Not fully ten days after her last battle, Hood came upon a large city surrounded by a formidable stone wall, and even from half a mile away she could tell something was very wrong. The wind blew from the direction of the grey walls, and they carried upon them a peculiar stench. The sharp, acrid scent of fear and panic combined with a scent of holy magics so strong it stung her nose even at this distance. Taking a deep breath, and ignoring the light sting of holy power in her lungs, she could also pick up the faintest trace of demon stench in the air. She hurried towards the gate with her features set in a worried frown. Once at the gates she was met not only by a pair of armed guards, but also by a priest of Liv, goddess of good harvests. The rotund holy man looked clearly out of his element as a guardian, but nevertheless stepped forth to bar her path as she approached. Hood, for her part, simply did her best not to flinch or gag at the holy forces attempting to ward her off. “Halt! You have the feel of a demon upon you! State your business within our town.” The man’s voice held a slight tremble, but nevertheless he stood fast. “Of course I have the feel of a demon on me, priest. I’m a hunter. One can only be stained by so much demon blood before it leaves a mark.” It was her usual explanation, and it was all the more useful for being true. Enough contact with demon blood would change anyone. It wasn’t the reason why she had the feel of a demon about her, but she felt no need to tell anyone that. The priest, however, frowned at her words. “You look rather young to hunt such beasts. Are you prepared to swear to your tale as truth in the sight of the gods?” “I am prepared.” Though her voice betrayed nothing, Hood swore silently at her poor luck. Of course this man would need proof of her story, given the circumstances. She braced herself as the man uttered a holy word, but it still took more effort than she’d care to admit not to cry out as the holy power settled around her like fire clinging to her skin. “The gods see your words, and they shall punish any falsehoods that cross your lips.” “I am Hood, famed demon hunter of the north, and my only plans for this town are to rid it of whatever demon haunts its streets. This I swear with the gods as my witness.” The last sentence was growled out, but she hoped he took that as a sign of determination rather than the desperate struggle against pain that it really was. She could feel her skin reddening, and it wouldn’t be long before it started to crack and char. Fortunately, the portly man nodded and raised a hand, and she sighed in relief as the holy power drained off her burnt, sensitive skin. “Your words have been heard by the gods, and they held no untruths. I welcome you into our city. We have sent calls for aid from hunters for well over a week now, but as of yet we have had no replies. Karl, take care of huntress Hood’s horse. I’ll take her to the magistrate’s building.” Hood followed the man as one of the guards took Lumpy’s reins. She wasn’t sure why she was taken to see the magistrate, but she wasn’t going to argue with the priest after she had finally been let inside. Especially not now, as she was already weakened by holy power. Another holy spell would be enough to burn her hide to a crisp. The magistrate’s office was a cluttered mess with scrolls, maps and books covering every open surface and old unwashed plates unceremoniously stacked amidst the sprawling expanse of paper and parchment. The magistrate herself turned out to be a woman in her late sixties with bags under her eyes that suggested she had not had a good night’s sleep for a week or more. The haggard woman looked over at the priest as he entered, barely sparing Hood a glance as she rubbed the tiredness out of her eyes. “What is it now, Franz? I hardly have the time to take care of a child, nor do you have the time to escort one.” “But then I am hardly a child, lady magistrate.” Hood replied before Franz could speak. “I am Hood, a demon hunter from the north. It seems like you could find use for my services.” “She speaks the truth, lady magistrate. She has sworn it before the gods.” The magistrates face was disbelieving at first, but with the priest’s reassurances it shifted quickly to relief. “Finally, a ray of light in these dark times. Any help you could lend us would be welcome indeed.” “Could you tell me more of the situation, lady magistrate?” “Of course. It all started twelve days ago, when a woman was found brutally murdered in her own home. The watch could find no sign of who had done it, but the priests sensed demonic forces by the corpse. Unable to find the culprit, we figured it was an isolated incident, but we were sadly mistaken. Every night since, a new victim has been claimed. Children, mothers, young men, rich and poor alike. We have found no pattern in the killings, other than that the victim is always alone when the crime takes place. Now, the people live in fear, afraid of a demon that seems to move invisibly through patrols of guards and holy men alike. I fear that unless the demon is found soon, we shall have a panicking mob on our hands before the week is out.” Hood mulled over the problem for a few minutes. It was a strange one, to be sure. Like nothing she had encountered before. That meant the demon responsible was both clever and imaginative, and an imaginative demon is the worst kind of demon. Finally she decided that she needed to know more before she could make any conclusion. “I shall do everything in my power to kill this demon, lady magistrate. You have my word.” “And I am grateful. Here, take this.” She handed over a round silver token. “His Majesty the King has created these in response to the rising number of demons in his realm. Simply bleed upon it and it shall turn into a mark identifying you as a hunter. The blood magic will ensure no-one can steal it from you and falsely identify themselves. If you show it to the guards, they will know to assist you in your hunt.” Hood nodded and lightly pricked her hand, letting a single drop of blood fall upon the silver surface. The enchanted metal drank up the droplet, and soon thereafter a rather lifelike image of her own face etched itself into the metal, along with the words “R. R. Hood, Huntress of the Realm.”