Within the swirling Mist (IC) > Biographies

The Method of the Kill - Thoughts and Lessons of Jean Renaud.

(1/5) > >>

Nemesis 24:


Written in High Mordentish

It occurs to me that this is long overdue.

I remember my father told me, in between the haze of opium smoke and cheap liquor, one small touch of the intellect that he must have once had in abundance.  He said that we are all of us the product of memory.  Our experiences and how we choose to remember them is what shapes us to be what we are.  That our choices are made for us by the memories that came from before, of our experiences and all that followed us.

Along that very same line of thinking, it occurs to me that I remember wondering what memories led to that very man dancing the hempen rope jig, even as his feet shook and spasmed, and the contents of his bladder and bowels dripped off his shoes.  What led him down the road to that inevitable ending?  What led me down to mine?

I cannot give the origins, only the more immediate.  I know what brought me here, to this place that I am now, and the reason my choices were made.  They have led me here, remembering my fractured lessons of youth, to commit the past to the page.  For I have made another choice, and that is to become nothing.

I've been told that it is important, at least to continue along my current path.  But I am of the belief that to become 'nothing', one must first divulge everything.  Perhaps by removing that which defines me, by casting it unto the page, I will lose that which made much of me what I am.  In so losing that which I am, I can perhaps learn to become something else entirely - something of far more use than I am at present.

Apparently, anyway.  The concept makes my head ache.

So, with the murk brown poison that sickens my liver but loosens my tongue and fingers, distilled by the finest of refuse and waste; with a splint ended quill and ink that smells of old blood turned foul with time, I will record the glorious wasteland that is my life and how it was that it led me to this point.

My name is Jean Renaud.  Son of Richemulot, but a most bastard son indeed.  An embarrassment or so I am told, to the blood from which I come, and considering the end that bloodline found and the manner of how it reached such an ending, I can only presume at how much disgrace must follow me.

To which I say, piss on you, rat bitten scum.  Play your game till you choke on the filth, trapped in your own miseries and blind to realise that they were your cage.  I watched the game being played and saw how it ends.  On the end of a rope, with feet dangling, and shoes stained with shit.



We were too close to Verbrek.  Hindsight is a wonderfully treacherous thing, but it is painfully correct nevertheless.  But the pay was good and we had made the run before, escorting premium good along unpatrolled roads.  I believe they call it smuggling.

I had grown up with the men I fought beside.  It was my father who had raised me but it was my brothers in arms that I learned to become a man.  Learned to sword, trained in the old heavy blade and a shield - how my countrymen would have laughed at a concept so quaint.  Learned to dance a coin across my knuckles, to roll a smoke from horseback, to always have a spare for when you really needed one.  We were a band of bastard sons without need for fathers, and were loyal to the coin second and each other first.
But as I said - we were too close to Verbrek.  The howling wilderness, the den of the wolves.  We were escorting our wagon of questionable goods and it came out of the treeline, right on top of us.  Slavering and snarling, twelve feet tall at the shoulder, grey and bloody.  A werewolf, but unlike any I've seen before or since.

It came from upwind, so we never even knew it was there.  A twenty yard dash from the trees took it but a heartbeat.  And it hit like a hammer, turning the wagon over with a single blow from its shoulder, sending horses and crates tumbling, turning the whole thing over with a crash.

I was riding on the wagon and that was all that saved me.  But not my brothers.  Lagos, Sven, Martel and Rogann.  Nor the fat merchant bastard who had paid us a pittance to take the risk we so foolishly took.   Torn apart while I was trapped and near senseless beneath the wreck.  Unable to do much more than listen, first to the screams of men and horses, then to the crunching of bones beneath jaws that could crack steel.  And all throughout, the snarling, so loud and so raw that it made my heart rattle in my chest, and I near forgot how to breathe.

I still to this day do not know how it did not find me.  I think that it knew I was there, in truth, but either it did not care, or it enjoyed my horror and fear, the sadistic nature of the lycanthrope manifesting in its cruelty as much as its savagery.  It took its fill and tore the rest apart for the pleasure of it.  It left me then, taking but one thing with it - Sven's sword, a bright blade in an ornate scabbard.  A trophy to remember us by.

It took me half a day to crawl free, and longer to tend my wounds enough that I could walk.  And what did I do, in my wracked state of being without mind nor reason?  I decided to track the creature down.

This was a foolhardy gesture.  Not least because of my injured state, leaving a scent of blood on the air and unable to move properly, but because I had no idea what I was doing.  How does one hunt a beast?  A beast with the intellect of a man and the savagery of a monster?  It was a question I did not ask myself, but learned to when grief gave way to reason.

Regardless, I was at the time no tracker.  I was more an incompetent, and it was to my benefit that it was so.  I knew rudimentary skills but not for the task at hand, and so I wandered, towards Barovia, and a place I came to know as Vallaki.  It was a long journey, longer still by foot and injury, but I managed it, and without pride.  For my vengeance was nothing but a hope and a dream, and I could no more track one monster down in a nation overwhelmed by them, as reach up and pull down the moon.  At least, not at that point.

I reached Vallaki, and seeing the gates shut to me I made use of the nearby inn outside the city gates, hoping to catch such refuse as myself.  With what little coin I had, I sat down and prepared to stew in my regrets and loss.

But as it happens, fate played a card.  And it was an ace.  For not long after I sat down, a man in his forties, bearing a long blade that reached from shoulder to calf and wearing a longer coat entered the common room.  He had but one eye, the other covered over by a patch, a cigar grasped between his teeth and an accent so thick with Mordentshire accents that I could near smell the potato fields upon him.  That one eye fell upon me, and in an instant I was weighed, measured, and found acceptable.  He introduced himself and we spoke together on to the dawn, and my life changed forever.

For that man was Hunter Locke, professor, monster hunter, investigator and occultist, and co-leader of the organisation known as the Hounds.  And after that night was done, he became my employer, my friend - and most of all, my teacher.  What he taught me would be what I needed to know - how to identify, hunt, corner, and most of all kill the very sorts of creatures that had caused me such woe - them, and everything else that hunted the blood of men.

It was to be a long and arduous education.

Nemesis 24:
Method of the Kill.
Foreword.

I would like to dedicate this catalogue of work in particular to my teachers, employers and instructors - Professor Hunter Locke and Monica Belmonte.  Without whom I would neither have survived, nor experienced such terrors of madness as one could ever dread to know.  Both of them are peerless in their fields, and knowing more of the world and the mysteries within it than I could ever hope to know, or wish to, and yet both remain true and steadfast - when all others have faded and fallen in their wake.

To Hunter, I say - you are a sodden, drunken madman, and have my respect above near any other.  I have neither the wit nor the skill to emulate you, but I will attempt my own mockery.

To Monica, I say - the greatest mystery I will never solve is how to make you even marginally less angry.  But no other blade is better to have at ones side than yours, and mine shall always be ready if you call.

To Ingrid.  To Henri.  To Fade.  You were lost along the way.  But we remember you still.   

List of Chapters.

Chapter One:  The Werewolf.

Chapter Two:  The Mundane Dead.

Chapter Three:  The Wererat.

Chapter Four:  The Manipulations of the Unspeakable.

Chapter Five: The Malicious Dead.

Chapter Six: The Vampire - The Higher Dead.

Chapter Seven:  The Fey. 

Chapter Eight:  The Maddening Unknowable.

Chapter Nine:  The Dread Hags.

Chapter Ten:  The Departed

Epilogue, and Final Thoughts.

Chapter One:  The Werewolf.


A dissertation of the identification, habits, weaknesses, methods and techniques of the lupine lycanthrope, and how to quell them.

Classification.

The wolf or canine based lycanthrope, more commonly referred to as a werewolf (or man-wolf if one was to use direct translation of the old tongue), is an unfortunately all too commonly encountered hybrid creature located within near all locations of the Core, with particular concentration of their kind to be found in Barovia and Verbrek, the latter of which can only be classed as being overrun with the creatures.

A werewolf, as it shall be called from here on, is like all lycanthropes a type of cursed, monstrous creature.  The method of creation of the creature is similar to that of a disease or a plague, either born with the disease or infected by it.  Infection is transmitted by saliva through bites, but can be treated before it sets in and killed like most infections can be with the correct methods.

