True Monsters – Chapter 1

The cold mountains were ancient monoliths of grey stone. They formed a wavering line across the horizon. A divide between the lands that humans claimed. The land they struggled, with a wavering grip to hold onto. And whatever was beyond them. A myth, that place from which no man had returned from, in remembered history.

At the furthest northern edge of humanity's domain. A trail crawled up between the foot of the frozen mountains. It meandered around one obstacle after another. Taking a path of least resistance, the least effort to construct and maintain. Rough stone bridges, barely maintained spanned narrow gorges and rivers. Icy melt water carved narrow channels in the rock. The trail was hardly maintained. Overgrown it the few places the vegetation grew. The road was potted with holes and substantial cracks. It was subsequently hard going for a coach and two horses, a stage from one settlement to another.

As little as it was, it still kept a link to the furthest village. A place known as Hematite Gorge on official maps, or broken gorge to its inhabitants. The remnant of a road, kept one more link in the chain that formed trade between settlements. The trade which kept the northern nation running. The next nearest village, which nestled outside the mountains shadows, enjoyed much better conditions. Surprisingly hardy vines, clung to the thin soil. It provided them with a bounty, which keep them going. Maintaining far better conditions, than there distant neighbour.

The coach that slowly creaked and groaned its way along the trail, was a beaten piece of trash. It had been repaired time and time again. More effort and materials were put into repairing the cart over the years. Than were required to build a new one twice over. There were marks, where the outer rim of the cart wheels had been repaired. It was welded several times. It looked like some mighty beast, had attempted to bite clean though the thick iron rim just failing. Spokes had been replaced, boards had been refinished. There was a real patchwork of pain on the outside of the coach. Even pitch and canvas had been used to seal the weather on the outside.

The leather tack on the horses was worn and stitched. The coach was heavily loaded, they tried to make every trip count. The ancient coach was pulled reluctantly by two horses. One old and thin the other young but not at all healthy. It looked as if it had survived some horrible attack. There were discolourations on its hide, scars from something big trying to maul it. They had only partially healed.

There were two men huddled in patched woollen blankets, at the front of the coach. One who was relatively young. An employee of the trade guild, which kept the coaches running. He wore a patched blue uniform. He kept his eyes on the road steering the coach. He also kept reaching down, to touch the sturdy oak and iron mace under the seat.

The second man wore a red and green uniform. It denoted he belonged to a mercenary free company, contracted to keep the coaches safe. Not much of him could be seen, he was wrapped up tight in the blanket. He wore a padded arming coat, a sturdy metal helmet, which could probably pull double duty as a cooking pot. He carried a large heavy winch crossbow. It was also worn and battered, but with the action well maintained, it was serviceable. The handle of a short sword was just within reach. He was old. A long beard of white hair poked out from the blanket, one of his eyes was going dull, losing its sheen while the second was still bright and clear.

After two days travel. The coach was close to its destination. The small village was surrounded by farmland, strips of green and brown farrows cut into the earth. They tightly surrounded the village. This allowed the farmers to quickly retreat to their homes, should anything be seen. Thin sickly looking crops hugged the land.

There was one approach to the village. It had a solid gate with a small gate house. The village was reasonably well defended. A strong wooden and earth wall eight feet high, surrounded the settlement. There were fortification on this wall, to make it easier to defend. A trench five feet deep had been dug out around the settlement. There was a foot high series of sharpened stakes. Before the pit, in the pit and even more stakes around the base of the wall.

The defences were well maintained, the rest of the village was not, for the most part. It was ordered into about six streets. Simple compact huts with straw or wooden roofs, all in some state of dis-repair. There were also small food storehouses. A few cattle pens, to keep the meager livestock of the village. There were lumber piles, but they were strangely small. Little had been collected to keep the village warm. There were a few buildings that looked a bit sturdier. The stone church at the very centre of the village, looked more like a small guard house. The spire looked more like a watch tower. A volunteer scanned the horizon diligently. Someone was on that spot, even during daylight hours.

