“Search the area,” Trent says. “That summoner was here for at least a week — he must be living somewhere close.”

You glance at the discarded bodies strewn around the altar. Probably fuel for the diabolic rituals the summoner performed to open the gates to another realm.

“They’ll still be here when we get back,” Trent says, noticing your hesitation. “Unless you’re planning to dig with your hands?”

You relent, albeit with a little hesitance.

You take a cursory glance at the area looking for trails — spotting one almost instantly.

“To the left,” you point out.

Trent raises a hand in acknowledgment as he kneels beside the fallen spellcaster.

He searches the body and finally pulls out a small book and a pouch of gold.

“The bastard was rich,” he says as he opens the pouch to check its content. “There’s probably 30 to 40 gold in this pouch not to mention a few gems,” he says as he picks out what seems to be an emerald from the pouch.”

He tosses you the pouch.

“We’ll find more when we find where he stayed,” he finishes.

You nod as you fasten the pouch to your belt. You notice that Trent kept the summoner’s book but make no mention of it.

The two of you follow the trail and soon find a small house.

Dried blood is caked on the ground and there are scorch marks all around.

It seems that some of the dead bodies sacrificed on the altar from before belonged to people who lived here.

You enter the small house and instantly smell traces of brimstone. The summoner probably stayed here with a few of his hell hounds as guards.

Trent begins searching the house while you go outside and search the back for tools.

You find a couple of hoes and a shovel. You are about to leave the house when you notice a slight discoloration on the ground. It seems like something was purposefully buried here.

You take the shovel and start digging into the ground — hitting a hard object after a foot of digging.

You find a bluish silver ingot. It feels cold to the touch and it catches the sun even unpolished.

Probably something found in the mountains and kept for a rainy day. Too bad the family never got to use it.

“They should never have stayed too far from the town,” you think. “Without the power to defend themselves, this family just became easy prey to that caster.”

You return to the house to find Trent leaving with a small damaged coffer.

“The mage had another 300 to 400 gold in this lockbox and a few more gems,” he says. “There’s an assortment of copper and silver as well, probably belonging to his victims.”

You show him the shovel and hoes.

He nods and both of you silently go back to the grisly scene of the altar.

You start shoveling as Trent breaks the ground with a hoe. It takes more than three hours to dig a hole wide enough and deep enough to hold the bodies.

Trent slowly places the bodies into the hastily dug grave, paying no heed to the goblin corpses.

Once the bodies are buried, the two of you make sure the soil is packed so that animals would not have a chance to dig at the bodies.

“I’ll report this to the guild,” Trent says, “They’ll give those people a proper burial,” he says solemnly.

You nod, but the seething dislike for casters grows bigger inside your heart.

“Help me with this,” you hear Trent say as he moves towards the altar.

The two of you push the solid stone block of marble of to the side of the mountain — watching it roll down the side of the mountain and break into several pieces.

Trent clasp your shoulders. “We did good work today.”

You merely nod.

The two of you begin the trek down, quickening your pace because of the setting sun. Trent insists on gathering the hell hound cores as well as their teeth and tongues.

He hands you a spare dagger for the grisly work. You find another 15 cores, aside from the one Trent pocketed earlier in the day. Two hounds had their cores destroyed, one even causing a small explosion of magical energy.

Trent manages to get his hands on a dozen tongues and several sets of teeth.

“Mages and alchemists use them for potions and whatnots,” he explains. “Summoned creatures are rare, so they should earn as a pretty penny.”

You lose another hour gathering all the materials and you reach the town as the last rays of the sun are slowly overcome by the darkness.

“Good hunting?” asks one of the guards, clearly recognizing the veteran hunter.

“Just a bunch of dogs that needed killing,” Trent replies.

The guard captain comes out of a building after hearing Trent’s voice.

“Is the report true?” he asks.

“Hell hounds and a summoner,” Trent answers. “The bastard managed to summon a demon, but we sent it back to the abyss together with the damned wizard.”

“Bjorn and his family?” the captain asks.

Trent shakes his head.

“They were dead long before we came,” he explains. “The wizard used them and a few goblins as sacrifices to fuel his summons.”

“We buried the bodies,” you interject. “Some of those bodies didn’t seem to be part of the family so the wizard may have other victims.”

The captain nods in appreciation and looks to Trent.

“He is?” he asks, seemingly confused.

“A new recruit,” Trent answers. “Caleb, this is Moss, our captain of the guard.”

“Caleb,” you say offering your hand.