However if it is not, then the manifestations of the infection will rise to prominence by the first full moon.  The disease itself appears to be linked to the lunar cycle, for whatever reason, though theories include dynamic magnetism of the tides, as during a full moon the ocean can ebb and rise exceptionally.  Whatever it may be, this lunar influence creates a dramatic and monstrous change in the infected, and this change is permanent from this moment onwards.

The resulting creature is from this point onwards cursed, and no longer either a man or a wolf, but a hideous hybrid of both that attempts to hide what it is.  By the light of a full moon it is unable to do so, and will deploy both human intellect and animal cunning to satisfy the hunger it has for flesh and blood, human or otherwise.  The disease creates remarkable and hideous changes in physiology, as well as mental state, and these changes can and often do degrade and increase as time goes on.  It is not by accident that this state of change is referred to as a curse and not a disease, for no conventional sickness can create such changes as has been found in this instance.

The secondary method of creation of such a beast is, as mentioned above, by birth.  This is often a peculiar circumstance - I have discovered that in a pairing of a werewolf and a humanoid giving birth, that in certain circumstances the infant will not bear the curse itself.  However, in an instance where both parents, either pure born or curse made, bear the infection - the child is always a werewolf themselves.  However, the child may in fact not be a 'child', as much as it is in fact a 'pup', remaining wholly canine.  During puberty the curse will manifest itself fully - often in a slowed down progression, becoming gradually worse each full moon, until it manifests fully, and the creature can take its alternating forms.  The secondary source of the curse cannot in any way be cured, regardless of measures taken after birth.  These beasts often forms packs, or families, and they are the most savage and animalistic of their horrific kind.

A rough sketch of 'The Beast of Verbrek' as I called it.

Identification:  Physical Characteristics and Markers.
The werewolf, like other lycanthropes, has a variety of forms to assume.  A singular form, of humanoid, or canine, or of a vile hybrid mixture.  All three have singular marking similarities, but for the most part, they are drastically different.

The first form of the werewolf is that of the humanoid.  Physically, this state is nearly identical to the original humanoid form that the werewolf bore before the state of infection.  This is the form of the subterfuge, that the werewolf uses to assimilate itself into society and ingratiate itself to their prey - other, unsuspecting humanoids.  There are, however, key signs of physical identification that remain on their person.

First and foremost tend to be the hands.  The fingernails are often sharper, and longer.  They often are stained, darkened by earth and blood, and roughly callused due to their being used for locomotion in their shifted forms.  Secondly, there is the scent.  The smell that accompanies the werewolf is that of the canine variety - often masked but never entirely.  This odour becomes significantly more pronounced - and more offensive - when the werewolf is wet, and can in fact carry quite some distance.  Thirdly, regardless of what form the beast wears, the eyes are the same.  They never change in colour, and through that they might be recognised if they are particularly striking in colour.

Fourth, a werewolf will keep away from livestock.  The scent that follows them causes animals to shy away from them in fear.  Horses in particular tend towards being extremely nervous and restive around them.  Fifth, the teeth and breath.  The teeth will tend to be both sharper and more pronounced - the upper and lower incisors in particular, and often have foul smelling breath - primarily due to their almost exclusively carnivore diet, that can include carrion. 

Lastly, there are the mannerisms.  The werewolf is, at heart, a canine, and its reactions to certain things are in the manner of the canine.  Confronted with a situation to create anger, they will snarl and lift up their upper lip like a dog might, to bare teeth, the head shifting lower with the body.  When confused, or given a non threatening surprise, they will straighten up and their head shall tilt to the left or right as a dog might when confronted with a curiosity.  And when confronted with food - raw, bloodied flesh - if they are hungry, they will produce an excess of saliva, even drool, and possibly even growl with their growing hunger.

By these marks one might know the werewolf in disguise.  In its purely canine form, it is fairly indistinguishable from a normal wolf, aside from a few key flaws - mostly revolving around its looks and stance.  A werewolf in its wolf form will often be uncommonly larger than a standard wolf - in the older variants they can be enormous, as large as (if not larger) than a thoroughbred stallion.  It will also exhibit strange variations of colour and hair - a person with long hair, for example, might bear an uncommonly large ruff or even a mane in its canine form.  If they have an unusual hair colour, the wolf form will often share it - in dark brown, grey or black hair this is not generally an issue, but a blonde, white or red haired person can create a startling coloured wolf form, and it is often easily recognisable.


A werewolf in its purely canine form.  Note the intensity and intelligence of the stare it presents - and the hunger.
As noted previously, the werewolf will also have eyes of the same colour and hue as the humanoid form.  Though the size may change, the colour will not.  This too can create unusual shades in eye colour, and by this the true nature of the creature can be known.

The most famous form of the werewolf, and the one by which it is most commonly known, is that of the hybrid.  A hideous and monstrous mixture of the humanoid and the beast, blended together to create a terrible visage.  Seemingly as twisted as its appearance, this is the most openly dangerous of the known forms.

The change itself is very quick.  While the first change brought about by the infection might take some time and involves a great deal of grotesque violence on the humanoid form, subsequent transformations are so rapid that they can take place between but a few steps, following the same process as the first change but at a greatly accelerated rate.

During the change, fur grows all over the body, but often with a sparser thickness and density than that of a wolf itself.  In places the flesh of the werewolf can be seen, but it will have a darker coloration, as though it has somehow thickened - contrary to some imagery or myth, the werewolf does not do anything so dramatic nor as visually arresting as tearing its way out of its own skin, but it true that it will shed its fur to return to normal afterwards.  With that said however, the magnitude of the change is extreme.  Muscle and bone structure will change dramatically during the transformation, becoming denser, heavier, and changing in shape entirely.  The facial features are reminiscent of a wolf, but are deformed, with emphasis on a larger jaw structure - which makes speech nearly impossible to comprehend.  The posture becomes hunched, the arms lengthening significantly and the claws also - becoming as long as daggers in some cases.  The ears lengthen and become upright, as the profile of the face and jaw structure lowers and lengthens.

The legs change drastically as well - becoming more akin to the hind legs of a canine in the process, a change that upsets balance.  Though the rear feet grow in size and the claws provide a great deal of push, they are unbalanced, the reversal of the knee creating an awkwardness of movement.  That said, they can, with combination of upper body movement and using their hands to pull them along.  The elbows become slightly maladjusted with regards to hinging and movement however, and this does impede flexibility.  The most powerful form of movement of the beast is its leap - a werewolf in its hybrid form can clear twice its own height on a vertical leap from a standing start.  With even a short running distance the ground cleared by a running pounce is enormous.

The torso undergoes less visible but nevertheless significant changes.  Bones of the ribcage harden, expand and grow, and the layer of muscle of the back, shoulders, chest and abdomen thicken considerably.  So much so that attacks or strikes on these parts of the body often tend to be thwarted by the combined density of muscle and bone. 

All in all, the change creates an efficient, vicious, and powerful killing machine.  One that is strangely and one might say supernaturally resistant to conventional weaponry.  Arrows bounce off the gnarled hide and fur, and blades that are not properly treated with aspects that affect the disease itself - the curse, as it perhaps could be more properly called - are the only devices that can claim the life of the beast with any measure of surety.  It should also be noted that in this form the unnatural toughness of the beast allows it to recover from injury with nearly unfathomable speed - wounds will close quickly, and the beasts themselves seem almost tireless - able to run down a man on horseback with ease, even hours later, with the sheer relentlessness of the pursuit.  To prevent the return or the renewed assault of the monster, the kill must be performed with surety.

The size of the transformed state varies considerably.  As noted before with the fully canine form, the size can in fact vary.  It is believed that size - and status amongst a pack - is determined by age of a werewolf, for it is not known how long that a werewolf actually lives for.  It may well be that they exist for many untold decades, as the nature of the curse also extends their lifespan.  As most werewolves that are known have met violent ends for their hideous deeds, it is hard to say how long one might live for naturally.
The most powerful forms of hybrid stand ten or twelve feet tall at the shoulder.  These enormous predators can carry off an entire oxen with ease, and should they happen upon unprepared - or for that matter prepared and hardened - opposition they will cause enormous havoc - if unchecked and not driven off, it is highly unlikely that they will leave survivors.  The chance of this being managed is, admittedly, slim to none at all. 


