Midnight Hunters

The cool breeze and fresh air were a blessing. Every minute turned the tavern more into a sweathouse, with all the spilled drinks and egotistical Wavebreakers that sang their own song, thats just how it went.

It was the hour of the night where you'd either be asleep or getting hammered, the deserted streets reflecting this. He pulled his hood up, clutched his pendant, and began his patrol.
Lucian hated Cacela and everything it stood for. It was one of the border towns that separated the Grand Rytellian Magistrate from the Wildlands, the feral breeding grounds of the many monsters that frequently attacked the region. Apparently, there were other territories, but even this amount of knowledge was pushing what he wanted to know about this place.

"Echo."

Trying to quell his hatred for the place from his mind, Lucian focused on the task.

"Only two of them today," he thought to himself, canceling his spell.

He acted nonchalant. Hookshades were as dangerous as they were creepy. Long, dog-sized tubes with a pointed face and large black lenses for eyes. You'd expect them to be clumsy if you'd shown someone the stumpy little legs they sneaked on, but they were extremely nimble and quiet. Even Lucian had trouble locating them by sound alone.

Bam.

Lucian turned around. A small crate had fallen to the ground. Once it settled, it was eerily quiet. The jolly sounds of the tavern were distant now. He checked every shadow, every nook, and every crevice in sight but couldn't spot them in the dim moonlight.
He hated Cacela. He truly did. But seeing people mourning the dead, he hated far more than them. Angered by the thought, his right hand started to sting from clutching the edges of the pendant so fast. Aslong as these patrols would save lives, he'd continue them.

"Clave."

A sharp whistle shot through the air towards his blind spot. As magic sought to intercept the assassin, a wet slice signaled it had found its mark. Lucian looked to the ground.

"Finally gotcha."

The Hookshade was squirming like a worm that had just been unearthed. Lacking a mouth, it wasn't squealing, but judging by how deep the cut was, it would have.

"Clave."

Separating head from body, the twitching subsided.
Still listening for the other one, Lucian examined the creature more closely. The trick behind these living shadows was simple once you could get a closer look. Lucian plucked one of the scales off the critter. They were light-absorbent. He learned this the hard way on one of his trips when his spell got "eaten" by one of these killers.
They sold incredibly well since Hookshades only went for a kill when they were certain it would be a success, making a dead one a rare commodity.

Admiring the poison-laced stinger at the tip of its snake-like tail. The same one that claimed so many lives each year, steps came into ear’s reach.

"Come on, who's this now?" He was annoyed by the oncoming visitor since Hookshades only attacked isolated targets. If they were two, he'd have to track the other one with Echo, but he was out here to train, not solely to slay.

The dark husk was bigger than him, if only by a bit. The white hair got his attention first. He was carrying a sword and had something long strapped to his back, covered in cloth to conceal it. He could discern two things from this: A. He wasn't from Cacela, and B. He was either confident enough to walk out at night alone or stupid enough.

The young man came to a halt. "Are you Lucian?"

Not seeming hostile, he answered. "Depends on what you want from me."

"My name is Amon. I’m a Valtherion mercenary. I've been called here by the Castellan to aid in his special operation."

"Valtherion?" Lucian had heard stories about them. A bloodthirsty people who relished the gore of battlefields.

"The Castellan told me to return home because a certain someone was taking care of it alone. He's talking about you, isn't he?"

Lucian was relieved. For a second, he thought the guy wanted him dead.

"That's right. That was my condition to agree. You should take his advice and leave."

He could see Amon’s eyebrows furrow in displeasure.

"I've traveled too far to accept this meager pay they gave me. I want to see the abilities of the warrior they deem more worthy than a Valtherion." Amon was calm as he drew his sword.

He wasn't expecting this, but in the Wildlands, he’d gotten used to this feeling. He wasn't nervous... he was excited.

Amon pointed his sword towards the sky, the pale light reflecting emotionless against the spotless steel. He took his stance and, with a precise swirl, threw his weapon into the alleyway beside him where it crashed through mixed junk that had piled up there.

Lucian was taken aback by the sudden attack. It was fast and meticulous, but still had enough weight behind it to throw up dust from the street and pierce what he assumed to be old barrels, carts, and debris. He wasn't certain if he could have dodged that if it had been aimed at him.

"Echo."

Trying to figure out what Amon did, Lucian could see the sword nailed to the outer wall of the building at the end of the lane, a scar of destruction left in its wake, and pinned at the tip of the sword was the lifeless body of the other Hookshade.
He opened his eyes and scanned the warrior, not sure what exactly he was looking for himself.

"What do you want from me?"

"I told you. You're not going on that mission alone."