It was a cold and lonely night in the forests of Kalterwald, with trees that whispered eerily in the wind and birds that sang somber notes. The moon hung high in the sky like a pale dinner plate, casting a dim glow over the trees, which in turn cast gloomy shadows on the forest floor. The only break in the tenebrous atmosphere was a small sphere of warm light cast by a lantern held high in the air; that lantern was being held by a young man, who's other hand was wrapped in a white-knuckle grip around a longsword's hilt.
Aaron Gillheart was a monster hunter, or at least that's how he liked to think of himself. So far, his quarry had been relatively low-caliber, a few pesky goblins here, a frail ghoul there, and one easily-intimidated doppelganger. He'd made a bit of a name for himself in his hometown... well, mostly among family and friends... but he still felt confident enough to branch out and expand his horizons. In a search for adventure, he'd traveled to the neighboring town of Bullmar, and sure enough, there was a juicy bounty right on the notice board:
Wanted: Werewolf sighted up near Silver Creek
Reward: 200 gold
See the mayor's assistant for details
The bounty would set him up nicely for a couple of weeks, and with several kills already under his belt, Aaron felt like one lone werewolf wouldn't stand a chance. He'd had a bit of fun investigating the various claims, comparing statements, and checking his extensive maps, until at last, he'd narrowed the beast's location down to a couple of acres. Then came the preparation phase; he wasn't nearly rich enough to buy a silver sword, but he did buy a special oil to smear on his weapon. According to the apothecary, it was a blend of nightshade, wolfsbane, and colloidal silver, which made it just as good as a silver blade against a lycanthrope. He'd then planned out his outing to be on the night of the full moon, since on any other night, the werewolf could simply remain in human form. With his perfect plan set and his sword oiled up, Aaron had headed out into the shadowed woods, where he was inches from finding his very first clue.
"Pawprints!" As the faint tracks became visible in his light, the aspiring monster hunter rushed over, kneeling down in the crunchy leaves to look at his find. It was definitely wolf-like, with four toes and a pad, and as he surveyed the trail, it looked like the beast was running on two feet. Furthermore, the tracks were fresh, meaning the creature couldn't be too far away. "Got you now," he muttered, then got to his feet and began jogging off in the direction of the tracks.
The next clue reached his nose long before his eyes since the scent of blood and decay seemed to saturate the air around it. A few seconds after smelling it, Aaron stumbled upon a dead stag, obviously killed by his quarry. Its throat and belly were ripped clean open, leaving its blood to congeal into a massive pool after the beast had eaten its fill. Vicious claw marks adorned the deer's sides, slashes that could easily tear through Aaron's pitiful armor... eh, the monster wouldn't get a chance to claw him, he thought, he was quick enough to stab it through the heart first.
It was then that a bone-chilling howl rang out through the trees, and from the sound of it, the source was only a few hundred feet away. The young hunter dashed off toward the source of the noise, accidentally stepping in the blood puddle in the process. At his frantic pace, it didn't take long for him to run out into a sizable clearing, and there he laid eyes on his quarry for the very first time.
The werewolf was standing on top of an outcropping of rock, dimly silhouetted against the night sky. Its glowing eyes almost immediately locked with Aaron's, but he wasn't afraid; he immediately set down his lantern and brandished his sword, stepping forward into a fighting stance. "C'mere, fleabag!" he shouted across the clearing, "I've got a nice juicy treat for you!"
Its head tilted slightly as it crouched down, almost as if it were sizing him up. The glowing eyes narrowed, the snarling teeth gleamed, and the thick muscles tensed to run, but instead of charging at Aaron, it turned around and dashed off towards the woods. Unwilling to lose his quarry that quickly, the aspiring monster hunter sprinted off in pursuit of the werewolf, leaving his flickering lantern behind; part of him thought it was stupid to drop his only light source, but the rest of him was too caught up in the thrill of the hunt. Despite the darkness, the werewolf left a pretty clear trail of broken branches and trampled grass, and Aaron didn't hesitate to sprint after it. "Get back here, mutt!" he shouted, but the only reply he got was some faint panting in the distance. He kept running for a full minute, following the werewolf's trail until all of a sudden, it just stopped. There were some faint claw-marks in the dirt, and then it seemed to just vanish into thin air.
"Where the hell..." Aaron began scanning for other tracks, squinting in the dim light. He could hardly make out his boots on the ground, and he quickly realized that leaving his lantern behind was a grave mistake. But he couldn't just leave the trail, Aaron thought... plus, he wasn't sure which way led back to the clearing. The young hunter had just begun wandering around when he heard another howl, this one a bit shorter and a bit closer. In an instant, Aaron was running through the woods towards the sound, barreling through swatting branches and tripping roots like a spooked stallion. A few hundred yards later, another howl rang out, closer than the last, and he changed course to pursue his quarry. It went on like this for some time, with Aaron running carelessly through the woods in pursuit of the howling beast, until something swept his foot out from under him. After slamming into the ground face-first and rolling onto his back, the hunter recognized the culprit as a stiff root poking out of the soil, nearly invisible in the dim light. It didn't take long to scramble to his feet and pick up his sword, but once he did, he realized one simple fact: he was completely and utterly lost.
"Ah... shit." His first thought was to look for the lantern's glow, but he couldn't see anything through the trees. Thankfully his eyes were beginning to adjust, and he had just started to look for his own tracks when he heard something stalking through the underbrush. It moved slowly, deliberately, almost as if waiting for him to begin running... but Aaron wasn't about to give it what it wanted, oh no. The hunter turned with sword raised toward the beast, and as he did so, its bulky silhouette emerged from the underbrush, almost as if it was accepting his challenge. It stood four inches taller than him, with a robust frame that looked able to rip him in two; its eyes seemed to glow a malevolent yellow, and the faint moonlight glinted off its teeth as it snarled. "C'mon, fleabag!" Aaron shouted, "I've got 200 gold riding on your head!"
The werewolf let out a chuffing noise that almost sounded like a chuckle, then started to advance. Instead of pouncing or running on all fours, it began pacing toward Aaron with a duelist's poise. As it got closer, Aaron could have sworn it had feminine features: wide hips, thick haunches, a moderate rack of breasts... no, it was just a trick of the dappled moonlight. His brain was just playing tricks on him after a month-long dry spell, he thought... once this thing was dead, he'd buy himself a night or two at a brothel to put his mind at ease. He tensed, ready to skewer the werewolf if it charged, but it never did; instead, it just walked right up to him, almost like it wanted him to attack. Once it got about five feet away, he realized that what he'd seen before was real: the beast had a pair of shapely breasts covered in soft fur, and its hips were far curvier than any man's. "Doesn't matter," he muttered, "Bounty's the same, even if you're a girl." Lulled by the werewolf's apparent idleness, he stepped forward into a lunging thrust, expecting to stab it straight through the belly with his specially treated sword.