dealers choice, 3, 6, or 12

Bless you 🙏

"Someone describing a time your OC helped them" (OC Codex Prompts)

Entry from the journal of a veteran monster hunter. The journal itself was found by a group of rangers patrolling the Misty Forest, with many of its pages damaged from prolonged exposure to the elements. No sign of the owner of the journal was found.

It is with a heavy heart I write to say the spawn has fully integrated herself into the party. As long as I had Ireena’s caution on my side, I could ensure she kept her distance appropriately—just in case her interpretation of the Tarokka had been misguided after all. It’s what I would have preferred until our merry band was finished with its quest, but today the spawn did something that ruined this unspoken agreement between us.  I was on watch, Ireena asleep in the wagon and the spawn off hunting, when I spotted movement in the underbrush. There were no signs before now that the werewolf pack came this far east, but I shouldn’t be surprised given the brutish nature of the current alpha. I'm confident that gluttonous ass has over-hunted their territory and forced the patrols to travel further than ever before for prey. But that’s a problem we’ll investigate soon enough. The current one I’m dealing with is that, despite the fact I was handling the ambush just fine on my own, the spawn felt it necessary to intervene. I suppose she heard the sounds of the fight, or maybe even smelled the blood. I didn’t care to ask her afterwards how it was she returned to the camp so quickly.  When she did, she didn’t even hesitate. She flung herself in front of the werewolf leading this patrol like someone with nothing to lose, and I doubt that comparison is far from the mark.  Forearm in the mouth of a beast, she had the audacity to look at me and ask if I was okay. I was so caught off guard, I almost let a wolf circle around to my blind spot. Just another example of her vexing presence being of a detriment to me. Decapitating the wolf was enough of an answer for the spawn, who then launched fully into the werewolf, unbothered by her broken arm as she latched onto the beast’s neck.  When the forest was once again silent she pushed away from the drained corpse, reeking of iron and wet dog, as her arm knit itself back together. I wish I could accurately convey the unnerving nature of her stare in those few moments we made eye contact. How uncannily still she stood without the need to recover lost air.  After seeing how she leaped to my defense, Ireena is now fully convinced her goals align with ours. I even saw her handing the spawn a handkerchief, for what little it did to help her clean up afterwards. I will remain on guard. The only moment I will concede to the idea she is not secretly influenced by her undead master is when said master is a pile of ash on the floor, and she honors our deal of letting me end her unholy life. 

The rest of the page is filled with sketches of the same figure. A lithe elf with short black hair and a piercing gaze is depicted in various poses, including one that mirrors the fight described above.