Chapter 86: Sleepless in Dullwater

“Is this far enough?” Rhian asked.

Stryg glanced back at Dullwater, the village was only a small smudge in the distance. “Yeah, this should be good.”

“Great, let’s drop the body and get back quick,” Rhian looked around nervously.

For all they knew there could still be creatures lurking in the tall grass, waiting for their next prey.

“As appealing as sleep seems, we aren’t done yet,” Stryg hopped off the saddle.

He grabbed the villager’s corpse from behind the saddle, dragged it off Rhian’s back, and pulled the body into the tall grass a few feet away.

“This should be good enough,” he rolled up his sleeves.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, ideally some animal finds this slab of meat and eats it before the villagers find it. If the villagers do find him first, it needs to look like he was mauled,” he explained.

Stryg began tearing away at the man’s chest. His claws easily ripped through the shirt’s fabric and the flesh underneath. Even the bone and sinew seemed to break away with ease. Stryg tilted his head in thought. Mauling always seemed a bit harder before. Either he had gotten stronger or his claws were sharper, perhaps both.

The moonlight provided a great view of the gruesome spectacle. Rhian watched the whole thing with disgust and a tad of morbid curiosity. The man’s chest cavity was wide open, his organs shredded and tossed about the grass.

“Are you done?” Rhian winced at the gruesome sight.

“Almost, it needs to seem like he put up a fight. A shitty one of course,” Stryg pulled the dagger out of the corpse’s neck and placed it a few inches away from the deceased’s hand. He then slashed the neck with his claws, destroying the knife wound entirely.

“You’re an expert at this, huh?” Rhian noted awkwardly.

“No, this is my first time. This just seemed the right way to go about it, I suppose,” he said lightly.

Rhian wasn’t sure if she wanted to ask if he was referring to the disposal or the murder.

“Can you grab the water skin?” He pointed at the saddle.

“Of course,” she reached behind her and grabbed it.

He held out his hands. She understood. She took off the cap and drizzled the water over his bloodstained arms. He began to scrub his arms clean.

“This is nice, normally I don’t get a chance to clean my hands right after they get bloody. I admit the bits of flesh under my claws can be a tad annoying,” he smiled.

And that answered Rhian’s question, yet opened the door to so many worse ones.

“Of course, that makes sense, hehe…” Rhian strained a smile.

Stryg waved his hands in the air, flicking the last bits of water away, “Now, I’m done.”

“Wonderful, let’s head back,” she sighed in relief.

The ride back was silent. Rhian was content to stay quiet and focus on galloping through the grass, yet not too quickly, so as to not agitate her rider.

Stryg spent the time with his eyes closed. He focused on his olfactory sense and all the scents around him. The green grass wavering in the wind, the scent of flowers on the breeze, the dirt underneath them, they all reminded him of Vulture Woods.

A few strands of Rhian’s jet black hair slipped out of her ponytail and tickled his face. Her scent was a tad strange, yet reminiscent. It reminded him of fresh water running through a cold stream. Her hair smelled almost as nice as the taste of her skin.

They entered the village through the back, avoiding the old guard’s post entirely. Dullwater was quiet for the most part, its residents sleeping peacefully. Even Maximus was fast asleep in the shed, although he held his battle axe between his arms.

On the other hand, Loh was wide awake. Stryg could hear Loh and Louise’s moans from the second floor of the inn. While his people were accustomed and very comfortable to the matters of sex, Stryg was not very certain of how he felt listening to high pitch yells of ecstasy right about now. He stood outside the inn and thought the situation over briefly.

“Yeah, there’s no way I can sleep to that,” Stryg turned around and went straight to the shed.

Maximus cracked an eye open as the door creaked open. Once he noticed it was Stryg he went back to sleep.

“Master?” Rhian whispered from the corner of the shed. She had already laid down and wrapped herself with some of the blankets the inn workers had dropped by.

“Loh’s very loud. It’s distracting,” Stryg pointed out the door and towards the inn’s second story window.

Rhian furrowed her brow in confusion before she remembered her Master’s incredibly sensitive hearing. She lifted the blankets. Stryg took up her invitation. He closed the door, covering the shed in darkness. His night vision made it simple to walk over to Rhian and lay back on her side.

“I’m sorry you have to settle for an old shed like this,” she lowered the blankets around them both.

“It’s fine, I wouldn’t get any rest in the inn. Loh doesn’t shut up. I can still hear her moans from here, albeit not as much. Besides, we slept like this last night.”

“Yes, but that was because we were out in the hills and Mistress Loh had burned all our gear. We needed to keep you warm. People lose body warmth very quickly at night, even in the summertime. The cold breeze shouldn’t be underestimated,” Rhian whispered.

“I don’t get cold easily. You are quite warm though,” Stryg yawned.

“Centaurs produce a lot of body heat,” she said proudly. “So long as you don’t miss your bed, I guess it doesn’t really matter,” she leaned back on the wall, crossed her arms, and closed her eyes.

“Oh, I miss my bed, a lot actually. It’s very big and soft. But, I doubt the bed at the inn can even come close,” Stryg grumbled. He missed Feli too, but he did not mention her.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Master. I miss my old stable and bed of hay, too.”

“Bed of hay? That doesn’t sound very comfortable and I used to sleep on the floor.”

“It’s more than what a lot of other beastkin get. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Stryg made a mental note of buying an actual bed for his tribemate. He did not care if the stables normally did not have them. He would make the stablehands install one.

“Speaking of beds, a pillow would be nice,” he sighed.

“I may have an idea,” Rhian smirked.

