The Crimson Hand

It was a dark moonless night, the stars sparkled in the sky, wood smoke plumed from chimneys and the cold air of the night left a delicate layer of frost on every surface not sheltered by a roof or heat.

The Dragon Roots Inn was a quiet inn and tavern on the edge of town, they served travelers with a place to spend the night and provided the townsfolk with a place to drink and relax. The doors of the inn opened and two cloaked figures entered. They were both bundled up in layers of clothes, two genderless lumps of clothes and cloaks walked through the tavern and ambled up to the bar before sitting down. The two slowly unraveled layers of clothes from their bodies.

“what can I get fer ya?” asked the bartender as he relaxed both palms across the top of the bar. “One order of whatever stew you have cooking, two pints of ale and some bread. We also need a room” Said the cloaked figure on the right. The one who spoke had a soft feminine voice, it sounded like velvet on the ears or a relaxing breeze on the ocean. The bartender was taken back by the cloaked figures voice and wished he could hear the food order again so he could re-experience it. The bartender snapped out of his daze in a second, smiled and then walked off to the kitchen.

The Dragon Roots Inn had an exterior of stone and wood with a strong foundation. The interior had a softer appearance of wood flooring, rugs, lanterns giving off a soft light and a roaring hearth in the back with the tables and chairs. The floor was made of walnut and the tables and chairs were made of maple. Someone in the corner played soft music on a loot and the patrons of the tavern were mostly quiet, either too drunk or sleepy to cause much of a ruckus.

By the time the food and drink arrived the two figures had removed most of their extra clothing and placed them in neat piles next to their chairs. The cloaked figure on the right with the soothing voice was a woman with pale skin, bright green eyes and red hair. She kept her cloak on with her hood covering most of her hair but her face, neck and a single tunic was visible. She wore warm pants and sturdy boots and chose to keep her leather gloves on. She picked up her pint of ale and quickly drank down half of it before setting it back on the bar and turning to her stew.

The second figure was a man with paper white skin and pale brown eyes. There was a slightly glow of green in his eyes but most people blamed the lighting when they saw it. The man had removed a few layers but his skin was all covered except the area of his face between the top of his forehead to the bridge of his nose. Black hair could be seen on his hairline on the sides of his head but otherwise he was covered. The male figure didn’t drink or eat, he rested his arms against the bar and looked around the tavern as if to keep watch while the woman ate.

The tavern was quiet for a moment but then another strange visitor arrived. The door slammed open and a man wearing metal chest armor and a cloak walked in. this person was a Wolf-kin, a humanoid wolf species. Wolf-kin had better sense of hearing and smell than humans as well as slightly better reflexes and worse impulse control. They had bodies like humans but were mostly covered in fur, had wolf like heads with shorter snouts than wolves, their ears sat on the corners of their head, lower than a wolf but higher than a humans. Some wolf-kin had sharp claws instead of finger nails, some had fingernails like humans. This Wolf-kin had sharp claws. He walked into the tavern with frost still melting off of his cloak and fur, unfazed by the cold. “It smells like death in here” Growled the wolfman.

The bartender looked worried but tried to act calm. Any patrons who were conscious either went up to their rooms or left the tavern entirely. The only people besides the wolf were the cloaked figures and the bartender. The woman continued to eat and drink. She finished her own ale and started on the ale placed in front of the man. The man never looked back at the wolf but his head was raised in alert. The man stared dead eyed at the shelves behind the bar as he listened to the wolfman walk forward.

The wolfman sat right next to the woman eating and rested his weight on the bar. “I’m looking for someone. A woman who has a price on her head” Said the wolfman in a deep grizzly voice. “We’ve had plenty of women come and go all week” The tavern keeper nervously explained. “This one has cruel green eyes, she has magic, delicate frame, red hair” The wolfman continued as if the bartender never spoke.

The man in the cloak stood up and walked up to the wolfman “Listen, sir. There is clearly no one else here. So why not move along. You are making me on edge” Said the cloaked man, his voice was listless and dull. The wolfman looked at the cloaked figure. “are you the guard of this tavern?” Asked the Wolfman as he stood up. “Sir, there’s no need for any trouble” Said the tavern keeper. “Stop calling me sir. My name is Feroes and I’m no ‘sir’. Not everyone who wears armor is a knight” Growled Feroes the wolfman.

The cloaked figure stood unmoving with bored eyes. “I am not a guard and unless you intend to cause trouble, there wont be any need for a guard” Replied the man. Feroes stepped closer so that his short snout was almost touching the man’s covered nose. “I am looking to collect on this witches head and make big bag of gold when I do. I will cause as much trouble as I want until I find this woman” Snarled the Feroes the wolf.