“Moss,” the captain says as he grips your hand in a firm shake. “You did well fighting against hell hounds, a wizard, and a demon.”

“Trent killed the wizard and the demon,” you honestly say. “I was just there to give a bit of help.”

“But a big help at that!” asserts Trent. “The boy grabbed the 8-foot demon — lifting it over his head and then slamming it into the ground,” he says accompanied with exaggerated gestures.

The captain looks to you in shock. You merely smile and shake your head.

“It wasn’t like that,” you explain. “It was off-balanced and I merely pushed it.”

“Doesn’t seem like that to me,” says Trent, sticking with his story. “All I had to do was stab my sword into the demon’s head to send it off into the abyss — hardly any work.”

“The death of the summoner probably weakened it,” you say to the captain. “But it’s true that Trent landed the killing blow.”

The captain laughs, captivated by your tales — albeit confused on what’s real or not.

“I’ll send a few guards and laborers to deal with the bodies tomorrow,” he says. “The two of you should have yourself checked in the guild — and get some rest,” he adds.

“Yeah, yeah,” Trent replies, raising a hand in farewell as both of you head to the guild.

The two of you probably made a sorry sight, with all the damage from the hell hounds as well as all the grime from digging.

“Your wounds?” you ask Trent as you near the guild. You would have asked about them earlier in the mountain, but Trent seemed fine and the wounds stopped bleeding.

“I drank a potion after my battle with the wizard,” he answers. “It healed most of the wounds, but I’ll be aching for a few more days.”

The concept of potions and healing intrigues you but you refrain from asking.

You enter the guild to the stares of the crowd.

“Get your arms checked with the healers,” Trent says. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

Intrigued by this healing, you decide to go along with his suggestion.

You approach a healer and show her your scorched arms. Most of the damage seems to have healed, but there are still a few visible burn marks.

“It will cost you a minimum of 10 gold to get healing,” she says. “Are you sure you want to get treatment for this sort of injury?” she asks, noting the burns were not so serious.

“I have the coin,” you answer.

She lays her hands on your arms.

You feel the ripples of otherworldly energy gathering towards the healer and you feel a sense of warmth in your arms.

You were expecting your accelerated growth in your cells — but what you saw was instant creation. New skin was formed, seemingly from nothing, appearing exactly like your old skin.

But it wasn’t. You could feel the hint of corruption in this new layer of skin — a taint of magic that you find intolerable.

You pay the healer and proceed to go up. A flash of black separates the fake skin from yours and it crumbles to dust as it falls off.

You see Trent leaving one of the counters with a small pouch which you assume is gold from the bounty.

The two of you head to one of the tables and sit down.

He drops the pouch into the table and fumbles to take the coffer stored in his bag.

You take the wizard’s money pouch and place it on the table.

“We’ll probably get 5 gold each for the tongues,” Trent starts “Maybe another 50 for the teeth.”

“Is it fine to count money in this place?” you ask noting the crowd.

“Hahaha!” he laughs. “Nobody would dare to touch one of my team and you can leave your money in the guild if you don’t want to lug it around.”

You nod, believing the old veteran. You open the wizard’s pouch and begin counting the gold while separating the gems.

A few adventurers took notice. Some of them greeting Trent with a few jabs and hints about treating them to a drink. None seemed too eager or hostile, as if it was an everyday thing.

In total, the coins amounted to 420 gold. The eight gems were still to be appraised, but Trent surmises they’ll earn you another 400. If the tongues and teeth sell at Trent’s expected price, that would be another 110 gold. Together with the bounty of 100 gold for rogue wizards, the two of you earned more than 1,000 gold.

Trent hands you 450 gold, leaving him with 70.

“With my 10 percent cut, it’s a 450 split,” he explains. “I’ll just get my gold tomorrow after they’re done processing and selling the materials.”

“Seems fair,” you say. He was taking a risk on the prices. They could go higher or lower, so you didn’t mind getting the 450 gold upfront.

He puts 20 gold into his pouch, leaving 50 on the table.

He sees your look of confusion and says, “For the family of the victims — if they have any left.”

You take out 50 gold as well and hand it to Trent.

He gathers the gold in a separate pouch and brings it to one of the counters. You see the attendant make a gesture of thanks and Trent returns to the table.

“I’ll be heading home,” he says. “The others will probably be waiting for you at the Hungry Cat — you did promise to treat them.”

“I’ll be going once I clean up,” you answer.

He heads down the stairs and stops as if remembering something.

“And get me a new axe when you find the time.”