26th of Thermidor, 1535

Moira polished the shotgun’s barrels and stock until they shone brilliantly. She called out Oleander to meet her at the open field beside the run-down barn; this would become their de-facto firing range.

“Here you go Herr Swine, your new finely crafted shotgun.” The rugged monster was giddy like a child during Yuletide. The gun’s barrels were twenty-four inches long, and the wooden stock was light brownish in color with slightly redder streaks going through it; the aroma was faint but it did smell sweet—probably maple wood. The firearm also felt heftier than many of the rifles Oleander had used before.

“Most shotguns you will find utilize single barrels, but given your profession, my custom design has twin barrels. The barrels are also wider than normal shotguns—ten-gauge to be precise—and they will only take ammunition of that size.” Moira took out a small leather container and handed it to Oleander, “These are custom shells as well; you have five shot shells and five slug shells.”

“Shot and slug? It sounds like you built me a miniature cannon instead of a gun.”

“That is an apt comparison—”

“—Can you build me a cannon?”

Moira paused. “I don’t see why I couldn’t make one. But let us focus on one weapon at a time. I want to note something about these shells—they are wrapped in special silk for stability. They are also waterproof…to a certain extent. I would not go swimming with them, but if they are briefly submerged from time to time, they won’t lose their effectiveness. The silk also, unfortunately, makes them even more flammable than they would be normally.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Oleander remarked, “Alright! Tell me how she works.”

Moira pushed the barrels down and the breech end kicked up, “Shells in there.” Oleander loaded in two slug rounds. “Each barrel has an external hammer, pull them back and they will be ready to fire. If even one of the hammers is pulled back, you will not be able to open the back.” Moira then pointed down to the trigger guard, “The trigger in the front fires the left barrel, the one behind it fires the right barrel.”

“So I can only shoot one barrel at a time or can I shoot them simultaneously?”

“You can shoot them both,” Moira explained.

Oleander planted his feet and aimed towards the forest; Moira went ahead and placed old dinner plates among the foliage. He picked his target and pulled back on the trigger. The shotgun kicked back and the first slug tore through a dinner plate; it shattered into dozens of small shards.

“She’s a loud one!” Cormag called out.

“She kicks like nothing else too,” Oleander remarked as shook out his right hand.

“If anyone can handle repeated fire from this gun in particular, it would be you, Herr Swine.”

Oleander took the second shot and obliterated it—sending cascading debris into the woods.

Moira instructed, “Pull down the barrels and you should be able to let the empty shells slide out.”

The monster hunter followed her directions, and indeed the shells slid right out.

“Oh that’s just brilliant,” Oleander grinned as he realized just how fast he could load, shoot, and unload the gun, “Shot shells next?”

“Do as you please.”

Oleander loaded two shotshells and aimed for a group of plates that were closer together. Two shots in rapid succession and at least five plates were either shattered or chipped.

Moira explained, “The effective range of pellet shot from this gun is thirty meters, beyond that and accuracy drops off significantly. The slugs are more forgiving at almost seventy-five meters.”

“But at close range, I can imagine this working like a dream. I would’ve loved this for fighting the griffin; I could’ve shredded through its wings like wet paper.”

As Oleander was about to load another pair into the gun, Moira caught his hand. “These shells also take a lot of time to make, let us not waste them all.”

Oleander, while initially dejected, understood Moira’s point, hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wait long before giving the shotgun a true field test.

“Well since this gun is finished. Would you still be open to working on something new?” Oleander asked.

“The cannon or are you referring to the griffin claws you brought me?”

“The claws. I was thinking a pair of gauntlets would be really nice. The talons could be on the knuckles and I could beat things down with them.”

Moira paused in thought, “I like the gauntlet idea, but the talons would have to be retractable. If the claws were always out they would not make for effective punching.”

“Then the gauntlets and claws would be two separate pieces?”

“They would have to be,” Moira began muttering to herself, “or it could be one piece, but the claws are on a track attached to the gauntlet. Spring-loaded...like the hammers on the shotgun. A mechanism can be pulled to have the claws move to the front of the gauntlet just above the knuckles. They would need to be locked in place for them to work, but then it would need to be manually set back...but what if…” Moira began to get giddy herself as half a dozen concept designs flashed through her head, “I need to think, I need to sketch.” Moira scampered back into the house feverishly trying to find her sketchbook.

