To Fescue! (Moonlight Rescue)
Fenmoss
The air is cool as the last golden rays dim on a day in late Bósmanad. Soon, the sky will darken and The Hunters will rise. The fields resound with far-off howls, and a gaggle of newly-minted Hooks bluster through the door. They loudly chatter between proud glances at the shiny copper fishhooks pinning their cloaks.
“I told you lot, on my way back from escorting that caravan I saw a peryton and me arrow was this close to slaying the beast so I could bring its head back to Vericha and ‘er guards. Or else if it weren't a peryton it were a jackalope!”
“I tell you now, it weren't no jackalope, and you are a jackanapes,” chimes in another.
“What about you, Gale? What did you do?”
The as-of-yet quietest one turns, apparently wrenched free from being lost in thought.
“Oh, well, y’see, Rowan and I slew some foul beast of the below, yeah. We knocked it from the sky and sent it back to where demons dwell, out there in the farm field at Fescue. Bóthgifa Hundiman weren't actually kidnapped right before ‘er wedding, she was just covering for-”
The one whose name must be Rowan cuts her off mid-sentence with a look that could dry out an apple and pierce mail. A moment later, she too opines,
“All things Hooks are s’posed to do. ‘Tis a bit crazy what happens to people under a full moon. Whatever that creature was and whoever set it free from its tomb, I care not, now that it's gone…”
For a tense moment, the group of new Hooks all fall into a thoughtful silence. Soon though, all memories of their own first tastes of what horrors lurk in the dark are wiped away as Halsta calls out from behind the bar.
“Welcome aboard the skiff, ye hot-blooded fisherfolk. Drinks are on the house tonight, and on ye lot tomorrow!”
