I sat in a tight little room, the scent of stale piss and ghostleaf smoke soaked into the curtains and floorboards. Outside I heard only the quiet of a late summer night. The strange chitter and buzz of bugs I didn't know.

  The soft cries of nightbirds I'd never seen and a pale moon above that was just the same.

  It was a new world, I finally understood, felt it now that I had a little peace. A new and a harsh one.

  But not a world I couldn't learn, or come to know.

  If I could skin a wrydstag and run a trot line, find my livin’ in the mire and wake, I could survive the city too.

  Though, I did have some… unique challenges compared to the rest.

  I looked at my braided mockery of a man's limb. The red flesh of countless tendrils woven together, 'cept each fiber had its own idea of a hand. Twistin’, wrigglin’, contortin’ in ways no mortal flesh ever could.

  I willed the strays to lay with the rest, forcing my idea of what should be upon the lot. Forcin’ the writhing mass of a dozen snakes to become a hand again.

  For about ten seconds.

  Then they got back to writhin’ and twistin’ around like a ball of worms. I had been thinking on my Kraken gift, this Chthonic Dexterity I had chosen as my Path's first ability. Right now it just seemed a hindrance, despite what was promised in my Rune Book.

  Chthonic Dexterity - Greatly enhance your ability to grasp, manipulate, and coordinate. Be a better shot, a faster draw. And more.

  The entry read.

  Noticed some of that in the fight with those bandit hunters. I drew fast as hell and my limbs had helped me dodge a damn bullet-

  Or at least I think they did. I was still a little hazy on that point.

  Regardless, they'd also made me miss. I hadn’t missed a clean shot since I was ten. Those tendrils made it damn hard to operate a trigger, light a fire or write my own name.

  And thought... Well I thought that was on me.

  Not all Abilities are created equal.

  Some have drawbacks, costs, and I thought this was part of mine. You can't just spring a new pair of legs and expect to walk the same way. You need to adjust. Learn to crawl, before you run. I had been thinking on the same for my arms. I was going to have to learn them like a babe learns to talk.

  Slowly, one syllable at a time, one letter at a time.

  One tendril at a time.

  So instead of sleep, couldn't hope to anyway, that's what I did.

  I took one of them ugly red wrigglers and focused on it. Focused until it was all I saw, all I thought of. I made it twist and run straight, made it grasp a shogun shell as well as it could. I worked at it for hours, and by morn I could almost have it light a match.

  Or at least hold it while the other hand did.

  I had a ways to go, but I could see a little hope in the distance. I would make a habit of this, little bit of self improvement’d do me good. Needed it to balance the rest of my nature.

  My sleepless night of playin' with myself done, I headed out into the bar to scrounge up something to eat. Leo was already at work, and had something hot and ready on the stove.

  Eggs, or passed for out here. Fried hard and topped with a bit of butter, pepper, and rich smelling cheese.

  "You get two weeks in the room," he said as he picked an orange hair from our breakfast, "after that I'm gonna start chargin'."

  "I'll be on my way sooner'n that," I assured him, "go down to the Hunter's Guild like the boss lady suggested."

  He gave me a slow nod and slid the plate across the bar.

  "You know what to expect? Ever done mercenary work?"

  "Nope. Done shootin' work though. Done hard work plenty."

  "What were you before you came?" he asked taking a seat on a stool behind the bar. I grabbed a fork and dug in. I'd had worse eggs, but not many. The spices were off. The eggs were definitely off.

  "Pig farmer. Got wrap for killing the tax man."

  Leo snorted.

  "Killed a man. For what?"

  I frowned and thought about that.

  "Town was poor. Mama was sick. Empire got their boot pushin' down, I pushed back."

  He gave me a grim smile.

  "We all got a story like that, kid. Each of us. Well, let me give you a tip," he said, his voice falling to a whisper, "don't go picking fights with the local guard, and don't piss of the Magistrate. They take any reason to lock folk up. And make sure you get down to the Guild today. There's a law against indigents. Being poor is a fast track to chains."