Identification: Victim physiology and morbidity.

The primary evidence one has to identify the presence of a werewolf in the vicinity is how it kills, the frequency, and the evidence left behind.

A post mortem examination of both corpses and scenes of a kill will dictate whether an individual was slain by either wild animals, some other monsters, or by a werewolf, mostly because the physiology of a werewolf attack often remains startlingly unique in comparison to say an attack by either a bear or a wolf, or even a pack of wolves.

Use of tracks is possible, but it must be done carefully.  Not only will a werewolf often take to the trees and make use of their enormous jumping ability to prevent leaving tracks when they depart a scene, they will also often take measures to eliminate tracks when they are done - not only that but the tracks of a werewolf are often easy to mistake for other creatures, not least other wolves.  A skilled eye will note the signs of five toed claws however, and work on tracking from there.

Beyond that, if tracks are difficult to locate due to the terrain, there are two ways to identify a werewolf attack.  One involves the presence of a corpse or vestigial remains, the other involves the lack of said remains in the vicinity.  The determination of each type will dictate the manner and number of werewolves. 

Firstly, we must examine the instance where the presence of a corpse is located.   Usually located in remote or forested areas in the countryside, the attack will seldom be found within a structure.  This is not to say a werewolf will not attack an isolated farmstead - particularly in number.  There is no warding nor folk spell that will keep a werewolf from entering a home.  But they do seem to enjoy not just the kill itself but also the chase, and will allow the prey a chance to flee - for no other reason than to run them down.

A lone person will be torn apart, and devoured.  If there are multiple individuals, a werewolf will seldom - if ever - leave witnesses.  Whether this is out of a savage intellect in leaving no witnesses to report the attack, or simply an insanity born of savagery unquenched, I could not presume to fully guess.  Regardless, a werewolf attack will primarily have a single feeding but no survivors.  A werewolf will seldom - if ever - attack unless it is sure of the kill, and once it begins the attack it will usually not stop until either it or everyone else is dead.  If the prey looks to be in a position of strength, they will instead seek either other prey, or a better opportunity to strike, employing tactical reasoning instead of animal cunning.

There are identifying marks of the kill.  Bones will generally be crushed by the jaws - the primary purpose for the long, powerful arms is not to kill, but to hold.  The victim will be forced down by a leaping pounce that bears the prey to the ground and then held in place by the forelimbs, often crushing bones in the process or even metal, as the fearsome strength of the beast manifests.  Generally, the kill is done with the jaws - a jaw that has an enormous amount of bite pressure.   Bones are crushed even as the teeth tear through leather and flesh with equal ease.  In fact, the bite of the werewolf is so strong that it can crush armour or even penetrate it.  There are documented cases of victims having both their helmet and the skull contained within crushed by that enormous pressure.  This pressure creates extreme amounts of 'spray' from the bite - blood will erupt from wounds with great velocity and often carry viscera along with it.

The scene of the kill is often exaggerated in the degree of its savagery overall.  Blood and gore will be well scattered around the corpse itself or the point of the kill.  The velocity of splatter is such to indicate extreme savagery as well as strength, to the point that the scene can only be described as frenzied.  A brutality that is, at its core, the most complete merger of human and animal savagery. 

If there are dead that are not fed upon, they will bear wounds with a combination of claw marks from five fingered hands.  The spacing between each claw will be wide, and usually struck vertically - the nature of the werewolf's shoulders and elbows means a vertical strike from high to low - across the body in most cases - will be the most effective and powerful, and the violence inherent in the creature will demand the most brutal and bloody means of engagement.  The bodies will often bear signs of dismemberment - in this respect they differ from a more natural animal attack, as it is unlikely that limbs will be severed or inner bones or organs will be pulled out of the body.  This is due to the fact that the werewolf has strength and tactile manipulation enough to do so, something conventional animals will lack.

These are the signs of a singular attacker.  A werewolf does not always kill to feed - in fact, in some instances they will feed on livestock - but still kill all nearby humanoids that cannot defend themselves.  But as a general indication a werewolf will devour anywhere from twenty five to fifty pounds of flesh in a feeding, depending on size of the creature.  A larger beast may feed more but as a general rule, the feeding will take place at the site of the kill.  This is significantly different to the efforts and habits of a pack, as opposed to a lone predator.

Firstly, feeding is not a communal effort between creatures.  A kill is not shared, unlike with wolves.  The best prey goes to the most dominant and this will usually be the one who took the kill.  But unlike wolves, who will share prey between themselves and often kill only a singular target, the werewolves employ the natural selfishness of a self centred humanoid instead.  They do not share the kill, the kill more than is necessary, and at the culmination of the feeding - which will often leave far more blood and gore but far less physical remains than a singular attacker - they will then take the remaining corpses with them, to devour at their leisure at their lair.  If there are missing bodies or corpses, with evidence of blood without feeding, then the kills have been moved elsewhere which would only happen in the case of a pack, and of a lair.  In these instances, then matters are far more dangerous, and a pack of werewolves will take significant effort and skill to remove.

A pack of werewolves is often far more animalistic than a single, lone predator.  They are more at home in a hybrid or full canine form, and their hunting habits and feeding habits are reminiscent of a pack or tribe in this regard. They will take prey with them, and the only crucial factor of their hunting ranges is that they tend towards being subversive - making use of their incredible speed in the hybrid form to make the kill at a respectable distance from their lair, if this is at all possible - though a lack of game, or a more developed animalistic tendency means that they may forgo cunning for more reckless predation.

As noted previously, when a werewolf resumes its humanoid form it sheds its excess fur and hair, falling away from the body.  This happens so rapidly that the amount of shed hair can be excessive and quite obvious - a clever werewolf will take measures to hide this, such as by changing back to its more acceptable form in running water.  However, should the shed hair be located, it would create a clear indication as to the nature of the attacker, the direction they were taking, and last but not least, the likely shade of their hair colour as well.  With a lack of living witnesses to find, these pieces of physical evidence are vital to tracking down the monster.

Nemesis 24:
During transformation, the visage of these creatures is at its most monstrous.
Psychology:  Method, logic, reasoning.

The first thing to understand with the werewolf is that you are not, despite appearances, dealing with an animal - at least, not entirely and not wholly.  Nor are you dealing entirely with a humanoid either, as the aspect of the animal is also present.  What you are instead confronted with is a cunning and dangerous mixture of both, put towards the worst possible means of action, and as such you must treat it with utmost caution in regards to their malice and intellect.

The werewolf is driven by several key aspects of mentality that the curse creates.  Firstly, the animalistic tendencies will drive the individual to more base, more primitive notions of mentality - gone are whatever noble tendencies that they might have once had, as the animal instincts of hunger, of survival, and unfettered emotion take hold instead.  They may be intelligent enough to overcome this - a lone werewolf will often display such a tendency, in particular - but the closer that they are to their savagery, the less human they will behave, but will always, in the very most depths of their primal rage, display the problem solving intellect of a higher thinking being.

The second aspect is that of resentment.  This manifests as a direct result of the curse itself - and an almost instinctual rage directed at those who are not afflicted with it.  This could be a result of a pack instinct and an instinctive reaction to something that does not smell or look as part of the pack.  Or, as I believe, it is born from harboured jealousy.  For as the werewolf can never again return to the purity of an untainted, uncorrupted form, it seeks to assuage its wrath by taking it out on its victims.  The hunger for flesh being akin to the hunger to return to the normal life that it once had, by consuming humanoid flesh, it takes on its aspects.  This is a result, I believe, of an inherent psychosis brought about by the curse, and would indicate why the first victims of a werewolf are often its own family, as they lash out in their rage and despair, their minds tainted by the curse itself and driven towards an ignoble, disgraceful version of the self, as the cursed mind of the monster they've become destroys all that they might have once been, in body, mind and spirit.

