Village of the Monster Hunters

The Legend of Brightwater

Before the Bloodmist, a fearless warband was banished to the marshlands for a crime they definitely did commit. These men and women survived and thrived, their antecedents living in the village of Brightwater. Today, wanted by the Rust Brothers, they survive as heroes for hire. If you have a monster problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find Brightwater … maybe you can hire The Monster Hunters.

The Monster Hunters are inspired by half-naked battling heroes of pulp fiction and comics

The village of Brightwater is not in the best part of the world. The lowland swampy surroundings of Brightwater is frequently flooded and all the houses are built on stilts. But they are well maintained, comfortable, not poor looking. And around the village, well fed, athletic men and women stride across narrow bridges with easy confidence.

There is a thriving market hall, where travelling traders visiting the village can set up their stalls alongside the village’s own craftspeople. Visiting adventures will find a tailor here, a tanner, a smith and a bowyer, all selling goods of uncommon quality.

There is an inn too, though travellers report disappointment in its fare. The ale is good enough, but the food is mostly a vegetable stew, only occasionally improved with the meat of a rabbit or some similar rodent caught in the marshes hereabouts.

By contrast, the smells of roasted flesh and sounds of good cheer coming from the village longhouse can make a visitor in the Inn long for an invitation there. But though the villagers here are polite and easy going, such an invitation is never forthcoming. The Longhouse and it’s delicious smelling fare is strictly for villagers only.

These are the famed Monster Hunters.

Since the Bloodmist lifted, the men and women of Brightwater have earned a reputation as fierce hunters who prey upon the Demons that flooded through the Nexus, and Zygopher’s abominable creations. They relish the hunt, which they see variously as subsistence, sport and business.

As a business they sell their monster-hunting services to surrounding villages. The fees they charge are high but flexible, taking most of what the village produces in a year, but leaving just enough to sustain the village in the next year. Despite the high cost, villagers are willing to pay – the monsters terrorising the villages are, after all, truly fearsome and will have killed previous hunting parties sent out by villagers themselves. Indeed, Brightwater now sees travellers from more distant villages, even other kin, come seeking aid, as the reputation of the Monster Hunters spreads.

The Rust Brothers see the monster hunters of Brightwater as competition, and would like to investigate them further and, if possible, induct them into the order, or if necessary, remove them entirely. But so far, their clumsy attempts to find the location of the Brightwater village have met with obfuscation and misdirection from those who rely on the Monster Hunters’ services.

When a creature is targeted by the Monster Hunters, the villagers of Brightwater organise it as a sport. First two or three scouts are sent to observe the creature and ascertain it’s habits. Then depending upon what the scouts have learned, a hunting party is formed. This is normally made up of up to five “Pickers,” the Master Monster Hunter his or herself, and an apprentice who carries the Final Cut, a ceremonial Halberd.

A number of other villagers accompany the hunting party, including builders who will create a “course” – a series of obstacles designed to funnel the creature into an arena where the Monster Hunters do their work; and even occasionally, a grandstand, from which the client villagers can watch the kill.

It is the Pickers’ job to drive, or tempt, the creature down the course to the arena where the Monster Hunter and their apprentice wait. The preferred way to do this is on foot, armed with javelins, with which to weaken and enrage the monster. But if circumstances demand it, two of the pickers will be on horseback. And occasionally, for particularly tough monsters, the javelins will be replaced with heavy crossbows. Sometimes one of the pickers will even be a sorcerer. All their attacks are ranged, however, it is not their job to get close to the monster.

Their job is to drive the monster to the Monster Hunter, and to weaken it enough that the Monster Hunter can fight it in melee. Each Monster Hunter has their preferred weapon for melee combat, but at some point will always switch to the Final Cut, the halberd carried by the apprentice, to finish the creature off. The apprentice never normally engages in combat, unless they are the last Hunter standing, in which case they are raised to the rank of master Monster Hunter.

All the monster hunters eschew armour, preferring instead to fight scantily clad in cloth and leather, showing off their athletic physique. Everyone agrees that Monster Hunters are very attractive.

But there is a dark secret behind their looks. During the Bloodmist and after, the villagers of Brightwater survived by feasting on the creatures they killed. Many such creatures, and especially the misgrown are held together by the substance Mog. Not many people, other than Zygofer and later Zytera know about mog, but most people instinctively realise that meat from monsters in tainted and stay well clear.

The villagers of Brightwater though, had no such fear (they all have the Fearless talent), and feasted hungrily on the chaotic flesh. Over the years they even created myths of butchery, deciding, without much evidence, which parts of the flesh are edible and which must not be eaten. And, at first, their culinary courage seemed to be rewarded. They felt healthier, grew stronger and yes, became more good-looking as monster flesh became a regular part of their diet. They even seemed to age more slowly.

But then they learned the terrible cost of eating mog-tainted flesh. It poisoned not them, but their unborn children. All their children are born deformed. And most die within a few hours of birth. Only a few survive and these are looked after well by their loving parents. But the village’s collective shame means they keep their children hidden from visitors. The “school house” where the women go to give birth, and all the surviving children live out their lives, is a little way away from the village’s more public buildings, and visitors are prevented from getting too close.

The villagers of Brightwater never explain the lack of children in public life, or the real reason why visitors only get vegetable stew while the natives feast on meat. They know that one day, even the longest lived of them will be gone and the village of Brightwater will only be a memory. But if they live like heroes, that memory will be a legend.

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