Hungry Necromancer - Chapter 231

“Who are you, and what are you doing in this part of the forest?”

Several things pass through my mind looking at the person before us. A person of strong body and strong mind no doubt, the fierce bark wood mask hides their identity and the fall of their ragged hair over their chest conceals their gender.

But none of that matters much. Certainly not as much as the spear behind them. Although the spear had detonated, blown off the newly born snake head in an inferno I felt even at this distance from it, the weapon still stands, stuck in place in the ground, unmoved and seemingly undamaged by it’s own fury.

That’s a very nice weapon.

As Anselm shifts closer to me and Shaco slithers back onto my shoulders through my sleeves our present company cautiously takes steps back, retreating to their weapon.

For a moment I’m torn between taking a stance and putting away my Dagger. I’m not sure what this Forest living person will do if they perceive me as prey but at the same time I am curious to learn whatever knowledge they have about the forest.

Perhaps they could lead me to bigger prey, bigger monsters that I can practice my Necromancy on, that I can level with. The possibilities tempt me, an accurate guide through the thick of this forest could have me levelling up even faster than I anticipated and from the way they destroyed the snake, I’d say they know plenty about this forest.

Twirling my Dagger I decide, bringing attention to my weapon I make sure they see me put it away and I raise my hands in the air, a hopefully universal sign of peace and non-violence.

They relax…but only after grabbing their weapon.

“The name is Asher, but you can call me Lord Ash and this is my companion, Anselm.” I offer a smile as I introduce myself and ask, “Who might you be?”

Their head tilts at my words, “You…are a Lord?”

I don’t give a vocal answer, simply humming an affirmative instead.

“You must be the Lord of the village close by then…Demme was it?” He hums. By the depth and gravel of their voice I can assume that the person before me is indeed a man, “Yes, Demme, so you are the Lord of Demme.” He snorts.

Keeping my smile on I inquire, “And what’s humorous about that?”

He shrugs, “It’s just that your fief has been plagued by monsters since I came here, I thought something would clear the problem up but things only ever got worse.” He outright chuckles now, “But to see you and your…companion here, battling a beast of this nature, I wonder if  you even want the problem to be resolved.”

At the accusation I lose my smile, but I am slowly beginning to understand the man before me, “You are a hermit of sorts, are you not?” He doesn’t deign my question an answer, rather shifting his weight from one leg to another, “You must not have checked in on my fief in a while, I have just taken control actually, and much of the peace and prosperity the people now experience is a courtesy of my will, of my presence. So if you meant to insult my role as a Lord then you have failed.”

He chuckles and gives what is obviously a mock bow, “Apologies to your honour then, my Lord.” the drawl in his voice tells me all I need to know about his relationship with authority.

“You still haven’t told us who you are, care to fill us in?” Anselm calls back from the air, his hands folded sternly as he watches the man from above.

As he is masked I can’t tell the expression on his face when he looks up at Anselm, but it couldn’t be anything less than a scowl.

“I am a Hunter, a professional Hunter.”

I figured as much. The enchanted, exploding spear spoke of that background.

“What are you doing all the way here then, on a mission?” I ask, usually Hunters, despite there being an building for their missions in nearly all cities, the Hunters themselves are rarely ever seen. It’s as though they’re doing all they can to avoid the pruning eyes of the public.

The Hunter’s Guild and all their offices act as an intermediary between the public, the reigning government and the Hunters themselves. From what Red and Quen explained to me, if you’re in need of a Hunter, you ask the Guild and they’ll send one your way.

There was rarely ever a clear way to meet a Hunter and ask for a service. The only people the Hunters came to on their own, without any prompting would be the Enchanters and Artificers.

The man nods, “As a matter of fact, yes, I am on a mission…a self appointed one.” He says that and goes right back to staring back at us.

Not giving out information for free I see.

I take a deep breath and begin to approach, “Well, I guess that makes the two of us, I’m on a self-appointed mission as well mister…what should I call you?”

He pauses at this, I can hear the hesitation in his breath. But finally he says, “…Jungle, call me Jungle.”

About now I’m starting to regret giving him my name. I share a look with Anselm but we move on nonetheless.

“What self-appointed mission is that, Asher.” He asks, placing emphasis on the use of my name without the affixed title.

His disrespect on this doesn’t annoy me as much as his question does, “Ah, I don’t think I’ll be going around revealing my business willy-nilly like that, especially not when you’re so guarded with yours. Could you be a criminal of sorts?”

He bristles at the accusation but quickly calms, “I doubt a Lord of your power can be stained even in the presence of a thousand thieves. But I am not a criminal, I am a Hunter.”

“A hunter without clothes…talk less of armour.” Anselm snidely pitches in, “You could very well be a murderer fleeing to these parts, fleeing into a monster infested forest in fear of your pursuers.”

He snorts, “Baseless. Only hunters wield enchanted weapons.”

“Hunters and the thieves and murderers who take them off their rightful owners. You say we call you Jungle…what are you hiding then, Jungle?”

All of a sudden the calm is violently lifted, swiftly replaced by rising tensions and itching hands. Jungle reasserts his grip on his weapon and with Anselm so close I can feel him getting colder.

“Alright!” I clap my hands loudly at the two of them, “Enough. Let us assume the worse of each other then. I have cooperated with criminal elements before and I think Jungle can cooperate with a Lord and his companion, at least without a fight breaking out.”

Fortunately, they both relax, if only so slightly.

“As a bit of a trust exercise, we’ll need you to give us some information…Jungle.”

He grunts at me, “And what may that be?”

I smile cheerfully, “Your face.”

“My face…”

I nod, “Your face, you don’t have a problem with this do you?”

Numbly, he shakes his head, “No, but…what then? Will you leave this place?”

Leave?

“Eventually, once I’m done with my mission.”

“And what mission is that?”

“Take off your mask and we can have a hearty chat about it afterwards.”

“…”

“Very well then.” His hand takes hold of the green, moss covered angry looking mask. It has been carved to have the visage of a beast, although I am not sure what beast.

The mask falls to the ground, clattering and then splashing into the puddles of water formed from our fight with the giant serpent.

His face is…offensive.