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They don't scurry by oscar garcia
SUMMARY: Storm deals with a rat that does not scurry.
Villages along the Frontier were always the most dangerous for humans. The Devil's Backbone stood verdant and lush to the east making a wall southward and northward as far as the eye could see. A hundred miles to the south was the Badorean Scrubland, a demon controlled territory. Demonhunters always had work here. Some of it was lucrative and all of it was challenging. Only the best could make it in the Frontier. Some nights, entire villages were taken over by demons. Already the rat demon he was chasing had overtaken two villages of about fifty, leaving behind twisted man-rats that always tried their hardest to kill him.
Storm Striker knew that there were much better things to do with his time than snoop around a village that was seemingly deserted. One of them was take a snort at the flask of peach berry brandy hidden in the folds of his cloak, but now was not really the time for that either. The last two villages looked identical to what he was seeing right now, but the elemental Tracer that Storm planted on the rat demon told him that the cemetary in the center of the village was where it was. This was getting better by the moment.
Storm stayed low, creeping up behind a house that appeared empty. He peeked through a window to make sure, and saw nothing. Lorin told him that villages here in the Frontier put the cemetaries in the center of town so that necromancers don't get to the bodies of the dead without showing themselves. People would not believe the stories he would bring back to Camaria. He would not believe them himself were he not here living them.
He could see one of them, hiding in a tree.Its hideous form adumbrated by the moonlight. Patches of clouds floated slowly across the sky and he moved quickly and silently to another building further in. There were no windows, so Storm used water element to Scry inside. It was a residence, and one of the man-rats was inside, waiting to pounce out of a window that faced the main road of the small town. It sniffed the air warily.
The thick trees of the cemetary were about a hundred meters away and he knew that if he killed the demon that ensorceled these humans, the spell would break. They would be changed, but they would be human again. Storm snuck around the back of the house and moved along next to a short stone wall that led him all the way to the black iron gates of the cemetary.
Storm Infused his muscles with water element and leaped over the gates, landing lightly on the other side. A loud screech pierced the darkness the trees provided. The moon was about to hide behind a cloud, so Storm used fire element to make motes of light in a circle around him. This would attract the attention of any enemies, but that did not really matter. His quarry was close, unaware of the Tracer and mistakenly thinking it could hide from him. Storm charged right at the large monument the demon hid behind, but missed the beast, who rolled away and hid immediately behind another large monument. Just like a rat. Perhaps this would be easier than he thought.