  "Heard."

  Leo picked a whisker from his cheeks, long and sharp. Used it to clean his big white teeth.

  "When you take jobs for the guild, get the ones for the resources camps. Don't do work close to the city, and don't get involved with the local troops, understand. Ain't none of the Hunters 'round here worth a spit."

  "Sure thing, old man. Anymore nuggets of timeless wisdom in you?" I asked, glib, but not quite mocking.

  "I got one," he nodded, "one more anyway. Make sure you got plenty of water when you go out in the sands. Ain't like Kairnwoad. No rivers. And them oasis? The ones underneath the islands?"

  I nodded. Those were hard to miss.

  "That's where the Unwanted live. The cast offs from the locals above. They're mean as snakes and hungry as dogs. Do not trust 'em. Do not get caught alone."

  I gave him a serious nod and finished up my eggs.

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Don't thank me, kid. Just just try and last a little longer than the one who came before. We need a fightin' man, and I think you might just fit the bill."

  He gave me a smile, and it was the last thing I saw of him as I walked out the door.

  I moved through the alleys with a purpose. Shouldered in the crowd like I had somewheres to be.

  I came up to the Hunter Guild and stopped short to let a group of three pass. Three Southerns with sun-dark skin and monster hide armor. They were all tall and lean. One woman and two men.

  They gave me an appraising look, but wasted no time as they made for the gates.

  I watched with my Arcane Eye, tried to see what power lay in them, and was surprised at what I saw.

  Not much.

  They'd picked short Paths. Easy and safe. Made little sacrifice, or bonded to weak Patrons.

  None of them looked like anything more than Step one or two.

  Nearly my peers. My lesser in a year or two.

  Assuming I didn't end up dead. Or mutated beyond humanity. Or just plain mad.

  There were good reasons to stick the high road, to walk that path most had tread. Most of them involved not ending up in a shallow pit of sand with a bullet between your eyes, or lashed to a pyre and soaked in good oil.

  But I'd never been much of a cautious man.

  I pushed past the heavy wooden doors and walked on in.

  Instantly a wall of sound and smell hit me. Bet there was wards in the wood just to contain the din.

  A crowd of rough tumble types pushed and jostled before a big notice board. Each of them was a hunter it looked like. Each wore a brass tag.

  Behind them stood well dressed staff, fillin' paperwork and takin' orders. They were all clean and neat, and the older among 'em wore medals and badges to mark their rank and deeds.

  The Guild like to recycle the folk that served them well. A cripple Hunter would not have to worry much for income in his golden years, not if he did his job right and honored the rules. He'd be behind a desk, sure, but he'd never want for much. And he'd still get to hear the stories and smell the stink of a Hunter's life.

  I liked that about the Guilds. A system for and by the working man.

  I pushed past the throng of Hunters and made it to a clerk.

  A small girl, halfling, in part. Didn't seem the small folk intermarrying much, but every now and then a human and a halfling get along. Their kids are a little shorter, a little nimbler, and they've got the same knack for numbers and the arcane that halflings do.

  "Mornin' ma'am," I said tipping my hat then dragging it off to cover my breast, "here to register. Need a tag and work."

  She looked me over, her big brown eyes appraising me, but not dismissin'.

  "Good morning mister. Take your glove off and press your hand to the slate," she said as she drew a blank sheet of rune carved stone.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "Uh," I coughed, "actually miss I'm uh, Ritual Scarred," I recited Temperance's lie and hoped whatever she did to fake my Path still stuck as I pressed a gloved hand, "can't take the gloves off on account of the pact."

  Her eyes went wide.

  "Sorry sir, that will go on your tag. Rare to see a Northman Crusader all the way out here. Did you do work in the tundra? Out in the Uruk Mountains?" There was a whole lot of pesky curiosity there, but I could deal with that.

  "Ah no. I ranged with a Clan hunting bandits along the Coast," I lied, "I was Named and claimed by the Iron Saint for that work."

