One can assume many things about a society when he sees a whistling farmer in the morning. The melody they produce often reflects their mood. If it is happy and upbeat, their harvest is most likely about to be a fruitful one. On the other hand, a gloomy but rhythmical hum often symbolizes that there is a lot of work to be done and that the farmer clearly has a busy day ahead of himself. Then, of course, there is the silent farmer. Silence usually means neutrality. Nothing bad is going on, but nothing especially good either. It is just another boring day. However, a shouting and angry farmer indicates trouble. It most likely means that the neighbor's dog killed one of his chickens and that there is a slight chance of a fight happening within the next few hours. Now, after I have told you all of this, could you tell me what it means when a farmer screams?

It was a sound like nobody around the dwarven city of Huldar had heard for many years. Not even murders would be this loud. Naturally, such phenomena could not be ignored. And so all the nearby residents rushed out of their homes, with local guards in tow, heading towards that horrendous screeching.

"Did a banshee possess him?" one of the villagers asked along the way.

"Nah! I think he found a snake in his shoe," said another.

"Or Ikran's dog is chasing him," a third added.

"Shut up Gran!" Ikran bravely defended his loyal dog's honor.

Very soon, this group of individuals made it onto a small hill, which was overlooking the farm of Derman, the currently screaming farmer. However, if any of them had even the slightest intention of helping their distressed neighbor, it all dissipated the moment they spotted the cause of his obnoxious cries. Where there once used to be a field of the fluffiest and friendliest sheep around, there was now nothing but a mass grave. Derman's precious companions were all gone. The only thing left after them were their heads. Many small sheep heads, stuck on numerous stone poles.

"Oh dear Oboro help us," one of the eldest citizens mumbled, and out of respect for the murdered animals, he took off his hat. "Who could've caused such a massacre?"

"Who? Mister Ikran, I think a better question would be what."

News has traveled quickly, and so very soon, all of Huldar knew of the terrible catastrophe that happened at the farm. However, the guards outside of the city's entrance had a much different topic of discussion. Something unordinary and strange was coming to their town. Something that hasn't been there for many decades.

"Seriously? Have you heard the right thing?" one of the guards asked his colleague on duty.

"I'm telling you, this info is hundred percent real!"

"Hmm... I don't know. Sounds like a prank to me."

"Definitely not! My cousin works in a carriage renting company in the town just over the hills. He told me that an elf has hired them to transport him right here, to Huldar."

"An elf? Here? Why would an elf come here?"

"I don't know, an invasion?"

"Seriously dude? With a single elf?"

"Heh, I'm just joking. I have no idea. Maybe he's a mage? About to do some... mage business?"

"Great... Elves and their magic. Nothing but trouble, I tell you that."

"Yeah, they meddle with everything a bit too much."

"Hey, Isn't that a carriage there in the distance?" the guard pointed down the hill and towards a road. Truly, a small horse carriage was just leaving the edge of the forest.

"Dude, you think it's them?"

"The elf? You bet. Who else would hire a carriage? Any normal person would walk. But no, noble elves are too posh for walking. Cannot get their precious little boots dirty."

"You better not talk like that when he arrives. I heard those long ears are like radars. They can hear more than you'd think."

After that, both guards rather stayed silent. Their eyes remained glued to the cart approaching their town. It stopped right in front of them, as expected since all visitors had to identify themselves before entering the town.

"Mister Glavas! We're here!" the carriage driver called to his passenger.

"Ugh... right.." came out of the cart, followed by a loud yawn. "I expected a longer nap. This was too short," the elf complained and opened the door of his cart with the elegance of a blind locksmith. "UGH! Light...!" he complained as the sunshine hit him in the face. Then finally, without further waiting, he exited the vehicle.

The guards expected what the elf might look like. A tall and well-shaven person with custom-fit clothes made of only the finest fabrics, decorated with various trinkets, specific for different elven kingdoms and empires. Shoes ending just below their ankles, created for strolls around the city, rather than trips into nature. And of course, countless big bracelets and a long necklace, often holding a symbol of their respective country. Hair bright of color and long but well-groomed, perhaps sporting a tie to help hold it together.

However, to say that the guards were mistaken would be a great understatement. What came out of the cart was too short to be an elf. If anything, the new visitor looked more like a regular-sized human. They wore a coat, a simple tunic, and peasant's trousers, all in the color black, decorated unevenly with patches of varying design. On their belt, there was a strange metal stick sitting in a leather holster, and on their back, they carried a big wooden instrument, known around the place as a "hurdy-gurdy". Small and comfortable shoes were nowhere to be found. Instead, the visitor wore big leather boots, similar to those you'd see on a field worker. The man's hair, while definitely long, was however completely black, greasy, as if they hadn't washed their head in months, and instead of a fashionable tie, they wore a dirty black fedora. If it wasn't for their pale skin and pointy ears, the guards would never have suspected it could be an elf.

