If I didn't know any better, I'd say today was another pleasant day in the woods. A soft breeze blows through the forest rustling the leafy canopy, branches swaying to and fro, disturbing the rest of small, colourful birds.

I slow down my pace, deciding that I'm close enough to where the axe likely rests that I should probably conserve my energy. My status screen doesn't have any clear indication of how far my stamina is going to take me, same for health points which presumably exist if weaponry has a flat damage value attributed to it. But despite jogging at what is probably my former running pace for at least 2 minutes, I don't even feel particularly winded.

Emotional turmoil aside, living in Nealan's body really is quite something else. My inner neuroscience student is slavering at the complexity of the feedback I'm getting. A pity I didn't get to quiz the technicians or the medical examiner before they turned me into Discount-Neo. I make a mental note to ask them about how it all works when I return.

I heft the hatchet off my shoulder and grip I tightly in my right hand, with my left hand hovering over my knife's scabbard. From this point on I should assume I'm entering the Dirolfts' territory and that I can be attacked at any time for trespassing. If memory serves, there's a smallish abandoned root fox den a little further north of here that they've probably dug out and taken residence in.

The root foxes were a persistent nuisance to me and my Da, but they never got too violent and minded their own business so long as Da left some tree roots nearby for them to chew on. Presumably, the Dirolfts have already eaten them, which is a damn shame. They were pretty friendly towards me when I was a kid, even if they spared my Da scant mercy if he annoyed them.

The trip down memory lane is interrupted by an odd smell. Closing my eyes, I take a few short sniffs. It's faint, but I'm positive its blood.

I wince at the accidental pun. Shaking off the shame, I come to the conclusion that wherever it is, the corpse of the Dirolft Da killed can't be far off. Licking my finger, I hold it up, trying to figure out which way the wind is coming from, then walk towards it.

Before long, I come across what I'm looking for. Though not precisely where the wind was blowing from, when I approached the general vicinity and the smell intensified, tracking down the source of the odour was a simple matter of hot or cold.

On the floor, the corpse of brown-furred Dirolft rests, almost peaceful if not for the axe embedded in it's skull, the leather-wrapped haft pointed off toward the sky like a macabre sundial.

Quest Updated! Locate the Axe 1/1

Not like I needed the reminder, but that's step one down. I begin to approach before freezing up, a soft growl reverberates from behind me. It appears as though one of the Dirolft stuck around. I don't think I can make a grab for the heirloom, even if it would be a better weapon against the beast, but I'm reasonably confident I don't need it.

Raising my bronze hatchet, I grab the handle with both hands, gripping tightly. Breathing deep, I turn around, locate the Dirolft skulking behind a tree, and charge towards it, axe held at centre-mass, ready to parry if it takes a lunge for my throat or legs.

Lacking the intelligence to hesitate, now it's been discovered, the monster coils back and leaps - lupine maw split wide to show two uneven rows of jagged teeth and a snake's forked tongue. I halt just before It collides with me and ram the haft of my hatchet in it's jaw, as if on reflex, the Dirolft clamps down, hind legs swinging and flailing behind as I move with it's momentum, twisting the hatchet and slamming the monster on it's back, letting go of the tool, and hastily drawing my seax.

It yelps at the impact, relinquishing the axe and scrabbling to get to it's feet - but too late - I stomp a booted heel into it's flank and ram the knife into it's neck, twisting the blade with a wrench of both hands, and holding it in place until it stops struggling.

The fight lasted for all of 30 seconds. Quick and efficient, I see no reason to drag out the fight long enough for it to howl for it's pack.

Yanking the knife out, I wipe off the small amount of lingering blood on it's fur, as well as the slobber from the handle of my hatchet. A quick glance around the area doesn't reveal any additional Dirolfts waiting in the wings, so I let out a shaky breath and stand, giving the warm corpse a long, hard look.

I half-expect to feel something after killing it, some sort of fear or disgust. But all that remains is a lingering sense of satisfaction at how easily I dealt with the thing. In a way, it's final proof that the life of an Adventurer is not out of my grasp; I'm already better than a common mercenary with this, after all.

Idly, I wonder if I should try skinning the pelt off it, but decide better of it. I don't even know where to start on the task, and I'm liable to ruining the fur with my shitty dexterity and amateur sensibilities. There's also the very real risk that the scent of exposed flesh and offal will attract more Dirolfts or worse.

I can probably haul the corpses back to town and see if one of the locals will take them off my hands for a bit of coin though, but that will have to wait until I've made sure that the Dirolft pack is dead, so I don't get run down on the way back by vengeful beasts.