The third aspect is the deception.  This is a two-fold drive, around the nature of predator and prey. The werewolf is, in pack or as a loner, a predator.  A hunter who kills so that it might devour the flesh of its once fellow humanoids, which beyond all else for reasons given above, tends to be its preferred prey.  But in order to do this, the werewolf must learn to deceive.  If it is a loner that chooses to keep closer to civilisation, this is obviously important, so as to not scare away its prey or attract its attention.  If it is part of a pack, it must take measures to both make its lair difficult to find and to make its predations more difficult to identify for what they are.

But this deception is two fold.  The first deception is external.  The second deception is internal.  The werewolf does not simply deceive others, but also itself, inherently, in its actions.  It carries itself with the arrogance of an alpha predator.  It believes itself atop the food chain by the fact it attacks and devours humanoids.  It justifies its murderous actions by the fact it is doing what is in its nature, and thus justifying that which took place to it.

This is, I would argue, a self deception that is brought about by a deep seated need to establish the werewolf as something more than what it is.  If it were true, it would maintain an arrogance and a cruelty and be assured of its position.  But what a werewolf is, at its core, is nothing more than a dog.  Neither wolf nor humanoid, it is a bastardised mixture, that must hide its true self from society and individuals, that hides behind its inherent weakness of what it is and the fact it cannot in fact be a part of either society fully - neither civilised society nor the wild.  For a little of each side of itself will in fact war against the other, perpetually, no matter how much the werewolf might tell itself otherwise.

The truth of the matter is, the mind of the werewolf is as inconstant as its form.  It is a chaotic, fluctuating being that is torn between two irresistible urges, and in so doing tears itself apart physically as well as mentally all at the same time.  Thus, might one despise them and denigrate them for what they truly are - for all their power, they are no 'supreme predator' as they imagine and claim themselves to be.  They are nothing but a mongrel monster driven mad by its own confusion and hiding from its own despair.  And for that they are to be pitied, if it were not for the fact that their monstrous habits make them so much more worthy of our utter revilement, and contempt.


Habitat.

The haunt of the werewolf will depend upon the perplexity and idiosyncrasies of its nature.  The werewolf can be divided, based on previous descriptions, into either being rural or urban.  Though perhaps a better description of the latter would be to call them domesticated, and the former as feral.

A rural or feral werewolf is generally the sort found in a pack, and tends towards the more openly animalistic behaviour.  The majority of the beasts found in Verbrek and Barovia tend towards this latter variety - and they tend to make use of the wilderness.  While they may keep close to sources of civilisation for the primary purpose of predation, they will not dwell within it.  Choosing instead to be more in tune with the savage, primal nature of their curse, these packs are often made of a mixture of both infected and pure born werewolves.

The preferred lairs of such creatures will tend to be forests, usually close to mountainous regions.  Lairs will be situated on higher ground than the tree line if it is possible - from such a vantage point can the werewolf observe the surrounding countryside better.  They can also be found in deep woods, buried within forests and far from roads and other places likely to have people - but not so far that such things cannot be reached by a swift running hunter.  Almost always however, will the beasts attempt to make their homes in a cave or ruin, creating both a larder and a resting place for their pack, and which they will defend to the death - having nowhere else to run.  The lair itself will, if it is to be perfectly situated, be placed in such a way that it will provide the most chance of catching an approaching scent on the wind - as such, the pack will smell an approaching foe long before they ever see it.

The habitat of the urban or domesticated werewolf is altogether different.  While they will seldom place themselves in a bustling metropolis, they will most certainly make use of smaller, more isolated and less populated villages and hamlets.  They are loners, travellers, and outcasts, and dwell in society for malicious reasons - keeping close to the prey, like the pack, but with a much crueller reasoning as to why.  In the past, I've found that these predators enjoy getting close to their prey in the form of a humanoid - even befriending them in a seemingly innocent guise, sympathising with their plight and troubles.  Even the deaths that they themselves have caused are used as a means to issue false sympathy, in order to cause the greatest amount of trauma and horror when they strike.  This, I would argue, is the more humanoid side of the monsters - but directed in the most purely evil of forms and fashions.  For the most part, they keep moving from town to town - as travelling merchants, sellswords, or far less noticeable individuals.  Once suspicion grows to a certain point, they'll move on, leaving the bodies behind them, and growing all the more skilled at concealing their hideous crimes.

The immensity of the power of those jaws cannot ever be underestimated.
Though they may keep to the fringes or even amongst the core of civilisation, these predators will all share the habit of creating a lair.  In the case of the urban werewolf, the lair will tend towards being either a repurposed cellar or basement, or even the bottom of a well or other such structure.  With their enormous strength the can climb out of near any pit - but the key tell for such places will often be the stench they give off.  The werewolf will sometimes drag its prey to feed upon it in such a location, but even if it does not, the scent of beast and blood will permeate the location utterly, and create a sickly miasma that never quite leaves.  A trained nose will learn that scent and follow it - once smelled, it will never quite be forgotten.  Efforts will often be taken to conceal it - a lair near a tannery, for example, will conceal much, but a werewolf's potent sense of smell will often play against it in such instances, and thus it may well choose a location where its own markings are that much more obvious.


Misappropriation:  Flaws and mistakes to avoid.

There is little to no room for error when facing one of these abominations.  This should be established at the outset, that making an error of judgement in either recognition and preparation will not allow for a second chance.  This is neither a game nor a simple hunt.  This is a contest and a duel to the death, against a foe that is physically stronger, faster, and larger than yourself, that can smell you long before either of you see one another, and has the ability to shrug off near all manner of injury.

Surprisingly, the first mistake made is usually the most obvious one to avoid.  As has been mentioned already, but shall be once more for added emphasis, the werewolf is no simple animal.  As bloodthirsty and as frenzied as it might be, as monstrous as its form might be and its behaviour, the truth of the matter is that within that hideous form is the mind of a humanoid, with all its intellect, cunning, drive for self preservation, and a measure of cruelty that is far beyond what any animal can possibly conjure.  Even the most sadistic cat with a mouse for play is as nothing compared to the sheer depth of malice that is employed by the werewolf.  It kills not just for food but also for pleasure, to satisfy its hideous hunger and to justify its own wretched existence.  It is insane, yes - but never foolish.

Never forget that the werewolf is intelligent and will not act blindly such as an animal might.  It can reason, plan, strategise and deploy tactical reasoning.  It will almost always have advance warning of an approaching individual due to their heightened senses, which plays directly into their clawed hands by way of being a lethal ambush predator.  In either their monstrous or humanoid form, they will have the advantage as in they are always on guard.  They are always prepared, always ready, to either strike or flee.  While others around them dwell in ignorance as to the monster amongst them, they do not. 

This intellect allows them to also assess, speculate and plan not just how to show its hand but also when.  Confronted with an opponent that might cause it actual harm, the werewolf will not be so foolish as to act in spite of it.  That cold reasoning will take hold once again and they will adjust themselves accordingly.

Should the identity of a werewolf be known is potentially when they are at their most dangerous.  As they will do almost anything to protect that identity, they will engage with utmost ferocity and swiftness.  If one learns the identity of a werewolf, the most important thing to do is to not reveal it until the time is right.  Too early, and it will silence you.  Too late and it will be gone into the night and out of reach.

The last and most terrible mistake one could make when confronted with the werewolf is mercy.  To show mercy to this monstrosity is an error born of naive hope and frightful ignorance, be it of faith or emotion.  The werewolf does not understand mercy.  It will never show any.  It will never give any.  And as such it should never be allowed any.  Kill it where it stands, though the form may shift and become innocent, remember the beast within.  Remember always, what it will cost to let it live on - not least of all being your own life.


Weaknesses and vulnerabilities.

The werewolf is famous enough, that it is fairly common knowledge of what it is vulnerable to.  So much so in fact that certain flora has been named as that which affects or plagues it.  By knowing of these three crucial weapons that are to be used, the hunter might know how to prevent themselves becoming prey in turn - without these means of arming oneself, any attempt to capture or kill these creatures is simply suicidal.

The first measure is to protect oneself.  As mentioned, the bite of the werewolf - should one survive it - is infectious.  However, there is a certain plant that carries a potent counter to the affect.

