In his panic escape, Gargan has picked an investigation and subjugation of an unknown monster. It was one of the newer quests, and not much is known about the monster, besides one sighting reported by an Otherwolder. Normally, the Guild would not issue such a quest like this without at least 3-5 other sightings, but due to the worldshift, they have to, as everything was turned up side down, and extra cautions is never a bad thing.

 

Perching on top of the tallest tree Gargan could find, he began to read over the report of the sighting, submitted by a man named Flint. “Large canine, resembling a wolf, blue coat of fur….and an extra pair of limbs? That resembled primate hands?” He scratches his head, not sure what that would look like.

 

“Well, this is certainly a new species….judging by the investigative part of this…. Is this creature also caught up in the Worldshift?” Looking at the hastily made sketch of the creature, Gargan began to theorize about the monster. “That certainly wouldn’t be out of the picture now, would it?”

 

Reading the description of the quest, it seems like that the priority was placed on investigating and not subjugation, which is good, but the description of its aggressive behavior is something that Gargan needs to watch out for. Another thing he needs to keep an eye out for is the pack. Wolves are always with it pack….Unless it was an exceptional circumstance.

 

“Near the City of Aerelieth huh? If I am not mistaken, that is one of the other major cities of the Archipelago, isn’t it? Governed by a family of elven nobles….” Gargan turned to his guide provided by the Guild, “Seems like a lovely place. Wonderful, let’s make that the next destination.”

 

With everything ready and packed, rations and tools all up to date and checked earlier, Gargan took to the air and flew over to Aerelieth. With his astonishing speed, he reaches the forest in just under an hour, racing and overtaking many flabbergasted sailors and merchants alike on his way there. He did stop by one of the larger trader vessels for an additional purchase that he forgot to make back in Sky Harbor, a water skin.

 

Hovering over the reported sighting site, Gargan noticed, through the thick canopy and vegetation, the sight of struggle and fighting. ‘Presumed this is the contact point, and the City is that way, then….’ With a compass and his notes, Gargan began to follow the path of fighting from above, and triangulated the direction from which the wolf came from.

 

However, due to the canopy, Gargan had to make landings more than a few times for a closer inspection, as well as renew the trace he was following. There are claws marks, trashed trees, cut grass and up rooted saplings. The chase was intense, Gargan could tell, as he saw how deep the footprints were. The man, Flint, was running with a heavy step, and followed closely by the prints of the wolf. “This one is a fat one….” Gargan murmured, as he realized the prints were larger than those that he was familiar with.

 

Keeping his pace slow, and recording nearly everything he found, Gargan found himself on top of a cliff overlooking a raging river. The track so that both the man and the wolf stopped here abruptly. There were no signs of struggle or fighting, just two sets of footprints leading off the cliff and into the river. The man was here first, Gargan reasoned, and jumped off the cliff in a desperate attempt to escape, and the wolf jumped off right after, in an attempt to catch him.

 

This begged a question, however, “Why did it jump? No predator would risk its life just for a meal….Was it after something? Was it protecting something? No, that wouldn’t make sense. There was simply no need to chase after the threat off a cliff….It wanted to kill Flint….” The wolf action was puzzling, and Gargan couldn’t think of a reason for it.

 

Surveying the cliff for a moment, Gargan steeled himself and dove down, landing on the bank of the coursing river. The water was cold, almost freezing, the river bed was full of sharp and pointing protrusion of rocks and corroded stones. It was 12-17 feet deep, lacking any signs of life. The currents were simply too strong for anything to meaningfully thrill here.

 

With his hydromancy, Gargan constructed a simple bubble of air around him, as he inspected the bottom of the riverbed, as he willed the river to flow around him. Beside the numerous colored pebbles and smooth stones, he didn’t find anything that could belong to either the wolf or Flint. He concluded that everything was simply washed down the river.

 

Pocketing a handful of the colorful pebbles for his next visit to Daniel’s little girl, he followed the river from about, and paid extra attention to the riverbank, especially anything that could indicate a trail of a man or of a wolf. He found nothing for a stretch of 2 miles, and not until a small waterfall did he find something interesting.

 

Down the waterfall is a small watering holes, leading off to three smaller streams, branching off to different directions. Landed by the edge of the pond, Gargan conducted a thorough search of the area and found a small blood trail starting two dozen feet from the banks, and leading back to the direction that he came from. Or, back to where the chase was. That was his clue.

 

With the sun behind him, it was the afternoon, so he decided to stop for two hour, have a heavy meal consisting of dried fruit and jerky, and a quick nap on a nearby branch before he continued his search, now that he has an idea where the creature headed to. The encounter was just a couple of days ago, and with an injury caused by the fall and the coursing river, the creature couldn’t make it far. He could catch up to it by tomorrow if he utilized the night to track it down.

 

Over-slept a little, Gargan continued his hunt late into the evening, following the blood trail, until it stopped. The creature has stopped bleeding, and from the blood that it lost, it was unlikely to die. More than anything, however, it couldn’t be far from her, as the blood was fresher, and has yet completely dried. Realizing how close the creature was, Gargan immediately took to the sky and looked for it. The woods around this part were sparse, and he had a decent view of the ground. It was unfortunate that the lack of light caused him to fly lower, and thus, limiting his view and increasing his search time.