Regardless, time's a-wasting, and if nothing else, I need to collect Da's axe from the other corpse.

I approach the older body, which smells something fierce now that I'm up close, and prepare to remove it from the Dirolft's skull. It's bitten pretty deep into the head, easily splitting the monster's brain. As sharp as the axe is, Da had to have swung it pretty hard at an awkward angle to get it like this. I've always known he was stronger than he looked, but even so, seeing the result of that strength applied to something other than a stationary tree is quite the thing.

I place my left boot on the Dirolft's open maw, then, after dropping my old hatchet, I take the haft of the heirloom into my hands and tug, hard. For a brief moment, nothing happens, but I feel it slide out all at once, a wet shlicking noise accompanying it that ends with the crunch of bone snapping under my foot from too much pressure. It's unclear whether I was putting too much weight on the corpse, or if the time spent decaying had weakened the bone, but the sensation is incredibly unpleasant, sending a shiver up my spine.

Job done, I hold the axe up and take a better look at it. Da never let me touch it, mostly on account of my age the times I got curious enough to try, so it's not unlike finally getting to see the inside of the metaphorical cookie jar.

??? Quality: Unique, Magical, Masterwork Weapon Type: Two-handed Axe Damage: 60-79 Damage Type: Slash Enchantment: ??? Requirements: 12 STR, Forrester Bloodline Integrity: 94% Durability: Extreme Abilities: ??? Magical Affinity: ???

A Lumber Axe of supreme quality passed down from father to son for generations.

The true worth of this marvel of metallurgy and enchantment is perhaps long forgotten.

Forget the Sword in the Stone, this is the Axe in the Dirolft! No wonder Mam was so upset Da lost it, holy fuck!

My eyes damn near bulge out of their sockets as I observe the stat sheet on this glorious bastard of an axe. Filial piety is pretty much the only thing stopping me from taking this beauty and running for the hills. But I'm not a heartless bastard, and though it's my birthright, the axe is still rightfully my father's until he can no longer swing it.

I sigh, cursing my good nature half-heartedly. Having said all that, it's not going to stop me from using it while I have it, so I make the executive decision to shove the handle of the hatchet between my belt and my waist, the head peeking over the top like a hook to hold it in place, then give the heirloom a few practice swings. It's a fair bit heavier than the bronze hatchet, with a shiny silver coloured head and light engraving; Fastened to the head with bolts of metal through the wooden haft.

Confident that I've gotten the backswing of the tool under control, I take a few minutes to reacquire my bearings, constantly alert for any other roaming Dirolfts and eager to try out my new (borrowed) toy on them.

Trees pass me by and give way to even more trees. With no real landmarks in sight, it's pretty easy to get yourself turned around if you can't catch a glimpse at the position of the sun through the canopy. Thankfully, one detail that's remained the same is where the big ol' ball of flame rises and sets, so if I wasn't already familiar with the layout of Klennock Woods I'd not have too tough a time. There's also the option of just climbing a tree, but I'm a bit bulkier than when I was 8, so I'm not confident the trees will be able to support my weight at the top, despite experience and Da's lectures telling me that a Klennock tree is stronger than normal and could probably do just that.

Soon, a clearing comes into view. In the centre protrudes a large mound of soil, covered in rocks of varying sizes, and infested with thick, leafy grey vines. At the base, an opening into an underground root fox den, surrounded by an archway of discordant stone formations, now burst at the seams, the ground scraped and gouged out into a pile of sodden earth, atop which lies a much larger Dirolft, the approximate size of a small car, sunning itself.

Almost certainly the Alpha. It's scaled tail is as thick as my arm, and the maw on the brute could probably swallow me whole. An experience I'd prefer to avoid, thank you very much.

Scanning the area, I don't see any other Dirolft. That doesn't mean there aren't any nearby, there could very well be some in the cave, or further ahead, amongst the trees at the opposite side of the clearing. Regardless, I've been presented with an opportunity, and I'm damn well going to take it.

Not wanting to waste time and give the monsters a chance to realise they're about to die, I take several deep breaths, raise the axe over my head, and burst into a sprint, breaking into the open space at speed, but eschewing the traditional warcry, since only an idiot announces their presence prior to an ambush.