Glavas, as the carriage driver called the elf, scrunched up his face at first, until his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. Then, he slowly walked toward the two guards standing in front of the entrance to Huldar. But the moment the elf's eyes spotted the two large statues standing next to the main gate, his sleepiness vanished as if it had never been there, to begin with. He was excited to finally get to see another dwarven city. What was typical for these settlements was their usual location inside of a hill or a mountain, which had always been almost completely hollowed out and held together only by massive pillars. And inside this hollow cavern, the dwarves would build the heart of their city. Shops, residential districts, hotels, and restaurants, all of that could be found inside. However, the outer region was also important. There, one could find a typical dwarven countryside. Anything that would be too big for the inner city, such as a farm, or too dirty, such as a smeltery or a refinery, could be found outside, under the sky and stars.

"Halt!" one of the guards stopped the elf in his path and woke him up from his daydreaming state. "I'm going to have to ask you for your identification card, sir," said the soldier. It was according to the dwarven law, established recently due to the bickering between humans and dragons that all citizens entering the inner cities must present identification papers to the guarding officers.

Glavas sighed. There weren't many things he hated about this world, but paperwork and bureaucracy were among them. He reached into one of the inner pockets of his jacket and eventually pulled out something, which looked like a piece of paper that had been eaten and semi-digested by a creature of unknown species, origin, and acidity of their stomach. The elf then handed this something to one of the guards.

"Excuse me?" the armored dwarf asked, considering this a bad joke he did not understand.

"That's my identification card."

"Looks like something I'd throw into rubbish."

"Maaaay be a little... wore down. But you can still read the text."

The guards both looked at the small object. Truly, the information was still visible, but only assuming the one reading it would be an archeologist with several degrees in linguistics, making it much more of a puzzle, rather than an identification card.

"Okay that... fits, I guess. But we'll also need to search your belongings," one of the guards explained.

"Seriously? I don't even have luggage," the elf defended himself.

"Still, we have to. Apologies, sir, but it is the law."

Glavas rolled his eyes but did as they asked him. He spread his legs and lifted his arms away from his body, making it easier for the guards to search him. For a while, they were patting his clothes and going through his pockets. There wasn't much to be found. A single notebook with a stump of a pencil, a sack with several pieces of elven coins, and a similar bag with magical crystals cut into perfect cylinders. None of that looked like any sort of contraband.

"Alright, now, please, take off your coat," the guard continued.

"What?! Why?"

"Because we still want to search it. Please, don't make this difficult."

Glavas practically slithered out of his beloved jacket and handed it over to the guard. "There! But try to strip me even more and I'll make you eat all the necessary paperwork." The guards, however, didn't pay his snarky comment any attention. They were both frozen in place, staring at the elf's left arm. It was covered in tattoos, going from his wrist all the way up to the shoulder. His sleeveless tunic offered the dwarves a perfect view. Of course, tattoos were normal and not something worthy of such attention, but these ones were quite different. It was a series of rings, each containing a symbol in the middle, along with several other smaller ones running across the inner side of each ring. Those were magical tattoos.

"Are those... Do they... Magic?" the guard tried to form his curiosity into a question with a rhetorical prowess of a belching tiger.

"Yes, these are magical. Why?"

"Well... using magical writing on one's body... We heard that it's... well, really dangerous."

"Not if you know what you're doing. Then it's just another tool to be used," the elf answered.

"And doesn't it... hurt when you use them?"

"Extremely."

After that, the guards suddenly felt like they didn't want to stall this man longer than necessary. It was difficult to guess whether he was a lunatic or some excentric big-shot wizard, but danger-wise, both options were about the same, perhaps with the wizard having a bit of a lead.

"Here you go, sir. Everything seems to be in order." The dwarves quickly handed him his coat and papers, and whistled, to let the city know that they can open the gate for their new visitor. Glavas put his jacket back on, threw the hurdy-gurdy on his back, and tipped his hat in farewell.

Once the elf crossed the threshold of the main entrance, the entire Huldar presented itself to him. The town was situated underground, so the gate merely led to a balcony overlooking the city itself. He leaned against the railing and simply observed the beauty in front of him.

Huldar was a city famous for its fabrics. From the products they exported, many other places could sew clothes of all kinds and values. This main focus of their industry could be very well visible in the city's exterior as well. It was an ancient Huldian tradition to decorate buildings with products they wouldn't manage to sell, and so one could always see countless colorful fabrics and flags attached to the buildings, sometimes even going between them, making the place seem like a massive cobweb of colors. And above all of this, firmly attached to the ceiling of the cave, was a sunstone, a huge glowing gem, usually found in great depths. Naturally, the cave would be too dark to inhabit, and so the dwarves used these minerals and their naturally bright glow to simulate daylight. And once night would creep in, a dome-like device would cover parts of the orb, making it seem as if the sun had set even inside the cave. Glavas smiled. It was truly an incredible sight to behold.

However, there was no time to waste. He didn't come here for sightseeing, although nothing was preventing him from doing it either. But the less time he'd spend on menial things, the more of it he'd have for his actual goal. And so he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small notebook, and turned onto a page with a list of many names, some of which were already crossed out.

"Hmm... Chindley is next, huh? Well, I suppose I'll have to ask around for her. God knows where she could be in such a massive city," he muttered to himself and headed down the many stairs leading to the ground level.