In one quick motion the man moved his arms forward and shoved Feroes. The force of the shove knocked the sturdy wolfman off balance. He fell backwards and landed on a table, crushing the table under his weight. “Now leave, or I will make enough trouble for the both of us” threatened the cloaked man in his normal bored tone.

Feroes we shocked that he was taken by surprise like that. He had very quick reflexes and was sturdy enough to take a shove. By his own logic he should have been able to stop the shove and if he didn’t, he certainly shouldn’t have fallen backward with such force. Feroes blamed this as a fluke and decided not to drink so much before going on a hunt. “You are a deadman” Feroes growled. The cloaked man sighed. “Just finish him quick, honey. I’m tired and want to go to bed” Said the woman in the cloak, who was still eating.

            The cloaked man sidestepped Feroes’ attack but was over confident and wasn’t prepared for a follow up attack. The agile wolfman missed his lung but then swiped his claws upward slashing the cloaked man’s face. the man’s face was revealed, this shocked the bartender and Feroes but annoyed the cloaked woman. The cloaked man had been hiding a jaw and part of his face that was completely bone. A faint green glow could be seen behind his collar as if he had a light in his chest. The man sighed which was just a noise created to show annoyance but no actual breath was expelled. The man didn’t have a throat or lungs. He was a walking, thinking, animated skeleton with pieces of flesh, eyes and hair for appearance. “what are you?!” Yelled Feroes, who now understood why the Tavern smelled so strongly of death.

            “I am the specter of Rumford J Gould, and YOU have spent to long disrupting my quiet evening” Proclaimed Rumford who ripped open his shirt to reveal a bare ribcage and a large, floating, green flame taking up most of the room in his chest. The flame pulsed and sent green flames up into Rumford’s head and shot out of his mouth. Rumford spewed spectral flames, which engulfed the wolfman before he could get away. The fire quickly died down to reveal that the bar was unharmed but Feroes was on the floor severely injured. “My flames only burn the living because it only looks like fire, its more of a death magic that only hurts living things” Rumford explained to the terrified bartender. The bartended nodded and muttered “thanks for not burning the bar” through trembling lips and a shocked expression.

            Rumford gave a jovial wave to the Bartender and his eyes moved like he was smiling. Since he didn’t have skin on his mouth he couldn’t actually smile. Then his eyes turned serious as he marched over to Feroes. Rumford’s heavy leather boots clunked against the wood flooring as he approached. Feroes looked up and started to speak but could barely move. “People call me a monster. They call ME a monster. You are the monster here” Feroes uttered in a weak voice. “If you think I’m scary, you should see my wife” Rumford replied while towering over the fallen wolfman. The woman in the cloak stood up, turned around and walked up to Feroes.

            “You were hunting me. I’m not a necromancer or a wizard, but yes it was me you were looking for. Tell the other bounty hunters that I just want to live in peace and am not worth the trouble. I will make sure I am not worth the trouble” She threatened as she removed the warm winter glove on her right hand. Her skin on her forearm, wrist and hand were covered in glowing crimson markings. They were an ancient language no longer remembered and were etched permanently into her skin. “They call me the Crimson hand, and though I don’t like the name, I will use it to strike fear into anyone who comes after me” Crimson hand said as she thrust her hand forward. Her hand went through Feroes’ arm without breaking the skin, then she grabbed down onto the bone in his arm. Feroes screamed in pain. the grip felt like burning but if you set every nerve in that area on fire.

            Crimson let go of Feroe’s arm and retracted her hand. “I could do that to your heart, your brain, I could even pull your soul right out of your body and bind you permanently to that chair!” She said pointing to one of the tavern chairs. Her voice went from a delicate lovely tone to the voice of a deadly killer. Crimson’s smile returned, she then turned around and walked up the tavern stairs. “Rumford darling, be a dear and pay the Tavernkeeper for any trouble we caused as well as anything we still owe for the bed and food. I will be upstairs” She called to her husband.

            “I’ll be up in a bit honey” Rumford called back. Then he turned to Feroes “You can leave whenever you have the strength. I suggest you tell everyone what happened unless you want to be turned into a haunted bar stool” Rumford let out a strange laugh then walked off. He paid the Barkeep who was hiding behind the bar, gathered up the clothes that he and Crimson left on the floor then went up the stairs to bed. He wrapped his body back up in clothes and his cloak so the light of his green flame wouldn’t keep his wife awake.

            Feroes and caught the bartender looking at him before shrinking back down behind the bar. Feroes was eventually able to hobble out into the cold. He left the village and when he returned to the capital’s bounty office, he had a very important story to tell the other bounty hunters.