Darkness enveloped the night as a tall and slender figure slowly crept up the top of the jagged mountain overlooking the small encampment. The moon was obscured by the heavy clouds in the sky and there was light rain pelting the ground. It offered the best cover the figure could hope for on a night like this. Panting slightly from the tiring climb required to reach the peak, the woman took a second to steady her breathing and capture her surroundings.
The small encampment stood roughly ninety yards away and was located in a slight dip in the ground with various tall trees surrounding it. There were multiple tents set up under their cover and in the center of the area was a tavern sized building made of brick with a small but long straw hut attached to it. The area was lit with oil lamps set on four poles a couple yards in each opposing direction from the brick building. "She must be inside the main building, no way someone like her strays outside on a night like this." The frustrating thought barely registered as she filed it away with her other observations. The same three "guards" she had vetted earlier stood around lazing on their feet or sitting on barrels clearly bored and tired of the weather. While they looked and acted like guards the word mercenary fit better. "No doubt hired for a small fee to make sure she can practice her evil in peace." They were each at the about the same distance from each other around the building, she could draw a perfect triangle between them in her mind.
"Where…" As if someone out there heard the unspoken question in her mind, the remaining two guards walked outside of the brick structure and stood each on one side of the door clearly unimpressed with their situation. The light flooding from the open door lit up the space a little more brightly. "Come out!" The woman dressed in dark clothing was starting to get impatient. The amount of time she had spent learning the area and planning her actions was far more than necessary, almost four days spent scouting her target and deciding on the best spot to set herself, but this target required special attention. She felt at her face unconsciously, feeling the ragged skin of a scar earned long ago.
She had dealt with a creature like that before and had severely underestimated the speed at which they react and the power with which they lash out. "Bloody witches." One of her first few contracts when she was just starting to make a name for herself in the business of hunting had been to terminate a witch out in the northern part of the Brightwood forest. Eager to make herself known and with her coin pouch far too light she had taken the contract that had been passed over countless times by others with more experience. It took one missed shot of her trusty crossbow taken when she should have bided her time for a better opportunity. That's when everything went wrong. The witch turned in her direction in anger and unleashed a barrage of unnatural bright blue lightning bolts towards her, striking down from the clear sky. By sheer luck a lightning bolt aimed for her head struck close enough to wound but not kill when she had taken off running away. She had crashed down, head buzzing and vision foggy. A hunter nearby was startled by the noise and had found the witch almost at her side. He took the shot and did not miss. An arrow struck the witch in the throat and in a last attempt at vengeance in her final moment, the witch struck him down with a fireball that sprung from her hand. Minutes later the young hunter composed herself enough to see the scene in front of her and she made the decision to take credit for the kill. After all… the hunter was dead and nobody else knew what happened.
The townsfolk paid her with a large coin pouch and her name started travelling with stories about the hunter who managed to kill one of the most dangerous and cunning foes you could encounter. She had left that particular encounter with her now trademark blue scar that crossed her face from the top of the left eyebrow, through the bridge of her nose and ended at the top of her lip on the right side. The color was unnatural and while healed to an extent, it would glow a light blue when she was exposed to the sun, fire or a strong light source. Vowing to never underestimate another foe regardless of how strong or weak they may seem, she trained harder and saw the value of scouting and planning for any eventuality however unlikely it seemed that it would occur. The majority of her contracts had been flawless precise kills but her over planning had certainly saved her life on several occasions and extended her lifespan far longer than many people in her line of work. "People like Rachel."
Eyes stinging she forced her attention to the brick building to take her mind off her increasingly dark thoughts. She had a habit of doing that lately if left to her own devices, ever since that accident months past. Hours flew by while she stayed still in the same prone position. Minor and small adjustments were made to keep her blood flowing so she wouldn't stumble if worst came to worst and she had to leave quickly. As the time trickled by the lone woman started losing hope that this could be wrapped up tonight. "Better to pack up and wait for another day with perfect cover then to rush in and get myself killed." Somehow that thought didn't scare her as much as it had before. She had become increasingly brash and less protective of herself since the incident with Rachel, It was just too hard for her to care anymore on her worst days.
"Stop slouching!"