"Hi, I'm sorry, I'm looking for..." he asked the first person he could find. In this case, it was a middle-aged lady, sitting on a bench.

"Narad peca'le male! Tradi ni wo!" she practically shouted at him before he could even finish his sentence.

"Umm... I'm sorry but... is there a problem?" he asked carefully.

The woman merely spat on the ground in front of him. "Elfe!"

It didn't take long for him to understand. Of course, a city this far away from the Union might still have a few inhabitants here and there who might not be as open to the idea of equality of all the races as others. However, Glavas didn't want to let that discourage him. He decided to leave the grumpy lady alone and rather focused on his new target. A group of youngsters was standing nearby, smoking. Surely the younger generation would be more progressive and would welcome a traveler from distant lands.

"Hello, sorry, I am looking for a woman named..."

"Ah, kata muleni. Ol pricota elfe!" one of the teenagers replied while staring Glavas down. Afterward, he and his friends all started laughing hysterically.

Glavas merely rolled his eyes and walked away. Slowly but surely, he started feeling regret about coming here. His goal might have been of utmost importance, but that didn't mean it would be worth all these seemingly racist comments in a language he didn't understand.

"Excuse me? Are you perhaps looking for someone?" The elf stopped as one of the nearby bystanders suddenly approached him. "Finally," he thought, "someone who'd be willing to help me."

"Yes, thank you. You see, I am looking for Ch..."

"I can point you in anyone's way. Been living here for my whole damn life. BUT, only if you can defeat me in a little game," the dwarf smirked and crossed his hairy arms. Clearly, there was a catch to his little challenge.

"Sorry, but I don't take bets or gamble. I'm not that stupid," Glavas replied and started walking away when the man grabbed him by his coat and stopped him in his tracks.

"Oh, but this isn't a bet or a gamble. I don't want anything from you if you lose. But you will only get the information from me if you manage to complete my challenge. So, what do you say?"

Glavas rolled his eyes. This definitely wasn't what he came here for, but going around and asking random people might've been even more time-consuming. "Fine, but tell me EXACTLY what you are planning first."

The moment he said that the dwarf's face lit up like the sunstone. "Hehe, alright, quite simple really. See those metal hoops there? They are for a game called Quadley. You take a metal ball and throw it through the hoops. IF you can manage to get it at least through the one in the middle, I'll tell you all you want."

Glavas felt confused. This all seemed too easy to be true. "Seriously? That is way too simple. Where's the catch? If you try any tricks, I'll throw you to the ground right here, in front of all these people."

"The trick is that you can't use magic," the dwarf explained, grinning like crazy.

"Is that it?"

"Yes. I know your elven kind far too well. You use magic for everything and look down on us, who work with our muscles down in the dirt. So show me, elf, how well you can do without your precious magic."

"Alright then." Glavas shrugged. He didn't feel intimidated by the dwarf. If anything, he felt a sort of pity for him. "So... any hoop from the middle one and further?" he asked to confirm his understanding of the rules.

"Yup. Do it and I'll tell you what you want," the dwarf replied and turned to the bystanders, which have started to gather around the moment Glavas stepped into the small playing area. "Watch, I bet he won't be even able to lift the ball," the residents mocked him in their mother tongue.

The elf sighed. He didn't like so much attention, but nothing could be done. With both hands, he picked up the metal ball. It was surprisingly light. And then, with a powerful toss, he blew the minds of everyone gathered around. The orb flew not through the hoop in the middle, but through the one at the very end, marked with the highest number of points.

"There. Now I want my information," Glavas said to the dwarf that challenged him.

"Oh ho ho, not so fast, pal. You... You have to get two out of three!" the man argued.

"That wasn't our deal."

"Oh yeah? Well, I don't remember us shaking hands so..." Before he could finish his sentence, Glavas held his end of the bargain. He swept the dwarf's leg. As the man put out his arms, trying to regain balance, the elf grabbed one of them and threw his challenger over his shoulder and right to the ground. And before the man could even register what happened, Glavas sat on his chest, pressing him against the ground.

"Wow, you're so fat this seat is actually quite comfortable," the elf teased him. "Now, about that name..."

"Yes! Yes! Ugh... Name, sure, I'll tell you, just get off!"

"Nu-uh. First, you tell me where I can find..." The elf searched for his notebook again, to be sure he'd get the name right. Normally, it would take him barely two seconds to find it, but this time, he thought that there was no need to hurry, and so he deliberately searched all of his empty pockets first, before reaching into the one containing the notebook. "Chindley! I'm looking for a lady named Chindley."

"Ah... chef Chindley? Well... she's in her restaurant!"

"And where might that be?"

"J-Just go towards the big building with the golden flag. You can't miss it!" The dwarf was right. The tall hotel, in which the restaurant was situated, was towering over the rest of the city.

"See? That wasn't so hard." Glavas pat the dwarf on the head before finally standing up again. Afterward, the crowd, whose attention was, up until this point, fixed on the elf, suddenly returned back to their individual activities. They wanted to avoid this visitor's attention at all costs.