There was a large sprawling two storey inn. It was wood, but far stronger in construction, using thick heavy timbers. The windows looked like they could act as arrow slits. There was a third building, a hall that doubled up as the mayor and sheriff’s office. It was also stone also of a solid construction. The three larger buildings, were far enough away from the rest of the village. That a killing ground could be set up between them, peppering attackers with arrows.

If you had time and some carts, you could probably put up barriers between them. If someone did breach the outer walls, then the villagers could hold out in one of these three buildings, for a little longer. Depending on if you put your trust in god, the local government or the merchant guild tavern. There was a small market square between the inn and the mayor’s hall. A few businesses in slightly larger and better built structures lined around it filling the gaps.

The coach arrived at the gate. There was a wooden post by the gate, a holy symbol was attached to the post by a chain. The coach driver took off his woollen glove. He held his hand on the object for a few seconds. He held up his hand, to show that there was no mark. The mercenary peeled off his heavy leather gauntlet, repeating the process. There was a nod between the guard on the Gate house and the coach driver. There were scrapes and curses, several heavy bars were pulled back and the gate was swiftly pulled open. The coach driver shook the rains and the horses trotted forwards briskly. The gate was hastily pulled shut, then barred firmly. The coach driver pulled the horses to a stop, he let out a sigh of relief.

There was an almost equally sturdy inner gate. The driver pulled out a leather bundle and threw it to the guard. The guard unwrapped it, looking at the paperwork. He nodded, the door opened. He rolled the paperwork back up and threw it to the coach driver. The coach started again it moved until it came to the market square. The driver nodded to the guard, he slowly climbed down. He slammed his palm on the side of the coach three times.

There was a rattling from the coach as the door was unlocked. People moved about inside the coach, manoeuvring around various parcels and crates. Finally the door swung open. Two mercenaries, in second or even third hand armour, stepped out from the coach. They wore a uniform identifying that they belonged to a different free company. They were not associated with the coach guard. They had tabards of basic black and red patterned squares on the chest, with stripes on the legs. There uniforms from the boots, to the pitted helmets were old. What they contained was quite new and untested.

A man and a woman blinked at the light. They were more like a boy and a girl really. They were both around nineteen or eighteen years old. Both had a well fed look to them. Unlike the villagers, who were almost all gaunt and thin. The young man had a wooden heater shield. It was reinforced with an iron plate in the centre, a leather edge. It was slung over his shoulder, on a strap. It had a few dents, but looked relatively new.

He carried a bastard sword hung from his belt. The grip looked a bit big. The blade looked like a far larger blade had been broken. Then reground to form the sword. It carried that extra bit of weight, but that was unlikely to bother the mercenary. He had a leather bag on his hip. It contained a few personal effects. There was a short five inch dagger, in a black leather sheath tucked at his side. It was held in by a tightly knotted lace. The dagger looked as if it had been well cared for, hardly used. A bit of black hair showed from under his helmet and arming cap, grey eyes dismissively looked over the village.

His companion was an archer, she was a little taller and a little thinner. She had a bulk to her shoulders and arms, which came from pulling a longbow all day. The bow she carried, was wrapped up in a worn oiled green sheath, slung over her shoulder. On her hip there was a quiver of about twenty arrows. They were probably cheap broad heads. They stayed well within her reach. Two arrows were held to one side of the quiver. They were tied to the edge with a lace, they looked almost brand new. They seemed to be kept in reserve, separate from the rest.

She has a second bowstring on her. Kept in a sealed leather pouch hung around her neck. It would remain safe and dry. She had a backpack with more items. The tip of a braid of red hair, poked out from under her helmet. Her hazel eyes looked about carefully, measuring distance from walls to buildings. Places to fire from, choke points she didn’t let her guard down. The two of them looked confident. They didn’t have an edge to them, which spoke of real combat. These two had probably spared a lot. Trained in the free company from an early age, as recruits taken from an orphanage. They were good at fighting other men and women with practice swords. Stabbing and piercing straw dummies, at least it gave them strong arms.

