“Pretty man,” exclaimed the girl once more, but even with her eyes being as wide as they were currently, he couldn't tell what colour her irises were in the dying light. However, he could see that she had a dirty-blonde coloured hair, though it could be from the fact that it was somewhat matted and in need of a professional barber and hair dresser.

Regardless, he was able to somewhat remember her as, “...the girl who got me that pair of pants.” With a snap of his fingers he exclaimed with a smile, and she bobbed her head with a wider grin. Of which quickly became a frown as she stared about herself for something.

This did not last long, as she sighed with some content whilst trotting over to a somewhat damaged, woven basket containing several green and brown plants that were tinged with the juice of an unknown red berry. Curious, Karastak loomed over, which startled her a little enough to warrant a small yip escaping her lips. Resulting in Azazel releasing a small giggle at the sight, but otherwise staying silent throughout the whole ordeal. “What do you have there?” he asks slowly and softly, doing his best not to startle her anymore.

“Um,” he could see a stream of scarlet rushing across her features, before placing the basket in front of her face to hide the embarrassment, “Herbs?”

“Ah. Do you need help with that?” Her head shook quickly, “Are you lost?” Again, another shake of her head, “Then we should at least see you home. Is that alright?” This time, however, she became hesitant for a time before nodding slowly.

“[Someone has a crush on you,]” teased the little girl in his head, and projected the image of herself poking his left cheek. Of which was reciprocated by his physical hand brushing it away.

He was well aware of the signs, as his intellect was higher than others his level, and then there was his last life where he read many a story which depicted an oblivious main character to the antics of their opposite sex. Therefore, he did not allow such a thing to bother him, but played the role of a gentleman as best he could. For although he was not privy to the world's view on courtship ages, he still viewed this girl as someone far too young for himself.

In any case, he offered to hold the basket for her, but was refused as she hugged it closer to her body. Nodding once, and instead offered his hand to be held, but even that was denied. Resulting in her face becoming a bright scarlet that steamed as she turned her back on himself, leading him in an apparent westward direction.

The trek did not take very long, especially with her leading the way, but he did spot her glancing back at himself every now and again. If he caught the gaze, she would whip her head away and quicken her pace until she was half a metre further away before slowing down and chancing another glance behind herself. Which almost immediately turned into a game for the pair, and he was even enjoying the small sport of catching her gaze as quickly as he could whilst she did her best to stare at his body for longer periods of time.

Unfortunately, such an antic was cut short, as the forest opened up to a wide plain with with a few houses and barns dotting off to the left, and what appeared to be a small village containing several dozens of small huts before their eyes. Which left Karastak feeling some nervousness at the multitude, but it was quickly overridden by the fact that there was a small hand connected to a blushing girl that pulling on his own and leading himself into the collection of houses. Where he gave a slight smile to the notion, and called a quick halt to herself.

Upon doing so, she turned and watched as a mote of yellow light danced atop his staff of stone. After which, his eyes turned towards herself, and he noticed the dirty-blonde hair, but it was coupled with a pair of soft brown and doe shape eyes within a face marred by the stress of farm life whilst being as tanned as one who worked in the fields. Of which caused him to recall another person with the same tanned skin, but immediately shook the thought away, as it called upon Azazel who frowned in his general direction.

The dress she wore, though dirtied, was frayed and almost see through, resulting in him frowning at the item worn. Which led to herself to shy away whilst shivering under the gaze, but almost returned immediately when a pair of loud drunkards sidled up to her.

“Gwiin,” hiccuped one who was a little taller than herself, but full of more muscle than brains, “Wha' yer doooin ou' 'ere?” He reached out for her arm, or perhaps something else, and was rewarded with first herself moving behind Karastak, and second, a swift crack upside his right temple from the stone pole-like staff in his hands.

Whereupon he noted a small stream of blood slipping away from the wound, and switched to his second sight. Once it was activated, he heard a gasp from the other drunkard and child, as his eyes drifted towards the fallen man. Whose pulse was slowly weakening, and resulted in a frown creasing his lips.

“Well, no matter,” he growled slowly whilst turning around towards the last drunkard and came upon an annoying sight. One where the remainder was doing his best to pull the child away from his presence, albeit a poor job. For she both wished to run away, but not with the man.

“So annoying,” he grumbled, and swung the staff at the back of the drunkard's neck, resulting in an audible crunch which caused a candle to be lit within one of the nearby houses. “Come,” he gripped the girl's arm as she stared with a horrified gaze down at both the dead and dying men, “let's return you to your home before more come to bother us.”

