Kiana Lyriel's Story

Traveling in the treacherous weather and the snow wasn't the smartest of moves, but since she had been almost all of the way to Azgrowth, Kiana hadn't wanted to stop. The last village she had stayed in had barely given her anything of interest to learn about. Knowledge was power - the power to know things about others and the power to sell the knowledge to those who needed it most. And Azgrowth had caught her attention with the stories of a wolf - or wolves - who, in uncharacteristic displays of violence, attacked humans. That hinted at something, and Kiana had an inkling that that something might be more: werewolves.

The snow fell in a light sprinkle, calmed from its previous storm. It fell over in a new layer over the ground as well as Kiana's clothes and the oiled cover over her lyre. She looked ahead through the darkness of the cloudy night and saw little specks of light spilling out from lamps and candles in the windows of some houses. She was nearly there. Kiana's tired jog received a new burst of energy and she began to run, eager to enter one of the town's pubs or inns and eager to exit the late winter chill.

Her running slowed again as she passed the open gate and the guards. It was early evening, and so most people seemed to have retired to their homes in order to eat supper. The streets were generally empty, much to Kiana's relief. She didn't feel like squeezing through large crowds at this point of the day. Spots of light illuminated the sides of the streets through a few houses' windows as Kiana made her way. The snow crunched underfoot. A breeze blew against her back and she heard a creak up ahead. She looked for the source and saw a large wooden sign hanging over a porch, both were part of a large building. Kiana smiled at the sight. It was definitely a pub. What else would have a sign with a giant, foaming tankard?

Kiana went up the steps and onto the porch. Through the closed doors, she heard voices over the comforting backdrop of clattering cutlery and a fire. Pulling back her hood, Kiana released long black hair and she brushed off the crusted ice from her clothes and instrument. Then, she pushed against the door and opened it, releasing a wave of warmth, chatter, and noise. The pub seemed quite full but Kiana entered anyways, glad to finally be out of the cold.

There were several glances, but most of the chatter continued unabated as Kiana slipped through the tables and people, searching for a free seat. First she would warm up a bit, perhaps with a nice hot bowl of stew. Then she would see if she could talk with some people. If she couldn't get anymore, she would play her music. She would probably find someone with the information she wanted then - or at least someone who knew someone who did. It didn't matter. As long as she had her music and the warmth. She was patient. Information would always come.

She didn't want to go out and brave the chill of the snow again, but the inn had been too full and Kiana was feeling so sluggish and tired, that she was sure that if she attempted any type of song or attempt at gathering information, let alone sweet-talking her way into getting a room. If she'd try, she'd probably mess up and end up revealing more things than learning.

Kiana stifled a yawn as she paid a few coins for the food. She had managed to get directions to the nearest inn through the simplest tactic of just asking. It was, apparently, close by and so she slipped reluctantly out of the warmth. Kiana pulled up her hood and stepped lightly back into the streets. She made sure her lyre was snug and began walking. It was getting late, but her steps weren't rushed - if she did, she might miss something.

And indeed, as Kiana neared her destination, she caught a glimpse of a figure leaning against a building. Kiana kept her pace measured as her eyes flicked to the other. The person seemed very muted in her black cloak hiding most of her features, but something about her - perhaps the way she held herself - told Kiana that she was something special. A secret, perhaps? Something that asked to be learned of. Kiana nodded to herself mentally. She would definitely look into this...

"She's gone," the drunk had repeated, staring at Kiana desperately through red-rimmed eyes. "She went out to get some flowers but she must have gotten lost. And now it's too dark..." He then hesitated; like many in the town, even drunk he was reluctant to speak of the monsters that seemed to stalk the forest. Kiana had gotten all the information she wanted and needed though.

She stood up. "I'll go look for her," she had said, pushing her untouched tankard towards the drunk. Then, leaving him behind, she had headed towards the forest. The girl hadn't been that hard to find - the surroundings were all torn up, bloody, and the girl herself barely recognizable. Kiana stepped lightly through the snow, leaves, trees until she stood by the broken up swirl of blood, flesh, and nature. She quietly listened for a moment and then bent down, inspecting the body and quashing down any disgust. The answer rose at once to her mind as she noted the chewed flesh and claw marks, as well as the trail through the snow on the right, leading away. Werewolf.

She fingered one of her blades thoughtfully. Then, she stood and slipped past the body, towards the tracks. She began to follow them warily, keeping all her senses extended. It was the voice that alerted her to the other's presence first. "Damned shaman-bitch," a low gravelly voice snarled. "Cut off my hand..." He trailed off in a variety of curses. The leaves rustled as Gust reached through the bushes to pull out some herbs roughly and stick them into the basket belonging to a - now dead - villager girl who had been stupid enough to wander the forest and too slow in trying to escape. Gust licked his jaws at the memory of the blood - "Stupid little human had the basket I needed though" - and then continued savagely pulling the herbs, sometimes getting roots, sometimes bits of the leaves.

