[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SuRCxakQt-c[/youtube][/center]

Clive awoke to the incessant chirping of songbirds in the trees outside his tent and the faint light of dawn struggling to reach him through the rain cover. He set aside the bayonet in his hand and stretched with a groan, cracking his neck with almost gratuitous volume as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. He fished a beefy revolver from his waistband and paused for a 20 count to take in the sounds and smells around him. It was surprising how many monsters could be smelled before they were seen, or maybe not given how many of them eat human flesh or corpses. Clive still wasn’t satisfied yet, not by a long shot. He holstered the revolver and retrieved a compact shotgun from under the blanket as he poked his head out of the tent with all the caution of a lone deer living in a town of wolves. When he wasn’t immediately set upon by ravenous horrors of the night, he slowly exited his shelter. It wasn’t until he walked the perimeter of his campsite and checked the entire site for tracks twice over that he finally relaxed and set his main weapon aside.

He broke camp with almost robotic efficiency and packed everything into a rugged, mud-splattered Jeep. From the floodlights and suspension lift, to the snorkeled exhaust and winch bumper, this beast could get places most people would never see. That being said, the chipped paint and visible rust hinted at the vehicle's true age despite the upgrades. Clive caught a whiff of his own pungent scent as he packed and frowned when he smelled his armpit. To think he’d been hesitant to pay a whole $30 for that camper’s shower he now was immensely grateful to own.

______________________________________________________


The drive back to town was uneventful as the previous night. Hopefully this quiet Wisconsin town would have many more uneventful nights now that the source of those mysterious disappearances over the years had been dismembered, its frozen heart melted in a roaring fire, the body salted, the remains cremated, and the ashes scattered to the wind. Clive always hated wendigo hunts. Inconsiderate bastards can’t even pick somewhere nice to eat wayward hikers. They never fail to pick the absolute coldest damned places to live and require so much clean up afterward. Of course this particular incident happened in a much warmer part of the year than usual and that fact stewed in his mind the entire drive.

He soon pulled into the parking lot of the local library and headed inside, eager to check his email and see if his new... employer? Yes, his new employer, had his first assignment. He couldn’t help his excitement at the idea of working with a proper team for the first time. Who knows what they might be able to teach him? His hopes soared when he checked his single unread message. He hastily typed out a reply and all but ran to his car.

[hider]
From: cdavidson@SundayGroup.org
To: etregellan@SundayGroup.org; vkerensky@SundayGroup.org; mduclar@SundayGroup.org; |untranslatable rune|
Subject: Pending Assignment - Possible Travel [Urgent]

On my way. Will be there in an hour or 2. There was an incident in Wisconsin.
[/hider]

______________________________________________________

True to his word, Clive pulled up to the nondescript building in just under two hours. He retrieved a pair of duffel bags from the trunk and stepped up to the front door, the skeleton key Eleanor had given him in hand. As he’d been instructed, he tapped his key against the door three times and it swung wide. Seeing a wooden turn its own handle and open by itself made him slightly uneasy despite himself. Though he was a monster hunter, he was no mage and shied away from the use of magic as much as possible. The art of seals and scrolls always gave him the heebie jeebies. 

Clive stopped by his room, which was little more of a glorified armory with a blowup mattress truth be told, and set his bags down by the reloading bench. He picked up a notepad beside the bench and scribbled out a note for himself to replace the salt he’d used on his little hunting trip.  Moving to a rather large and detailed map of the continental United States on the opposite wall, he replaced a red pin in southern Wisconsin with a green pin and frowned. The idea of a wendigo possession that late into spring and so close to a population center didn’t bode well. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a repeat of the summer of ‘09. 

[hider=Summary]
Clive wraps up a violent field trip and makes his way to the office.
[/hider]