. Turning it over, she found an image of a severed wolf head, as well as a motto of sorts: “TO CLEANSE AND PROTECT”. Hood couldn’t help but smile a little as she politely excused herself. This little token would certainly come in handy in the future. She had used her new badge to gain access to several of the murder sites, but they were all the same, and they were all baffling. The bodies had been taken away of course, but the bloodstains that remained spoke of very violent and messy deaths. That wasn’t the puzzling part however. The real puzzle was how the demon had entered these rooms so easily. Each murder she had investigated so far had happened in a room heavily warded by holy symbols and spells, and the guards confirmed that those wards had been up at the time of the murder. Some of the wards were so strong that she had to make the guards open the doors for her and let her in, and even then the sheer amounts of holy energy had almost driven her to her knees. She had no idea how any demon could stand being inside, let alone how they could get in in the first place. As if that wasn’t enough of a puzzle by itself, even the demon scent that lingered around the murders was strange. The scent was only ever present right next to the spot where the victims had met their end. It wouldn’t be at all strange for the scent to be strongest there, but there should still be a trail to follow, however faint. But there wasn’t. So, how could a demon enter a room specifically warded against their kind, murder an innocent person, and sneak out again without even leaving any kind of scent trail behind? That question bounced back and forth through Hood’s mind as she glumly studied the town around her. The panic in the air was all the more prevalent as evening started to fall, and everywhere she looked she found desperate people begging the holy men and women patrolling the city for blessings of protection or wards for their homes. For all the good that would do them. The holy power hung so thick in the air that Hood could barely even breathe, and it made no sense. How could a demon hide in a city so thick with wards and blessings for so long without being found? The air itself should burn it at this point. With a long-suffering sigh, she decided to call it a night. The atmosphere at the inn was dark and glum, each patron too busy trying to drink their worries away to so much as speak to one another. And in the midst of it all sat Hood, matching even the heaviest drinkers bottle for bottle. The innkeeper had at first seemed worried that she’d drink herself to death, but a few sharp reprimands had him minding his own business and offering refills without comment when she asked for them. By the time she finally decided to call it a night, she could no longer see, think, or walk straight, and so she crawled up the stairs towards the room she had rented on all fours, only rising again once she was well away from the steep wooden steps, and even then she had to hold on to the wall lest she stumble and fall. The door she passed just before finding her own was warded with blood magic, something she only noticed because it formed a void in the all-permeating air of holiness that filled even this shabby drinking den. An idea bubbled up through the hazy fog of her mind, and she mentally thanked whatever witch or warlock lived behind that door for the inspiration. When she got into her own room she clumsily cut her palm open, the pain barely even registering through her drunken stupor, and used her bleeding hand to paint a line of blood around the room. Once done, she slurred a few syllables and smiled as she felt the ward fall into place. Soon enough the holy power in the room faded away, kept at bay like any other outside force by the blood ward. Feeling a deep relief at no longer having a constant barrage of holy energy attacking her from all directions, Hood quickly fell asleep even as the cut on her hand bled onto the sheets. For once, no nightmares managed to make their way through her heavily reinforced slumber. She was awoken by a shrill scream, and sat up hastily in her bed. Unfortunately, the movement stirred her troubled stomach far more than she was ready for, and she barely had time to lean over the side of her bed before her roiling belly noisily emptied itself. Her pounding headache was matched only by the burning pain in her hand. Looking at the offending appendage, she noticed that the deep cut in her palm looked swollen and inflamed. With an oath that would give a drunken sailor pause she dug a relatively clean undershirt out of her pack along with a large bottle of something that smelled strongly of alcohol and cabbage. She tore a strip from the shirt and used it and the pungent spirits to clean out the gash in her palm, ignoring the stinging pain that resulted, and then drenched the rest of the shirt in booze and used it to bind the wound. She took a nip from the bottle to rinse the vomit out of her mouth, then chugged the remaining drink in the hopes that it would dull the pain. Unfortunately, it mostly just made her feel even more nauseous. After ten minutes of just sitting in bed staring at nothing, screams and gasps sounding from outside her room the whole time, she felt strong enough rise and go see what all the fuss was about. The moment she opened the door and so broke the ward on her room several scents hit her all at once. Blood, fear, and the unmistakable stink of demon. Despite this, and despite the crowd of fearful and horrified townsfolk clustered around the next room over, it still took a while for her tired, aching brain to come to any sort of conclusion. When it finally did, however, the realization shocked her wide awake. The occupant of the room right next to hers had been murdered.