It was one of the elders, Methuselah, who died that night. The door to his home lay in splinters and shards, scratching and deep gouges in the floor and the walls all along the path from his door to his bedroom. His elder son came from his own home to have breakfast with the man and found him in bed, his skull crushed into pulp and his body bruised and deformed as if great weight had been put on his arms, his ribs. Whatever inhuman beast had killed the man had departed through the bedroom window, smashing aside the glass and the wooden frame with no more care than it had used to destroy the front door.
The elders convened quickly, and in light of this new threat not just to the city and its people but to them as well, they doubled the strength of the guard. They ordered that every man and woman in the guard carry a rifle, and that anyone who ventured outside of their home at night carry a guard as well. The people of the city locked themselves in their homes, barred their doors and their windows against the night and prayed for day, but it did no good. The demon still came, and it killed a dozen of their number. It left no witnesses and no survivors, only mangled bodies and broken rifles.
The citizens panicked. They demanded the elders protect them, and the elders had no answers to give, no hope to offer. For the first time in its long and proud and bloody history, the city considered surrender.
And then Esau, the great hunter and warrior came before the gathered crowds and spoke. “My people. My friends. My family. We are demon-haunted. We are hunted. But I am a hunter, and I swear to you, no demon is greater than me. I will catch the fiend. I will kill it.”