This plant is known by the names of aconite, monkshood, or wolfsbane.  It is a deadly repellent to the werewolf, who finds the taste, smell and presence of wolfsbane unbearable, and altogether poisonous.  One must always keep this plant on ones person - and learn to identify it.  It is has dark green leaves, and large blue, purple, white, yellow or pink flowers that have the vague shape of a helmet or hood.  Growing in mountain meadows or other well draining but rich soils, and the leaves are made up of five to seven segments, each of which is thrice lobed with coarse, sharp points.  Of all parts of the plant, the roots are by far the most poisonous - so much so as to be avoided unless with absolute care.  The leaves are also extremely toxic, but when bitten by a werewolf the only possible cure.  Grinding the leaves into a poultice of honey and wine and placing directly into the wound can potentially prevent the infection setting in if applied within twenty four hours of the bite happening.  In an emergency, ingestion of the leaves can be attempted - but this will cause sickness of nausea, vomiting and diarrhoea.  There will be a burning sensation over the face and mouth, and the abdomen, and the heart will race - there are antidotes which will clear the poison out of the system, but if administered too late, the individual will die regardless.  Of course, if administered too early, it will not kill the infection itself.  Timing is crucial - as well as inspection of the bite.  An infected bite will show signs of acute purpling around the point of the bite as it poisons the flesh, and only when that has wholly faded back should the antidote be administered at all.

The second weapon one might use is fire.  As any who have been hunted by wolves and survived well knows, the presence and use of fire is perhaps the one measure of defence that might stave off survival against being devoured.  This fear carries from beast to monster - a werewolf will shy away from the use of fire, its animalistic instincts overcoming its monstrous hunger and savagery.  Though the intensity of the fire will need to match the ferocity of the beast, and this in itself will often create a problem.  A simple lantern or torch will cause hesitation but only momentarily.  But a raging inferno will give them more than that.  Likewise, flammable liquids cast upon the werewolf and set alight will cause the beast unbearable agony and torment as even its remarkable and terrible durability will fade in the face of such, and it will immediately go into a frenzy  of agony and madness.  In such instances whatever clarity or reason one might have will simply disappear as animalistic instinct takes complete hold.  Crude incendiary devices, ready for quick deployment, can create an opportunity - but never forget the power of the werewolf's leap.  A high flame can in fact be cleared by a high vertical leap, and if given time to gather itself, the werewolf will deploy such a tactic and simply bypass the defensive measure taken.

The final weapon is the most famous.  That of silver.

Silver, for whatever reason, is purest anathema to the werewolf.  Whereas even the truest of steel might simply bounce off that iron strong hide that they have, a weapon even coated in a layer of silver will slice through unnatural skin, flesh, muscle and even bone with astonishing ease.  The metal itself seems to actually burn the flesh of the beast - the mere touch of silver, in whatever form that the monster might bear, is an excruciating agony that causes an explosive reaction.

Weapons can be coated in a thin layer of silver, or made entirely of the metal - but the latter such weapons will prove to be both expensive and fragile.  A silver treatment is difficult to apply and costly, but with practice and a skilled blacksmith the properties of silver can be imbued into a weapon.

Arrows, bolts, and even shot of musket or pistol can be made of silver, and these will satisfy the necessity for distance from the target and damage to be caused.  For while damage caused by silver is very slow to heal, to leave silver present in the wound of the monster causes it unbearable pain.

There are other uses of silver that will be discussed later, but the absolute necessity of silver as a weapon against these monsters cannot be overstated.  Venturing forth without it will likely be the difference between life and death.


Tactical Methodology:  Locating and tracking the target.

Having identified, classified and recognised the werewolf for what it is, we must now begin the process of elimination. This then, is where one begins to turn the predator into prey.

First, the task is to identify the fact that there is indeed a target.  Using the information already provided one should have ample means of doing so - the scene of the kill, the evidence left behind, and the sign to follow.  Once evidence of the presence of a werewolf has been established, short of eyewitnesses that have survived, then the hunt can begin properly.

The first step is to identify the type of the attacker - a loner, or a pack.  Each requires a different method of hunting.

As noted previously, a loner can be identified by the amount, frequency and range of its feedings.  An urban loner will hunt from its base range, and keep its predations predictably distant from its own lair.  This individual will, however, have certain tells that can be spotted and reasoned.  Look for individuals who are newcomers to the area, or have always lived a fairly isolated life.   

One of the more ghastly ways of locating is the identification of the first victims.  It is a hideous tragedy that all too often, the first victims of the werewolf are those that are closest to them - spouses, parents, and children.  A survivor of such an attack must be treated with suspicion, and watched carefully.  But this has, in the past, been a most vile gambit of these creatures.  In order to throw off any chance of suspicion upon themselves, they establish a victim as the perpetrator.  Keep an aware mind, and a careful mind.  And when possible, begin the process of elimination.

Always wear rings made of silver.  If you should choose to wear gauntlets or gloves, a silver coin should be sewn into the palm of each hand.  The size does not need to be large, but the presence must be.  Whenever one approaches such an individual as to be suspected, shake their hand.  And keep note of those that flinch.  The very touch of silver is painful to them, and they will be unable to hide it.  If they choose at that moment to change into their other form to attack, you will have a couple of seconds to retaliate - at such point it would be wise to have a plan of attack, the most logical of which being a silver weapon - a dagger will do - to deploy with your other hand, the heart, throat or eye.

If the individual does not accept the hand shake, or has gloves themselves, continue to observe them.  Note not just the physicals of the individual based on the descriptions given earlier in the piece, but also their behaviour.  Remember that the clever predator gets close to the prey.  With no other monster is it more apt to remember the phrase of a wolf amongst sheep.

As noted before, the urban werewolf will either be a loner or a more insidious presence within a society.  Should it be a loner it will be difficult to locate by simple fact of its attempts to remain out of public eye.  However in a small village, such invisibility is usually impossible, as natural rural gossip will follow every single individual.  A newcomer or someone who keeps to the fringes is an obvious target, but watch carefully those who work hard to create a presence that is of a more benevolent, generous and helpful appearance.  For even as you are hunting the monster, it too will be watching you in kind.  It will perform, pretend, and, as its nature, deceive.  Be aware, be wary, and trust no one.

Smell is always vital.  The scent of the werewolf never truly leaves it in whatever form it is in, but may become less.  The scent of breath will be fouler, the mannerisms and movements tells as well.  Remember all that was given in their description and use it.

A werewolf that goes to ground is much like a rural or pack werewolf.  They will flee into the wilderness, and make use of it.  This, their natural habitat, is where the hunt will be turned around.

They have better eyesight at night, and better sense of smell at all times.  Avoid moving alone, and never believe for a moment that your stealthiest efforts will deceive them.  They will know you are coming, near each and every time.

Werewolf tracks are striking - clawed hands and feet create a fairly unique impression, and they will also leave scored claw marks on trees as they pass as they make use of them to pull themselves along.  In this respect, their mass, strength and size will play against them, as they will leave clear sign behind them - often counting on the fact that no one would dare to follow them.

A werewolf who wishes to remove tracks will head for rocky ground, or take to the trees.  They will leave claw marks and broken branches for the latter however by sheer effort of climbing and impact.   When the marks on the ground fail, look up.

There will be three ultimate conclusions to the pursuit, whichever way one chooses to carry it out - be it on foot, or horseback, with a team of hounds to track the beast, or any other means.   First, the worst case scenario.  The quarry will turn unexpectedly during the pursuit and stage an ambush whilst the hunter is not prepared, causing havoc to a hunter moving headlong without considering consequence.  This will often happen because the hunter is moving too fast or too close, and the werewolf acts out of perhaps desperation or even sheer annoyance.   Other times, the intellect of the beast comes into play and it will lure the hunter to a trap or prepared location where it can dispose of pursuit - a clever werewolf will almost always have such a measure in place, an area it can run to that will give it the advantage it needs to eliminate pursuit.  As such, one must never over extend when pursuing, and learn to recognise dangerous terrain.  Areas that limit movement or ability, such as swamps or particularly close forest and undergrowth are exceedingly dangerous to the hunter, as the werewolf will make use of its power and speed to overcome such obstacles that will trap the hunter.  With such scenarios, the hunter must be aware of the terrain and if confronted by such, decline the risk.  Never confront the opponent on terrain that favors them without proper preparation beforehand.