Kiana did not need to guess that Gust had been the one to kill the girl. She stepped backward, preparing to creep away. Snap! Kiana's eyes widened and she managed to call herself several kinds of stupid as Gust's head shot up and he turned. "Oho! Another stupid little human." He dropped the basket behind him and stepped forward, preparing to transform. Kiana responded quickly as she threw her blade forward at Gust's neck. He moved, and a thin line of blood carved onto his skin, but it was only on his cheek and barely a nuisance to the werewolf.

No silver, no werewolf bone. Kiana thought worriedly as she danced aside from Gust's claws. Her arm suddenly burned and blood blossomed on long, shallow scratches engraved on her skin. And I don't think I can hold him down alone. That means... She had to distract Gust long enough to- Gust gave a bloodthirsty scream as he transformed, muscles and fur exploding into being. The scream became a howl that echoed through the air. There!

Kiana grabbed the moment of distraction and the opportunity the howl gave her to stand still and take a breath. Before the howl petered out and Gust turned his gaze towards her, Kiana hummed. It was a quiet melody at first, but began to swell into a loud wordless song that matched Gust's howl as it undulated and twisted through the melody. If Gust had been completely focused on the battle, Kiana would have had a difficult time either retreating or fighting. But the howl had been enough to distract him and let her match a melody to his cry. And so she let the tune escape her lips, match with the howl and then slowly bring Gust to a stop. Even as the howl faded, Kiana continued.

Gust's eyes were glazed as he stood limply in front of her. His ears twitched, straining to hear every note - lost in the sound. Kiana's voice dropped to a low croon as she stepped forward. One step. Two steps. Gust let her walk straight up to him. Kiana pulled out a longer knife than the one earlier. She casually put it pointing straight at one of Gust's eyes. Her voice trailed to a stop. Gust stood there for several moments longer, pulling free from the spell.

"Now don't attack," Kiana murmured, her blade extremely close to the werewolf's eye. "If you so much as twitch, this will drive into your brain and the world will be free of one more werewolf."

Gust snarled. "What do you want, bitch?"

Kiana smiled, feeling more comfortable as she slipped into the familiar territory of information gathering. "Information. Just a little news."

Gust's eyes narrowed. It sounded so simple. Too simple. "What kind of news?"

"Tell me, who cut off your hand?" Kiana asked idly. Gust's reply was laden with expletives, but Kiana got the general picture of a shaman who stayed in the forest and supposedly was also a werewolf. Kiana noted down the person as a person to look for after the... "enlightening conversation" with Gust. She wasn't asking anything sensitive, so Gust was rather open with his feelings. "I thought a shaman would be healing you, not cutting off hands," Kiana murmured.

"She was supposed to be!" Gusts growled. "My hand was cut by Big Bad's bitch! Little Red!" Kiana's interest was peaked. Little Red? The villagers had mentioned... something. A rumor. Her inquiry was rebuffed however with another wave of curses. "What, you gonna torture me?" Gust howled.

"No. I'm sure I can get all the information I need from the villagers and I'm sure the shaman might be more open to inquiry." Kiana smiled at Gust's sudden fearful eyes. "I don't think I need you anymore!"

"No wait! I'll tell you! Big Bad adopted Little Red and she killed and ate humans! She has a sister-" Kiana cut off his voice by stabbing the knife deep into the eye.

"A sister, huh? I'm sure I can figure who it is soon enough." Kiana moved towards the basket of herbs and picked it up. She sifted through it, picking out the badly damaged ones and then picked up more. "I'm sure the shaman would appreciate some of these..."

It had been but three hours since that arrogant wolf gust had left. The snow had stopped falling but the wind had picked up. She doubted that he would be back for the night and would probably return early morning if at all with her herbs. His arrogance and just plain idiocy is going to get him killed because Cordelia doesn't appreciate it when you disobey her.

It is not very known, not even within the wolf community, but her little charms are not the only thing she crafts. Using the bones of children, as they are most potent, she carves symbols and sculpts them into different shapes. They create disfigured objects that she uses for death curses. As soon as Gust had left she went outside to the back of her house and entered her secret cellar. It isn't large but its able to hold at least 6 people. At this point in time she had run out of her little ossa's and needed fresh bones.

As she opened the cellar door the wind picked up causing snow to flurry around her and sweep her coat up. Her hair that looked ghostly white in the light was swirling around and as the wind whistled through to the ones inside she probably looked like a banshee. Inside each in their own little cage sat 4 scruffy, shivering children. They had been the kids of a travelling merchant passing through. Because they had camped on the outskirts of the village she was given the chance to one by one steal the children. It caused distress among the party and they went to the villagers demanding to know who or what stole their children. Of course the villagers were too terrified to do anything but the merchant was beginning to go mad so went out by himself in search of them. In the end he met his demise at the jaws of another wolf.

