Blackgrave

Six green hooded figures sat inside Gil’s tavern as the dwarf detailed the events of three nights prior as thoroughly as he could. A girl had gone missing Chaos 1st, and they were tasked to find her. Though when they arrived and spoke to Gil, it was clear they were too late.

“So then the Witch is gone, and you buried our brother in the graveyard?” Lord Gremmelt asked. He had been tasked with putting together a party of Witch Hunters to look into any witch activity. Having always found his calling hunting after the Curse of Arcane, Lord Gremmelt was one to play things safe. He requested two extra blades to join him in case the hunt proved challenging.

“Yes,” Gil told him. “In a shallow grave, you can’t miss it.”

“Very well,” Lord Gremmelt said. “Thank you, sir.” He motioned for the Witch Hunters to follow him out. Being a Lord, they all knew this was his show.

“We will have to make our way to Sossaboro,” he said. “If what the sea dwarf says is true, then we can’t ignore it. It’s six days back to the keep if we rush, so at the very least we will head north to recover the bodies of our brothers.”

Lord Gremmelt rubbed his chin and said, “we should at least confirm what we can on our own before we press on. Let’s head to the boy's house, check the river, and stop by the graveyard. I’m also curious to see where the Witch Hunter’s body was found. It's unfortunate the family took a few days to write to us, even worse they live on the southern most edge. Even if they had a raven to send, we probably wouldn’t have arrived much sooner.”

“Do you think we will run into any trouble?” Naja asked. She was trained by Lord Gremmelt since she was young.

“I think not,” Lord Gremmelt told her. “But if what he said is true, and there was a Witch or even a Coven here, then it is better if we look around.”

“Should we split up?” Kangee asked. Kangee was from a tribe of Crow Clan, though he had left his flock early in his youth.

“No,” Lord Gremmelt replied. “Let's stick together for now.”

Lord Gremmelt took the lead and the other five followed behind. The town of Eddelsreef was a small and quiet place with only one road through town. Houses lined along one side of the road, and Gil’s tavern sat alone on the other. The town was along the coast, and right off of it a large, jagged reef that made landing a boat impossible. The only way into town was through a hooded bridge called Bryar’s Bridge. Everything after that bridge all the way up the road to the Wounded Peaks was considered Bryars territory.

They took the road until they reached Eija’s house. Outside of it were two Bryarsmen. They spotted the Witch Hunters and greeted them as they approached.

“Well met, Witch Hunters,” said one of the Bryarsmen. “Can we help you?”

The Bryarsmen were trained and employed by Lord Bryars, a wealthy noble of Scrydell’s royal court who after marrying a Zenidition Princess sought to turn the coppermines of the Wounded Peaks into a profit.

“Bryarsmen,” Lord Gremmelt said as he stepped up to them. “We’re here to have a look in this home. The tavern keeper, Gil, told us this is the house that belonged to the family who wrote for us to come.” The Bryarsmen showed no hesitation in allowing the Witch Hunters access.

“The home is yours to search. We were only making sure everything was locked up and had a look around so we knew what to report,” one of the Bryarsmen told them.

“No need to explain yourselves, men,” Lord Gremmelt said. “I too once carried a shield for the Bryars, I know what comes with the job.” The Bryarsmen gave Lord Gremmelt a nod before taking their leave.

“You used to be a Bryarsmen?” Naja asked, “you never mentioned that before.”

Lord Gremmelt smiled.“Isolation’s chill has come and gone many times since then. That was when I was still a young man,” Lord Gremmelt replied. He put his hand on another Witch Hunter’s shoulder. It was Akecheta, another member of a tribe of Crow Clan and also prior Bryarmen. “Though I was not the only one.”

“You served the Bryars?” Kangee asked Akecheta.

“Every man has to eat,” Akecheta told him. “Though I am sure you learned that in the war.” Akecheta shot Kangee a sordid look. Akecheta was a young man, and had been a Bryarsmen for only a few years before he left it behind to join the Order. Kangee, however, had left his youth behind him during the Wildland War.

“It wasn’t the only thing I learned,” Kangee replied. “I learned how easy it was to snuff out the flame of life.” Kangee fixed his cold dead gaze on Akecheta. “And how trusting clanfolk are just because I bear the same birth as them.”

“Enough of your horror stories, Kangee the Afflicted” spoke up another Witch Hunter. It was Ra’Selas, a pale man with silver hair who served Scrydell during the Wildland War, though unlike Kangee, who had been returned home in chains, Ra'Selas was promoted for his bravery and was revered as a hero. Kangee laughed and cracked a smile while switching his gaze to Ra’Selas.

