A Mystery Unravelled
The Truth behind the ‘Skinwalker’ of Dobrov
Note about the Author: Hulath, known to many as: Hulath, Hulath of the Wood, Hulath the Elf, Hulath the Traveler, Hulath the Wanderer, Hulath Hulathson (son of Hulath), is a professional historian, linguist, researcher, and investigator. This is his fifth successful investigative journey into lands deemed too dangerous to traverse. He would like to thank his father, Hulath, and mother Hulith, for their constant and unwavering support.
Rumors and reports of a ‘skinwalker’ from the woods surrounding Dobrov, a man of sinister origin with markings upon his skin that kills, first came across my attention when I traveled north of Karosgorad to the small hamlet of Rose-field, within the grande county of Rainmar. The people there are a lovely bunch, not too unlike the neighboring small-folk of Honeyville. They warned me of this skinwalker that would put beasts of even greater stature, such as the dragon or drake, to heel. I sought to investigate the validity of their claims. I sought to see if there was any real danger.
The long and short of it is: There is no danger.
I descended into what the people of Rose-field called the “Southern Wood”, against their protesting and pleading, and found a rather dark and dingy forest. It was not pleasant, to be sure, but I did not find it particularly dangerous. The ground was a little too damp. The overhead cover was a little too dense. The air was cold, but the deeper I went, the warmer I felt. The trees protected me from the harsh northern winds. Then, just when I’d figured it was time to abandon this folly, I found him. I say him because it was not some beast that I came across. The ‘skinwalker’ that I was warned of was nothing more than a man!
Who was this man? His name was Maureece Fredrickson. Mr. Fredrickson was an Orenian by birth, of very little wealth. After the fall of Philip II, Mr. Fredrickson’s commanding officer ordered his unit into the northern woods of Dobrov (though from the point of view of Rose-field, this would be considered the southern woods) to act as a buffer between any advancing bandit armies. When one of those armies made contact, all of his unit but Mr. Fredrickson was killed. So, he has been living his life in solitude, acting as nothing more than a highwayman. He admitted he’d killed many people in his many years, but noted it was for his own survival. Some had carriages of food he’d needed. Others brought soldiers to arrest him. He too admitted that once upon a time he was an artist, and kindly painted my portrait. He was not very good, but it was some semblance of an old life that would make any grown man, woman or child weep.
That Mr. Fredrickson was truly a pitiful creature to observe.
During our conversation, Mr. Fredrickson grew more and more angry - perceivably at the way his sorry life has turned out - and he left me alone at my campfire. It was very sad. Unfortunately, news reached me on my return trip to Rose-field that Mr. Fredrickson had passed away. He’d died by hanging himself from a rather sad looking oak tree near one of the ponds on the eastern side of the Dobrov wood. This news came to me in my sleep. It was so vivid and real in my dream that it could be nothing more than the truth.
As proof of my adventure into the southern wood, I have attached here the portrait he painted of me.
The ‘skinwalker’ of Dobrov is dead. He was nothing more than a man: Maureece Fredrickson.
Published and written by: Hulath of the Wood
