11 - Hunting the Hound

Before Joe left the deceptively elegant home, he picked up three facts about the creature he was tasked with running off.

The first was the confirmation of folklore Joe knew. The fey could not abide the touch of iron. Surprisingly, steel did not cause the same harm, even though most good steel was almost entirely made from iron. Corra stated that there was a different intent to steel, which changed the metal from one they could not touch at all to one they merely preferred to avoid. The fey had a metal they called siluer that was as strong as steel but based on silver instead of iron. Most every elven warrior had siluer weapons instead of steel ones, which had Joe wishing they had had an elf in their battle against Sougath.

The second was that the gwyllgi in question was laired in a marsh a few miles south of the fey house. At sundown, it would come again to weaken Padu with its nightly hauntings. Joe's best bet to banishing the creature was to confront it in the swamp or to somehow make its den inhospitable.

Lastly, Corra pulled out a tome that contained a whole section regarding the dogs of Annwn. Each hound-like creature was given a page or two, and each had its own sigil. Joe noted the knotwork triangle for Padu's race, the Cù-sìth, as well as a more ominous-looking glyph for the creature he was about to hunt.

Reading through the section on gwyllgis, Joe learned they were known as 'Dogs of Darkness' and were far larger than even the wolfhound-sized Padu. They were shaggy, mastiff-like monstrosities, some reaching heights nearly as tall as a horse. The beasts possessed glowing red eyes and truly horrid breath. One was never to look directly into a gwyllg's eyes lest they be paralyzed by scenes of their own demise.

Joe considered going back to Fort Coral to get more iron, but it was already getting late in the day. If he headed south straight from Corra's and Padu's home, he could get in one attempt at completing this quest today. If he could pull it off, then his first day in Fort Coral wouldn't be a bust.

Joe dug around in his dimbag until he found his old standard adventurer's kit that he had bought back in Crowfield. He had lost or used up much of it, but among what remained were two iron spikes that he had been lugging around since its purchase. They looked like the ones used to secure railroad ties, but slimmer and longer. They were typically used for anchoring ropes or securing doors. The two-foot-long spikes should work perfectly against the gwyllgi.

Walking around the porch, Joe concentrated on his [Tracker] skill. The world was such a smelly place that learning how to discern scents was a challenge. After a few minutes, Joe was certain he knew what traces belonged to Padu and the old man. He then circled the house until he found the trail he was looking for. He stopped when he reached a path littered with putrid-smelling droplets of drool. The trail led away from the farmhouse in exactly the direction Corra had pointed.

Joe loped across the scruffy field, following the same track the gwyllgi was taking each night. Joe expected the wildness to try and goad him into a full run. Instead, the feral instinct inside him kept Joe focused, so much so that he didn't even need [Crystal Mind]. Joe's bestial id was more than happy to hunt.

An hour or so later, the ground grew wet and spongy as they reached a line of underbrush. The scruffy barrier was pierced by stunted trees, unable to grow taller without stable soil for their roots. The dog of darkness had made no effort to disguise its path, which meant following it into the swampy terrain was easier than Joe had expected. There was a clear breach in the shrubs, and the fell beast had left an obvious path over the hummocks rising out of the puddles and mud.

Now that he had an idea of what he'd be dealing with, Joe decided it was time to finalize his plan. He had the start of one, but it needed some fine-tuning. Killing the beast was not the objective. The way Corra explained it, the doom that the death dog was carrying around with it would be transferred directly to Padu if the gwyllgi died. Joe had to convince the creature to flee, thereby taking the curse with it.

Iron would be a key ingredient, but Joe wanted to present a more persistent threat. He wanted the hunter to feel hunted. Finding a spot of high ground that had a large old rotted tree for cover, he hunkered down in the hollow the trunk created. Opening his dimbag and screens, Joe began to go through all his gear and abilities. Rather quickly, his vague idea formed into a full-fledged strategy.

"Ok, this should work …," he started to say, before biting off his self-jinxing words and knocking on the bark beside him.

Taking the two iron spikes, Joe began to rasp them against each other. Amidst the croaking frogs, chirping insects, and birds, and the wind-rustled foliage, the sound of his efforts didn't travel far, but still, he tried to keep the grinding noise down as much as possible. After fifteen minutes, he had a decent pile of iron filings. He had also managed to sharpen the spikes a bit more than they had been. The small mound of iron dust he closed up into a scrap of cloth, which he tucked into his belt pouch.