A man in his early thirties or late twenties stood watching. He wore a great big, dark brown leather coat. He had a strangely ornate hat, the teeth of come creature encircled the brim. He was sitting on a bench outside the inn. He waited a few seconds for the two of them to get there bearings. He pushed off from the bench, it creaked and groaned as the weight shifted from it. The mercenaries looked at the tall man. He was nothing like the locals. He was separate the locals looked whipped and beaten.

This man he looked like he had been knocked down. Flattened then stood back up again and kept coming. That every time he went down, he would just get back up again. There was a certain dead ness to his face, a lack of emotion. He moved surprisingly fast, the first mercenary with the heater shield took a step back. He put his hand on his sword hilt. The mercenary behind him unslung her bow and started to release the laces on the case. She was ready to step back, to give herself the room to draw. The tall man paused, his head dipped slightly in acknowledgement. He held one hand up, releasing the clasp on his coat letting it open.

He had a bronze holy symbol, mounted at the centre of a thick leather chest plate. Judging from the rivets, the chest plate was probably lined. Reinforced with many smaller steel or iron plates. It identified him as a hunter of monsters, not men. The two mercenaries visibly relaxed. The hunter had more leather armour. Gloves but with the finger tips exposed. As if he needed to do fine work. The gloves were supported with thick backing. Bracers could be seen under his coat. Thick armoured leather greaves, a neck guard. Shoulder guards were attached to the jacket, firmly laced and strapped on. The jacket itself seemed to be heavily modified, with plates of leather and perhaps more reinforcing it.

There were various holy symbols through his armour. His hat had a brim reinforced with chainmail. The back had a leather plate, protecting the back of his neck. The entire hat could had been reinforced with a lot of other metal, it seemed bulky. His neck guard had a leather backing. Steel spikes and bronze plates had been attached to it, to form a very formidable defence. A creature going for the jugular, would end up with a mouth full of silvery spikes.

The man had a wide leather belt around his middle. Upon it was holstered two long pistols. He had a large solid leather pouch, which held powder and more shot. The hunter nodded, “It is good that you recognise a fellow adventure. It would not be good to greet one of your own party, with a drawn blade”.

The mercenary with the sword made a brief nod. He had words on the tip of his tong, he chose something more diplomatic. Action said more than words, “certainly we don’t need to start this off on the wrong foot.” The hunter reached forwards, acting as amicably as he could. Through his long training the mercenary had pushed his physical strength to twice that of a normal man. At least twice the strength of one of the local peasants. His armour probably weighed more, than any one of them. He used every ounce of his strength to grip the offered hand. The hunter didn’t even flinch, he squeezed back with his own substantial strength.

The black haired mercenary stepped in closer, a little respect showed in his voice. “That’s quite the grip you have”. The red haired woman waited for about ten seconds, then slapped the back of the other mercenaries helmet. “Enough we will be hear all day”. The black haired mercenary let go. She shook the hunter’s hand, her strength the equal of the other mercenary. She felt no desire to prove it at that time.

“My name is Vivian Tanner mercenary third class of the Glass bay mercenary company”. The hunter nodded “I am Martin wright blooded vampire hunter of the order of steel and silver. Ironic as I use lead and powder as my weapons not steel.” The black haired mercenary tried to crack a smile, he offered his hand again. Without trying to pull the hunters arm off this time. “My name is David Fisher also of the glass bay free mercenary company.”

He emphasized the word free. The vampire hunters order was notorious for the tight leash it kept its people on. Whereas the free mercenary companies, while contracted to the commerce guilds. Were still technically separate autonomous entities. Martin laughed, “We are all bound by duty whoever we report to. We have much to discuss, we have some rooms in the inn. A private section to ourselves, one of the few perks that we will enjoy while stationed hear.”

Martin pulled a small round flask from his jacket, he took a swig. He offered it to the mercenaries, “to the hunt”. They nodded David took a swig, he started to cough as if his throat was burning. After one or two faltering steps he regained his stride. Vivian took a more measured approach and a smaller swig. She coughed only once before handing the flask back. Her voice seemed a little horse, “what the heck is that stuff?” The hunter grinned “turnip vodka distilled 80% proof. Hunters like me have a resistance to alcohol and toxins in general. It is one of our class features, a lot of our medicines constitute herbal remedies, preserved in alcohol simple reliable.”

