An Angel Called Eternity

Lore Chapter: The Umbra and Sellswords

Yes, yes, alright you fuckers. I'm the captain of this company, Symon Symondson, and you're all prospective new recruits.
Congratulations, you're hired.
Why are you still here?
Fine, fine, I'll give the bloody talk. Fuck off, Corbray.

Right you lot, listen up. Corbray spiked my wine last night so I'm hungover as hell and can't be arsed to answer questions today, so you're gonna sit down, listen to me, and shut the fuck up. Take notes, this shit's important. No, I don't care if you can't write.
Okay, lesson one: if the man next to you has something that could improve your life kill him. It doesn't matter if you get what made his life better or not, since he's not around to enjoy it anymore, and that's the important bit.
Nah, im just fucking with you. Kind of. I mean, it is good advice, but it's not really legal or useful right now so let's move on with this... I don't know, lecture? Calling it a lecture makes it sound like I can read which isn't strictly true. I only know how to forge a couple of merchant's and banker's signatures. Yeah, I don't actually know what the letters are but I memorised what they looked like. That came in handy when I was younger, lemme tell ya. All right, all right, I'll get on with the actual talk, leave me be.

Right, Umbra. Dangerous things those beasts, aye; a wolf the size of a house or a boar the size of a barn ain't nothing to sneer at. I've seen the bastards cleave through ranks of armoured men without so much as breaking stride. Still, least they ain't as bad as in me great-grandsire's day. Back then they got much bigger, and took on far more dangerous forms; gigantic men, great winged lions and horses that made even Brythonian Drafts look like a fleck of shit on a boot. 'pparently the greatest of all of them took the form of a massive Drake, and when it died its bones turned to stone, creating the Drakespine Mountains. Yeah, exactly, be glad they ain't what they used to be. Well, on land anyway. Them lot that still live in the sea... There's a reason I stick to land; I ain't taking any chances.

Right, so the local lord's got one of these buggers ravaging his lands. Couldn't give a shit about the people on it, let them die he thinks, till he remembers that they're the lot that pay him taxes. He doesn't wanna risk losing his own men, after all, their equipment's all fancy and expensive, and they're more suited to looking pretty than killing monstrous folk. The local village usually tries to get the bastard themselves, but that goes about as well as you'd expect it to. So, they all turn to us. We're cheaper than knights, and almost as good at killing, so they let us have a go at it. Course usually a few of us die as well, but you know why? It's always the ones that think they know better than what the veterans, like me, have told 'em. The ones that think they're a hero out of the stories, standing sword in hand against a giant monster. If any of 'em actually succeed and take one down themselves do yourself a favour and kill him yourself. You'll never hear the end of it for weeks after otherwise, and it gets them an unbearable amount of attention from the women you run into. Or the men, if that's what you're more into. Point is, nothing riles up a couple of willing bed-warmers like someone who's single-handedly killed a monster a dozen times their size.
No, I see that look in some of your eyes. Some of you think it might be worth the risk now I've said that. Go ahead, try it yourself. I won't stop you from getting yourself killed. Why?
Because I love watching cunts like you fail.

Of course, there's a lot of different types of umbra. Direwolves are probably the most common, and some of the most dangerous. Why? Well, it's true that they're far from the largest type of umbra generally, but "small umbra" still means "grows to around the size of a house". But the real reason for their danger is that they're pack hunters; if you can only see one direwolf, then I've got some absolutely shit news for you. Actually it's more for your next of kin, since you won't be around to hear it.
Normally the packs range from six to twelve direwolves in size, but the largest I 'eard of was four-dozen strong. You'd need hundreds of men for a fight like that. A thousand, to be safe.
Generally speaking, keep yourself in a tightly packed group and where possible, use your longbows to take down as many as you can before they get close. If you're lucky they'll see sense after you kill about a quarter of their pack.
Annoyingly they can be found just about anywhere. The Heptarchy, Scelopyrea, Tilda, Dathan, they're everywhere. Only place I know that's got them on the run is one of the Brythonian islands, since their wildhounds are trained to rip 'em to shreds. You might laugh at that, but those dogs are worth their weight in gold on the mainland. Well, they would be if anyone here knew how to control them.
I don't even know why Im bothering to tell you about them, since you'll have probably had to cower from one yourself at some point, but hey, maybe one or two of you have lived an extremely sheltered life before now. Any runaway lordlings or royals hiding in the company? No? Clever, keep your mouth shut if you're out there. Most of the older members of this company don't take too kindly to noble types.
Anyway. Longbows, tight groups, and fire. They hate fire, more than any other animal I know. A little torch ain't gonna scare any of 'em 'cept maybe a pup, but if you're in a tight spot try setting a tree on fire, or a prepared bonfire if you somehow have the time. It won't kill them, but some'll linger at the edges of the light for some reason, staring into the flames. Make sure you kill those ones. Don't let them live. I don't care if you have to chase them for weeks to make sure they're dead. You can't let them live after they've stared into the flames.
I... I don't know why. It's a gut feeling. Them that stay to look into the fires are... they're wrong somehow. Ask anyone else who's hid 'round a fire to buy some time. They'll tell you the same thing. Make sure they don't live. I don't know why, but you have to. They're smarter than you think, those wolves. They don't make the same mistake twice, and I don't want them learning.