Despite our visit from Beck we decided to stay the night and recuperate. A much needed rest when thinking of what would be ahead of us. During the night one of the other patrons of the Westaxe Lodge, an Elf, gave a gentle knock on the door and told me what he knew about the hunt. He told me that different huntsmen proceeds differently, some more cruel then others, and Beck is a cruel one. He even proclaimed that Odin might’ve been a Huntsman of old, but now retired from such sport. He finished with saying that some hunting parties ride above the ground in the air and when they pass in the sky above it is best to duck down, hide and pray.
In the morning I told my companions about what transpired during the night, but they don’t seem to fully understand the extent of my words. Sometimes I believe them to be quite stupid, most noticeably so when I try to talk to them. I even talk slowly and clearly to make it easier for them to comprehend what I say. It just seems that it goes into one ear and out through the next, but they are my friends and family and worth sticking around for.
We headed for the Huntsman Cabin, being chased along the way. We managed to gain some small distance between us and our pursuers as we reached the cabin. Inside we find a large mirror with a rope clearly going through it and all of a sudden Ahrys tosses a silver coin that goes through it! Of all the things to test out the abilities of the mirror he uses a shiny coin, a silver piece, a means of payment, that sweet reflection of moonlight leaking through the roof as it hits the coin rotating through the air and shining brightly before it disappears beyond the perception of our eyes. Ahrys clearly has no shame nor appreciation for what can be perceived as beauty in this world.
Through the mirror we ended up in a room with no way out. The rope that went through the mirror comes out of a stone wall on the other side, with no way of going back. We can hear Becks voice from the other side. He’s trying to act as a hound, but I perceive him more as a bitch. Nines fright of dogs does amuse me and I chuckle at the thought. Oh, if I just got the chance to kill this lowly hunting bitch. I’m usually quite indifferent to killing but this one I would enjoy. I could put a dagger in his lung, while at the same time making him unable to gasp for air as I’ve cut off his ball sack, pulling it over his face as to simultaneously asphyxiate him, having him die with a mouthful of his own pubic hair. Afterwards I would take whatever coins he got on his person, slice his eyes and pack them with dirt. I would like to see him meeting the ferryman like that, trying to talk himself out of that one and to cross the river Styx. I mean, he did threaten my friends.