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Next, he drew out some of his endless roll of bandages and bound a spike to the back of each hand, starting at his forearm. He would not be able to bend his wrists, but his iron-enhanced punches would be more stable. When he was done, he had a four-inch black iron point protruding above his knuckles.

A lowly human-looking hunter would likely not be enough to scare off the fell creature. Joe needed to be more fearsome. To that end, he decided to employ some of the items he had gotten from Sougath. The first was his disguise. Joe drew the heavy pelt out of his dimbag. When he looked into the wolven face a tingle ran down his spine. Even in its deceased state, the feral visage radiated a primal hunger.

[Hide of the Night Hunter] (Item: Soulbound - Epic): This remnant of the Night Skinner retains many of its lycanthropic properties: • Self-Repair (Median), • Damage Resistance Physical (Median), • Damage Resistance Magical (Median), • Damage Resistance Spiritual (Median), • Vulnerability to Silver (Major), • Morphic: The hide can grow and shrink in size from 1x1 to 15x15 feet. It can alter its shape into forms ranging from a simple wall-hanging to complex clothing. • Feral Instincts: The hide retains its original hunger. Anything placed within its jaws will cause them to bite down, syphoning moderate damage into repairs and grappling the item until commanded to release. {Moon}

He settled the furred head on top of his own and willed the item to cover his body. The pelt flowed down his back and over his limbs. He made sure his already bestial hands and the iron points remained uncovered, but the hide around his wrists reinforced the bandage, securing his punching weapons even further.

The wildness decided to be helpful. Joe felt his body shifting to better fit the form natural to the pelt. He wouldn't be able to reach the size of the Night Skinner with [Morphic Form], but felt his shoulders swell and his knees shift, giving him a more springy step. Joe ended up removing his boots as his feet were altered to rebalance his adjusted body. The hide covered them too, giving damage resistance to his shoeless feet. His soles ended up better protected than they had been with his boots on. None of these changes were as fully transformative as his claws or a real shape-changing potion. They were just minor adjustments to help Joe pull off his monstrous subterfuge.

To complete the ruse, Joe engaged [Ideal Alias]. He picked a name that related to hunting and iron, while trying to match Illuminaria's naming conventions.

Ferrous Harrier: Level 24: Lycanthrope, Brute, Vigor

He knew the bullcrap he had chosen wouldn't stand up any serious scrutiny, but he figured it didn't have to. By the time the gwyllgi was able to identify him, Joe planned to be keeping it busy enough that it wouldn't have time to inspect his fake info.

Just before setting off, Joe had an epiphany. He created a small pocket in the hide over his left palm and used it to stash the iron shavings into.

Finally ready, Joe prowled into the marsh. The scent trail he was following left him no doubt as to his direction. He felt a little weird, essentially wearing a werewolf costume, but between [Morphic Form] and the magic nature of the pelt, it actually felt completely normal. Even better, it thwarted the clouds of biting insects from feasting on his skin.

When he reached a location where multiple gwyllgi scent trails began to overlap, the wildness slowed him down and sharpened his focus on the owls around him. As the trail so far had been so easy to follow, Joe had not needed any help, but with the feral instinct demanding his attention, he added [Crystal Mind].

Whether it was due to the mind skill or the wildness's predatory nature, Joe found he could read the area clearly. He saw how the paths all seemed to lead to a dark tangle of shrubs beneath a hanging widow maker. The top half of one of the old trees had broken off and was caught precariously between its remaining trunk and another one nearby.

As Joe peered into the space under the suspended crown of branches, he could not help but feel as though there was something more to the shadows amidst the tangle. He recalled something Corra had said before he had left.

Joe had asked how easy it was to find a way between Illuminaria and the Feylands. The old hunter's answer had been, "They are just about everywhere if ye know where to look. Forests are the best but not the only ways between the realms. Fey roads are all about us, and the doors to them can be as formal as a set of standing stones or a ring of mushrooms. Yet they can be as simple as a pair of crossed trees, a cave, a hollow log, or merely a gap in a stone wall."

Joe was certain the shadowy bosk in front of him was one such doorway, as well as the lair of the beast he sought.

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