Shadow of the Forest

“Should be an easy job”, he tells him with a confident tone in his deep voice. His white eyes stare cockily into those of the man who is hiring him, as if he wants to challenge the scrawny halfling instead of the monster he must chase.
“I hope it is. I don’t want to deal with this creature anymore. Nor with you, actually. It’s a shady business you run in these woods.” As the halfling stares around nervously to see if he has been followed, Bruq uses his glaive to stand up from the lush grass. He stretches his back and neck, creating loud snaps as air escapes from his joints.
“There is nothing shady about what I do”, he says, curling his stereotype dark brown goatee between his fingertips, “nor is there anything shady about MY woods.” The emphasis with which he speaks noticeably frightens the man who is less than half of his size.
Without trying to show emotions, the halfling known as Davon Cinderoak tosses a small sack into his direction. Unimpressed, he lightly taps with one of his grey and smeared hooves on the pouch, creating a scraping sound of metal against metal. “This isn’t even remotely enough, let alone what I asked for.”
He leans forward and the light that shines through the branches throws a long shadow onto the ground. If one were the see only the contours of his shade, they would mistake him for a demon instead of a satyr. If his kind personality doesn't do the trick, his black curling horns will be intimidating enough to get what he desires.
“You’ll get what you want when I get what I want. They say you are the best. Let’s see about that.” With a powerful bash he kicks against the tree behind and an apple falls down. In this split second as the red fruit starts its descent to the halfling’s head, Bruq impales it with spear-like weapon just before it hits Davon. A drop juice splatters on his with pimples covered nose.
“They are right”, he smiles with a self-satisfied grin. “I really am the best.”

Although the halfling got on his nerves, he would have taken the job anyway, even without the right payment. His talents were for hire - as long as he didn’t have to hunt down children - but for some creatures, he would just go after them for a simple reason: for sport and spite.
Abominations, creatures formed as nature did not intent, are a no-go in his home and he had spilled enough of their dark ichorous blood to turn the rivers black if he wanted to. And now, another one of these malformed monsters has found its way into his home, leaving grizzly footprints and crushing the delicate flowers in its horrendous path.
Ever since one of them left three thick scars from a claw attack on his chest, it has always been a pleasure to return the favour in a more extreme manner. “Tastes like fear”, he mutters to himself as the blood of a partially devoured deer spreads a sour and metallic taste on the tip of his tongue. “And still so fresh.”
He squints his eyes, looking for tracks to find his prey. The whiteness around his pupils muddles with a grey glow until nothing but blackness remains. “Found you.”

High from the trees Bruq looks down, studying every little detail of the next victim of his sharpened glaive. Although he is proficient with many a weapon, nothing feels as right as the dark brown stick with the long and curved blade on top. The singing the metal makes as it slides through the air is pure music to his ears, soothing for his soul, but that isn't the most satisfying part of the hunt. The killing is.
The misshapen creature down below walks right into his carefully placed trap. His body is covered with thick, purple feathers and at the end of his black legs he has sharp, knife-like claws. Its dark orange beak is crooked and from his tiny teeth, blood is dripping, as he gulps down the flesh of its most recent victim.
Bruq can smell the sour aroma the beast is spreading, making his eyes water. He wipes away the welling tears, blinks a few times and jumps down.

As this glaive cuts its way through the dark pink meat of the avian monster, it crows with fury and turns around, staring with his red eyes into the black ones of its hunter. Bruq smiles as he prepares his next deadly swing, absolutely convinced this is going to be one of the most easiest kills he has ever been paid for.
And this results in a very common, pesky problem the satyr has experienced his entire life. He was subjected to it when he was a young child and tried to jump from one tree to another. He had to deal with it when he chose to use his polearm for the first time. He lives with the scars of many previous events, all consequences of the same causality: being too cocky.
Although he is able to strike the ostrich-like abomination again, this time in its neck, his enemy can strike him as well. It belches into his face, releasing a corrosive gas that can eat its way through everything.
Bruq turns away his face, but the acid cloud still manages to strike his right side, maiming his flesh and consuming the dark brown fur of his neck. As he screams and takes out his flask to clean his face, the bird runs away, tumbling and swinging uncoordinated from left to right.
He pours the cooling water down his face and some of the stinging droplets stream down his forehead and into his right eye. He covers it with his free hand, trying to resist scratching due to the hellish itching, and throws his glaive as hard and precise as he can at his mutilator. The blade sings a short song of death and loss, striking the foul beast in its back.

He pulls out his weapon and kicks the bird onto its back. With one foot he pushes its face sideways into the earth, preventing another acidic attack. He places the sharp tip on his breast and the animal holds its breath, as if it knows its fate is sealed.
“Your kind is not welcome in my home.” Blood flows as the weapon cuts into its skin. “I’m the ghost of the woods, the shadow of the forest and the blood running through the trees. And there is no place for you here.”
He stares down with one black eye and one pink, damaged eye, surrounded by naked, mutilated flesh, and the blade stops its heart. He sighs in relief and straightens his back. “Now, where is that bloody halfling with my fucking bounty?”