“My crimes shine a light on your accomplishments,” Kangee said. “If anything you should be thanking me. I may be a blood soaked crow, but you are the grand Eagle of Scrydell. Hero and beacon of pride for Scrydell soldiers.”

“Put it to rest you two, the war ended 15 years ago,” Lord Gremmelt said. “Let us leave that blood in the past and remain fixed to the task at hand.” He opened the door and they all stepped inside.

The whole house was a mess. The table was flipped over, drawers were pulled out, and junk was strewn all over.

“Search the house top to bottom, if you find anything strange, bring it to me,” Gremmelt commanded and everyone got to work searching for clues.

Kangee looked around the outside of the house and at all of the tanning ranks. Akecheta and Ra'Selas took the bedrooms. Naja and Ronso checked around the bakestone and the table while Lord Gremmelt walked around and checked beneath the chairs, under the drawers, and around the beds.

“Lookie, lookie,” Ronso said as she found a few loose silver coins. She made sure the others didn’t see her, then she added the coins to her own collection. Soon everyone returned to Lord Gremmelt who found a healing salve of some kind.

“Well, anything of use?” he asked. Naja showed him a steel dagger she found and he told her she could keep it.

“You're not going to share?” Akecheta joked.

“And what would you have me do? Cut it in half?” She held the blade up and waved it in her hand.

“I’ll take the hilt!” Akecheta replied.

“Enough,” Lord Gremmelt said. “Anything else?” Kangee silently nodded from the doorway.

“Salt.” He shot a gaze outside towards some tanning racks. “More than enough for everyone.”

“Good,” Lord Gremmelt said. “Everyone grab a jar, and let's get to the river crossing.” The Witch Hunters followed Lord Gremmelt out of the house, filled their jars, and headed towards Bryar’s bridge. They walked along the river's edge until it crossed, and they found the blood left behind.

“This is where the young Witch killed her parents and fought our brother” Gremmelt said as he looked around. “Keep an eye out,” he dropped down and studied the blood that stains.

What happened here? Gremmelt placed a hand down on the grass and surveyed the area. He was looking for an Arcane marking of some kind, something left behind that could help him understand what kind of powers the Witch had.

While the others fanned out and searched the surrounding area, Ronso squared up to where the rivers crossed. She spotted blood on the other side, and from what Gil had told them, the Witch Hunter who was here jumped it and gave chase to the young Witch into the woods that lay beyond them.

Quite the jump. Ronso, like Naja, had been raised within the walls of the Order. They were trained by battle hardened warriors like Lord Gremmelt. Referred to as Initiates when their training begins, those raised in the Order often took on a wild or fanatical approach when on the hunt, and Ronso had the reputation of being an untamed spirit.

“Find anything?” Lord Gremmelt called out. Everyone but Ronso returned empty handed. She was engrossed by something across the river.

“Ronso!” he yelled but she stayed facing the crossing. “Something in the river?”

Ronso turned and walked back shaking her head. “No, but I I see the blood trail on the other side. It’s narrow where the rivers cross.” A half-crazed smile crept on her face. “If we get a run start I think we can make it.”

Lord Gremmelt could not believe she was even suggesting jumping. He shook his head and forced himself to smile. These Initiates are a wild bunch.

“Bryar's bridge is only just up the river. There is no sense jumping it. Besides, some of us are not as young as you,” Lord Gremmelt replied.

“Then you shall meet me on the other side.” Ronso winked and took off running towards the crossing. Her heart pounded in her chest and just as the water was nearly right beneath her, she leapt. Her foot failed to find a proper place, and loose earth sunk beneath her. She lept in the air, though she was falling fast. As soon as her legs hit the water she tossed her halberd across and braced for impact.

The current was fast and was taking her down the stream. Tumbling and twisting in the cold waters she Frantically threw her arms around until she hit a large rock and wrapped around it tightly. Her hand suddenly felt something strange. It was the hilt of a sword. She pulled the blade to herself and held it close.

Just have to push off this rock and pull myself up. Come on, I can do this! She took a deep breath, dropped into the waters and with one hard push, she was at the other side. She grabbed a hold of a root, dug her boots into the mud and tossed the blade up before pulling herself up.

“Ronso, you crazy son of a bitch!” Lord Gremmelt yelled. “Don’t move! We will be right there.” Lord Gremmelt turned to the others. “Let’s hurry up and get over there.”

Ronso waved her hands. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll still be here.”

She sprawled out on the ground and looked up at the sky. “I could have made it if my foot didn’t slip,” she said to herself.