They went into the inn, it was dark with a low fire. The inn floor was covered in sturdy but irregular boards. There were a few men and women eating, an old man was playing dice against a far poorer farmer. Martin led them past the bar, up a flight of stairs on the second level of the building. There was a study looking side door, a quick click from a key in his possession and they were in.

They had a smaller side room with a table a few chairs and a board. There was a hand drawn map of the village and local area. Various pieces of paper were pinned to the board with notes on issues affecting the area. There were four doors leading off from this room. Four small rooms branched away. Each containing a simple chest bed and a stool. One was already occupied by Martin, he had a roll of tools out on the bed, probably for maintaining his pistols or armour. Vivian and David dropped there equipment off choosing rooms that were next to each other.

They headed out of the small suite of cramped rooms, back down to the bar. A surly looking bar matron dropped off three tankards of heavily watered down ale. They hit the counter as martin drops 3 bronze coins on the bar. She looks at them in disgust, as they moved away to a corner table. David almost reacted at the disrespectful glower. Vivian held him back, she looked at martin, “what is her problem?”

Martin kept a low voice, “At least she didn’t spit in the drink in front of us. You have to be aware that we are not exactly very popular in this settlement. To them we are nothing but a burden. Someone they need to feed, someone that contributes nothing to this community”. David looked at him incredulously, “we are here to protect this place!” Martin shrugged, “the last group of adventures that was assigned to this town did practically nothing. They did drink and train, they didn’t solve any of the problems. Believe me this town had problems.”

He gave them a look that spoke volumes, Vivian was keen for answers. “What sort of problems are we looking at?” Martin continued “I have been hear a week, the local sheriff priest and apothecary would speak to me. I have also read up on the few diaries left by our predecessors. Due to local nuances, the town is at the point of starving. Their land yields little, they have not got many opportunities to supplement their diets. Due to the creatures in the local woods hunting is minimal.”

“What crops they do have, they are having trouble keeping hold of. People are finding it difficult to keep warm look at how low the fire is”. David was still unsure, “why the trouble with the cold?” Martin continued, “They have trouble gathering fire wood. Due to the same local pests, it’s so bad that they might die of the cold, long before they die of starvation.”

Vivian drew assumptions based on the party's composition. She looked at his holy symbol, “you’re a vampire hunter. There must be a nest of them threatening this community. I saw the spikes the high wall the ditch, it’s to protect against a vamp raid”? Martin looked at her, “not quite but close, you have to understand the history of this community.”

“A hundred years ago this place was an important iron mine. Lots of caverns lots of mine shafts, perfect for vampires. Lots of people that can stay out of the sun, no one would be aware of anything. A powerful vampire an elder and a lot of their minions moved in. They were found, someone got the word out.” Vivian and David took sips of their drinks as the hunter paused for breath, little emotion crept into his voice.

He paused to remember the details, “several orders of vampire hunters combined forces. The battle saints, the order or fire and retribution, the sisterhood of unrelenting mercy, my own order even a few freelancers. They marshalled then arrived on mass, the town had a population of around two and a half thousand. When they had finished liberating it, a fifth of the population was left and not much of the town.” Martins face was quite blank, as he delivered this revelation.

The implications sunk in with the mercenary's. David considered, “you can’t be very popular can you.” “People have long memories”, he paused for a second. Trying to remember the history, “the hunters or maybe the vampires collapsed the mine entrance. The battle was a bit of a mess, either the vampires sealed it to keep the hunters out. Or the hunters sealed them to keep the vampires in. In the end the battle was over, those that were left had to go on. They didn't have a living, miners had to become foresters and farmers they had to make do”.

