The Traveler: Name of the Wolf

Chapter 1

                These were not his lands, his skin tone gave that away. His rich tan, was for a much hotter climate to the south, more at home with sand between his toes, than with these wintery winds lashing his back. He wore a long green scarf covering the lower half of his face. He wore a cream shirt under a grey robe, a dark pants, leather boots and a wide brimmed pointed hat. His, hair was between silver and blonde and his eyes were a deep jade with mild dark circles around his eyes. In his hand was a stick, a walking stick expertly carved and the top sporting a head piece of three men shouting with a crown atop their shared head.

The land he walked was plains, hills and ice tipped mountains. The north wind was always blowing through them, from between the cold icy mountains. Even on the warmest, brightest day, one could feel a chill in the air. Between these hill, plains and mountains, were forests, of pines, oaks, trees made to follow and weather the seasons, to survive fall and winter.

These lands were home to folk with clear skin, blonde, black, or red hair, all sharing the same warrior tribe culture, divided into city states and smaller villages. It was towards one of these smaller villages that he trekked. It was not his destination, but it was on the way.

Walking down the road he came across them, locals. Clear skin, blonde and red hair, some had tribal markings tattooed on their skin. All of them wore a combination of leather, fur and plate armor, and brandished weapons as they looked upon the torn devastated flesh of a fallen comrade lying in a pool of blood. They were at the gates in front of their village, surrounded by wall of timber.

They turned and saw him and immediately raised their weapons as he titled his head in confusion.

"Monster...!" shouted one of them, a young man with black hair, and a long mustache. He charged swinging his sword. The stranger didn't flinch, instead, as the sword came down at him, the butt of his palm met the hand holding it, and redirected it, pulling it away from his head, he then used his staff to force his arm down, planting it in the dirt. The man was left shocked, but not as shocked when the stranger twisted his blade hand, and held his staff against his throat, holding him immobile with surprising strength.

"You know..." said the stranger "when last I came through this town, your people had much better manners..."

"Cur, where did you learn our tongue...?" The stranger just looked at him annoyed before flipping him over. The language was a common one, one of a variety spoken in the north and south. If you knew one, you basically knew them all, save a few specific words.

"Pray tell..." he said walking towards the others, still wary of him "would anyone like to explain to me what is going on, unless, like him, they want to swing at me like a frightened child swinging at the dark?"

"Bastard...!" shouted the, who got up with his sword. Before he could react the stranger turned around and swatted him upward in his jaw with his staff, knocking him on his back and reeling in pain.

"Enough...!" shouted a main, he wore heavy armor, carried a war axe and had a long grey beard and grey eyes. He was clearly the chief. "I am Chief Bolgrin White Claw and this is..."

"The town of Grey Wood, as I said, I have been here before..." He walked up to them and looked at the corpse. "What happened here, or is this personal and none of my business...?" The woman beside him growled but the chief signaled for her to stop.

"This was...a beast nothing more, the poor fellow was killed in the night, near morning's light..."

"A beast eh...?" he knelt down and looked at the wound "I can think of several 'beasts' that cut through metal with bare claws...none of them belong in this world..."

"And what do you know...?" shouted the girl. Her hair was blonde and dark green tattoos ran from her forehead to her lower jaw. She had a single braid and wore chainmail under a fur vest but over a red dress.

"You would be surprised..." he said "but I came here because it's on the way of my destination." He stood up "if you don't mind, I shall be on my way."

The stranger sat down in the shack, with two warriors outside. It was clearly for holding prisoners and he was possibly not the first to sit in the cell. However, from the look of it, it had not been used in some time, as rot could be seen in various parts of it. The door itself was simply iron bars.

"That was too easy..." said one of the warriors, a middle aged man with blonde hair He resembled the blonde haired woman, and was probably her brother. He wore chainmail with a fur cape. He was one of several who sat the table in the Chief's hall, a large piece of furniture, the top of which sported numerous carvings, symbols and runes. It was behind a large pit for a bonfire, but in front of an old chair, carved out of a deep dark wood, with skulls carved into the arms. There were now empty sockets beneath the skulls. "I highly doubt he's the killer."

"He's an outlander..." said the one with the long black hair "who else could it be...?"

"You say that, as you nurse a bloody nose..."

"Do you want one...?" he shouted

"Enough...!" shouted the chief, silencing both of them "We are no closer to finding this wretched thing, I will not waste time with you lot bickering."

"I say we use him..." said the woman.

"How so Grishka...?"

"If this man is not the beast, then we keep him until the next time the beast is due to come. We can confirm it then."

"You want to wait until then...?" said the black haired fellow.

"I agree with her..." said the blonde one "we do not know if this stranger is the beast we seek, we have only our fear and paranoia doing that." The black haired fellow grumbled. "We don't even know his name..."

"It is Zen..." said the Stranger, sitting with his legs crossed and his staff on his lap. The chief and his retinue stood outside the shack, look through the bar doors.

"Well...'Zen'..." said the Chief "we have a proposition to ask of you..."

"Ask...? Said the chief outside of the cell, but very well, what is it you need of me...?"

"...There is a beast, you've seen its handy work..."

"Aye, and what does this beast have to do with me...?"

"What do you know of such things...?" He looked up at them. "You said it yourself, you know of 'several such beasts'..."

"That was a vague statement...but not inaccurate...when does it come out...?"

"Excuse me...?"

"It's hunting pattern, its behavior, when does it attack, when do you expect it...?"

"On the nights with a full moon, last night, tonight, and tomorrow night..."

"I see..."

"I doubt that..." said the dark haired fellow.

"With that, and the wounds on your 'friend' I would suspect a lycanthrope..."

"A, what...?"

"A werewolf..."