The voice shook her from her momentary internal debate and she swore under her breath for her lack of attention. "This is how you end up dead. Idiot." A tall slender figure wearing a dark green robe stepped outside and stood clearly annoyed with her hired mercenaries. "Judging by the quality of men she has, she must've refused to spend enough coin for better and was left with this bunch. Dispatch her and the men will run faster than a startled deer." More talk ensued between the witch and her men as the hidden figure pulled out large crossbow from her back and took aim. Four years where her late father showed her how to use the weapon that had made her famous and six years of working as a hunter had made her known as one of the most proficient and deadly hunters. When equipped with a crossbow she still had the upper hand on most foes with faster weapons like bows but if the fight got close and personal she was also no slouch with a sword or daggers. There were few others in the country that could match or pass her skill with the long range weapon. Wind speed, distance and weather were just things she calculated in her mind unconsciously from unfathomable amounts of practice.
"Eighty-five yards give or take. A hard shot for most." She smirked in the night as she loaded her weapon with her custom made broadhead bolts. The side of it was painted with a blue streak jagged like lightning. It was her calling card and matched her scar on her face. The figure took up her aim again and put the witch dead in her sights as she continued her verbal barrage onto the men who seemed no more interested in what she said as the hunter. She never knew why most of her contracts targeted certain people or creatures, sometimes it was obvious with a little research or it was right in your face. Sometimes it was townsfolk scared for their village, a vengeful man looking for a way to strike back at someone else, a terrible person who wanted something terrible done, the list went on. She was known across the country as a "Neutral Hunter." It was a term used to describe a hunter who didn't care who posted the contract and against who their sword or bow took aim. Woman, man or creature could be as good hearted as a saint or as evil as a slaver, it didn't matter. This hunter had a particular hatred for witches though and she took every opportunity to hunt them down as possible.
She steadied her breathing and concentrated on clearing her mind, focusing all her attention on her shot. She applied pressure to the trigger. A loud SNAP cracked the silent night around her and the short whistling sound of a bolt screaming through the air just before it made contact could be heard. The two men facing the witch screamed and jolted back. The sound of the screams was loud enough to be heard crisply from her position and startled the other guards who were much closer. The witch dropped like a sack of potatoes with a blue bolt sticking out of her right eye, it had passed right through the back of her head to embed itself perfectly. The hunter didn't move, she didn't have to. She knew what would most likely happen next.
Sure enough, the guards took cover behind various objects and looked around frantically searching the night for the source of the shot. She waited a while, the guards didn't worry her. She could dispatch them in a matter of minutes if she wanted to but her contract had specified she bring back the witch's necklace as proof of completion and nothing was said of killing the guards. If they didn't actively hunt her down she would return the favor, she hated killing without a purpose. After several long moments passed the guards started standing one after another. They conferred and the hunter couldn't make out what they were saying from her vantage point, not from lack of trying though. "Leave already!" The mercenaries separated and started to loot the encampment taking meticulous care to grab anything of value from the witch's modest home. After taking down the tents and loading a wagon full of what the hunter could only imagine was every single thing the mercenaries could sell later for a few coins, they tied the horses to it and took off through the woods for the long trek on the small rocky path to the closest village south. By then, the sun had gone up and the morning light flooded the sky.
Getting up and stretching took the hunter longer than she would care to admit as she started to get the blood flowing into all her extremities after spending a full night in the rain without much movement. She was soaked to the bone and felt like she may be coming down with some sickness. Making her way down the jagged mountain, the hunter took great care to not slip on the wet surface and took twice the time to get down that it had taken to get up. A little short of breath after the small trek and descent, the hunter approached the building and the fresh corpse of the young woman. The body was face first in the mud and her clothing was covered in a layer of mud and blood that had burst from her eye socket and leaked down. She bent down and turned the body over examining her bolt. "That was a good shot" she mused to herself. The hunter left it there and started to pat down the witch, smiling to herself when she found a modest coin pouch in the lining of the clothing and the necklace she needed. Evidently the mercenaries didn't care to touch the body of a witch and had given it a wide berth. She took her loot and started to walk in the direction where her horse was tied roughly two hundred yards from the encampment in a small alcove in a mountain. "Time to collect my payment."