  As I said it my falsified Path read on out. The slate showed a big fat lie, one I meant to keep to now that it was known..All except my stage, that was true, and new to me. Should’ve looked better at my damn Rune Book.

  Name: Roche

  Patron: Iron Saint

  Path: Gunman

  Stage: 0 (99%)

  "Right on the cusp of hitting Step 1. A little green, Mister Roche," she said with a frown.

  "Oh uh, I worked before I walked ma'am. Just turned nineteen this past winter. But I was shootin' at six and wandering the wilds well before then." Well, actually I think I turned twenty-seven or so, but that was too confusing to ever explain. Damn Temperance and her time fuckery.

  She smiled and nodded.

  "Okay. Just, take it easy. Don't go taking any big jobs until you step up a little. Enough hunters die to..."

  She looked away. A little water in them blue eyes.

  "Well not monsters Mr. Roche, not monsters. You’re officially rated a Greenhorn right now, and until you cut your teeth."

  She handed me my tag but covered it when I went to reach.

  "Six silver. Registration fee. And no," she forestalled my assumed question with a little soft hand, "I can't loan you the money."

  A good thing I had the coin from those dead thugs.

  "No need. Old Roche is flush," I grinned, and dropped the coins into her waiting palm.

  "Good man. I'm Miss Tawny. If you need anything, please come see me. Since you registered at my desk, I'll be your handler till you start making rank. You start at Hand, which means your take take jobs up to a rank of two. When you Step up and prove yourself, I can push you to Arm," she tapped the metal on my chest, "and that will let you take up to rank three. We buy materials at cost, no need to dicker, and we have a standard rate for everything. Last, there is a deposit for some jobs. If you take one like that, please come see me."

  I nodded and smiled.

  "Yes ma'am, Miss Tawny. I'm sure we'll see each other often."

  She gave a sigh, "You know I hope we do. Rare that a man has the wisdom to shut up and listen. Don't killed out there, Mister Roche."

  I returned my hat to my head and give a shallow dip.

  "Yes, Miss Tawny. I'll do my best."

  She smiled and waved me on.

  I went to the board and waited my turn. Wouldn't do to make an enemy by jostling a bigger man, or a meaner woman. When my turn came, I looked at the list of jobs.

  Most of them were suited for blooded veterans. Things like Scathyr hunts, wyvern egg procurement, or the capture of exotic and dangerous beasts. I looked past the jobs that had any mention of huntin' slaves or 'culling' locals. I was killer, true, but I did not take lives for reasons as petty as personal profit or hate.

  I'd killed the tax man, because he was a blight on my town, on the world. I'd fuckin' kill him again. But I wouldn't haul no slave, or kill man for the crime of living on his land.

  Narrowing it down like that, what I could do, what I would do, left two choices.

  The first. A bandit hunt down along the coast. Evidently a group of men, with a mage among them, had taken to raiding the roads. For this I'd have to join a group of eight local hunters that were already established here.

  Instantly I recalled Leo's words. Ain't a man in this town worth spit.

  I skipped it. The pay was good, but not good enough to risk my back to men like that.

  That left one.

  Ruin exploration

  Rank 1

  Description: Assist a team of Imperial Archaeologist and Cartographers with the exploration of a nearby ruin. Your task is to guard the camp, and assist in locating artifacts and tomes of the previous civilizations upon Terra Nova. You will expected to assist in the physical extraction, movement, and preservation of these items. This is a long-term, ongoing contract with the Empire itself, with bountiful rewards.

  Term: 1 week, contract can be extended at the discretion of the Camp Foreman.

  Pay: 50 gold pieces, per week, plus bounty for each artifact, tome or relic. Additionally, pay for direct combat, hunting and gathering, or other services. Additional incentives for locksmiths, practicing arcanists, and scouts.

  Requirements: Rank 0, personal equipment and bodily condition suitable to combat and hard labor.

  Well shit. I met all the criteria, and even qualified for that additional incentive. My falsified sheet named my Skulduggery ability as 'Lock Expert' and noted that it applied to runes too. So far I'd only opened that sealed case on the beach which contained my gun and gem, but I knew could do more.