She could not see anything, but she could clearly feel her Master next to her. She pulled him into an embrace, pushing his head between her chest.

“Rhian?” He considered biting them for a brief moment.

“It’s not a pillow, but maybe it’ll help?” Rhian asked hopefully.

“...They’ll do,” he swallowed. She was so soft. “Nice pillow,” he mumbled.

“Thank you,” Rhian smiled triumphantly. I told you I’d win you over.

Stryg could still hear Loh’s lovemaking from afar, but for some reason it did not bother him as much. He fell asleep to the soft rhythmic sound of Rhian’s heartbeat.

~~~

The next morning, Loh left a panting Louise in bed. She tried to ignore the headache from her hangover as she walked downstairs. Stryg was eating breakfast at the corner table by himself. He had his hood up, but she knew it was him. There weren’t any other small figures around.

“You started without me?” Loh took a seat across the table from him.

“I was planning on waiting, but then you two started fucking again. I didn’t want my food to get cold,” Stryg took another bite of shepherd’s pie.

“You can hear everything in the inn, can’t you?” Loh covered her face in shame.

“Pretty much,” he shrugged.

“Well, this is pretty awkward,” she chuckled.

“Meh, maybe for you,” he finished the last of his ale.

“Sometimes I forget you’re a Sylvan goblin,” she sighed in defeat.

“Here you are,” a barmaid placed a fresh plate of shepherd’s pie on the table and left.

“At least you ordered for me. My apprentice isn’t as inconsiderate as I thought,” Loh licked her lips.

“It’s not for you,” he pulled the plate of food away. “It’s for Rhian.”

“Why does Rhian need people’s food? I need people’s food,” Loh whined. “My head is killing me, come on. Just a bite, at least while I wait for the barmaid to take my order.”

“No. Tribemates should eat before outsiders, even masters.”

“Well, fuck you, too.” Loh raised her hand, “Barmaid! I’m starving over here.”

“Another ale too!” Stryg raised his empty mug.

“How can you still drink with that hangover?” Loh rubbed her temple.

“I’m not hungover.”

“But, you drank as much as me. What, besides giving you super hearing, do your mutations make you impervious to hangovers, too?”

“No, I just need a lot of alcohol to get drunk and even more to get hungover. This ale might as well be water to me.”

“And I reiterate, fuck you, too.”

Stryg grinned. From anyone else, he would have been enraged by the insults. But, from Loh, it was just another morning. He was beginning to understand when she was actually mad and when she was just annoyed. Unlike Feli, Loh made her discomfort very obvious. He was thankful for Loh’s clear social cues. Society was already hard enough to navigate.

Stryg was actually kind of happy, although that might have to do with last night’s makeshift pillow and the amusement Loh’s hangover brought him.

“Hey, master?” Stryg asked.

“What is it, spawn of evil?” Loh squinted.

“Yesterday, you told me about how most humans in the Realm live in Dusk Valley. I was just curious as to where the majority of drow settled. Are they in the Valley, too?”

“...Will you give me a bite of the pie if I tell you?”

“Deal,” Stryg cut a piece of the pie and handed it to Loh on a spoon.

She grabbed the pie and downed it in a flash, “The drow trace back their lineage to the Northern Lands of the Realm, like the vampires. They say our two species use to fight quite a lot. As the legend goes, one day Stjerne, patron of the drow, abandoned the drow and they were forced to retreat from the Northern Lands.”

“Where did the drow go?”

“The Glimmer Grove forest. They’ve been there ever since.”

“That makes sense. Many Sylvan tribes spoke of the occasional drow crossing between Glimmer Grove and Vulture Woods. It never ended well for the drow,” Stryg nodded slowly.

“I believe it. You Sylvan goblins were never one for mercy,” Loh shrugged. “I guess it makes sense based on your origins.”

“Origins?” Stryg’s ears perked up.

“Oh, you know, last of the warriors and all that.”

“No, I don’t, actually. What are you talking about?”

Loh’s jaw slackened, “You really don't know? I mean, it’s your people’s history.”

“My people aren’t very concerned about the past. They are more focused on the present,” he crossed his arms.

“I guess that makes sense,” she scratched her cheek. “I’m not the best person to explain all the details of your past either. All I’ve really read is that the Sylvan tribes of Vulture Woods are descended from the last actual goblin warriors of the Ebon Realm.”

Stryg felt a strange sense of pride hearing those words. The last goblin warriors. “You are wrong. My people are still warriors.”

“True,” she smiled.

He tapped his fingers on the table, “So, what exactly happened with Stjerne and the drow anyway?”

“Nothing really. Literally, nothing happened. The legend goes that one day the god of stars simply left the drow with no rhyme nor reason. The Traveler is said to never stay in one place for long, but the drow never expected he would leave them for good, let alone become the patron of the humans.”

“That sounds horrible,” Stryg sank into his chair a bit. He knew what it was like to believe yourself to be abandoned by your patron deity.

Loh shook her head, “Why? The ebon gods aren’t real. If you ask me, the drow used the whole thing as an excuse. I’ve read about their history. The drow were losing in the Northern Lands, nothing could be done about it. The vampires had the upper hand. Yet, the drow blamed their losses on the fictional idea of Stjerne. That their god had abandoned them, when in reality they were just outmatched.”

He smiled half-heartedly, “The god’s fault, huh? If the gods were real I suppose I wouldn’t be a mage, just some bad omen upon my tribe. In retrospect I’m quite lucky, we would have been eaten by those frost wolves otherwise.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she made a sour face. “Let’s just finish our breakfast and get out of this place. There’s still a lot I need to teach you.”