It didn't take long for Glavas to start feeling stupid. Of course, someone like Chindley, with her fame and glory, would most definitely be working in the biggest and most glamorous building in the city. If he had realized that sooner, he could've saved a lot of time, and one embarrassing lesson for that poor dwarf. However, what was done was done. He got the information anyway. All he needed now was to find the person herself.

His end goal was a beautiful building with a facade decorated with many columns and arches, and which was basking in a golden light, created by a large, cleverly placed yellow fabric. Two of its ends were attached to the top of the at least 10 stories tall hotel, while the other two were connected to the roofs of other nearby buildings. When the light of the sunstone passed through it, the entire hotel looked as if it was made of gold.

However, while this monument definitely looked noble and expensive, the rest of the city lacked the same feeling. Granted, it was colorful, due to the many fabrics and flags attached to the houses, but that slightly unnerving tone the city carried wasn't coming from the colors, but rather from the people. It seemed as if the houses were better dressed than the residents living inside. And from those few times when Glavas managed to peek into the interiors through an open window or door, he could tell that all those pretty colors were indeed just an exterior decoration. A few people sitting on the street with bowls and hats filled with only a few coins placed before them also didn't exactly improve the feel of the city. Glavas felt a certain urge to help them and spare a coin, but could not afford it. He had precisely counted his expenses and if he was to spend but a single elven Moon extra, he would not be able to carry out his plan.

As soon as he passed through the uncomfortably narrow and busy streets, he found himself standing right in front of the hotel. Here, just around the building, there was so much space one could fit a whole cart here, including the horses. The inside of this classy establishment was just as pretty as the outside. The walls retained the column-based decoration, but these were painted light yellow, to at least slightly match the exterior look.

"Ehm!" the porter announced his presence. "May I help you... sir?" he asked as his eyes scanned Glavas from head to toes and he raised one of his eyebrows.

"Ah, yes. I am looking for chef Chindley's place," the elf explained.

"I see... And for what purpose do you seek it?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?"

"No, I am afraid it is not."

"I came here to eat. She's a famous chef, so... you know, it's kinda natural."

"Sir, I apologize, but our restaurant is reserved for the highest social class of Huldar. It might be somewhat... out of your financial capabilities."

Glavas smiled. If he had a coin every time someone would tell him this, he'd he could afford to visit such places daily.

"Oh really? Let me ask you for clarification then. Miss Chindley's special, the Nether-dipped lobster, usually costs exactly 7530 dwarven Glimmers. If we take into account the outrageous conversion rate of Huldar, and my kind's illogical habit of using the octal system instead of a decimal one, that should be exactly... 31 001 elven Moons, no?"

"Indeed. But your mathematical skills, while admirable, are not being questioned here."

"I know. But since I came here, fully aware of the price, don't you, smartass, think that I know how much money to bring to eat here?"

"Hmm... I sense a slight irritation in your tone, sir. Very well then. Please, this way." The porter led Glavas to the hotel's restaurant and before the elf could ask any further questions, the man disappeared without a trace.

The place looked breathtaking. It was full of many huge windows, which were all covered by long orange sheets. The light coming from the outside got dimmed while passing through the textile, creating a cozy atmosphere.

"Ehm, are you in need of direction, sir?" one of the waiters asked Glavas.

"No, thanks. I'd like to have a table for one if any are available," the elf replied. His hands were shaking with impatience.

"Ah, well... right this way, sir," the dwarf answered, rather uncomfortably, and purposefully led their newest customer as far away from the other guests as possible. "Here is the menu."

"I won't be needing it. I wish to try chef's special, the Nether-dipped lobster."

"Ah... umm... well, certainly, sir. And anything to drink?"

"Nah. Couldn't make it back if I got a drink too. The lobster will be more than enough."

The waiter quickly made a note of the elf's order and scuttled off into the kitchen. In the meantime, Glavas took out a pencil and his little notebook and opened it on the first empty page. As he finished this relatively simple action, a murmur started spreading throughout the staff. "Why is that man here? An elf? He's far from home. And those clothes? So dirty! And what's with that notebook? Oh no! A disguised food critic!"

This simple misinformation traveled throughout the hotel like wildfire. After all, for an elven critic to travel so deep into the dwarven lands, just to judge food in some remote city was a feat unheard of. And so along with food, Glavas found himself enjoying many other luxuries of the hotel's restaurant. Naturally, all free of charge. First arrived a waiter with a bottle of wine. It was so ancient not even the elf, in his mid 120s, would remember the day it was bottled.

"Oh! No no no! I didn't order wine! That's too expensive!" Glavas desperately tried to explain to the man, who managed to open the bottle, pour him a glass, and seal it up again with magic, all before the elf could finish his single sentence.

"Not to worry, sir. That is a gift from the hotel," the waiter said, and quickly scurried off back into the kitchen while maintaining the grace of a galloping horse.

While all this was transpiring, the violinist, who had been tasked with keeping the guests entertained with classical music, slowly got up from his regular spot and danced his way over to their elven guest. Before Glavas could ask him why he came so close, a different waiter interrupted him, bringing the food he ordered. Nobody noticed it, but this was the record time at which anyone has ever been served at the establishment. At this point, even the other guests have started to turn their eyes to the new visitor, after they saw that he, unlike everyone else, received his dish served on a beautiful silver plate.

