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Ep. 10 - Wildheart - Interregnum V: Rilka
28 Plays21 days ago
Rilka is a legend in her own right. When you have a creature you want killing, you call on Rilka.
Deep within Cradlepool, far to the south of Wildheart and away from the machinations of Stormspire, she hunts for an odd creature that allegedly snatched a child for the village nearby. The money doesn't interest her; she is all about the hunt - until she lays eyes on her prey…
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Transcript
Tracking the Mysterious Creature
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In wild hearts
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The world moves in cycles, and between them, stories wait. This is one that rises from the silence.
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Interregnum 5. Rilke. rilke
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Rilke Fenlow moved like a wraith through the glade, her steps light, her breath steady. The damp air beneath her boots carried the scent of rot and crushed leaves, mingling with the crispness of the mountain air.
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The trail was fresh. Deep, clawed tracks gouged the soil, leading through the scattered brush of cradle-pool's outskirts. She crouched beside a print.
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running her fingers over the edges. Four toes, elongated but not quite lupine. The claws had raked deep, unnatural in their curve. The weight distribution was strange.
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Whatever it was, it favoured the left side, dragging slightly. Not a clean hunt. That means suffering.
Villager Attacks and Rilke's Involvement
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And suffering meant desperation.
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Her sword, a slender silvered blade marked with quiet runes rested on her back. She didn't reach for it. A good hunter knew the fight didn't start with steel.
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It started with patience. The villagers had spoken in hushed tones when she arrived in Cradlepool three nights ago. Their faces drawn, their fields ruined, claw tracks in the crops, livestock missing, one child taken, though no one wanted to say it aloud.
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They called on a tide caller first, of course, but their rituals yield nothing. No surge creatures, no rogue spirits, just fear, thick as river fog.
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That's why she'd taken the contract. The tracks veered left, slipping towards the denser thickets. She followed, keeping her breath slow, her pulse steady.
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The glade was old, its trees thick with moss, their gnarled roots pushing up like grasping hands. The silence here was unnatural.
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No birds, no chittering insects. Only the faint rustle of disturbed undergrowth ahead.
Confrontation with the Monstrous Wolf
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A scent hit her nose. Not the dampness of the marsh, nor the loamy richness of Wild Heart's soil. Something sharp, rotten, like meat left too long in the sun.
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Now Rilke drew her blade. The scent of rot thickened as she moved forward. The undergrowth shifted ahead. Something scraping against bark.
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She pressed herself against a tree, muscles coiled. The glade was dense, its towering trees draped in ivy, their trunks riddled with spirals of fungi that pulsed faintly with moisture.
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The creature was near. She could hear the ragged wheeze of its breath, the occasional click of claws against stone. Not just one wound.
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It was suffering. Perhaps dying. That didn't make it less dangerous. A gust of wind stirred the branches, and for a brief moment she saw it.
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It lurked in the gloom, half hidden by twisted roots and low mist. At first it resembled a wolf, but no wolf had limbs like that. The forelegs were too long, ending in gnarled hands, tipped with blackened claws.
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Its body was gaunt, the ribs pressing against its mottled hide. Patches of fur were missing, revealing slick, greyish skin beneath. Its face was worse.
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a mouth that split too wide, curved into a permanent grin of jagged teeth, eyes sunken but alight with something unnatural.
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Rilke exhaled, slow and measured.
Defeating the Creature and Revealing the Mutation
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She stepped forward, the creature tensed, letting out a strangled sound, something between a growl and a wet gasp.
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Then it lunged. She sidestepped, blade flashing. The steel met flesh, slicing across its shoulder. But the beast barely reacted. It twisted mid-leap, landing on all fours, its grin widening, the smell of decay and stagnant water filling Wilka's nostrils.
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It circled her, slow at first, testing. Its movements were jerky. Its left hind leg was dragging slightly. That was its weakness.
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Rilke pressed forward, forcing it to react. A quick feint, then a downward slash. The creature twisted away, but the injured leg gave out beneath it. That was all she needed.
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She struck. The blade carved through its neck, severing sinew and bone. The creature spasmed. its body collapsing in a heap of twitching limbs.
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The grin remained even in death.
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Rilke waited, breath steady. Then slowly she crouched beside the corpse. Its flesh was cold, not the cold of life leaving a body, of something deeper, older, a wrongness that made her skin crawl.
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She reached into her pack, pulling free a heavy cloth, and wrapped the severed head before its taint could seep further into the air. She had seen beasts before, mutations, surge-changed creatures, remnants of Wild Heart's old magic, but this was something else.
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This had been made.
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She arrived at Tidesword Sanctuary in Southern Wild Heart at dawn, the
Warning Tidesword Sanctuary of Larger Threats
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head bound tightly and slung over her shoulder. The temple's towering spires caught the early light, the storm-worn stones smoothed from centuries of wind and prayer.
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Tide callers stirred in the courtyards, their robes a sea of purples and blues. The guards of the Tideswarden vanguard stood at the gate, soldiers in polished armour, their tabards embroidered with the sigil of an open wave.
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They watched her approach, hands resting on their weapons. "'I'm heading up,' she called. A soldier stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "'State your business!' Wilka untied the cloth and let the head fall to the ground between them. "'Found this near a cradle pool,' she said.
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Thought you'd want to see it before we all have a bigger problem. The soldier's face paled. Rilke crossed her arms. Where's your commander?
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Thank you for listening.
Invitation to the Fellowship of the Tabletop
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As we continue to share the stories of Wild Heart, we'd love to hear your thoughts. If this tale has sparked your interest and you'd like to learn more about the characters, let us know.
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We've got a revamped site, fellowshipofthetabletop.co.uk, where you can read more lore, see more maps, and read a new blog from both Bellum Draconis and Wild Heart. Either way, we'd love for you to reach out.
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Your input could help shape the stories we tell next. Until next time, farewell.