Eshenesra pulled the travelling cloak tighter around her shoulders. The night was a bitter cold and although her leather armor was tough, it did little to keep the chill from setting in. The farmland surrounding the village of Wealdstone stretched around her as far as the eye could see, with only occasional small homesteads dotting the landscape. Wealdstone itself was close and Eshenesra comforted herself in the thoughts of a hot meal by the tavern fire. It had been many cycles since she had passed through here, she doubted any of the humans she had met at that time were still alive, likely their children's children now tended the same fields they once had.
Eshenesra's long ears twitched as she grew close to the village, she could hear the sounds of merriment coming from the center of town. The faint sound of raucous laughter and a bawdy tune. As she drew closer to the sounds, she began to discern more of the song being played and felt a blush rise to her cheeks, humans certainly did have interesting imaginations, this particular song being a tale of a foolish warlock apprentice who summoned a succubus without taking the proper care to guard herself from its magicks and finding herself in the succubuses arms.
As Eshenesra stepped across the threshold of the inn, all eyes turned to her and voices began to murmur, as she swept back her hood, a gasp swept across the room, she caught the word elf whispered in conversations from every corner of the inn. Ignoring the stares she strode to the bar and addressed the innkeeper,
"Oh protector of travelers and keeper of joy in this village of Wealdstone, I, the humble Eshenesra, offer my services as a speaker of the Seventh language of Divinity in return for a hot meal and protection from the elements."
The innkeeper in return blinked in surprise, not used to being addressed in such a manner he replied with all the airs of formality he could muster
"Greetings, uh, Eshenesra. I am, uh, Smedley Theodore, and this here is my tavern, the Elf's Blessing. Sorry to bother you for this, but seeing as you be speaking the uh, seventh language of divinity? Could we people of Wealdstone ask a boon of you? We have been beset these last months by a horrible monster. It emerges at night to kill livestock and has stolen away two young maidens of the village, never to be seen again. We will give you anything we can in return, anything at all you desire."
Eshenesra nodded once,
"In return for hot food, shelter, and a hot bath every day for a month I will cleanse this scourge from your town. The hunt shall begin tomorrow, if this pleases you?"
The innkeeper hastily agreed and extended his hand across the bar, sealing their deal.
Draven stood and stretched, cum still dripping from the end of his engorged penis. The human girl that lay battered and beaten on the ground had stopped struggling long ago, as his long claws, halfway shifted between his forms had raked at her body in lust. It was a shame, she had been by far the most attractive one in the small human town, but had barely lasted a week before her body had given out. He would leave her body in the forest, for the animals to claim, much as he had the other one, and many before in towns and cities ranging from the hot deserts of Westborough, to the cold mountainous peaks of Alptaver. He'd have to find a replacement soon, humans were fun to play with, but their bodies were weak and they perished far too quickly.
Eshenesra rose from her nightly meditation, bringing her consciousness back through the twelve stages of Aetherial Rest to wakefulness. She rose from where she was sitting on the soft comfort of the bed, the cool morning air caressing her naked body, hairless except for her naturally silver eyebrows and long flowing hair, pale body illuminated by the dawn light. She flowed across the room to the small sink, splashing cool refreshing water on her face. Silently she donned her armour, she softly spoke the Eighteenth word of the Seventh language of Divinity to guide her in her task, she felt her hands go to her belt pouch, letting the divine flow draw her to what she needed. Smoothly, she drew out the liquid silver and a small branch of holly. Only two items, but for most monsters it would be enough. She was strong enough to wander the world alone, without assistance from the Seventh Language, only the most ancient and venerable of monsters could stand against her, and none would be spending their times by a small town in the middle of nowhere.
Eshenesra strode through the forest around Wealdstone, she had spoken the Twenty-third word of the Seventh language of Divinity in conjunction with the Fifty-eighth and the Nineteenth, which would hide her from the prying eyes of her prey, or any others that would seek to find her as she stalked. She spoke the Eighteenth word again, feeling it pull her towards her quarry. She came across a small opening in a hill, covered by a thick curtain of vines. Cleverly hidden, it would be invisible to all that didn't know where it was, even from a meter away she could barely discern the passage through. Silently she strode through the curtain and into the cavern.
Draven cocked his head, he swore that something had disturbed the entrance to his cavern, he breathed deep through his snout. Sampling the smells for kilometers around, the copper tang of the blood from the girl he had left in the forest, currently being eaten by wild wolves, animals mating, eating and sleeping all throughout his forest, nothing out of the ordinary. Shrugging his shoulders Draven hunched back over the sheep he had stolen from the village nights ago and resumed eating, clawed hands ripping at the flesh of the beast.
Eshenesra stalked through the cave, hearing the faint sounds of eating coming from the very same place she felt the Divine winds pushing her. Whispering the Eighty Third word of the Seventh language to reinforce her will and steady her hands, she strode into the cavern at the end of the tunnel. In front of her kneeled an enormous beast, part man, part wolf. He was hunched over an animal carcass, eating it raw by ripping chunks out with his claws. A werewolf, if this one was a young one it would be easy prey for her, she had slaughtered scores of young werewolves in hand to hand combat, a distracted one would fall in moments. However, with no way to tell if this was a young one or not she decided a proper binding was in place, lest she risk wounds from a mature werewolf. Eshenesra smiled, two items would be more than enough for this. The only type of werewolf that would require a proper binding was a venerable werewolf, but those had been hunted wherever they popped up, and now most werewolves didn't survive past the young stage.