David thought about, “So the people hear lost their lively hoods, there family's and a lot of their town stuck between the hunters and the vampires”? Martin nodded, almost no emotion played across his face. Vivian queried him, “this town was once a booming community supplying a lot of iron ore to the guild. Then it was reduced to little more than this hollow existence, overnight. If the vampires didn't make it out of the mine, then what is threatening this village”?

Martin touched the holy symbol on his chest. “I do not wish to tempt fate, but in the last hundred years nothing has dug its way out and caused trouble. A team of veteran hunters turns up every ten years, they have a good poke about to make sure that nothing is hiding. These are hunter in the range of level 20-25. Quite capable of handling a few vampiric stragglers, but they find nothing”.

David looked less comfortable, frustration flushed across his face “That still does not answer what we are doing hear”. Martin had a look in his eye, a coldness he would not be hurried. “I am getting to the point, Vampires have lots of servants. Vast armies of creatures that serve them, they act as the disposable ranks of their armies. When they fight, killing all of this trash is difficult. Sometimes it can only be culled. The descendants of what remained form the vampires army, is what we will be facing around this village.”

David scratched his head, “I trained to fight men bandits rival company's I don't know that much about monsters.” Vivian put a reassuring hand on his shoulder a gesture of solidarity and support. She didn't need to voice the same concerns. A nod and she reiterated his point. Vampires did have human servants in most cases. Well trained mercenaries could cut through them, and very young vampires with relative ease. The unknown caused both mercenaries to pause.

Martin had quickly absorbed much of the general lore of the hunters, over the last few months. He was eager to share it with his new companions. He aimed to deliver it in a way that he felt they could understand. “Vampires are well known, they are more like the officers and elite units of an army. I am using an analogy. The rest the rank and file tropes, the irregulars and conscripts that the vampires bring to bear. That is what we will be contending with.”

“Generally think of them as poorly trained conscripts. They have servants thralls that suffer from a corruption, be they men dogs etc. The thrall taint persists within them and can be spread to their descendants. Even other creatures they come into contact with, endless replacements for the vampire’s ranks.” Vivian realised the implications, the taint could be passed onto the mercenaries. The hunter and the local priest both had ways to resist or cure it.

Martin took a sip of his beer and continued, “The vampires can bring those that they have drained to death back as the un-living. Zombie’s skeletons with other higher level variants, if they are a stronger vampire. Most of what they make that way trash is easy to destroy.” Martin and Vivian shrugged, they were trained to fight human shaped opponents. A wooden training dummy or a walking skeleton, would probably be equally easy to crush. Martin continued, “They also have ghouls and whites. They are another variant of servants, somewhere in the middle in terms of strength, stuck between life and death”

David gripped the dagger at his side, Vivian thought of the silver arrows she had. They had been told to take some silver, as a precaution. “It is something to do with the vampires, effectively being a corpse brought back to life. Held together by a mixture of sorcery, necromantic magic and blood alchemy. They have access to both of these types of servants.” The various words sailed over the mercenaries heads. This was not something that they could understand easily. Their eyes met, they had the nervous suspicion. They would soon become intimately familiar, with all the monsters infesting the local area.

David looked at him, his words were almost a challenge. “It’s almost as if you are enjoying the prospect of fighting these things?” Martin grinned, “It’s good for me to fight them, and I do bonus damage and gain bonus experience points for destroying vampires or vampiric minions. I help these people and deny resources to future vampires. By destroying these creatures before they can be summoned into a vampiric army, it enables me to level quickly”.

“I swore a hunters oath, to fight the vampires and there servants. Any opportunity to become more powerful, makes it easier for me to keep my oath.” The mercenaries exchanged looks, so they were not only looking at a trigger happy vampire hunter. But a religious fanatic to boot, still faith was a potent weapon against such creatures.

Martin drank a little more beer, “so tell me what you can do what ability's do you have”? Vivian saw where it was going. Adventures of any type would invariably end up comparing two things. Their level and there gear, some way of unofficially setting a pecking order. She started “I am a level five mercenary, David is a level six mercenary. I would be the same level, but I had to undergo intense physical training. I got a perk to bring my strength and endurance up to the level of a man. Sometimes stats are more important than level”.