  Had a feeling in my hands and head.

  I tore down the paper and marched on back to my handler.

  Miss Tawny smiled wide.

  "Good. Some folk walk right out after they sign on, but you're a real Hunter aren't you?" she asked.

  I slapped down the bill.

  "I'm more than that ma'am. I'm a professional. What else do I need?"

  "Your tag. No deposit but I got to mark your identification with a locater spell. It's ensure we know if you desert or are killed and lost in the ruin.".

  "Right. Of course," I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

  I didn't like the idea of not being to back out. And I really didn't like the idea of my maimed corpse being lost in some ancient tomb.

  So don't die. Don't run.

  Easy.

  She took the brass chit and waved a hand over the metal. A glowing mark, a rune, burned onto the surface. Kept glowing, even as I took it back.

  "You're up for one week. You can either join the supply caravan leaving for the site tomorrow, or," she ducked and withdrew a paper map that looked to have been folded many times, and a compass, "you can go it alone. It's two days walk. Afternoon's ride. You got a horse or a runner? Ground drake maybe? You’ll really want one, as the route crosses worm country." she advised and passed both items over.

  Worm country? Well that sounded bad.

  "Ah, no ma'am, ain't got no steed. But I got about two gold to spend. Where do I buy?"

  She stroked her sharp chin and chewed a pink lip.

  "You serious about this?" she asked after a second.

  "Serious as a grave," I said, "I didn't lie when I told you about bein' blooded man. I'm no stranger to the work, and I'm no coward."

  She nodded and made her decision. She took a pen and wrote on the back of the weathered map.

  "Take this to the North gate. Just outside it. Ask for Marry. Tell her you work for me. She'll give you... Well something working with legs. I'll get a cut, you'll get a discount. Clean?"

  "As a whistle. Thanks, Miss Tawny."

  "Sure thing Roche. I expect to see you back here in Augustus' Hope in a week, otherwise I expect word of your death or an extension of your contract," she gave a smile, but a sad one.

  "Understood. You'll see me with a fat purse and a big smile when you do," I flirted and she laughed, then coughed, a blush coming to her cheeks.

  I left her like that, and moseyed on back out into the busy streets.

  A hot walk through the desert sun later and I found myself at the edge of town, opposite the place I had entered from. My eyes had begun to adjust to the light a little, and I was feeling a bit more human.

  I passed through the gates without incident and found myself in a patch of dry grass and dusty farmlands.

  The stables were a squat little structure surrounded by a fenced-in pasture. The smell of animal musk and shit was almost like home. Drakes, runners, horses, and more didn't stink so bad as pigs, but it all twisted the nose a certain way.

  I saw a few men moving around, loading manure into barrows and others sittin' to have a cool drink before they hauled it off. Probably sold it to the farmers down the way.

  "Mornin' all!" I called, "lookin' for Miss Marry."

  "Who the fuck is askin'?" came a harsh taiga burr.

  A big old Northern man, rune-scrawled and probably named something like 'Olaf the Ass-Ravager’ stepped up.

  My kin, bless them, loved callin’ them big boys shit like that.

  "Roche, from the Guild, Miss Tawny sent me."

  He spat and rose from the crate he had made a stool, "Miss Tawny?" he growled, "she sent you?"

  "Yeah." I said looking up at him. Was he slow maybe?

  Olaf or whatever was pureborn. Probably ice in his veins and fire in his beard. Wisps of thin mana curled about him, made him waver a little, if I didn’t focus my eyes. Not a man I could fight fair. But I didn’t think either of us fought fair.

  He stared on, lookin’ down at me…

  "You got a problem with that," a hand come to rest on my belt, over the hammer of a stolen pistol, "big fella?"

  He picked a hatchet out of a post stump and inspected the silvery blade, "Depends, little fella," he said, "what she send you for?"

  I looked from him to the pair of Southerns still sat by a barrow of shit. Neither made to lock my eye, both just sat, and watched.

