#actionpost

The first object makes clear why the box was insulated. It appears to be a completely normal thermos, but it absolutely radiates heat. Touching it would no doubt result in burns.

The next object is barely identifiable due to the thick layer of ice around it, but... It might be a cooler? 

The third object is a boomerang that was cleverly enchanted to come back to the user regardless of how it’s thrown. However, according to the note Echo attached,  “If you throw it, it will seek you out like it has a vendetta. Tamper with at your own risk.” 

The fourth object is a jar full of some sort of pitch-black, viscous liquid.  The only note Echo added to this one is “DO NOT OPEN.”  [ Equius Zahhak received x1 HANDMADE SWEATER! ]

The sweater itself is Void blue, and has a cute pattern of little white horses on it. 

What finally does Adrien in is his anger.

Today is your only day off this week and all hell has already broken loose. Glub is so loud in your pan, but at least you have your moirail! Oh no, Dave got shot and is in the hospital. Latula, of course, is scared for her mate’s life and has gone to be with him. And you’re not welcome along. Alright. So now you’re alone.

And Gl'bgolyb is going to take full advantage of that.

4:33 PM.

The low-built wooden shacks rose up around you. You are comforted by the amount of life on display within it's boundaries. The sounds of home-raised animals created a gentle din as primitive humans bustled about their business. At least until you drew near.

While such malnourished humans did not fare better than their modern counterparts, it ultimately didn't matter. Regardless of the time period, when you walked into the view of normal people, heads turned to gape. You were used to towering over those around you, even those you were closest to did not come close to your height.. But while those you loved might not mind your size, it was obvious these people felt more strongly.

You were certain, you thought, that you were likely the largest person they had ever seen. Most likely, you were the largest they would ever see. And in your dark, expensive clothes, with your weapon strapped to your hilt.. You appeared to them as a being out of stories. A knight or a warrior of legend, perhaps… Or else a grim reaper, a force of darkness sent by an evil force beyond their understanding. You did not know what they thought you were, but you saw their jaws agape. Their eyes filled with apprehension.

The first you spoke to barely came up to your chest, your cloaked figure bearing down over them as your deep voice rumbled out your question. The answer came stuttered and uncertain, accompanied by a desperate gesture of the finger, as if it would banish you from their presence. You could almost swear you heard a muttered prayer as your boots padded silently across the packed dirt.

You came to a building, larger than those you had seen up until now. It amused you how close it was to the church, almost as much as it amused you that of the two, The Broken Table inn was larger. Not that it prevented you from needing to duck as you passed through the short doorway.

The inside was dingy, as you expected. Though this was the heart of the town, where all farmers and travelers would come to for respite, this place was not rich enough, nor was there competition enough, to justify any level of cleanliness above pigsty. As long as the alcohol was strong and the beds dry, it would be good enough. Though this early in the day, the patronage was sparse.

The man who tended the bar was the short and stout kind. Despite the unkempt appearance of his place of work, the bartender at least seemed to maintain his own appearance. He had a carefully trimmed mustache and a freshly bleached apron. His cheeks were a rosy color for the few moments he was distracted by wiping the counter with a strip of cloth, but they drained of hue as he saw you.

Fear was of no impediment to your mission here, however. You flicked back the fabric of your cloak as you approached, showing the glint of silver hanging from your waist. A sword, to these people, was a symbol of pure authority. You were certain he would answer your questions, if for nothing else than to avoid being on it's receiving end.. Not that you ever would harm the innocent man.

"Can I help you, Sire?"

You furrowed your brows as you looked him over. You wondered if the scent of ammonia was from whatever he used to bleach his apron. You hoped that it was.

"Where did it happen."

Your voice was short and stoic, lacking inflection as it always was, especially when you were on the job. If the man wasn't afraid before, he was now.

"We don't.. Talk about that. It's bad luck, see? I don't want the-"

You didn't let him finish.

"Where did it happen."

This time the man seemed cowed by the question, or perhaps he just recognized there was more trouble in front of him than in the fields.

He let out a low breath and said "It was the Narrows' farm, on the south end of town."

You'd heard enough. You'd already turned to head out the door. But it seemed with your back turned, the bartender finally grew enough of a backbone to call out to you.

"You leave the family alone, you hear? They've lost enough. It's hard enough losing one boy past infancy, but two?"

You paused in the doorway.

Fuck. Fiddlesticks.

It isn't actually a wolf, you think. If it were, you would have no reason to be here in the first place. This was no creature of the Earth. It is one of the wind and sky. It is the gentle rustle of the grass on a breezy day as its prey is stalked, and it is the lightning that flashes as quick and ivory as it's fangs.

You don't know what it looks like. But you do know it is evil. Purely and totally. Or else the power you used to find it in the first place would have passed it over. You flip black your cloak to pull the watch from your breast pocket. One of the numerous ways you had enchanted it back when your contract allowed you to do wonders was to make it a truly accurate timepiece.

4:07 pm, July 8th, 1271.

The hours aligned, but not the date. Intriguing. It was impressive how the universes you visited always seemed to differ in time. Perhaps that was the nature of traveling to it through a place beyond it's reach.

Such pondering, idle as it was, distracted from the task on hand. There was a monster to hunt. You grunted softly as you reach into one of your cloak's many pockets. The ring you remove is old, you think. Someone gave it to you.. But you don't remember who it was. In reality, it was only perhaps a sweep or so ago in real time.. But for you, He Who Dwells Outside, that might as well have been eons. It is hard to keep track of these things, at least when they happened before you started noting them down.

Your glove was removed, and the simple ring was slipped onto your finger. You felt the illusion cover your form, the gentle tingle of magic. While you had some measure of ability to change your looks when your body is reconstructed from the Nothing, you could not manage what this simple artifact does. The skin of your calloused hands shifts from the pallid, cold blue-grey to a light, pinkish peach. You tighten it into such a fist that the knuckles turn white, instead.

This world was too young and ignorant for you to appear as what you were. The peasants would likely think you the monster, rather than the being there to liberate them from it. Eyes lift to scan the horizon.

Grain.

The warm gold sea shuddered with the warm summer air, sending ripples in the rolling fields of tilled farmland. Anywhere else, this would have been a safe place. Even now you could see the gentle wisps of smoke that trailed from the village, perhaps only a mile away. By all measures you were still within the boundaries of civilization, of it's safety. But you knew better.

Your eyes followed the gentle shimmer of reflected sunlight as the wheat rustled. A low grunt emanated from your chest. It was pointless to watch. It could be any of the fields. You hoped it would not be in all of them. The first order of business was finding where to look.

You stepped down from the hill to make the trek toward the village, hackles raised. Without your companion to watch your back, you had to do it yourself. A lone traveler is often such a beast's ideal prey, unless..