She knew the pair, and though the girl felt indebted to the pale “Pretty Man”, she did not wish to be near him, nor take him to see her family. For if he was as ruthless to the two who just wanted to give her a greeting, what would happen to her grandparents, sister, and the babe?

“No,” she moaned softly, a few tears leaking down her face as she pushed herself away from Karastak.

Of whom narrowed his eyes with his lips spreading downwards whilst the mote of light dipped out of existence, resulting in his eyes flaring with the colours of violet and crimson as he stared down at herself. Which led to her backing away slowly as he just stood there wondering, “Why are you so quick to run from me?” She, on the other hand, shook her head quickly, backing up as her eyes darted this way and that as though searching for an escape, or someone to help her.

“[You scare her, Karastak,]” sneered Azazel who sent a desire to do away with the child before them, but instead had to rub her forehead after the image of himself flicking the area was sent in response.

“She is a child, Azazel, and I do not... Oh, she's taken off,” and indeed she had, believing that he would soon extinguish her life as suddenly as the pair of drunkards who were just going to give their greetings to her. Therefore, she didn't want to be around him any longer, and did not stop until she ran into a familiar person, quite literally, too.

A brutish man of two hand a half metres in height that she had run into, caused her to fall onto her rear end. In his left hand, held up high, was a torch whilst his right rested upon a hilt upon his waist. Upon his chest was a standard hauberk to give himself some protection for the vital organs beneath, whereas his legs were covered by a pair of heavy leather trousers, and upon his feet were a pair of iron capped boots.

The moment the girl ran into him, he stumbled back whilst keeping a hand upon the hilt at his waist. Upon regaining his footing, the torch was pushed forward so his eyes could view who had run into him at a time when people were supposed to be heading off to their respective beds.

“Huh? Gwen? What're you doing out 'ere? Shouldn't you be in bed?”

“Suun,” Gwen's eyes bulged and were filled with tears as she scrambled to her feet before rushing to embrace her perceived savior whilst sobbing into his side.

Unsure of what to do, the man frowned and began to pet her head slowly. Of which seemed to calm her somewhat enough for himself to clear his throat and ask, “What's wrong, Gwen?” It was already known that she and her family had suffered much after her father, mother, and brothers were slain by something she called the “Pretty Man”. However, it seemed to have vanished after that night, only to reappear within the Goblin Cavern, dead. That is, until its body fell away to ash and dust, then nothing soon afterward. No one, not even those who studied Magicks and Mysticism could explain what happened, and therefore, many believed it was still out there to this day.

“Pretty Man,” she whimpered, pointing off towards the darkness which was illuminated by only a few candles within a scattering of windows, “Jeffery... Donovan...” More tears fell from her eyes, and she buried her face into his side once more.

Suun, on the other hand, widened his eyes whilst tossing his torch towards the ground in order to reach into a pouch at his side. Within it was a small spell crystal which held a minour magick called >. To activate it, all one must do is to fling it high into the air, where it must travel a distance of five metres before it activates. Whereupon a small, luminous ball of soft blue flame erupts from the crystal, illuminating the area as it continues to fly upwards before slowly falling to the ground below and calling forth those who knew of the signal's purpose.

Once the light was in the sky, Gwen peered up at it with some amazement, and felt a large and calloused hand upon her head. Turning towards its owner, she found Suun doing his best to reassure her as the earth beneath their feet released a tremor due to the many pairs of iron boots which rushed to their aid.

The sight of dozens of the farming community's own soldiers standing around Suun and Gwen with a mixed range of emotions from concern to annoyance from being awakened from their sleep. Each were then directed from whence the girl had come, along with the words of, “She says it's the 'Pretty Man', and Jeff and Donovan are also involved.”

“That's it?” called out a younger and more annoyed voice, “If it's those two, then they should be alright.”

“Ye idiot,” growled another from the crowd, as a resounding slap of a hand meeting the back of someone's head echoed through the group, “Those two 'ere at the 'avern. Ther drunk.”

“Stop yer bickering,” barked a middle aged woman with homely facial features, but wearing a type of soldier's outfit which demanded respect from those around her, “and get going. I want to go to bed, just like the rest of you lot.”

“Yes, Captain,” shouted the group before dispersing off towards the direction from whence came Gwen.

However, when they each reached the area, what they found horrified their senses. For within the middle of the road were not two bodies, as the girl had left behind her, but six. Each of which had been ravaged and torn apart, and some even had the appearance of being eaten where they lay. With only one of the bodies left with a wide eyed stare of horror at the unknown, whilst the abdomen and their innards had gone missing. Those few who were not revisited by their last meal had believed that this one was still alive as their lower body was torn away from themselves.

“WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED HERE?!?!” howled the captain of the guard, now fully awake after coming to the site of something so horrific.