The Butcher of Gadobhra

The ghouls of Hungrytown heard the footsteps and the creak of wagons, and then they could smell the sweet stench of the living. They prepared to grab anyone who stepped to close to the edge of the road, but as more and more workers came into view, they backed away in fear, tumbling down the embankment and finding holes in the ruins to in. They had seen what one Butcher could do to them, and now a full score of hard muscled men and women were marching along the road, cleavers on their belts. The ghouls had been hungry for a long time. They could be hungry for another night They would gnaw on old bones and hope that one of them would grow strong enough soon to be named their new king.

Billy and Layla were already bloody to their elbows and had killed a half dozen of the horned rabbits. Suzette set up the keg of energy enhanced apple wine in an out of the way spot, and warned every one of how potent the effects were. Of course, everyone had to immediately try a glass. She handed two large flagons to the Baron and Baroness with instructions to sip slowly through the night.

Bob took one look at the strange animals in the pens and delightedly asked for an explanation. "Where did you get these odd creatures? Are those really eight-legged leopards? Carnivorous Pidgeon-Sheep? These are fantastic!"

Ben did his best to explain. "The stockyards seem to attract different animals from the Beast Woods and Menagerie and sort them into the pens. Or maybe just one and then it multiplies? We aren't sure on the exact mechanics of the magic in use. The Baron has crews that butcher them to feed one of the city's dungeons, and supply our local butcher in the village."

Bob's eyes got large. "You have a Menagerie here?! Are hunters allowed in? Oh please?! I've grown so tired of hunting boar and stags. How soon can we go?"

Billy overheard him and walked up to the group. He grabbed Bob's hand, shaking it firmly. "Bob, great to meet you. I'm Billy, and that's my girl Layla. Heard some good things about you. Good things about possible business deals that neither of us will be involved in, but fun to discuss. Glad to have you out here tonight with the rest of the Baron’s crew. Tell you what? Let's get some slaughtering done, and then maybe we can talk about a little hunting expedition into the Beast Woods. Always good to trim down the amazing and fantastical beasts roaming there. And it helps make the Hunter happy. It’s very important to please the Hunter at the Shrine. You need his permission to get past the guardian and hunt in the Menagerie. But don't worry, we'll get you run through the quests in no time and then maybe we can discuss the costs of a hunting permit. How's that sound to you? Pretty good I bet!”

Lord Alwyn was both horrified, admiring, and jealous of this man. It had to be the local Baron. The noble was actually out working and getting his hands dirty. Some of his fellow lords would be disdainful, but what Alwyn saw was power. Power to do what you want and no one to tell you No. He obviously enjoyed the work of slaughtering his kills instead of turning the task over to an underling.

And the confidence in that handshake? With a simply gesture he proclaimed Alwyn and he to be equals, with no care as to what others might think! His father would have spent a decade dithering over whether to accept a dinner invitation, and yet the Baron had instantly judged him as someone worthy of doing business together. Confidence was power in the Fae Realms. He needed to know more about this human Lord.

The hound growled a little as Billy talked, until Layla handed him a fat rabbit leg to munch on and scratched his ears. The hound forgot about what he had been doing, and began gnawing on his meal of raw rabbit.

Twitterberry was just happy that Lord Alwyn seemed to be getting on with the local nobility and seemed to have found a friend to go hunting with. All of the Fae Lords were nutty about horse racing and hunting. Both of which were expensive sports, needing stables, grooms, special trainers, and only the best of horses. Hunting fees for the best wildlands and Underhill game preserves were far out of Alwyn's budget. But perhaps here in the mortal realm he could find something?

To everyone's surprise, Bob turned out to be fabulous at slaying the strange beasts of the stockyards. From a large bag, Twitterberry would hand him his weapons, suggesting boar spear for the Hell pigs or Halberd for the Carnivorous Giant Turtles. He took the charge of each Hell Pig like he had done it hundreds of times. The Giant Wooly Marmots delighted him, and he hunted each thousand-pound rodent with great skill, calling for another to be released as soon as the first was dead.

Sedge beasts, however, were nearly the death of him. He underestimated both the thickness of their skulls, and the anger that boiled out of them as soon as they were attacked. He was nearly gored to death by one, but took refuge by leaping on top of it and holding onto its antlers until Rolly and Ben helped take it down. After a small flagon of Apple Zinger, he was ready to take on another.