The second conclusion is the counter-ambush.  A clever hunter can in fact cease the flight of the werewolf and tempt it to attack instead - feigning wound, injury, or general confusion.  If the werewolf observes this, it may choose to capitalise on its advantage, deploying itself accordingly.  This move is, as anything involving werewolves, a risky one to take, but a counter ambush can in fact be one of the most sure methods of killing a werewolf.  One of the best scenarios revolves around leading the werewolf to the hunters own prepared ground - luring the beast to a pit trap or net can give the hunter just enough time to make the kill.  This is a move that requires patience, performance and cleverness, remembering that the quarry has plenty of the latter themselves, and will recognise such being used if the hunter is not careful.

The third conclusion is a different one in that it involves pursuing the quarry to its lair - usually a cave system of some kind, or a long forgotten ruin.  This should be the inevitable scenario of pursuing a pack - and this is because to pursue a pack and encountering either of the above two scenarios has but one conclusion, the death of the hunter.

A pack should never be chased recklessly or pursued.  They have numbers and power on their side and they will make use of them.  Even if you are certain your numbers greatly outweigh their own, such a pursuit is beyond foolhardy, as an ambush or attack by a large pack of werewolves can quickly overwhelm a larger force.  If you are not certain of their numbers against your own, then the forest floor will be the grave to your scattered bones.  Instead, movement must be taken with extreme caution and patience.  The core thing to remember in this instance is that you are not trying to chase the enemy down, but to simply find them.  If you find the lair, the home of the pack, then you must pursue a careful approach to ensure that the foe does not escape, to maximise your potential of the kill.

A lair of a werewolf is easy to recognise.  Game do not venture near it, nor within a mile of it.  Bones will litter the undergrowth in a wide radius around it.  Shed fur from transformations will be also found amongst the undergrowth, and the scent of a canine will get stronger the closer one gets to the lair itself.  The cave mouth will be concealed, but only to a certain point, and may show signs of tools being used, or even crude fortification.

Above all, learn to recognise the silence.  The hackles on ones neck shall rise, the sense of knowing that you are being watched.  For if you draw close enough to a lair that you can see it, rest assured that the inhabitants can see you and they will be watching.  It is at this point that the hunter must deploy all their weapons, skill, and above all luck, to secure their quarry, and put an end to the wretched existence of the beasts within.

Now it is time to employ the method of the kill.


Tactical Methodology:  The Technique of the Kill.

First, one must gather their weaponry.  Keeping in mind that which a werewolf is vulnerable to, one must arm themselves accordingly.

There are some weapons that are conventionally effective, but less so when confronted with the werewolf.  Due to the toughness of hide and muscle, and the unnaturally fast healing ability of the werewolf, most ranged weapons will neither penetrate deep enough, nor shall they long remain in the wound.  A particularly troubling arrow or bolt will be yanked clear of the flesh quickly, and upon doing so will not trouble the beast at all.

The torso is tough and resistant to damage, the bones of the chest so overlarge and tight packed that getting a gap between them is difficult.  The monster itself is also fearfully strong and highly mobile, with a great deal more power, speed, and range of movement.  Should it bring its weight to bear on the prey, that individual will have but a moment to effectively counter the strike.  Beyond that there is no chance.

Knowing this, then the hunter must find a way to limit the offense of the beast, the effectiveness of the attack, and its ability to resist the attack itself.

For my personal preference, I find that some of the most effective weapons are ones I've designed myself. 

The 'sliphead bolt' is a crossbow bolt that uses a silver headed bolt with a four barbed head.  Fired from a range of no greater than thirty feet, the bolt will penetrate the hide of the werewolf deeply and settle itself into the flesh.  The touch of silver itself is agonising, and the werewolf will almost certainly try and yank the bolt clear.  However, the 'sliphead' will not allow for such.

By using a pressure based system of inserting the shaft into the bolt head itself, when the shaft is pulled upon, it clears the bolt head entirely with only minimal pressure.  This leaves the bolt head within the wound, and more importantly the silver.  The presence of silver within the body has been observed to cause the muscles of the werewolf to seize and spasm as agony overwhelms it, an agony it cannot relieve itself of.  A barrage of such bolts fired by multiple individuals should aim for the extremities, the throat, eyes and lower torso.  The lower torso in particular is vulnerable, as the internal organs are particularly sensitive to the touch of silver.

If one were to dip the bolts in the tincture of the wolfsbane plant before hand, taken directly from the roots and the most toxic part of the plant, then the poison itself will spread through the system of the werewolf and leave it crippled.  At this point one should continue to shoot it with said bolts until it is dead.  It is recommended that beheading is done to make sure.  If the creature changes shape during this time, continue shooting.  It is naught but a ploy to garner sympathy, when it deserves none.

Personal recommendations commend the crank handle style crossbow.  It allows for a faster reload to continue firing.  But keep in mind that this tactic does not allow for rapid shooting regardless.  Nor does it allow for misses.

If confronted by one or more of the beasts in an enclosed environment, make use of choke points.  Here the use of heavy shields as barricades will protect  against the assault and prevent the beast from using the extent of its weight and power.

Regardless, at one point or more in time, you will find yourself in close proximity to one of these monstrosities if you choose to hunt them.  It is at this point that nothing will be more important than a clear mind and a steady hand.  Do not panic, and do not falter.

The attack of the werewolf is straightforward and makes use of power, weight and speed, and the charge or leap.  By these actions, its attack is direct and a forward rush.  A sidewards roll or step can evade the attack - an attempt to try and meet it head on requires an exceptional and perhaps unreasonable expectation of strength.  But upon sidestepping the attack, the hunter must deploy quick counter strikes to the foe.

Aim for the back of the legs.  Remove the ability to leap, to move quickly.  Slow the enemy down and use that lack of movement to cut them apart.  If you cannot evade the charge, target the knees or use a braced position of the blade to let the beast impale itself upon your weaponry.  If you cannot kill the foe, let it kill itself.

When all is said and done, crippling the enemy is the key measure that will allow you to kill it.  With its fast healing, endurance and power, killing a werewolf will require a merciless, concentrated and above all measured assault to first weaken the beast, then bring it down, then end its life.  Approach the foe as a thing to be deconstructed, piece by piece, muscle by muscle and bone by bone.  Identify the weak points and exploit them.

In their caves, the enclosed nature of the cave works against them.  Mixing the wolfsbane plant with green plant growth and setting it on fire will create a miasmic, poisonous smoke - it is possible to create wicker globes of reeds for example, and fill them with the mixture.  Setting it aflame so that it creates a smoke and throwing them into the lair will choke, poison and weaken the inhabitants.  If the assault of smoke is kept up, the beasts will generally attempt to flee the lair - at which point one should deploy nets, pistol, musket and crossbow shot.  A surprisingly effective measure is to weave silver wire into a net - it is rather intriguing to witness how despite how desperate and trapped the werewolf might be in that situation, it cannot bear the touch of silver.  It is, however, more prudent at this point to employ silver weaponry and kill it, rather than observe it.  Never forget that which it is and what it deserves.

Another measure is to employ incendiary devices, such as those derived from certain alchemical mixtures that become flammable upon contact with air.  Thrown upon a charging werewolf they can not only halt the charge but also cripple the beast, particularly if aim is good and the monster is caught in the mouth.  My preferred method of deploying such mixtures is to ensure that they are also infused with the essence of wolfsbane during their creation.  Through this, the fire is not only hazardous but also deadly poisonous to the werewolf, and will infuse and afflict its flesh even as it burns.

Whenever possible, work in pairs, a combination of ranged assault and close formation combat.  A shield wall line, for example, using spears, heavy shields and with overlapping defense, can force the werewolf back, even in number.  Supported by crossbows making use of silver bolts behind the front line, you can whittle down numbers effectively, decisively, and execute accordingly.  Weighted nets deployed from the flanks will also remove potential for movement and escape.