These children had only their thin dresses, tattered coats and some old boots on. They were freezing but not enough so that they would die. No Cordelia needed her bones fresh and from one forearm bone she could carve four ossa's. As she descended the stairs the three girls and their young brother started to whimper. They each scurried to the back of their cages and held the other tight through the bars of their cage. Cordelia would never allow them to soil this place so a little pot was placed in each cell which she regularly disposed of. To Cordelia, being slightly insane, this was only natural and felt no disgust towards them when emptying the pots. Although it wasn't through kindness that she did anything for them. She would give them a fresh loaf to share each day to keep them alive. She took the small key from around her wrist and unlocked the cage that held the oldest child. The girl started babbling incoherently, her voice slowly rising in crescendo as she began to get more hysteric as Cordelia progressively unlocked the door and made her way inside. She held a basket with some items inside in the right hand and a glinting steel knife in the other. She placed down the basket and and knelt down. She waved the child over, of course the thing was terrified and shook her head vigorously.

"No!" she screamed in a nordic accent, "You are going to kill me! Take us home. I WANT TO GO HOME!"

Cordelia frowned. The child had no home to go to. How can she go home? Besides, Cordelia needed their bones. In a stern voice she told the child to come to her.

"You have no home to go to. I need you. Come here and it won't be painful. Disobey me and you will find yourself in unimaginable pain."

It wasn't the voice of someone cruel, just matter-of-fact. The child didn't know what to do so she pulled herself into the cradle position and cried into her knees. Still frowning Cordelia grabbed the child's arm and pulled her into her lap. At first she struggled but Cordelia's warm hands soothed her and she was crying into her dress. Taking a herb from the basket she lacquered it along the blade above the child's head. The child seemed to have given up, resigning herself to her fate. Gently she extended the child's arm out and laid it on the cold stone floor. She placed her free hand firmly on the child's arm to restrict her movement. Without even pausing she pressed the knife down at the elbow joint and severed the arm. The child screamed and convulsed but the herb quickly did it's job and numbed her body. She stopped thrashing and just lay there loudly sobbing. Swiftly he grabbed the bandages out of her basket along with some other leaves. She placed them firmly on the knob to stop the bleeding and deftly bandaged the wound. Blood had seeped onto the floor and was still flowing from the cut off limb. Taking a large folded sheet from the basket Cordelia placed it over the bloody spot and using a corner dabbed the severed end of the limb. She placed it into her basket and carefully removed the girls head from her lap. She would leave the sheet their as a reward for the girl for her limb. The others were in silence, trembling in the corners farthest away from her. They didn't dare speak. Cordelia stood up and exited the small cage and relocked it behind her. She had become so skilled at her task that she didn't even get a spot of blood on her clothes. Her hands were another story but that was unavoidable. She returned to the warmth of her cabin and went to work at creating the first ossa. She removed the hand first and placed it in a jar for another time, then she skinned the arm and went about cleaning it up. It wasn't long before all she had was the forearm, a clean white bone.

One fully complete ossa lay on her crafting table next to rest of the bone. Cordelia was standing over her cooking pot brewing a small meal with some of the flesh from the child's arm. She wasn't one for wastefulness. She spooned a bit of the broth into a small wooden bowl and sat down to her meal. Cordelia was a woman that because of her madness just did a job. She liked and disliked things but felt no emotion of an action completed. Her mind and emotions were things that she could control. Although lately the only emotion she had felt was irritation. And now with Gust still not returning she had started to fiddle with one of the ossa's. As she finished up her meal she had taken the steel knife from before and had the tip pressed gently into one of the symbols. She didn't know what she was going to do but it didn't take a psychic to figure out what would happen to Gust.

All of a sudden the knife was plunged straight into the ossa and Cordelia knew that Gust was dead. While she is carving the symbols she is in a state where she can't comprehend what she is doing. Once something has occurred to the ossa she is able to then read the symbols and determine what happened. As she was reading she raised an eyebrow. The one who killed Gust was coming here. The fool. They killed him with a steel knife, only achievable through a stab to the head. As she twisted the deformed bone she saw another symbol that represented voice and realised how the hunter managed to kill Gust. This person was a siren and if she was coming here Cordelia needed to know that she wouldn't be seduced. Rising from her chair she went to prepare herself for her guest. She grabbed the purple Isila flower and crushed it, she applied some rosemary and crushed some bamboo. She acquired the bamboo from one of her rare travels. She was gone for three months and it was very difficult to get a hold of this powerful plant in which she uses it sparingly. Finally she was left with a messy pulp. The last step was taking a red velvet pouch and placing the mixture in with a touch of sea salt. Complete she took the pouch and hung it from her neck with woven hair of some of the wolves that had died.

Now she was protected and she didn't have to wait long before she smelt the newcomer. It was female. This would be interesting