Beasts died, were skinned, gutted, and their remains tossed onto the wagons that made continuous trips down to Sedgewick. One by one, the twenty-four large pens in the stockyards were being emptied. By the next morning only five remained full, but a few animals could be seen roaming in the once empty pens. Ben had been taking notes for weeks on the rotation of animals. Hell Pigs, weird sheep, deadly rabbits, and sedge beasts were more common, but the other animals defied any pattern that he could see yet. It made him wonder what was in the Menagerie.

As the sun was coming up, Twitterberry felt his spirits flagging. How long had they been at this? The Apple Zinger was all gone, and the workers were cleaning up the last of the bloody messes and preparing the last load to leave the city. The hound was walking with Lord Alwyn, guiding the exhausted and inebriated Fae Lord out of the city. Many of the workers patted 'Bob' on the shoulder or shook his hand, complimenting him on the good job he'd done that night. Alwyn's Father would have been horrified to see his son hobnobbing with commoners, and taken little solace in the being told "But father, that wasn't me, that was Bob!". Luckily for everyone, Alwyn's father had long since ceased living.

Layla came up beside Bob, and helped steady him. "You'll never make it home at this rate. Let's get you to our headquarters and you can take a nap and get cleaned up. Oh, and get your cute little dog something to eat and a place to curl up. Then later you can talk to Billy and I a bit about some plans we had." Alwyn just nodded and the hound looked forward to a meal and a nap.

Billy was wiping his hands off as he came to speak to Ben. "Good job tonight, we made a nice dent in the back log of critters. It will send a message." Ben raised an eyebrow but Billy didn't elaborate. Instead, he outlined the night's last jobs. "Take two of the barrels of offal and have one of the strong guys toss them into Hungrytown. Do it as you're leaving, and try to aim for a shady spot. We'll give the ghouls a good feeding."

Ben protested mildly. "Won't that attract a lot of ghouls over to this side of Hungrytown? You aren't thinking of feeding them, are you?"

Billy nodded and lit a cigar. "I sure am. Might even get a dinner bell to ring, just to get them drooling as we toss out a barrel each night. I want a lot them in one area. Then one day as their eating, we're going to wipe the little assholes off the map and start cleaning the place out. I already put an order in with the alchemist's shop for as many fire bombs as they can make. Don't worry, it'll be fun."

As Billy walked off with Layla, Ben reminded himself that Billy could hold a mean grudge. And he wasn't the only one. Between Billy and Suzette, the ghouls’ days were numbered.

Deep in the Pit of the Butcher, Oink reached for another carcass and began to dismember it with his cleaver, turning the large chunk of meat into smaller chunks of meat. Oink was a Butcher, and as far as he was concerned, that's what Butchers did. Turn big meat into small meat. Break the bones, tear the cartilage, and chop up the meat. The Big Boss wanted a few hundred more Daemons ready to go in the freezer. The heroes in the world were getting stronger and he was expecting a big invasion next season.

Oink couldn't wait! It had been a long time since the halls of the dungeon were filled with the sounds of battle and the desperate screams of overwhelmed Heroes. Sometimes they even made it down this far and he got to play with them! Oink considered adventurers to just be meat that he had to catch. When he caught them he turned them into smaller chunks of meat. Some had already snuck in and explored the first few rooms and hallways of the first floor, but it wasn't like it used to be. They were just too weak to deal with even the top of the pit. If half of their party died, they ran away. No one had come to visit him yet.

Oink reached for the next carcass, but his fat fingers came up empty. The pile was gone. So was the other pile. And the big pile was gone too. And the pile by the hole where the meat came down from up top didn’t have anything in it. That hadn't happened since he had woken up. There was always a pile of meat to chop up! Standing underneath the hole, he could hear the grunts and squeals of dying animals and the sound of cleavers coming down on meat and bone. A lot of cleavers! Those guys were really busy!

Oink wasn't the sharpest cleaver in the drawer, more like a hammer. He knew how to do three things: Kill Heroes who came to play with him, chop up meat to make Daemons, and take a nap when there was nothing to do. Oink flopped down on the floor underneath the meat chute. He'd wake up when the next meat was tossed in. Until then, it was nap time.

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