FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Wildlands Forests have always been a place of danger for the unwary, but within the most recent generation, the danger has only grown. With increased aggressiveness, the cool of autumn gives way to the chill of an early winter, yet the first frost is yet to fall. Druids disappear deep into their inner circles, speaking of secret rites and becoming far more insular than they ever have before. Animals, both predator and prey, keep to smaller hunting grounds and burrow their nests closer to civilization. The changes have not gone unnoticed by those who patrol the forests, keeping the people who live close to the wild, unhindered lands safe from invasions from nature while also respecting her dominion over this place.

One such ranger is Baze. This little guardian stands about as tall as a human child, which often makes those who meet her unaware. Dressed in the hooded cloak and leathery armor of the Wildlands walker, her identity is often a mystery. The "Little Hood," as some have grown to call her, expertly tracks any wild beast and deals with those who do not respect the boundaries between towns and wilds. Often, this means putting the creature down and picking up a nice snack for herself. Carnivores and predators are usually far too gamey, but for a survivalist, and one such as herself, they are perfect. It's an easy job, with great pay and the benefits of providing a hearty day's meal

This job, however, feels like it is far too different for her tastes. It started out simply enough. The local dairy farmer contacted rangers through the town's noticeboard asking to find what happened to his missing cattle. Tracking down lost animals is a simple enough job, so she took it along with reports of a monster in the woods. Something that local children called "terrible" and "unlike anything they had ever seen before," so probably a bear. There's also the possibility that the local bandits are up to no good. They aren't above some misdirection. After all, Khusk's bunch are quite full of tactical wisdom. It's how they've survived so long. Regardless, if she finds the missing cow had gone to that one's camp, she can kiss her money goodbye.

The trail is easy enough to follow. The cow appeared to have just wandered off, but the recent cold rains have made the ground soft and wet. Hoof-prints go across one of the more well-known game trails, and as she follows them, she realizes she heads towards one of the deeper, more wild branches of the woods.

"Fairies," the ranger growls, pulling her bow free from her shoulders. If the fey have come to the village to cause some mischief, it won't just be the cow that is in danger-they could be seeking out would-be rescuers to have some fun with. While the fair folk can be friendly enough, things can also turn sour if one's desires do not go along with their alien ones. With the cow walking off with little rest, there is little doubt in her mind that it is one of them that lures the beast. Any moment now, Baze predicts she will sniff the air to catch a whiff of a spiced roast and hear the boisterous cries of hedonistic parties. She smirks at the thought. Some sylvan wine would go quite well with steak. Besides, the drink and the bonfire that is no doubt to accompany their dance would also be a welcoming warmth in these unusually cold times.

But, she doesn't catch the scent of cooked meat. What lingers in the air is instead the iron-rich fragrance of spilled blood. This is mixed with the damp, electric heaviness of the air. She doesn't hear the songs of the satyrs, but instead the clap of thunder. Damn it all, when did the weather slip from her? She keeps her bow ready and increases the pace of her travel, leaving tell-tale tracks of her own, but mostly caring about getting a confirmation. Any creature she runs into out here, she could easily handle.

Over a hilly area of the forest, the smell becomes more pungent, until she finds the small river gorge. There, collapsed upon the ground below, is the mangled remains of the cow. Well, that certainly answers where it went, but how did it get there? If she was going to find out, she needed to do so quickly. So, she judges the best movement down, and she hops from outcropping to outcropping, quickly descending the walls with her years of experiences. When she finally lands before the fallen creature, she hisses. Whatever had killed this cow had done it in such a bizarre manner. It's flesh and muscle were stripped clean off its face, leaving a grinning skull. Its body is dessicated, looking as if it had been left out in the sun for weeks, not the hours it had been. But what could have done this to it? What manner of beast or being in the forest would kill seemingly for sport, yet leave this grisly trophy behind.

A looming sense of dread falls over the hooded ranger, and she spins around, holding her bow in one hand and pulling out her short sword with the other. When she raises the blade, steel clashes against steel as she looks into the eyes of a large, thickly-muscled orc. Not just any orc, either. She recognizes the hodge-podge of armor and the tattoo upon his shoulder. "Khusk's Bandits," Baze hisses.

The orc steps back, chuckling as he looks down to her. "Little hooded ranger," he responds. "Best not to skulk around cursed lands, unless ye want someone to chop yer head off."

"Did you have something to do with this?" She asks, leveling her blade at him. "You and your like low on cheese to go with all the wine you waste?"

He flashes her a toothy grin. His uneven teeth give him a more monstrous look. "No way I will rat out my comrades, he says. "You want ta tussle? Come on, then."

"Ideally, I would not," the ranger admits, as thunder rumbles in the distance. "I simply seek to know what happened here. It's a waste of time and effort to do combat. If you are not responsible for this, then do you really think I am worth fighting just to rob?"

The orc snorts, and he becomes the first of the two to relax his posture, giving her a quick shrug. "Nah. Maybe if I had some of my crew with me, we'd easily take ya on, but I'm in no mood ta be on a ranger's bad side." He slides his weapon away. "Not that I wouldn't come off on top. I just don't feel like gettin' my new pants ripped up."