Martin smiled a little, he seemed pleasantly surprised. “You’re both level five or over, that's good it means you both have access to your class special attack. In this case it would be adrenalin strike power attacks?” David nodded sounding proud, “that's right the mercenary's signature armour cracking attack. We can release devastating adrenalin fuelled attacks, to overwhelm an opponent. We need heavier gear to do it, but the results speak for themselves. Also due to our physical strength it’s easy to carry heavy armour, benefiting from our layered armour perk. This allows us to deliver strong regular attacks”. Vivian looked at him “what about you, your equipment looks like it has seen some action and so do you.”

“All our equipment looks like it has seen action. I would not be surprised, if I was the fourth or fifth hunter to wear this. Your gear is much the same, it is still very solid”. Martin continued, “I am level fourteen”. David spluttered, “Fourteen levels of vampire hunting. You must have seen a lot of action you can’t be that far off a veteran.”

Martin held out his hands, placing the tankard on the table. “You misunderstand that is my total level, I only have three levels of the vampire hunter job, and I only recently joined this cause.” David continued to miss the point by a mile. “So what do you have the other levels in, were you a crusader or a monk maybe a fighter or something similar?” Martin shook his head, “No nothing like it. I was a level 11 craftsman for the Bay City guild hall. One level in foundation journeyman craftsman,

I was a bit of a generalist. One level in wood working, one level in textiles three levels in leather working and five in metal working.” David looked a little crestfallen, but then realised something. “All that mettle working, that's how you are so strong!” Martin had a slight grin, “That is correct.”

Vivian made an assumption, “you gained three levels in vampire hunting very quickly though training?” Martin corrected her, “not quite two levels through training and one level from my first hunt.” Both mercenaries realised that even though it was one fight, it was still more practical combat experience than both of them had had. Vivian was the perceptive one, “You must have killed a lot of things from your first hunt to level up.”

Martin gestured to the pistols on his belt. “Oh yes these pistols due to my levels of craftsman have the well maintained perk. They don't misfire or jam, I can use willpower or focus to make precise aimed attacks. That can guarantee a critical hit, and a kill.” Both mercenaries considered the benefit of this type of fighting, as Martin continued, “these pistols take 15 seconds to re-lode so they need to hit hard. It’s a class feature of both crafting and hunter jobs. They use focus to either concentrate on a precise strike or concentrate on a precise piece of work. A deft stitch a precise fold, all use the same abilities. Sometimes in the crafting guilds it’s called crafting points. It allow precision work, the higher the level the more effort and skill a craftsman can put into a project. With my new line of work, that equates to a more precise attacks.

David interjected, it was important if they worked together that they knew each other’s limits. “Mercenary's don't have focus, we use power attacks to break through an enemies defences. We have adrenalin, to fuel our attacks. When we run out of adrenalin, we suffer physical exhaustion and lose several points of strength and agility until we rest.”

Martin nodded, “very dangerous at low level, when you only have a small reserve of adrenalin. I have something similar. If I use all focus then I suffer from mental exhaustion. A loss of intelligence and dexterity, it could be a lot worse. If a mage uses up all there manna, then they suffer from both physical and mental exhaustion. They already have a large penalty to their strength and endurance, against their magical abilities, they have access to magic to compensate.”

Vivian looked at martin, “is our 4th companion going to be a mage?” Martin shrugged, “I believe that we might get a mage or a druid assigned to us”. David shrugged, “we will see in a little while. The next stage should arrive tomorrow morning”. Vivian picked over martins knowledge, “If we go out hunting the vermin, can this place defend itself? He nodded, “The sheriff, Daniel was a mercenary from the sapphire company. He is level 14 or higher an equal mix of commander, arbalest and swordsman. He has used the mercenary classes best ability, martial training. He has about six guards level 6 or 7, thirty militia men level 3-4 shield and spear and probably. He has eighty or 90 levies, trained with quarter staffs. They are only level 1-2 but they can defend this town. There are also a few trained trappers and hunters in the mix.” Vivian regarded Martin, “he would need to be level 15, to be able to train the guards.”

