Issak sat in the cart watching the road twist ahead.

"Ghouls" was all his father, Jerek, had said when he enquired about the current job.

Speaking of his father; he was Jerek Dragonbane, one of the most legendary monster hunters in the land of Avelor. He had made a name for himself at a young age when he slew a wyvern which was attacking his village.

        He had read plenty about Ghouls back in Mages Collage, about how they hate fire and how their wounds recover quickly; he’d even seen some highly detailed drawings showing weak points and other useful information. They didn’t look all that bad (although, now that he thought back to it, he wished he had paid more attention and drank less wine at the time).

        Eventually Jerek stopped the cart at the mouth of a cave, which was so overgrown that had it not just been pointed out to him he probably would have missed it. Perceptiveness was not his strong suit.

        "Well, here we are," said his father as he reached into the cart behind him and hefted a massive greataxe onto his shoulder. Jumping down from the cart, he looked up just in time to catch the shortsword thrown at him with not so much as a ’heads up!’ Giving it the once over he was happy to see that it at least had some kind of enchantment (hopefully fire!)

        He fumbled with the sword as he approached the mouth of the cave (charmingly named Deathmaw Hollow by the local peasants). There was a slight rush of air emanating from the cave and the stink which accompanied it assaulted his nostrils, mold and rotting flesh joining forces to cause him to gag. Bestial growls filled the air, the caves inhabitants becoming aware of their presence. He began to realize that these were not drawings in a book - but monsters from his worst nightmares, eager to tear him apart.

        "I’m not sure I can do this!" is definitely what he was going to say as he turned his head to find his father already entering the cave.

"Are you waiting for them to come to you? Move it!" Jerek barked as he turned, incredibly nonchalant for a man walking to his death, Issak thought.

        Momentarily forgetting his terror of the Ghouls when faced with the terror of his father he hurried in behind him, gingerly drawing his shortsword. Eyes adjusting to the gloom, he scanned the room. It was littered with broken bones, some of them still sporting tattered clothing and what looked like gnaw marks. The smell inside the cave was nothing short of breathtaking (and not in a good way).

"Really?" said his father with a disapproving glance as Issak fought to keep his breakfast to himself, "You need to toughen up." He was all heart that guy.

         

        It was roughly in the middle of his third bout of gagging fits the he saw a pair of baleful red eyes watching him from the gloom.

"There’s one!" he shouted (although it sounded more like "Squeeeee!" when it came out) as an abomination made of gangly clawed limbs and needle sharp teeth loped out of the shadows , swinging a filthy claw at him. Dodging it by a hair, he instinctively lunged up with his shortsword, and more by luck than skill he caught it in the centre of the chest; the beast grunting in pain as the wound attempted to seal itself even before the blade was removed.

        The air around him had exploded into a cacophony of terror, bestial snarls and howls filling the air as more of the creatures boiled from the darkness. Up close the smell was even worse, and nausea and fear threatened to paralyze him. He was bore to the ground by the weight of the ghoul, blade still lodged in its sternum. Desperately, he fought to keep his head away from its thrashing claws and gnashing teeth as they lashed out at him again and again, gouging up the rock of the cavern floor as the creature roared at him and screams rose in the room. Somewhere nearby he could hear a high pitched scream, a woman held captive perhaps?

        Suddenly he remembered that he was a mage and conjured up the first spell he could think of. Releasing one of his hands from the hilt of his sword, he flung his open palm into the beast’s chest as it lunged for his face with its rotten maw. The echo of the blast nearly deafened him as the ghoul was blasted from him by a wall of arcane force and before it could land it was neatly bisected by a lightning quick flash of steel.

        With the first one dead he quickly jumped to his feet, ready to defend himself against the rest which must surely inhabit this cave. Looking around however, all he could see were pieces, and the chamber now sat eerily quiet. It was around this point that he remembered about the woman he had heard, and began to frantically search for her. After about 20 seconds of looking around, hopping she was ok it dawned on him that the woman screaming had been him, and he inwardly hoped his father hadn’t heard.

        Looking over at his father he saw that Jerrek was systematically making his way around the dismembered bodies and removing the heads from their torsos. That was the last straw, and Issak emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

"When you’ve finished vomiting come and give me a hand!" called his father, in the same bored tone he’d been using all day, "And your mother wanted me to ask if you and Lydia are still coming over for dinner tonight?" He looked agape at the carnage surrounding him, the shock of almost having his face eaten finally setting in, while his father calmly dispatched what he could now see was around 20 of the beasts. He wondered if this would be his life from now on, and if he could adapt to it like his father had?