 

After half an hour of low flying searching, Gargan stumbled over a grove of old and large oak. Or something similar to oak back home. It’s canopy was thick, and he couldn’t peer through it, especially with a new moon at night. He has to search there on foot, Gargan takes a mental note, and continues his aerial search, which soon returns fruitless. He found nothing, and circled back to the grove.

 

It was past midnight, and the woods were quiet save for the rustling of leaves and winds. Steeled himself, Gargan casted a thick layer of mist over the groves, which allowed him to hide in, as well as acted as a close range radar, as the birdman can feel everything the droplets of water under his control touches. It is one of his most used spells that he has under his belt, just for that simple fact.

 

Hovering just right above the tallest branches of the oak grove, Gargan concentrated mist of his attention on feeling the ground below. It didn’t take long before he found the wounded beast, cowering and hid itself under an uprooted tree; it works in an attempt to create a shelter no doubt.

 

With the beast pinpointed and tracked, Gargan nestled himself on a tree a hundred feet away, and decided to tail it back to its dens. THe quest wasn’t to subjugate it, but to investigate the creature, and he would do just that. As a light sleeper, Gargan could practically track the creature in his sleep, with limitations of course, but the mist would let him know if the creature moved away from its spot.

 

As for the losted wolf, after chasing after the man, and off of the cliff, and down to the pound carried by the river, it was hurt. No, it was injured, much more so than any other time in its life. It’s torso hurt when it walked, its legs screamed in pain when it walked, and its arms became limbs as it climbed out of the pond. Its beautiful indigo coat of fur was stained with blood, bruises and cuts from the riverbed. And its eyes only carried anger.

 

'HOW DARE THAT LOWLY HUMAN TRICKED IT! HOW DARE THAT HUMAN INJURED IT!' The beast thought, as it rages on, taking out it angered on it surrounding.

 

It thrashed at everything around it, as the nightfall released it pent up anger toward the nearest object, uprooting the old and ancient tree. It tantrum continued until it felt exhaustion, and nested under the fallen tree, falling asleep as it promised vengeance against the human that humiliated it.

 

The night was calm, as the creature woke up from its exhausted slumber, and noticed the thin layer of mist around it. Shuttered due to the cold droplet that clings to its fur, the wolf slowly makes its way back to its dens, and to its packs. The Alpha wouldn’t be happy if he wounded up missing, as the pack only consisted of 3 other members.

 

Licking at its wounds, the wolf began its slow and painful journey back, as it navigated the woods, and followed a faint trail of its pack smells. It was far, far away from where the pack was, and with its broken legs and dislocated arms, it couldn’t make it back in just a day or two. No, it would take a week at the very least. And even longer, as it would need to take the occasional detour to hunt, not an easy task for an injured, lone wolf.

 

When morning came, under a thin layer of mist, the wolf began its journey back home. At first, it was wary of the mist, as it was in no condition to find, and took extra caution to avoid any large clearing or watering hole, as it did not want to risk running to any other predators. This play isn’t it’s pack’s territory.

 

Luckily, with the surprisingly persistent mist, the wolf not only made it to a rather peaceful part of the forest, but also was able to catch itself a small hare for a meal. It wasn’t much, and nowhere filling enough for it, but at least it was something. Happily chopping on it, the wolf didn’t notice its stalker, up above.

 

Over the next two days, it was able to pull its tired and battered body back to the pack territory, much faster than it had expected. On the second day, the mist disappeared, but due to the cover of the mist, the wolf decided to move under the night to quicken its step, only taking a small sleep in between.

 

Unable to hunt, it has to resolve itself, and trampled on its pride as a predator to lower itself into a bone licker, scavenging any leftover meal. It was hard for the injured wolf, as it was very inexperienced with such things, but was able to find itself a carved up deer carcass, and licked clean off any meat it could. It was the highest humiliation for a top predator to lower itself down to this level, and it is hatred for the man that causes it this shame.

 

On the next few days, it was lucky enough to find one other half eaten hare, and hungrily devoured it, as it entered it’s pack’s newly claimed territory. Just another day, it could make its way back to their dens, and reunite with its pack and its mates.

 

After days of slouching itself through the forest, it was exhausted, as much as it was starving, and by the time it stumbled upon another partially eaten boar, it no longer paid any attention to its surroundings, and focused all of its sobered minds on the meal. This shall be its last leftover, the thing vowed in its hearts, as it drew closer to the dens, the smells of its mates became even stronger.

 

True, it shall be the creature's last leftovers, as well as its last meal, as Gargan dived down from above, his sword tightly grasped by his talons. Aiming for the creature's vertebrate, toward its neck, he pushed all of his body weight, added with the gravitational pull, and the sword pierced through its target.

 

The creature thrashes and growls, but Gargan’s well aimed strike completely paralyzed the wolf, as he simply bisected the spinal cord of the strange wolf. To quicken it demises, as well as to silence it, as he does not want to draw it pack to his location, Gargan drew his larger knife and cut out the creature windpipe, as well as its arteries and veins on its neck. It soon breathed it last, and Gargan hung up its corpse on the nearby branch, bleeding it out and using it as a bait to draw out its pack, as he started to prepare traps in the surrounding area. He doesn't have much time, and he knows it, so most of the trap was primitive and non-fatal.

 

After finishing his welcoming present, he took to the sky, and waited. Hopefully, those pitch fall will works....