Martin nodded and continued, “There is a priest around level six or seven brother Bartholomew. He has a few blessings. Mostly to do minor healing or relieve pain not much else. There is an apothecary, the local representative of the merchant’s guild Samuel. He has a right mixture of jobs herbalist, apothecary, bee keeper, brewer, scribe his total level is probably around that of a veteran craftsman.”

David pushed martin to continue, “Bureaucrats always come in three's. The Triune always has a representative from each branch to balance it out. The merchants guild has Samuel the church has Brother Bartholomew, who represents the crown? ”

Martin was quick to answer, “The crown has a lord Bradbury in the next village over. He assigned the mayor Bernard to look after this little holding. The mayor leaves everything to the sheriff, so we just talk to him.” The triune are the ruling body of the human lands, the merchant’s guild the church and the crown. An uneasy alliance, formed to keep the land in some semblance of order.

Vivian looked around the table and took another gulp of beer. “So what is the vermin that the locals can’t handle? Martin sighed, “Its giant rats eating the crops. The bastards are actually quite big the size of dogs so around level 4 or 5. The villagers have enough people to fight them, but they don't have any good equipment. They don't want to lose people, they would lose people that they can’t afford to lose if they fought these things. According to a hunter, there are tracks leading to 2-3 nests on the outskirts of the forest. Probably based in the remains of some of the old settlement.” David looked at him, “it still seems that they, should have taken some measures against them.” Martin nodded, “when they were smaller around level 1-2. They used traps and other items to fight them. Several people got infected by the disease taint. The giant rats carry it, these people don't have much medicine so the threat of a disease outbreak has them very worried. A priests heal blessings or an apothecary's basic solutions, won’t cure that sort of thing and it can spread.”

Vivian and David had equally disgusted looks on their faces, at the thought of being diseased. Vivian interjected, “the three of us have reasonable armour. I suppose we stand a much better chance of killing these things without getting killed or infected ourselves. However you mentioned the giant rats going from level 1-2 to 4-5 region that's quite a leap.” Martin nodded, “I have spent some time talking to the local apothecary about this. The giant rats are not exactly my area of expertise. Apparently the rats tend to fight and eat each other inside their nests. They effectively level themselves up, as long as they have food”.

Vivian guessed, “The foods getting low right”? Martin nodded, “oh yes but while it holds the average level inside a nest will grow over time until it hits 10. At which point you face dread giant rats, a bit larger and tougher. It really gets bad if the creatures get to level 20, then they start to rank up into rat men. Which is not very good, as you have a tool using tribal monster. At level 30 they become terror rat men, smarter and tougher. At level 40 we start to see wear rats, which I believe is there ultimate form. Not that I have any desire to see a wear rat”.

David looked at him, “you’re getting ahead of yourself at the moment. What is the structure of one of these nests?” Martin replayed the conversation with the apothecary, inside his head. “The nests would be led by a brood mother, one large slow moving female rat constantly giving birth to smaller rats. She slowly ranks up, usually from eating her own children, the weakest of the litter. Supposedly the minimum level of the nest goes up, as she births slightly stronger children. There will be one or two alpha males. As time goes on satellite nests will be established, feeding parties will go out to gather food. Normally around a dozen, as weak creatures they do tend to rely on numbers.”

Vivian, “so what are we looking at number wise”? “Best I can guess two satellite nests, smaller nests around 2-3 dozen with one main nest of 4-5 dozen individuals”. David prompted, “So what are we doing strategy wise?” Martin shrugged, “I don't think that it is worth discussing in detail, until we know the 4th member of our party. I am sure that we can do a bit, to thin there numbers”. David looked at him, “afterwards is there any reward for rat meat or rat hides?”

Martin shook his head, “I don't think that there is anything to be done other than burn the bodies. This community doesn't have a reliable way of removing the taint from the animal’s remains. We are not looking at anything, other than a potential source of infection.” The two of them nodded, the party of adventures finished there beer. There thoughts kept to themselves, they headed upstairs to sleep.