  "I need a ride," I said, "somethin' that can get me to work and back. That's all."

  He spat.

  "You a Hunter?"

  "Yup."

  He growled, tucked two massive, dirty fingers in his yellow teeth, and whistled.

  So loud my godsmaned ears rang.

  He was a farmboy. I knew it right then. Only folk used to workin' with animals had a whistle like that.

  I put a hand on my hat's brim. Tipped to him, now that the threat of murder had passed.

  "Nice whistle, Olaf."

  "Fuckin' right, small fry," he said, and gave me a gap-toothed grin, "and it's Hrothgar Hammer Hands. Named."

  I gave him a nod as a short, blonde girl bounced from the stables behind.

  If Hrothgar was the picture of Northman masculinity, well his sister had fallen far from that tree. She was pale, wiry and about tall as me.

  That weren't much. Mama said I would, but I never did.

  "Afternoon, miss," I said as she came to a stop, "I'm Roche from the Guild."

  I tried keep my eyes off the soft curves hidden under her dirty coveralls. Tried to not notice the way her brother glowered at me. But, well I didn’t try very hard. She was a fine woman, and I was a red blooded man. What more was there to-

  Wait. I did bleed red still, right? Damn mutations…

  "Hroth, you shite, you hasslin' my customers?" she asked, and the Northern lad shrugged, but didn't deny it, "what ya lookin' for, Guildie? Who sent ye?"

  That burr was deep and coarse. Taigan blood, old, cold clan. Probably could draw a line to the Raven Feather Pact, and those dead men. I gave the brother a grin, and the girl a gentlemanly tip of my deadman’s hat.

  "Tawny," I said, "told me to ask for you. I need me a beast, one for the sands and for the trail."

  "Oh, well," she said, her voice softening, her smile growing, "Tawny liked ye? Rare. That cunt hate everyone," she gave a wicked grin, "but I'll do right by a friend o' Tawny," she gave a sniff, "I know your smell. Got just the right beast for ya."

  She turned and I looked at the sway of her hips. I had to swallow hard, and I had to admit that I liked the look of that girl. Just need some purty flowers, a stiff drink, and comfy bale of-

  "Stop staring at my baby sister's ass," said the Northman, his voice low and dangerous, "I will pop your snake's teeth out."

  I looked him dead in his pale, cold eyes.

  "No, you won't. You and me are goin' be friends, or more, one day."

  He spat and the stink of his ghostleaf hit me.

  "You're lucky I can see the North in you, or you'd be dead, little man," he said, "I'll let you live, just to see if your words are true, or just wind. Marry could use some friends from the Guild, just in case we get raided again."

  His fist tightened around that hatchet and I knew then that the brother was a man I would never fight. There was stiffness in his spine I liked.

  "Well, we'll see how this goes. If'n your sister can do right by me, then maybe I can do right by you," I said.

  "Aye." Hrothgar muttered as I walked away from him.

  We went to the stables, and Helga took a harness and lead form the wall. Didn't even spare me a glance.

  "She's six gold. And before you ask, I won't you sell you any others."

  Holy shit.

  Six gold?! For a gods-damned runner?

  "Six gold," I asked, "you fuckin' serious? Miss I can't pay that. I got two. But some of that has to go to-"

  "Credit. You can get it on credit. One gold now. One for each first of the month til winter. I'm a fair woman, Roche. And I need a favor from Tawny, anyway."

  I frowned and touched my belt.

  I felt like I had just gotten scammed. An honest recommendation had got me, potentially, in debt to a stranger. I did not like that. I was about to tell her no, to walk on out, but she stopped and, twisted the lever on the stable door, and I knew.

  I knew right then.

  I had met my new best friend.

  Spiked and barbed tusks came first. They curled up to bristled whiskers a blunt snout. The beast dug into to a bag of oats and mint, grunting and chuffing as she went.

  "Dune hog. Razorback tusker from the deep sands. And she-" Marry gave me a stern smile and a dangerous look.

  “She's gotta be yours."