"May you find it adequately tasty," the waited mumbled his regular phrase and quickly left the premises. After all, a critic who had come on his own would probably desire the least amount of company possible.

With a wide smile, Glavas dug into the meal. The sauce was playing its symphony on his taste buds, so breathtaking that he decided to slow down to savor every bite. He wouldn't be able to afford such food for a long time, so why not enjoy it?

The overall production speed of the whole restaurant suddenly slowed down to a near halt. The entire staff was squished against the tiny window in the door, leading from the kitchen into the main hall. "He's eating so slow! I bet he hates it! I knew the lobster wasn't as fresh as the fisherman claimed!" Chindley complained out loud while biting down on her fingernails.

This entire ordeal lasted half an hour. For Glavas, it was a feeling close to a paradise. He carefully noted down each positive about the meal into his small notebook. Only positives, for there was not a single flaw. Each taste and feel was carefully documented. In the end, the small book contained yet another experience written on its pages. The total was now 58 recipes, each documented in great detail. "Ah, money well spent," Glavas exclaimed at the end.

To the staff, boxed up in the kitchen like apocalypse survivors, these thirty minutes represented their pilgrimage through purgatory. And as an irony of fate, even they had the number 58 in mind. However, in their case, it was the number of potential mistakes that they could've made during the food preparation process.

"Waiter, please be so kind and ask chef Chindley to come here. If she has time, of course," the elf asked after a while.

While the head chef was approaching the table, she'd swear she could hear drums beating a solemn melody along with her soon-to-be-performed execution.

"Y-You wanted to s-speak with me?" she asked the elf.

"Ah yes. That food was marvelous. I'd say out of all the delicacies I've tried so far, yours is... well... at the very least in the top 15. If not 10."

The chef smiled as soon as she heard it. "That is wonderful! Does that mean you'll write a positive critique?"

"A positive critique? I doubt anyone would read it. But I wrote a lot of stuff about your food into my private notes here, if that pleases your mind."

"Wait..." Suddenly, the reality dawned on the chef. "You're not a food critic?"

"No. But I'd love to be one! Heh, imagine doing THIS for a JOB! Best life ever!"

Chindley, out of both relief and shock, instinctively sat down on the other chair at Glavas' table. "You're really not a critic?"

"Nope."

"Not even a disguised one?"

"Nu-uh."

"Then who the fuck are you?!" such a sudden volume of Chindley's voice made all the other guests turn around.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said! You look like a rat fresh out of a garbage can! Yet somehow, you had the money to afford to eat at MY restaurant." Her eyes briefly focused on the musical instrument, sitting under the table. "Are you some sort of a superstar bard?!"

"Hahaha! You're funny. Nah, I'm not a bard. I can play, but you... well, you wouldn't like my music. But if you want to know who I am, I'll gladly tell you." The elf stood up and puffed up his chest, like a soldier in the army that is about to salute. "Glavas! My pleasure. Hunter and exterminator at your service! If you have a problem with rats that are at least the size of a pony, you get 50% off!"

Absolute silence filled the room, introduced by a squeak of the violinist's instrument, as shock drove his bow across all the wrong tones possible. Nobody could bring themselves to say anything. All their illusions were suddenly gone.

"How the FUCK can a mere hunter afford to dine here?!" Chindley couldn't believe it.

"Well... I was saving up for four months. Went on about 28 hunts. Broke my collar bone once too. Was quite a difficult process. But let me tell you, that lobster, mmmm! Like a gift from heaven. Absolutely worth it."

"So... you finished eating then?"

"Yup! Look! The plate's almost as clean as when you brought it here," Glavas grinned. "I even licked out all the sauce."

"Good. Then GET OUT of my restaurant!"

Glavas merely shrugged, thanked for the meal and the, according to his words, "rather bland" wine, and walked out, as peacefully as he entered. The only thing that stopped him from exiting the hotel was a large hairy hand, which he suddenly found pushing against his body.

"Sorry, but... did I hear correctly back then that you're a hunter?"

Glavas looked to the side at the short and chubby dwarf that was now blocking his way.

"Indeed I am. Glavas! My pleasure. A hunter for hire. If your infestation of bats has been squeaking for more than 48 hours straight, you'll get 20% off," he reintroduced himself and gave the dwarf a slightly formal bow.

"Oh, no no, we don't have a bat problem, but... let's say with our neighbor's sheep."

"Sheep? Why the hell would you want me to hunt sheep? They are harmless."

"There would be no need for that. You see, recently, they have been found dead."

"Well... sheep die, yes. Quite surprising, I know," Glavas replied and smirked.

"But not all at once."

"Eh, could've just been some accident with poison, no? I'm not a detective, so that's out of my league."

"The only thing left behind were heads on stone spikes."

As those last few words left the dwarf's mouth, the elf's long ears twitched with interest.

"Can you show me?"

Several minutes later, a loud call could be heard from the hill near the farm where all that bloodshed happened. "Heeeeey! I've managed to find some help!!" As the sound reached the small farmhouse, two other dwarves ran outside to welcome their friend, along with the elven outsider he brought along.

