From the Darkness

Most of the thin strands have been tied together for easier management and go down to almost my mid back. I allow a few shorter strands to fall in front of my ears.

I know by the weight of the quiver slung across my back that I have twenty arrows. Five of those are laced with a toxin that will induce paralysis, but I’ve never tested this batch against something like a satyr. There’s nothing quite like a field test.

My bow which, like any self-respecting hunter, I made myself, is still clenched in my hand. Two more arrows are clipped to the side. I can notch these arrows in complete silence and have them aimed and ready to be released in less than two seconds.

The bow is where I’ve invested most of my training. It’s a bit more complex than the more traditional kal’dorei kind. The wood, though, is from this area. The small pulleys allow it to be drawn with more gradual tension, while also maintaining accuracy. I’ve tweaked it enough that I know its optimal range like the back of my hand.

I have also come to appreciate the short katana is strapped along the side of my quiver. All that training is finally teaching me how to wield a sword properly. However, my blade is nothing fancy. I bought it used at a clearance sale at a local armory in Darnasus. The curved dagger, though, is a gift from a friend. Nicely balanced and intricately crafted, it’s one of my prized weapons, but also I one I rarely use.

There’s also the small crossbow strapped to the leather bracer around my left wrist. I usually keep it concealed under the large sleeves of my cloak, but with my cloak part of the decoy, it’s out in the open. Twisting my thumb a certain way arms the device. Pulling the strings encircling my thumb and small finger will launch a small bolt. More bolts are attached under the bracer so I can reload it quickly, but I’m proud that I’ve figured out how fire at least one shot without using two hand.

The crossbow’s range is very limited, as is its accuracy, but it has saved my life on a few occasions. Hey, I like gadgets.

Right now, though, I’m struggling to remember Rule #20. Patience may be a virtue and I’ve learned it out of a desire to be the best tracker I can be, but I’m also rapidly growing tired of waiting. Mother would have blamed it on my youth. I blame it on a prey that doesn’t respect that my time is valuable.

The aroma of the venison cooking over the campfire isn’t helping either. It’s making my mouth water and I can feel my stomach threatening to growl. How embarrassing would that be to have my cover ruined by the protests of an empty stomach?

The camp below is sheltered from the rainstorms typical of Darkshore by a rocky abutment. I chose it because it’d be the logical place for any unsuspecting fool to camp. In fact, there were signs that other had previously made camp here. Surely this would be one of the locations on this satyr’s trail. And if not, then hopefully the scent of my blood on the disguised dummy and the aroma of cooking meat will drive the demon here.

I, on the other hand, am perched high up in a tree and located downwind. I know satyrs have a good sense of smell, so I’m not taking any chances that he might detect me. I’ve also taken the extra step of spreading silverleaf extract on my clothing and skin. This extract absorbs most scents, so, Elune willing, even if the wind shifts direction, he shouldn’t detect me.

It’s also good for keeping bugs away. On the other hand, the extract causes my skin to itch and I’ve been fighting that feeling for hours. What’s the point of protecting from itchy bug bites if it causes irritation itself?

So, on top of being soaking wet, cold I’m also itchy.

All Mr. Crimson Satyr needs to do is to finally take the damn bait. Then, I can stick an arrow through his brainstem and finally cure this itch.

And then Commander Ravenheart will accept that I’m making the most of mother’s wish.

I would have never expected the highway to take me here.