to be shortly before passing out. When he awoke, several hours later, he would not speak of it, striking me with his cane when I pressed the issue. Could he be protecting the Paleface? The path ahead of me is clear – I must seek out these dark places, and find whatever it is that he is hiding.”

And you've seen how well that worked out for him. His search yielded nothing but a brutal death. Pinching your brow in frustration, you lean back and let your eyes drift shut.

[2/3]

>>451179

You are woken from a dream of a pounding, thundering heartbeat by another thump, one that might have been pulled from your sleeping mind. Confusion grips you like a clenched fist for one brief and suffocating moment, but then you throw off the last traces of sleep and realise the truth. The door – someone is hammering on the door, knocking with the kind of desperation usually reserved for dying men.

Stumbling a little, stubbing your toes on unfamiliar furniture, you open to door to reveal Cyril, dressed in full Ministry regalia. His uniform is a shade too large for him, giving him the unfortunate impression of a boy dressing in his father's clothes. Although his initial look is one of surprise – as if he didn't expect to find you, rather than Kolyat, on the other side of the door – it quickly resolves itself into a grim mask.

“I came to bring Kolyat the news, but I'll be glad to get your thoughts as well,” Cyril draws in a breath, composing himself, “There's been another killing, and this... this could only have been the work of a beast. The victim – one Sansa Villard – was torn to pieces, their body desecrated so badly that even identifying her was difficult. The body was left out in the open, left where everyone could see it.”

Another killing, a murder carried out while Kolyat was consigned to his room. Though it takes you a moment to gather your wits, you step back and invite Cyril inside.

“Forgive me, but I have to ask,” Cyril sounds genuinely apologetic, and not a little bit frightened, to raise the issue, “But you were all night, correct?”

You were, you confirm, as were Kolyat and your travelling companion.

“Good, thank you. A matter of formality, that's all,” relief washes over the Ministry man's face, “At the risk of sounding desperate... have you had any ideas? I was hoping that a fresh pair of eyes might have revealed something we'd missed.”

>Kolyat is hiding something, I'm certain of it
>Skalicky kept a journal – you should take a look at it
>I'd like to hear everything you know about the Paleface
>Tell me about the newest killing
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>>451181
>Skalicky kept a journal – you should take a look at it
>I'd like to hear everything you know about the Paleface
>Tell me about the newest killing
I know what it is, Paleface is the manifestation of Kolyat's ravening beastblood excised by the coven.

>>451181
>>I'd like to hear everything you know about the Paleface
>>Tell me about the newest killing
"Not just a gutting this time? Strange to change methods."

>>451184
You think Kolyat is unconsciously controlling it or influencing it with his wants, emotions, and desires? Maybe the reason this girl got ripped up so badly is cause Kolyat was pissed at our earlier interrogation.

>>451186
I back this one

>>451189
I think they're linked at minimum, all though an empathic bond is not ruled out yet. Wanna bet if we kill it Kolyat goes mad?

>>451181
>I'd like to hear everything you know about the Paleface
>Tell me about the newest killing
>Tell me about the killing of Skalicky - were there actually signs that the body was brought to that place to hide it?

>>451191
So, Paleface is Kolyat's madness separated from him?

>>451200
Makes sense I guess

>>451181
seconding >>451184

>>451200
Potentially. It would explain a lot of the motives. And capabilites. Kolyat can't do these things himself since he is crippled but if Paleface is his shadow it would make sense.

It's a good theory. We'll see if it pans out.

There might be something, you begin, but you want to be sure – to be certain. To do that, you're going to hear everything he can tell you about the Paleface, every bit of rumour and speculation he knows about.

“Truth be told, I don't have much personal knowledge of the thing. It's very much a local tale, and I'm still an outsider here, as far as public opinion goes,” Cyril offers a regretful grimace, “Still, we followed up any lead we could – including asking about this Paleface creature. As I understand it, there have been vague sightings of something matching its description for a fair few years, but it was never linked with overt violence. People would see a flash of white flesh at night, slipping through the backstreets, or they'd feel eyes watching them from the woods. Never any direct sightings, nothing that came close to definite evidence.”

Closing your eyes, you let out a heavy sigh. Ideas are starting to form, theories coiling together into a more cohesive – if unwelcome – picture. The sightings, you ask slowly, had there been any before Kolyat retired with his injury?

“I can't be certain about the exact timing, but...” Cyril pauses, tapping a finger against his chin, “I don't think so, no. Establishing a definite timeline is near impossible, of course, but the oldest records certainly don't mention the Paleface. It's not some ancient legend around these parts, that's for sure. Are you suggesting there's a connection between Kolyat and the Paleface?”

A connection – that choice of wording might well be more appropriate than he realises. For now though, you ask about the most recent killing instead. He said the body was torn apart – before, the victims were gutted quickly. It seems odd for the method of attack to change.

“We're still putting together a complete picture, but I'll tell you what we have,” Cyril takes a notepad from his pocket, “Sansa Villard runs... ran errands for her uncle, one of the town's doctors. He was attending a routine call last night when he sent Sansa back home to fetch some additional supplies. She didn't make it back – her body was found early this morning when her uncle went looking. From what he said, it must have been an attack of incredible ferocity. A human being couldn't have done that to one of their own.”

