Fangs of Justice:The Werewolf Detective

In the year of 1399 on the Oroland continent, a stormy night loomed over the western coast of the human empire of Farell. The dark clouds were a heavy blanket in the sky, and the chilling sea breeze from the Darcy Sea howled as it made landfall, signaling that a tempest was approaching.

A figure enshrouded in a black cloak, Grayson, trudged along a country lane. The brim of his hat shadowed his downcast face, revealing only the dense stubble on his chin. His sturdy frame carried a long sword on his back that glimmered with a faint silver light.

"Looks like we're nearing the fishing village, Elyra. What are you in the mood to eat?" he asked tenderly to the little black owl perched on his wide-brimmed hat.

"You promised me roasted turkey last month, and you've yet to deliver," huffed the palm-sized ball of feathers atop his hat.

Grayson chuckled knowingly, about to reply, when a piercing whistle came from the roadside bushes. A silver arrow zipped past his face and lodged itself into a nearby tree.

Before the arrow's quiver could fade, another shot followed. Grayson's hand shot out, catching the gleaming arrow between his fingers. He hurled it back, and with a 'ting' sound, it collided mid-air with a third arrow, sending it tumbling into the underbrush. Grayson ducked swiftly as a fourth arrow skimmed past his hat, nearly hitting the little bird.

"Who goes there? Halt!" After dodging four arrows, Grayson charged into the woods, spotting a figure in a blue cloak fleeing toward the village.

"A girl by the looks of it, but which lass would take such an interest in this wanted man?" he pondered.

Grayson's pace quickened as he pursued the woman, who in her panic plunged into the village's narrow alleys.

Entering the village, he searched for the woman and heard a scream. Turning on his heel, he found the source of the cry. Villagers had pinned the woman to the ground, and a priest was directing them to tie her up.

Grayson slipped into the shadows of a thatched cottage upon seeing the priest. The village square was laid with dead black cats and pre-arranged traps.

"You despicable witch, there's no escape this time. Take her to the square!" the priest's shout reached Grayson's ears, followed by the woman's plea, "No, you've got it all wrong; I'm not a witch!"

"These foolish priests are of no help at all," Grayson sneered quietly, following the crowd to the village center.

The procession arrived at the square, where the priest ordered the villagers to bind the woman to a stake surrounded by firewood. The crowd that had gathered began to shout in unison: "Burn her, the witch must die!"

The priest looked at the girl coldly, then tossed his torch into the pyre. As the flames leapt up, engulfing the woman, the crowd's Grayson whispered to the little owl, "Elyra, we must save her. She owes me for that arrow, after all."

With that, Elyra soared into the flames. Red beams shot from her eyes, and the woman transformed into a hamster, which the owl snatched up and disappeared into the sky.

"What? An owl!" The priest watched dumbstruck as the owl vanished. "I should have anticipated her escape; owls are a witch's favored accomplice!"

Meanwhile, Grayson smirked at the irate priest before slipping away towards the towering cliffs on the village's northwest coast, where he stopped in front of an abandoned lighthouse.

Climbing the spiral staircase to the top, he found a young girl in black feathers with bright red dancing shoes. The woman from before stood warily at the edge of the platform.

"Did the fool of a priest enjoy my performance?" asked the girl in black, turning with a mischievous smile.

"He was thrilled, Elyra, at least that's what I think," Grayson said, removing his veil and lighting a cigar as he approached the defensive woman. "Hey, dear, what's your name?"

"Katheren..." She hesitated before replying softly.

"A classic Itali name. An apprentice assassin from the Itali Duchy, why attack me in the dead of night?" asked Grayson.

"Because you're the empire's most wanted criminal—'Lone Wolf' Grayson. For ten years, you've slain dozens of nobles in the empire's vassal duchies. The Holy Assembly places a bounty of two thousand gold coins on your head, dead or alive," Katheren answered.

"No wonder you poisoned the tip of the arrow. But you're still green; if you had any real experience with assassination, you wouldn't have missed with the first shot," Grayson said, pulling a silver arrow from his cloak, sniffing it, and tossing it at Katheren's feet.

Katheren looked down, blushing at her rookie mistake. Grayson continued, "The world is full of rumors about me. Some say I'm a man-eater, others a vampire hunter, but most know that demon hunter Grayson is trouble not worth the risk. So, what gives you the courage to hunt down an old hunter?"

"It's the bounty," Katheren replied after a pause. "With that money, I could buy back the Maelin Crossbow."

"Maelin Crossbow?" Grayson's blue eyes showed surprise. "What do you want with that? It's a weapon designed for werewolf hunts, only used by specialized demon hunters."

"Exactly. I need it to kill the white werewolf that murdered my father and avenge his death," Katheren said with a fiery glare.

"The white werewolf that killed your father?" Grayson's lips twitched, and his cigar fell as sparks scattered on the ground.

"Yes," Katheren said, puzzled by Grayson's strange reaction. "Fifteen years ago, it killed my father at the edge of the Itali forests. I still remember its ferocious face."

"Fifteen years, and you still cling to that hatred?" Grayson picked up his cigar, asking thoughtfully.

"Of course, I won't forget! After my father died, I, just four years old, became an orphan. My aunt abused me, sent me to an orphanage, and I ended up a beggar and a thief on the streets. If it weren't for my master taking me in, I would have starved."

Grayson silently smoked, listening as Katheren continued, "I planned to seek revenge after my training, but then my master died too. I lost my last support and couldn't even fend for myself. My only chance was to take a risk with you."

"Clearly, you've found the right person," Grayson said meaningfully, stubbing out his cigar and drawing a silver pistol from his belt, aiming it at Katheren. "What I do best is help people end their pain..."