As dangerous as the werewolf is, as intelligent as it is, when cornered it becomes more and more animalistic, relying on its strengths to overcome the foe.  It is then at this point that one must make those strengths a weakness with superior offense, defense, and tactical deployment.  They neither expect it, nor are they prepared for it entirely - the self deception that defines them tells them that their savagery is the stronger weapon than humanoid intellect, skill and cunning.  They are incorrect, and it will be the death of them in the learning of it.

Some might say that the above tactics I have given are cruel, and merciless.  Crippling and killing the monsters in a brutal fashion with little honour in the method.  To this I say, clearly you have never faced one yourself.  When confronted with savagery, one must deploy reason, and use such reason that is cold, clinical and without the weight of compassion or empathy.  Remember always that to these creatures, you are but prey.  Remember always the harm and horror that they cause.  It is, truly, an ugly, brutal thing that needs to be done.  But that is the truth of it, in the end.  It needs to be done. 

The means in this case are less important than the results.  For this is a world full of monsters, and if civilisation is to survive, they must be destroyed without compassion, because for all the centuries before this one, we were given none.  I see no reason to spare any in return.

Nemesis 24:

Continued on.

Professor Hunter Locke is a man of enormous intellect, nigh unrivalled knowledge in his field, exquisite skill with a two handed sword - but an almost staggering lack of patience to go with it.  One wonders if it is a result of being forced to endure any number of events in the past that have tested that patience to its limits - having seen and accompanied the man on many adventures, I'd wager that it is in no small part related.

As such, he has a rather unusual method of offering prospective employment.  Normally, an individual must submit a demonstration of skill and knowledge.  In the case of Professor Locke, he is first and foremost a teacher, and thus it is less important to him what you already know, as opposed to what you are willing to learn.  Or for that matter, learn for yourself.  A student who asks nothing but questions may not always listen in return, but particularly in the case of Professor Locke, they will most assuredly irritate.

Most of my lessons then were ones of observation, correction and evaluation.  In truth, nearly everything was a lesson, whether I asked a question or not.  The constant pressure of being tested was as grating as it could be rewarding, and admittedly I learned by doing as much as I did by being corrected.  In this sense the student is encouraged that most vital tool of all, to think by oneself, for the situations where otherwise existing knowledge cannot be found.  The most dangerous weapon one bears is the mind, and how it wishes to be turned.

His partner and co-founder of the Society of the Hound is an entirely different matter.  Monica Belmonte is a mixture of savagery and beauty, all wrapped up in bloodlust, an untameable heart and an unbreakable bond of family.  She is, in short, a difficult creature to understand at the best of times.  But if one is actually both patient and intelligent enough to listen to her lessons - and I emphasise this, listen and remember - and to ask the right questions, her knowledge on the darkest aspects of the night is unparalleled.  But you must listen well, and memorise even better.  She tolerates no fools and has no patience for those that do not heed her.  One must earn her respect and never ask for it - but must attempt to do so knowing that they probably never will, save for a special few. 

To get a better idea of the pair of them, one should see them in combat.  Both use the greatsword, the blade in the case of Monica so large it is surprising to see the skill which she wields it - and the strength.  But her style of combat is a thing of rage and fury, uncompromising and unafraid, and terrifyingly brutal.  To see Hunter fight however, is a style of artwork that can only be called efficient.  Placing himself just so to avoid the strike, with a casual grace that seems nothing less than being lazy. And yet, even with that simple shrug and slight movement, he is able to avoid danger and respond with a precision and a strange sense of stillness to his actions.  I've sought to emulate that technique since I first witnessed it, to overcome my adversaries - no matter what form that they might take.


Regardless of such ruminations, this style of combat also extends to how they learn lessons, but one thing that they are both firm believers of, is the strength of the practical lesson.  Locke wasted no time in bringing me to mine.


We were in a tomb before long.  Full of books and bones, not nearly all of them staying still upon the ground.  Hunter wished to know my skill with blade and thus there I was.  It was a new experience for me, and the first lesson - how to kill that which is already dead.

The first thing you learn to recognise is the smell.  It's why beasts tend to note when something unnatural is near, and act differently - they rely upon and have a stronger sense of smell than we do.  But some scents remain in the nose no matter what.  Bone powder, and rust.  Rotting wood and leather, mould and crumbling stone.  Old blood, blackened and rotting inside animated cadaver.  It's thick enough to get lodged in your nose for weeks, but once you smell it, it never seems to go away.  Eventually you'll learn to recognise it no matter where you are.

Over time, I learned to recognise other things by scent.  Raw animal scents, and human remains.  How old blood was from how it smelled, how much of it there was.  Grave dirt, with the faint reek of the mouldering dead.  The strange absence of scent where there should have been some when what you had before you was not what you perceived it to be.  The unnatural smell of air burning with enchantments.  The sour scent of dark magic and the raw, unrecognisable but always there smell of necromancy.

In that tomb, I learned what the smell was.  I learned what the dead felt like when I cut into them.  I learned how they moved, what they sounded like, what they looked like, and what they fought like.

But the smell.  The smell stayed in my mouth for weeks.  I don't think I'll ever be rid of it.

Nemesis 24:
Chapter Two - The Mundane Dead.


Where we identify the methods and morbidity of the animated dead, their creation and destruction.

Classification.

The mundane, or lesser dead, are living dead monstrosities that exhibit several crucial factors – they are driven by base, simplistic impulses, they are able to manifest by will of another or spontaneously, and they infest the graveyards and tombs of this wretched land.  In some places far more so than others.  All of the lesser dead are known by the fact that they are entirely corporeal, and cannot reform their bodies upon destruction.  Shells of their former existence, they haunt the world they came from with their rotted, ruined vestiges.

In this instance, when one speaks of the mundane dead they are referring to either an animated corpse or skeleton, though the complexity and attributes of each can in fact vary, and with that variance can the threat and nature of the creature also change.  But regardless of that, each of these two categories of lesser dead share the above similarities – they are unable to communicate speech, they exhibit no normal, living behaviour, and they act with a singular, united purpose.   

There is a third group of these lesser undead, that is known as the ghoul.  Ghouls have a distinct difference to the others of their kind as marked above, as they exhibit intellect, though extremely limited.  They also exhibit some living behaviour – notably, hunger, and primarily for humanoid flesh.  They do not particularly care if this flesh is living or very noticeably dead, and as such they are often found dwelling with the other forms of undead mentioned above.  Though these creatures exhibit intelligence, they are still classed as lesser undead primarily because they show nothing beyond a simplistic, animal nature to their habits.  Though the other creatures that inhabit this category may show even less, it is suitable to put these animalistic creatures into a similar alignment.

These three kinds of undead creature are either self manifested or summoned.  For the purposes of the summoned, we may also refer to them as the created.  Either naming suits.  But depending on where the dead lay, what is done to the corpse, the method of its dying and indeed, the method of its living before death, all of these things will determine if one of the lesser dead will manifest themselves into their hideous unliving existence.  The summoned, or created however, are those brought into being by an external will and influence – a will and influence that is nothing short of absolutely malignancy.


Identification - Physical Characteristics and Markers.

The first of the lesser dead is the skeleton.


These are, very simply, an animated skeleton that lacks muscle structure and tissue.  All semblance of the flesh in nearly all cases is entirely gone – eyes, base muscle structure and internal anatomy has all long since rotted and decayed, leaving only the structure to which they were once attached behind.

It is difficult to describe how such a thing could pose a threat.  Without muscles, there should be nothing to power the creation, let alone hold it together.  Without eyes, it cannot see an individual.  And yet these beings do perceive, and have a strength to them that is far beyond what simple bones without ligaments can achieve.

This may well be because of whatever force it is that animates these mouldering bones.  Whatever it is that causes the skeletal undead to rise, also gives them an intangible sense of force surrounding them, and perception that has nothing to do with corporeal sight.  It is wondered in fact that what they perceive is the living themselves – the life that was theirs, and is instead in others.  It would perhaps explain just why these animated marionettes are so incredibly aggressive towards the living that draw near to them.