"I wouldn't want the stink of bandit blood on my blade, nor would I want to waste arrows trying to penetrate them through your thick skull," she replies, though there is a slight bit of levity to both of their voices in their ribbing. She sheathes her blade and points a gloved hand over to the cow. "So, what did that, then? There were no tracks. Did you see some flying creature nearby?

The orc stomps over towards the carcass, kicking its back with his boot before he kneels down before it. "I was just examinin' the place before ya brought yer tiny ass over here," he admits. "As to the what did this. Dunno. Birds're gone. No sound of 'em 'round these parts."

"That's what concerns me," she says, tapping a finger on her bow.

"Yeah, well, whatever it was, sure seemed ta like this cow's brain, blood too. They drained it dry. Just look at these here 'uge holes"

He inches a finger closer, about to prod at the skin, but Baze, with her lightning reflexes, fires an arrow into the carcass just where the orc was about to poke.

"Wot the-!?' the orc gasps, falling back. "The 'ell you doin' that fo-!" he begins to shout at her, but he immediately notices the truth when the cow's body shudders and spasms, the muscles exploding out of the skin, tearing free of their body. The strands of what is left of the former cow's musculature rip apart and twine together like thick and powerful ropes, until, standing on top of the deflated, bloodless body, is a parody of a humanoid form made of rotting, dried meat and the grinning, horned skull of the bovine looking to the two with an insidious cackle.

The orc snarls and pulls one sword free, followed by another short sword. He jumps straight up to attack the thing, but it takes a long, sinewy arm and slams him into the wall of the gorge with a terrible hiss.

Baze narrows her eyes and raises her weapon, firing two arrows off into the eye sockets of this unnatural beast. They aim true, causing it to rear back, stumbling out of its bovine shell.

What was it? Shapeshifter? Skinwalker? Wendigo? There are many nasty things that live--and unlive--in the forest, and it could be any number of them. Right now, though, it is time to put it down. She knows she didn't finish it off, so she runs up along the rocky wall, kicking off of the side and jumping into the air to get some height. From that position, she fires down more arrows that fling into its skull. Even if they do not kill it, they still stagger the beast.

The orc rubs his chest ands slaps his face, getting his bearings before he snarls at it. "No one bitch slaps Khorash!" he roars, before charging in, slashing at one of the beast's long tentacle arms.

Cleaving through it like a butcher does a cut of meat, Khorash continues, spinning deftly and carving up the creature's muscle-body. As he does, he glances over to the recently landed ranger and calls out. "Can't you at least do some real damage to it, ya runt!?"

Baze reaches for her pouch, letting her cloak flutter back as she goes for her belt. "Why don't you avoid its attacks, you big oaf!?"

He raises a pierced eyebrow, only to quickly look up to see the creature taking its one good arm and raise its elbow up over his head for a stunning blow.

He is quick to respond, slicing upwards, his blades gleaming as they make ribbons out of the beasts arm meats.

Rancid beef cutlets clatter to the ground, leaving the monster with just its legs to work with, but it has other means of attack. The creature lowers its shoulder stumps and tilts its horns towards the orc.

Khorash snarls and raises arms for another attack, when Baze shouts. "Now, out of the way!"

He grunts in annoyance, but decides to listen, jumping out of the way as the creature charges its way forward, passing just where he was once standing.

Baze stares the creature down, and, as it passes the orc, Baze smiles.

The monster has no time to break out of its charge, and though it is a monster made out of pure muscle, that muscle is still from a rotted cow. And any unruly and hearty cow would never be able to break out what was in the small bag that Baze tossed at it. The tiny little pouch strikes the abomination's horn, tearing instantly on contact. As if it were magic, the black, tarry contents inside immediately expand, covering the monster almost completely in a thick black mass.

The monster immediately collapses on the ground, thrashing around with angry clattering of its bovine teeth. Yet, with half of its muscle mass cut off by Khorash, it only flails around impotently.

Baze stands over it, folding her arms over her chest and snickering. "For all your horribleness, you're not even as smart as a run-of-the-mill animal." She frowns though, and shudders. "But... what are you?"

Twin swords plunge down through the cow skull, cracking it where they puncture through, and it immediately falls limp, leaving the trap holding nothing but an inanimate pile of raw meat.

"And that," Khorash said, "is how you kill a monster!" Khorash smiles a dumb grin over towards Baze as the two stand among the remains of the terrifying monster. It doesn't last long, however, as another peal of thunder ushers in a downpour right on top of the two rangers. Baze immediately sheathes her weapon and points on down the gorge's trail, shouting to her orcish companion about the existence of a cave not too far down the way.

The two sprint, using their survivalist skills to make it through the slick rock without slipping. Despite the torrent creating a waterfall over her hood, she keeps her eye on the bandit whenever possible, now wishing to be caught off-guard in case he wished to try something stupid. Hopefully, though, he feels like basking in the thrill of victory as much as he does. It's much better to indulge it with company."

The two make it to the cave entrance, and silently, both of them take on tasks to make the place hospitable. Fire-starting blocks and flint and steel packs are enough to get them a source of warmth going, but in the supernatural cold, it s not enough to keep their bodies from shivering.