And Sansa had no connection with the previous victims, you check, or with the Roseholm family?

“She would have known the victims, but that isn't unusual here,” Cyril shakes his head, “As best we can tell, this was a motiveless crime – unless you consider simple rage to be a sufficient motive.”

[1/2]

>>451228

And Skalinky, you continue, you wanted to know a little more about his death. His body was supposed to have been hidden in the storm drains, but do they have any particular evidence that the body was moved? A trail, something to indicate he was killed elsewhere?

“A human killer would have cleaned up after themselves, if they were going to the trouble of hiding the body,” Cyril argues – his tone bordering on the defensive, almost petulant, “It's no surprise that there wasn't a trail, so-”

So they don't have any proof he was killed elsewhere, you stress, that was an assumption on their part.

“Why else would he have been in the tunnels?” Cyril shoots back, “There's nothing down there. Hell, they're barely high enough for a man to squat – you'd need to crawl through filthy water just to get to the lowest point. It's a good place to hide a body, but a terrible place to explore.”

Skalicky kept a journal, you tell Cyril as you hand the book over, he seemed to think there was something down there – in the dark, as he put it. Read it, and he can make up his own mind. Cyril takes the journal from you, flipping straight to the end and skimming the pages with a deep frown. He reads, and then rereads, the last few entries.

“Drunken rambling isn't exactly solid evidence,” Cyril grumbles, as if reluctant to concede the point, “But I have to take this into account. He seemed to think that Kolyat was connected with these events, as you suggested. Hiding some beast, perhaps? But why would he do that – surely, as a Hunter, he would have a duty to slay whatever beasts he could find? Even if he himself couldn't hunt it down, he could report it, he could pass the burden to another...”

Because he can't kill it, you think to yourself, because it's a part of himself as much as anything. Those witches tore the beast out of him, setting it loose upon the land. Frankly, you have no idea if such a blasphemy is even possible, but the theory tugs at you with a kind of desperate insistence. A beast, freed to pursue his darkest desires, free to run and hunt as he no longer could...

>Confront Kolyat with this theory
>Search the house for anything that might tell you more
>Explore the storm drains yourself – the answer has to be there
>Other

>>451237
>>Search the house for anything that might tell you more
then
>Confront Kolyat with this theory

>>451237
>Search the house for anything that might tell you more

I mean it makes sense. There would have to be a catch, some kind of drawback in a Witch rite to purge the Beast Madness from a Hunter. No way there wasn't some kind of price.

>>451237
>Search the house for anything that might tell you more

>>451237
>>Search the house for anything that might tell you more

>>451237
>>Search the house for anything that might tell you more
>>451247
Koly did say: “This... was one of them. I do not wish to speak of what rites we performed, for I dearly wish that I myself could forget them, but... they were effective. I need not fear THAT doom.”

Just wait, you tell Cyril, you want to check the house over to see if there's anything you've missed. While Kolyat is busy outside, you've got an ideal opportunity to search the house properly, without fear of interruption. Any guilt you might have once felt for treating your old teacher like a criminal has vanished, boiled away by the anger simmering away within your heart. The thought that he could have birthed this beast through some black act of communion fills you with a kind of disgust. He's spat on everything that he once stood for – and for what? For the chance to live out his days with his mind intact, or for the excuse to live out his darkest fantasies as an inhuman monster?

You start your search downstairs, descending the dank stone steps into Kolyat's mouldering cellar. The air here is heavy, wet and stagnant, but the unmistakable scent of decaying flesh is not present. Other than a few casks of his chosen rum, the cellar is mercifully empty. Glad to be out of the tainted air, you retreat back upstairs. One room down. Next, you move to his hunting room, a brass plaque on the door proudly declaring its purpose.

One side of the room is lined with weapons – archaic tools of the trade, without a single gun in sight – while the other is occupied by the dead eyes of preserved trophies. Even with the dire mood, you can't help but smile – it's not a subtle point Kolyat was trying to make with this room. The old ways, the room boasts, are not yet obsolete. With arrow and spear, he was able to bring down beasts that other Hunters would shy away from. For all his sins, you have to respect that much about him.

“Spooky,” Cyril mutters, looking into the glassy eyes of a mounted stag, “Do all you Hunters keep trophies like this?”

Not like this, you reply as you think of your more modest collection, but it doesn't matter – time to move on.

-

Before heading upstairs to check Kolyat's bedroom, you linger a moment and watch him through the window. His back is to you, his attention focussed on Lize as she jabs a straw target with her spear. You remember that part of your training as well – until you could pull off what Kolyat considered a perfect strike, he wouldn't let you move on. You spent three days thrusting a spear into straw dolls, while he bellowed an even mix of instructions and abuse at you. When you finally got it right, though...

Thrusting aside the unwelcome memories – this is no time to be getting sentimental – you head upstairs and confront the bulwark of your teacher's door. Locked, of course, but that's why you came prepared.