Even so, the Dirolft stirs in reaction to my presence, the great brown mass of fur bristling. But whether through the depth of it's slumber, or the difficulty of moving it's lumbering form, the monstrous wolf reacts far too slow to present a defence. I leap up, and hammer the axe down hard into it's skull, making use of Reckless Strike to add further power. The accuracy penalty is difficult to apply when striking such a large, mostly stationary target after all.

The effect is immediately noticeable. The blade sinks easily into the canine face, obliterating it's left eye and eliciting an excruciating howl from the Alpha. Vibrations from the rough impact travel up my arm, and I can feel my joints scream in response to the excessive force used.

Worthy of it's title, the Alpha Dirolft is not dead from the first strike and starts flailing wildly, snapping at my leg and attempting to shake me off. Holding onto the embedded axe, I ignore the agony I feel in my arms, rendering the beast's efforts to get me off self-destructive; Since shifting my weight around so violently causes the axe to twist in the wound, gouging it further until it executes a roll.

I dismount it's head, pulling the now loose axe with me, and stumble down the loose pile of dirt. In the distance, I hear another two Dirolfts howl in response to their leader's pained cries. I can't afford to let them rally.

Thankfully, the wound is causing the Alpha intense distress, and it rolls back and forth, whining as it scratches with both forelegs at the fleshy dent. Thus, it is defenceless to my next overhead strike. I imagine splitting a log as I aim for it's neck, swinging over and over again with all my remaining strength until I cleave through entirely.

Tired, and covered in the spray of the beast's blood, I lift the axe over my shoulder with one hand and fish out the Pouch of Pungent Powders with the other.

As if on cue, the remaining monsters rush from the treeline from opposite directions in a fury. Recognising I won't be able to loosen the string in time, I abandon the hasty plan and drop the pouch on the ground to take the axe back.

The one barrelling down on me from the south-east reaches me faster, aiming it's toothy vice toward my leg, which it gets, in the form of my boot to it's chin. The tip forked tongue flies off, caught in the scissors of it's forcibly clenched teeth. The attack stopped I twist around, swinging wide and hard with my axe for a second Reckless Strike at it's partner.

Predictably, I miss, only managing to graze it's neck before it tackles me to the ground, gnashing at my throat. Grabbing it's throat, in turn, I wrangle my other arm around it's head and twist, snapping it's neck, only to feel the teeth of the now recovered first Dirolf around my shoulder.

Gritting my teeth, drawing my spare hatchet, I take a page from Da's book and smash it into the skull of the final monster, then prise it's mouth open, pull the axe from it's corpse and hit it again for good measure.

All enemies defeated, the silence is broken intermittently by heavy breathing and pained, half-crazed laughter.

"That...WAS AMAZING!" I yell, grinning from ear to ear, heart still pounding, "Ha..hahaha...HAHAHAHA! This is exactly what I'm talking...about..."

My elation is cut short, surprised by the sudden urge to dry heave, and the pain in my arms and bitten should returns, in all it's intensity, and then some. Shaky fingers, now starting to numb, let the axe slip from my grasp, and I collapse to my knees, screaming in pain.

Revelling in the bloodlust, I didn't pay much attention to the brutal way I dealt with the monsters, nor to the harm I was doing to myself. I figured it would be fine since Nealan had gone through similar before, but I neglected to remember that Nealan was delirious from blood loss, and fainted before the adrenaline high wore off. Furthermore, as Cyril, I may have been a scrappy bastard, but I never killed anything larger than a big house spider. Seeing the corpses mutilated like this, by my hand, after feeling every inch of blade I fed their bodies, spraying myself in their blood and hearing their anguished cries, the numbness I felt with the lone Dirolft earlier shattered.

Theirs was a swift death, unlike these. I didn't give myself the time for it to disturb me.

Flexing my stinging fingers and clutching my bleeding shoulder, I stand up, resolving to learn to better control my emotions in battle, and out of it. Losing myself in the Hunger is a swift way to lose my sanity and become a literal axe murderer...

After a few minutes spent calming down and removing a strip from the right leg of my trousers to bandage my wound, I notice something peculiar on the body of the Alpha Dirolft: What looks suspiciously like a cattle tag on one of his floppy ears. But if that's the case, who owns this thing?

Quest Updated!

Optional: Destroy the Dirolft Pack 1/1

Bonus Objective Revealed!

Discovered evidence that the Dirolft Alpha (Lvl.8) has an owner 1/1

That can't be a good sign. One does not simply lose an animal this large, after all, and if I'm honest, I was expecting the pack to be larger than it was.

For now, let's take the Alpha's head back to the village as a trophy, and drop Da's axe off on the way.