The skeletal dead have many forms.  They are almost always humanoid – no doubt because the majority of the population of the Core, past and present, is human.  But occasionally they can be clearly derived from other, less familiar forms, such as beasts or rarer races.  They often have some semblance of clothing, armour, or other tatters of their life and death upon them, in whatever form they rise in – in most cases they bear whatever weapons they died or were interred with when laid to rest.  Rotted and rusting armour and weaponry for the most part, but nevertheless effective when coupled with their unliving characteristics.

Sometimes the forms of these skeletal undead have other, far more monstrous additions to their frame and being that revolts the mind still further than the simple fact that one is beholding a moving skeleton in a mocking semblance of life, with glistening internal organs present within the torso despite the rest of the flesh having dissolved long ago or other impossible abominations.  Some command rudimentary command of magic and flame, able to manifest such force and power despite lacking a tongue to form the phrases.  Indeed, despite lacking any means of creating a voice, one cannot help but notice a sort of disembodied, clacking shriek emanating from these creatures when they strike, but this may well be the rasping sound of bones moving against one another, dry and grating.

The second form of the lesser dead is the animated corpse or as it is known in more dramatic terms, the zombie.


A zombie is, simply put, a dead body in a lesser or greater state of decay that is nevertheless mobile and almost always, aggressive.  It is mindless – seemingly even more mindless than a skeleton, remarkably – and moves with a slow, ponderous gait.  Limbs seem to work incorrectly, with feet often dragging and arms hanging limp until they come closer in range.  The vocal cords still exist, but without need to breathe, or indeed seemingly even the means to remember properly how to do so, the creature can form no other vocalisation other than a gurgling, bubbling groan.

The visage of the zombie is utterly ghastly.  Rotting flesh with a waxen consistency, blackened, rotting blood oozing slowly out of open wounds.  Exposed muscle and internal organs, ruptured eye sockets, and maggots seethe in the flesh.  The smell is, as to be expected, beyond belief, as a rotting humanoid corpse carries a stench that is as recognisable as it is utterly vile.  This scent tends to carry over long distances with a breeze, and as such is one of the first warnings one might receive that a zombie or group of them is on the move.  Even without such, unless a direct force is manipulating them and their actions, they often make incomprehensible, hacking groans, forced out of rotted lungs and throats, a sound no living voice could utter.

They were the clothes that they die or were buried with.  Tenaciously, they will hold on to whatever weapons were present at their deaths – even going so far as to collect them immediately upon animation if they are nearby.

The zombie is, however, mindless.  They cannot be communicated with, they cannot be reasoned with, no matter how far along in decomposition that they might be – a freshly dead corpse risen again and a years old one behave identically.  Surprisingly, that rate of decomposition tends to slow upon their animation, so a zombie might remain an even partially fleshed corpse years, maybe even decades after being created.  The smell may increase or weaken with time, but what does not change is the mindless, unthinking aggression of the animated corpse itself.  It will aggressively attack, ignore injuries that would kill a normal man, and continue doing so even while being dismembered, until the energy that powers it is finally broken, by causing enough disruptive damage to the corpse – usually by means of enormous physical force and trauma to break the hold, or by smashing the skull.  Removing limbs however does not stop nor slow it, aside from the fact it may be unable to walk.  A zombie without arms still has teeth, and will not hesitate to use them.

The last of the lesser dead is the wretched creature known as a ghoul, or ghast.  It is, even more so than the rotting corpse of the zombie, the foulest of the group.


Ghouls are completely wretched individuals who while alive ate the flesh of another humanoid.  This curse of existence will not only create the foulest of individuals alive, but will also on death lead to one of the most wretched creatures to ever exist.  The ghoul is a disgusting, foul smelling abomination, the body twisted and bestial from the effects of its vile curse.  It is of all the three kinds described here the most driven, because its entire existence is defined by the very act that cursed it – as it craved for the flesh of humanoids in life, it is now driven entirely by this desire in death.

Of the three types, ghouls also have the most remarkable difference of appearance.  The flesh does not rot, but changes.  The teeth and fingers change to rotted fangs and talons.  The flesh changes in consistency to harden and shrivel and the skin turns a rotted, foul colour as the body becomes more gaunt and the appearance and stance feral.  The mind of the creature is somewhat present, but the transformation causes a shocking alteration towards animalistic tendencies – running on all fours and having a crouched stance.  Disgustingly, ghouls are often naked, as they remove their clothing or it simply rots away.  The withered, starving countenances that result – often with a hideous approximation of glee as they attack in mindless hunger – are amongst the most loathsome to behold.  Yellowed, shrivelled eyes and lipless, leering grins pain a madmans portrait, vile in every way.

The ghoul is perhaps the most dangerous of the three kinds.  Its claws are poisoned with a paralysing venom, that can freeze even the most hardy soul in place.  Once locked into place, the ghoul pack descends and will eat the still living – but unable to move or even scream – victim alive in a hideous feast of gore that is nothing short of absolute horror to witness, let alone experience.  The ghast, the most foul sort of ghoul, is even worse in this respect – ghasts are a stronger form of ghoul, perhaps due to the fact that they are animated at a later stage after death.  For whatever reason, they are surrounded by a truly noxious cloud of filth, that once breathed in can poison or disease the lungs, rapidly stealing away breath.  This weakening effect makes the victim vulnerable to the minions that it inevitably gathers – a ghast is almost always surrounded by its lesser kindred, as the wretched things tend to prefer to swarm.



Identification - Victim Physiology and Morbidity.

The victims of the mundane dead are generally easy to identify, however the difficulty is inherent in their actual location, and quite often, the fallen victims remaining so for any serious length of time.

Generally, however, a victim of an animated corpse can be identified by the violence of the death, the defensive wounds exhibited, and most of all, by the way that the corpse is left in the aftermath.

The violence that is spoken of is generally identified by the amount of damage done to the corpse.  The animated dead will continue to attack even a mortally wounded victim with mindless, unyielding ferocity until it is dead.  As they themselves are an unthinking, unreasoning creature, this generally means the amount of damage is nothing short of excessive.  Skulls crushed under relentless fists or rusted weapons, while the victim is already dead or dying.  Stab wounds that are far beyond what is necessary – dozens of wounds that take place after death.  Blood splatter on the ground will show that the victim was already fallen when it happened.

There will also be finger and tooth marks – flesh torn away by hands and teeth driven by unnatural, unspeakable strength.  For as slow and ponderous as many of the dead can be, they are also mindlessly savage, and feel no pain in themselves.  This makes their attacks and actions difficult to predict as they act with no sense of self preservation, and will cause harm to themselves without hesitation to reach what they are trying to attack.


If the victim is slain by a ghoul, generally the body will not remain in one piece, or at the sight of the death – or more often, paralysation.  The ghoul will drag the victim to its lair which is inevitably quite close by.  This is generally the home of an entire pack, and the pack will then devour the fallen swiftly and horribly, leaving naught but chewed, gnawed upon bones and scraps of clothing, as the ghouls rapidly devour the corpse to the bone, cracking even these open to get at the marrow.  There is little subtlety in this – blood and drag marks will be left as evidence, and also bodily waste, as the paralysed victim of the ghoul pack will often lose control of bodily functions in their state of outright terror, as by this point it is surely too late, and the horror of being devoured alive becomes manifest.

The most unusual aspect of the victims of the animated dead, however, is surely the fact that the dead do not remain entirely so for long.

Unless the victim is completely destroyed by a ghouls feeding, those slain by animated corpses such as zombies or skeletons will soon find themselves animated in a similar manner – either self manifesting, or by a malignant will.  Thus, while the scene of the killing may remain, the actual victim of it will not be.  This becomes quite evident if there is no evidence of the corpse being dragged away from the scene, which will be easy enough to tell due to the sheer level of violence and blood.  But if there is a lack of a corpse and the sign of that corpse being moved by any agency other than its own, it is a clear indication that the corpse has become animated under whichever agency, and moved on by itself.  A lack of drag marks but instead the presence of small, bloodied and shuffling footsteps – so indicated by the smears on the floor and the congealed blood left in the scuffs – is an excellent if gruesome indication.

However, during the discussion on habitat, we will come to understand why this is unlikely to be noticed by the most casually observant eye, due to the location of the animated dead – or at least, where they tend to be found.

Navigation

[0] Message Index

[#] Next page