>Calling for a Crafting check – that's 1D100+10, aiming to beat 70. I'll take the highest of the first three results

Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>451306

Rolled 12 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>451306

Rolled 40 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>451306

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>451306

Fug. Alright do we burn focus for this? Seems like it could pretty important evidence.

>>451326
yeah we should

>>451306
Throw us the +20 to pass for our Focus point.

>>451326
Yes, Focus

Rolled 49 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

I heard you guys needed a dice over 70?
A shame I'm rolling late, then.

>>451340
Man even late rolls we can't get over 50. Lockpicking doesn't seem to be our forte.

Kneeling by the lock, you take out the rolled up sleeve of leather and let it unfurl to reveal your lockpicks. Trying not to think about the last time you tried to open a lock like this, you give the device a careful examination. It's a good one, sturdily built and quit secure. That, in itself, has your curiosity going – what could Kolyat be hiding beyond that formidable barrier?

“I should point out,” Cyril mentions, “This is illegal.”

So look the other way, you tell him without looking around, and pretend the door was unlocked from the beginning. If it helps his conscience, you're doing this for the greater good.

“Fine, just...” he sighs, “Just don't steal anything.”

Perhaps he says something else after that, some other petty complaint or condition. You wouldn't know – you tune him out along with the rest of the outside world, your senses narrowing until only the lock and the delicate metal probes in your hands exist. Gripping the tools carefully, you painstakingly work the mechanism of the lock. It takes longer than you would have liked, and your skin is slick with sweat by the end of it, but eventually the door swings open. There, you announce, looks like the handle was just stuck. It wasn't locked at all.

>[Focus remaining: 0]

“Of course not,” Cyril manages a small smile, one of nervous relief, “I just hope there's something valuable inside...”

-

You're not sure about valuable, but the inside of Kolyat's private quarters reveal a new side to his personality, a side you never had the chance to experience before.

A side that is completely and utterly insane.

Most of the room is sparsely decorated, as tends to be the case with men like you or Kolyat, but one wall is raised as a shrine to his lunacy, almost completely covered in photographs – some old, some new – and sketches. The oldest photographs show Kolyat and Alva, a younger and livelier looking version of her. The newest, by contrast, are discretely taken images of her husband at market... and every single one has been pierced by pins, darts and even a narrow-bladed dagger in one case. If you hadn't already guessed, it's clear that there is no love lost between Kolyat and Isak.

“The man must be obsessed,” Cyril breathes, “But this doesn't explain...”

No, you say as you point to the ceiling, but that might offer some explanation. The thing you point towards is wicker, a crude ring spun together from twig. Held in the centre of that ring is the image of a human heart, split clean in two. It hangs above the bed, as if it was poised to catch something rising up from the sleeper beneath. Reaching out to touch it, you draw your fingers back at the last minute.

For some reason – for fear of dirtying yourself, perhaps - you don't want to touch it.

[1/2]

>>451364

“I don't understand,” Cyril murmurs, looking up at the icon, “What is it, what purpose does it serve?”

Time, you decide, to lay your cards on the table. It could be witchcraft, you tell the Ministry man quietly, something designed to draw the attention of something far greater.

“Witchcraft is a rumour, baseless speculation and ignorant whispering,” Cyril tells you stiffly, “It's been proven numerous times...”

And you've seen things that can't be explained without resorting to mysticism and magic, you counter, things exactly like this. Does he have some rational explanation to offer instead?

“Half a heart,” the investigator ignores your question and stares at the wicker icon for a moment longer. With a trembling hand, he reaches out but, just as you did, he stops short of actually touching the impure decoration, “Do you really think...”

The human half, you nod, which means the other half – the bestial side of him – must lie elsewhere. The storm drains, if Skalicky's theory was correct. Still, the question remains... what should you do with this thing?

“I could burn it,” Cyril offers, taking out a book of matches, “It's dry wood, I wager it would catch light easily. Do you think putting a torch to it would end this?”

Truth be told, you have no idea. You're not even convinced that the witch cult who created this icon, who performed the rites and rituals, knew – as Artemis said, the modern cultists are children playing with forces they do not understand. Some instinct tells you that burning it would do something, but you can't promise anything more than that. It could be a very bad thing indeed.

>Burn the icon
>Confront Kolyat with this evidence
>Head to the storm drain to find the second half
>Other

>>451389
>Burn the icon
Coming clean against an experienced hunger is suicide. He may be old but he always has tricks up his sleeve

>>451389
>>Head to the storm drain to find the second half

>>451389
>Head to the storm drain to find the second half
Let's get all the pieces first before we do anything. And be prepared for a fight. We don't want to go down like Skal. Get something that can be useful in small quarters of the storm drain.

>>451398
Remember the icon we have here is the human half. What if we burn that and Kolyat goes nuts?

Maybe stab the thing? see if Kolyat reacts to the injury, if anything it could draw the beast to us instead of going somewhere disavantageous.

>>451409
Well we are trying to get the beast icon at the moment, not the beast.

The icon will stay in the drain regardless if the beast is drawn.

>>451389
>Head to the storm drain to find the second half
>Other
Cyril stay here and keep an eye on those two. If I do something and it causes Kolyat to react violently I need you to get Eliza out of here okay?

>>451416
supporting

>>451416
This works