The Witch & The Witch Hunter

5

The harbour town of Mevagissey had fallen silent. Situated in the southernmost part of England, the port was the centre of Cornwalls fish trade. Dock men would cart their bounties across the piers and streets and the fishing vessels would come as frequently as the gulls would swoop for loose fish. Though as of recently the town had ceased all commerce, travellers simply passed on by and the greedy gulls had all flown away. A great evil was preying upon Mevagissey and no man was courageous enough to face it. So after a plea was made to the church they dispatched someone who was well versed in these kinds of undertakings. It was early evening when the tall and shadowy witch hunter rode into town with his companion. Though the cobbled streets were empty, a lantern hung outside the Ship Inn tavern. The hunter helped his companion down from his dark steed and hitched it in the modest town square. "I do not sense the dark arts at play here" said the hunters companion, "mayhaps they have simply fallen afoul of pirates or other such evil men?" The young lady who rode with the hunter was well versed in matters of the occult, being a witch herself. Though nowadays she kept her practices to simply alchemy and healing. "We can only hope" the hunter replied.

As the door to the tavern opened with a rather noticeable creak, the hunters large form silhouetted against the fading light of the day and the low candle light from within. The patrons, though few, turned to observe their strange visitor. He stepped up to the bar and removed his large black hat, the barkeep eyed the hunter with a good degree of caution. "Greetings, good sir and madam. Can I get ye anything?" He said sternly from beneath an impressive seafaring moustache. "No - but thank you" replied the hunter in his usual low, gruff tone. "I am here to speak with Gale Tom, I believe it was he who sent for me". He noticed the barkeep wore a strange necklace with some local archaic pagan symbol affixed to it, something to do with local heritage no doubt. 'How unfortunate' thought the hunter. The patrons mumbled to one another as though witnessing a drama unfold. "Aye, I know old Tom" said the barkeep, "you'll find him round at the docks, just down the way there" he gestured. 

As the pair manoeuvred around the winding walkways of the small fishing town, the all encompassing silence became ever more invasive as their footsteps echoed around each bend. "Didst thou notice the local patrons chatter?" Asked the witch. "Indeed, tis a small town, they obviously know why we're here" said the hunter. The docks were extensive, many a ship was harboured along the stone piers and wooden jetties and looked as though they had been for some time. "Odd, one wouldst assume ships such as these would be anchored off the coast, not cramped into a fishing dock" the hunter remarked. "Tis the great evil plaguing us that keeps these vessels in dock, young master" said an aged voice. An old man, hunched and fragile treaded carefully from behind a pile of wooden crates and various crustacean traps. An unlit smoking pipe hung from his clenched jaw and what seemed to be a baby seagull sat nestled in his coat pocket. "Oh aye" he continued "they've a short memory in this town to be certain. So eager to forget was they, that this malady befell us once before".

The old man brushed some shell remnants off from a crate and sat upon it with a sound of some relief. "Gale Tom, I assume?" Inquired the hunter. "Aye, one and the same" replied the old man. "For what reason do they call you so?" Asked the witch, who had been pondering upon it since they left the tavern. The old mans eyes positively came to life "ah, twas a dark and stormy night, young miss. A wind as fierce as none I've ever seen - " the witch hunter abruptly cleared his throat "might we return to task?" He asked "oh, quite so" said Tom, sounding somewhat dejected. "You see, church man. It began much like it did nearly seventy years ago this winter. Men, women, children and dogs to boot would start to go missin'. We'd never find em, save their clawed finger marks headin' to the sea. Dragged under by ungodly creatures in service to a horror that is older than this world". The pair looked at one another, not knowing quite what to make of the old sailors story. "This horror, what is it's name?" Asked the hunter. "Why, church man, you already know its name" Tom grinned "tis the horror from before time, the sin of envy, the devourer of the damned, the infernal creature whom the lord will slay at the end of days. Tis the demon, Leviathan".