"Who is that?" asked Ikran, the eldest of the dwarves.

"That lad's called Glavas. He's a hunter who was eating at Chindley's."

"At Chindley's?! A hunter? How could he ever afford that?!" said Derman, the other of the two dwarves and the owner of the farm.

"I don't know. But if they pay him this much for his services, he must be good, no?" His attention turned to Glavas, who was leaning over the fence, inspecting the stone stakes from a safe distance. "So, mister hunter, what is your opinion?"

The elf quickly pulled out a certain strange metal stick from a holster on his belt, snapped it open, and looked inside. "Last six, huh? That'll have to do," he muttered, clicked the two pieces of his weapon back together, and then turned to the man that hired him.

"This thing here is a sign of big trouble. I advise you guys to go somewhere closer to the city, at least for the next hour or two."

"Is it that bad?" The dwarves all exchanged concerned expressions.

"Quite so, yes. The thing that took the sheep was a Luker."

"A Looker?" one of the dwarves asked.

"No no, that is Elvish for Lurker," the older one corrected him.

"No, and... definitely no! Do you even speak Elvish?" the elf crossed his arms.

"Yes... tirs!"

"It's tirsh." Glavas gave Ikran a quick lesson in his native tongue. "And I didn't mispronounce it. Luker is a magical being, relatively rare, that loves to consume organs of other creatures, except for the brain. That often gets left behind as some sort of a reverse trophy for the victims of their attacks," he explained.

"Does that mean you can kill it?" Derman gave him a question they've been all meaning to ask.

"Well... it'll be quite the pain in the ass. You see, these bastards are actually fully sentient. Not the smartest tools in the shed, but definitely smart enough to piss you off."

"We'll pay you three thousand Glimmers," the dwarves said after a brief moment of thinking.

"Deal!" the hunter quickly replied and spun on his heels. He was heading towards the woods near the farm.

"Umm... are you sure you can find it? If it's in the forest, it can hide in many places."

"Find it? It's a Luker. I'll let it find me. Oh! And one more thing. Get FAR away from those woods. If you can hear music, you're not far enough," he gave them his final warning and set out after his target.

The forest wasn't deep, but it covered a large area. Finding a specific creature in it would be practically impossible. The ground was full of mud, but a floating beast, such as the Luker, would not leave behind any footprints, despite being rather heavy. But Glavas knew what to look for. The woods weren't supposed to be a hiding place, but rather hunting grounds. Lukers would rarely hide, and would instead make sure to lure inexperienced hunters closer. This meant that all he had to do was to keep his eyes out for tiny clues that were supposed to lead him into the creature's trap.

An hour and a half have passed. The farmers, who have meanwhile transported themselves to the city gate and have terrified the two guards with a story of a huge monster, were waiting eagerly for something to happen. The silence of the five scared dwarves, only two of which were armed in any way, gave the city's main entrance a gloomy and upsetting aura, despite the bright summer day. Meanwhile, the forest was far noisier.

"Bring me another bottle! And show me the way to the nearest brothel! Ey-hey, I'm just living my life, so who are you to judge?" Glavas was cheerfully singing as he wandered the woods following the Luker's signs. Eventually, the melody stopped, as his eyes landed on a bunch of sheep bones scattered on the ground. "Oh, come on, I was almost to my favorite part," he complained about the unfinished song and crouched over the remains to closely inspect them. Before he could learn anything, however, the branches above him snapped. The hunter dodged at the very last minute, as a massive creature landed where he previously stood. The sheep bones cracked under the weight, as the monster lifted itself off the floor.

One could imagine a far scarier monster, yet this one's look wasn't something you'd simply glance over either. The creature's body looked pretty much like a large stone obelisk with many sharp edges. The two black noodles coming out from its waist area were its hands, used much more for keeping balance rather than anything else. Its head was practically non-existent. The single large red eye, which looked like a gem of unimaginable price, was sitting firmly inside the body, at its very top, right above the mouth, masquerading as a metal grinder capable of articulate speech. Behind the creature were four stone spears floating in the air, made of a similar material as the armored parts of the Luker's body.

"Aww... you have only four? I wanted to see one with eight!" Glavas complained as his enemy finally revealed himself.

"Hihihi, aren't you a bit cocky, fleshsack? You came here without a weapon or a backup, geared only with a... musical instrument? Hihi, you are obviously a massive rookie," the creature replied and rubbed its hands together.

"Eh, you know what they say, appear weak when you're strong."

"Foolish idea. In what you claimed to be only an act of weakness, you fell right into my grasp."

"Oh really? And isn't it the other way around? I mean... I was looking for you, and you just jumped right at me. You sure it's not you who fell into my grasp?"

It takes very little to irritate a Luker. The moment the creature felt like Glavas might be just a tiny bit right, the four spears behind its back shot out right towards the elf.

Glavas wasn't too bothered. He knew far too well how Lukers fight. If this was one of those who could conjure up six or seven of such spears, then it would perhaps be a challenge. But like this? It almost felt too easy. The hunter merely hopped back a little, to avoid one of the spears aiming for his legs. The other weapons simply missed.