“Show me your best ideas around dinnertime,” Oleander called.

Oleander looked over his shotgun; he had some spare leather that he could cobble together to make a halfway decent-looking holster.

“Hey, are you gonna sit there and gawk or are you going to give us the post?”

Cormag’s impromptu argument with the mail carrier caught Oleander off guard.

The young delivery boy looked over the pathetic farmstead and asked, “is-is this Fawksden?”

Mockingly, Cormag looked up the road and then down, “What do you think?”

“Don’t mind him, he gets mouthy when he’s not fed,” Oleander wandered over to collect the post himself. Cormag jokingly snapped his jaws at the poor boy as he quickly took off.

“Anything important going on?” Cormag asked.

Oleander unfurled the paper and began to read aloud as the two walked back into the house.

*****

13th of Thermidor, 1535

Colm, Northern Morrigan

The remains of an unidentifiable man were discovered floating near the south bank of the Emerald lake. All that is known is that he was a fisherman given his vessel was found partially sunk about ten meters from the body’s location. The hull on the starboard side of the vessel was found to have a massive gash across it and the mast was snapped in half.

The discovery of the body happens to coincide with reports of an aquatic monster sighted near or within the lake. One sensationalist report asserts this supposed creature to be a seven-and-a-half meters long crocodile with massive pointed claws. A conflicting claim states that the creature resembles a strange salamander with long, and thin segmented legs and a strange-looking tail. Despite mounting speculation, no definitive evidence has been brought forward.

Reports taken from fishermen who frequent the lake have said that the southern edge of the lake is known for its sharp rocks and difficult maneuverability during summer thunderstorms. Thunderstorms were indeed reported between the 11th and 12th of Thermidor.

*****

16th of Thermidor, 1535

Sterling, Southern Morrigan

Hilda Eatwell, age five, and Sibilla Braunstone, age nine, disappeared on the morning of July the 9th. They were last seen by Sibilla’s mother while on their way to primary school. The parents of both children were notified of their children’s absences shortly after the first hour of classes. The only evidence left behind of the two girls has been a doll, allegedly belonging to Hilda, found stuck in a tree two days after their disappearance; the doll was discovered roughly halfway between the Braunstone residence and the southern gate to Sterling. Police have begun more regular patrols of the southern and western entrances to the city.

This brings the list of missing children to five:

Theodore “Teddy” Brooks

Age: 8 Eyes: Blue Hair: Brown, straight

Catherine Wells

Age: 5 Eyes: Green Hair: Blonde, curly

Kevin Applegarth

Age: 7 Eyes: Brown Hair: Black, straight

Hilda Eatwell

Age: 5 Eyes: Blue Hair: Blonde, long

Sibilla Braunstone

Age: 9 Eyes: Brown Hair: Brown, curly

“We are working ‘round the clock in order to find these poor, scared children. Unfortunately, whoever is responsible for these abductions has left very few clues behind. I am confident that this individual will be captured within the next few days as firefighters and mail carriers are aiding us in our investigation. Please, I implore anyone with even the smallest shred of information, contact the Sterling Police Department.” — quote Irene Bushnell, Sterling Police Captain.

*****

“Wait! Irene Bushnell?! Cormag! Ivy’s in charge of this investigation!” Oleander shouted in the middle of his kitchen.

“Who is this Ivy person, and why are you screaming?” Moira called from the storage room.

“She was in the Red Wolves with me and Cormag,” Oleander explained.

“She was?” Cormag asked.

“You called her little flower girl,” Oleander clarified.

Cormag’s eyes immediately lit up. He excitedly shouted back, “Little flower girl made something of herself!”

“Don’t you see Cormag, this is our in, Ivy can get us the information we need to help solve these kidnappings. Cormag, Moira, pack your bags, we’re off on the road to Sterling.”

“How?” Moira called back, “We don’t have a horse anymore.”

Oleander stared at the floor for a brief moment before rushing for the safe underneath his bed. He grabbed a handful of talon banknotes and then grabbed Cormag by the coat collar. “We’ll make a quick trip to town before picking you up Moira, be ready in about...a couple of hours.”