Simon came from a family of hunters. Not your avarge buck or doe hunter. No one's who hunt monstrosities, werewolves, Vampires, Ghosts, Ghouls you name it they've hunted it. Setting traps and bait to lure them out only to brutally slay them after for coin.

Recently there'd been rumours and talk around the village that there was something in the woods. It was typical for this area for these 'myths' to be spoke of. After talking to person after person Simon finally got some ideas of what he was against.

Going to his mother's work shed, stealing the cross bow, loading arrows in a quiver to brim after lacing the tip of each arrow with silver. He was up against a werewolf. A creature that could hide in plain sight till a full mooned night. They've been known to hunt wild animals and sometimes people. Werewolves and vampires usually stayed out of the territory of the other from clan clashes centuries old.

Venturing into the woods Simon stumbled upon the werewolf he'd been sent after laying feeble on the ground in a vulnerable position. Laying weak and injured. He would kill them there and then but something inside off him forced that instinct away, he instead picked them up and took them home. Taking anything he could from the pharmacy that'd help this creature he'd allowed into his home nursing them to health.

After at least two weeks he looked at the hairy man who was laying on the pull out bed in the corner of his room

"Hey furball, you okay or should I give you more pain meds? Or are we looking for something else like a hug?"