Lukers had a habit in their fighting style. One that has claimed the lives of far too many hunters. They were one of the few creatures who had excellent prediction skills. Therefore, they always aimed not at the spot where their target was, but rather at the place they'd find themselves several seconds later. This particular Luker had four possibilities. In his head, Glavas would either run left or right. In the worst-case scenario, he'd try to jump over the spears, and if he was truly far too overconfident, he'd rush forward, sliding under them. And so each of the spears was aiming for a different one of these scenarios. What the monster didn't expect, however, was for Glavas to stand completely still.

"Okay, my turn!" the elf replied. He quickly drew his weapon from the holster and aimed it at the Luker. In the next moment, a massive shockwave flew out of the little metal stick, along with a thundering bang. The force dug into the dirt as well and carried a rather large wave of smoke and dust towards the creature.

The Luker quickly crossed its arms to protect itself and its eye was flying from one side to the other. "Where is the next shot gonna come from?" it wondered. And then suddenly, a melody started playing. It was strange. Normally, the source of sound would be easy to pinpoint, but this one seemed to be coming out from all directions at once. For a brief moment, the Luker let its guard down, not even realizing why. And after this brief moment was over, they found a metal sword stuck in their chest.

"What? A sword? Where did it come from? How did it get here? What happened?" they thought. Everything went down so fast that the monster didn't know how to react. Eventually, the cloud of dust settled down, revealing the hunter once again, but this time, he looked a bit different. His left sleeve was rolled up, revealing a series of magical tattoos, one of which seemed to now be replaced with a bleeding wound. That explained where the blade came from. The Luker also discovered the source of the melody. It seemed to be coming out of the hunter's instrument, unsurprisingly. What was odd, however, were the two additional black arms, which had sprouted out of the elf's back, and were now playing the instrument for him. But it wasn't the creepy self-playing hurdy-gurdy or the magical ink that frightened the creature the most. What truly sowed fear into its mind were the hunter's eyes. He seemed so carefree before, almost naive, but now, it was as if he was judging the monster's every aspect, including those one wouldn't be able to see.

"I'm gonna be the better person here and give you a choice. If you peacefully go to the dwarves and apologize for the mess, I will make sure you'll stay alive and will merely be forced to relocate. You'll be able to hunt in the wild, far away from any humans, elves, or dwarves. So? What do you say?" Glavas said, his voice completely devoid of emotions, pitch, or intonation.

The Luker fell to the ground and with great pain pulled the sword out. It was a direct hit into one of its three hearts. Whoever this person was, they were able to throw weapons with surgical accuracy. Such a battle could not be won, not by any normal means.

"Fine, I'll accept your proposal, if you can promise me that you'll LIE DOWN AND DIE!!" The Luker slammed their tiny fists against the ground, sending forth a wave of smaller stone spears erupting from it.

Glavas merely aimed his weapon forward and pressed the trigger. Another giant wave of pressurized air flew out of the hole at the end of the metal stick. The attack uprooted the spears, sending them flying in every direction. But those were not a threat. What the hunter had to look out for was the spear thrown right at his head. Of course, the wave would be just a distraction. It was too simple for a creature like the Luker. Glavas didn't do much, he simply moved his head to the side and let the otherwise lethal blow fly harmlessly into the tree behind him. Then, before the dust could settle down once again, he picked up one of those spears that were scattered around and threw it in a fashion similar to the sword from before.

But the Luker was wiser now. He wouldn't be hit by the same attack twice. As the weapon approach his second heart, he caught it in his hands, right before it could pierce his body.

"You are predictable!" the monster called out, trying to shout over the music.

Another blast flew out of the metal weapon. However, this one was aimed the opposite way, away from Glavas's target. Its goal wasn't to hit anything, but rather to propel the elf's body forward, right at his foe. The hunter kicked the caught spear and the momentum gathered by the blast from his weapon was enough to push it forward, right through the second heart. However, the Luker knew that this attack made his opponent significantly vulnerable. Right now, he was within the creature's reach.

Lukers were strong, but not very versatile when it came to combat. They had only two spells in their arsenal, both of which were, however, quite universal. The first one was the ability to summon smaller stone rods out of the ground near them. This could potentially kill their targets, but it took way too long to reach those that would be further away. Not to mention that anything flying would be straight-up immune to such an attack. The second spell wasn't as much of a magical ability as it was a part of a Luker's body. Each individual could manifest several larger spears behind their back. Their number and hardness differed and depended on the age and training of the creature. These natural weapons could be manipulated freely with telekinesis, as long as they were within a certain close distance to their owner. However, even when thrown away or lost, new ones would quickly form once again. Such a situation happened at that point. The spears that the Luker previously threw away have regenerated and were now ready to use once again.

The creature spread them out and spun them around its body. Their sharp edges would surely cause rather nasty cuts if they were to hit. But Glavas was experienced. Such a simple method of retaliation could practically be considered a cliché of the hunters' world. Before the spears could hit him, he aimed his weapons toward the ground and fired. The massive force of the wind magic knocked the Luker to the ground. For a moment, the creature didn't know what happened. The blast was so strong it disoriented them greatly. A wake-up call came when they noticed Glavas. The magical attack threw him high into the air. Right now, he was falling right towards the monster. Another one of his tattoos was bleeding, and in his left hand, he was holding a spear with a blade made of some black metal. This time, the Luker didn't want to underestimate his opponent. Only one of their hearts was still beating. They had to protect it at all costs. And so instead of an attempt at parrying or counterattacking, they simply decided to dodge and run. It would be better to live and find some new prey, than to risk dying at the hands of a hunter. But just as they moved only by a few centimeters, a total silence befell the woods. The music played by Glavas' creepy instrument had stopped, and with it, so did the Luker's attempt at running.

"That song was magical too?!" the Luker thought for a moment before a gunshot broke through the deafening silence. The hunter was like a living ballista shot. His body smashed spear-first into the monster. The final heart was currently in the middle of its latest beat when an alien metal object invaded its private living quarters. The creature fell to the ground. It was a demise so quick, that their last memory wouldn't even contain any recollection of the pain. They only remembered the music and its sudden absence.

Using music as a medium for magic was not unheard of, but it had far too many requirements, so most wizards considered it a waste of their time. To create such a spell, one would need to write the notes onto magical paper, with magical ink, using magical symbols. After all that, it wouldn't be unexpected for the author to feel quite magically insane as well. Not to mention that a single mistake or a misplaced drop of ink would mean that you'd have to start over. In that case, those who attempted to write such spells usually threw their calligraphy set out of the nearest window, and, in some not-so-rare cases, themselves along with it. But the trouble wouldn't end even with a perfectly written paper. Then the music had to be flawlessly performed in front of the writing, while the wizard explains, in the fluent language of magic, what exactly should the song do if played. One mistake and you could start over. Therefore, Glavas was truly only one of the very few who ever used such crazy and demanding magic. Naturally, he never wrote any of it himself. He was merely lucky to one day find a certain arch-wizard who owned a particular book of magical songs, which may or may not have been securely placed in the mage's backpack. And in the same way, Glavas may or may not have liberated the person of the burden of carrying such an important and precious book along with him.

The song he played to the Luker was called "Anxious pressure". While it's being played without interruption, it gathers strength, and when it stops, all who have been listening to it for its whole duration get paralyzed for anything between a blink of an eye and the time it takes to say "Help, I can't move!" In the case of the Luker, a blink of an eye was all Glavas needed.

The farmers waited patiently, just outside of the city gate, each hiding behind one of the two guards, with the third member of their group being left in the middle as bait if any attack should come out of those woods. Many doubts about Glavas were eating through their mind, telling them that the hunter is most likely dead and that they should all start fearing for their lives. But they still decided to wait, at least for a few more minutes, just to see if anything would happen. And truly, it didn't take a long time before a dirty black fedora appeared on the horizon, shortly followed by the rest of the elf's body. In his right hand, the man was carrying the severed top part of the Luker's body, as proof of killing it.

"Holy shit, he actually did it," the dwarves mumbled to themselves as Glavas threw the scalp at their feet.

"Done and done. It shouldn't be bothering you anymore. Though... you will still need to get some new sheep, most likely," the hunter told them with a smile and scratched the back of his head.

"Oh, we're very grateful," one of the farmers nearly threw himself onto the elf. "Say, are you alright? Your hand looks... nasty," the man pointed to the thick layer of freshly dried blood covering Glavas' left hand.

"Oh? That? Don't worry, that's not an injury. Or... it was, from the tattoos, but that's all fine now," he assured them and rolled up his sleeve, revealing his arm, which, despite being intact, looked as if it just completed a shift at the slaughterhouse.

The dwarves were feeling a mix of admiration and relief, but also at the same time, fear and distrust. A man who could take down a creature like that without getting even scratched? They were unsure if the real monster died or left the forest still alive. And due to these mixed feelings, they all preferred not to deal with Glavas any longer. "Here, all the money should be in there," one of the dwarves handed him a rather big and heavy satchel."

"Alright, let's count them then." Glavas giggled, sat down, in the middle of the road, and very carefully poured the contents of the bag out, forming a perfect pile out of them. Then, he got to counting. The dwarves knew that there was enough money. The last thing they needed was to be indebted to such a crazy-looking man. Glavas, however, was reasonable. It was only natural that he wanted to verify the payment. Though nobody expected him to do it right in the middle of the only road leading into the city.

"Umm... sir, please, you can't just..." one of the guards tried to approach Glavas.

The elf stopped him with a raised palm and continued with his counting. "1100... 1200... 1300..." The guards did mind his presence but didn't want to cross his paths, so they all waited and watched as the hunter slowly mumbled his way through all the necessary numbers, and until all the coins were back in the bag.

"Alright, that seems to be everything. Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen," Glavas tipped his hat and headed off into the city. The farmers merely nodded and started walking the other way, until one of them couldn't hold his curiosity anymore.

"What are you going to spend them on?" he asked, to the horror of his colleagues. He didn't mean it in any harmful way, however. The man was just curious.

Glavas turned around, smiling. "I'mma visit Chindley again. There's waaaaay more stuff on that menu I want to try."