She took a deep breath and sat there looking up at the clouds, enjoying them as they passed her by. Her halberd was a few feet away, and the longsword she had found in the water was right beside her.

Great, now I have to just sit here and wait and I’m all wet. Ronso thirsted for combat, whether it was because she was born of Frantic, or because she was raised in the Order she did not know and she did not care. She only knew that she hated to be bored.

A sudden crack brought her to her feet in an instant. She grabbed the sword she found as she rose and backed up towards her halberd.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” she asked the two rough looking men who approached from the woods.

“Put down your weapon,” said one of them. He held a crude iron sword as if it were his first time.

“Yeah, kick it over to us,” the other said. He was bald with a mustache and carried a spear with a rusted tip.

Ronso smiled. Entertainment has arrived.

“Very well, I will put down my weapon,” she playfully dropped her sword in front of her.

The bandits smiled and motioned for her to kick it over.

“But,” she told them. “Only so I can kick this one up.” She kicked up her halberd and caught it in her hands.

“You should consider yourself lucky,” she reflected the sun off the head of her ax. “I only just had this made this year to hunt those carrying the Curse of Shabetsu.”

She stepped towards the bandits. “So you see, it has yet to see any kind of battle. And though I was hoping to baptize it with the blood of a werewolf, I don’t think I can contain myself.”

Ronso looked down the river and could see the others were not far off. “We better hurry,” she said to the bandits. “I don’t want anyone to spoil this.” She smiled before she charged.

Ronso swung her halberd straight for one’s neck, but the bandit ducked beneath it. The other rushed her in the opening and slashed her chest. The blade dug into her leathers grazed her arm. Ronso jumped back putting distance between her and the bandits. They still hadn’t noticed the other Witch Hunters. Still time.

One of the bandits pressed towards her with the point of his blade, thrusting at her as he stepped in. Ronso stepped aside and with a heavy swing, took a chunk out of the man's arm. He shrieked in pain.

His companion rushed Ronso but was stopped mid step by Lord Gremmelt’s blade. He shoved it into his neck and the man fell to the ground dead. Seeing the others had spoiled the fight, Ronso decided to end things. With a quick step, a turn of the hip, and heavy pull, her halberd tore into the man's forehead and cut cleanly out the top.

“Are you hurt?” Lord Gremmelt asked with a disappointing look.

“Just a scratch,” she showed him where the blade cut her flesh. It was a small cut, and blood ran down her arm.

Lord Gremmelt sighed. “Let's try not to do anything more foolish than that. Get your arm bandaged, but first let's examine that blade.” He grabbed the blade she had found in the river and held it in his hands. It was made of steel and had only one edge.

“This blade was made at the Order. It must be the Witch Hunter’s,” he handed the blade to Ronso. “Hold on to it for now. You really shouldn’t use your halberd for men - that blade was forged to hunt werewolves and arcane beasts.”

“My training days are done, I know what my blade is used for. It is used to kill,” Ronso snapped.

“Training is never finished,” Lord Gremmelt replied. “You’ll be sorry when your weapon is broken and we're face to face with a werewolf.”

Lord Gremmelt looked at the others. “Let's follow the trail to the mound. I want to see exactly where he died.”

The blood trail left led through the woods, into a swamp, and up onto a mound of grass that was encircled by water. A large red blotch covered the center of the grass.

“Fan out and search the area,” Lord Gremmelt commanded.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Naja asked.

“Anything that looks out of place or peculiar,” Lord Gremmelt replied. He stepped around in the water and looked inside logs and around trees. The others all spread out to search in different areas. Lord Gremmelt pulled himself up onto the mound of grass that had a large dark tree.

It still didn’t have leaves, and had an ominous look to it. He circled around it and found a dark red bag made of felt pinned into the bark. It was small, and had the symbol of Chaos stitched in black on the front of it. Lord Gremmelt grabbed the bag and returned to the mound.

“Gather around Witch Hunters!” he called out. “Can anyone tell me what this is?” He dangled the bag in front of him.

“Hex bag!” Naja answered.

“Very good,” he replied. “I think this confirms Gil’s story.” He opened the bag and spilled out the contents. It was filled with ash, teeth, and small bones of some kind.

“Any idea what it did?” Ra'Selas asked.

Lord Gremmelt cocked his head slightly to the side. “I can’t say for sure, but I’ve seen something like it before. Could be it weakens the will, maybe causes you to see or hear things that aren't really there. It’s hard to say, but it's no good keeping it in one piece.”

He lifted the bag and bit his thumb till he bled. He smeared his blood on the bag and set it ablaze, dropping it on the mound of earth beneath him.

“I don’t like how all this is shaping up,” he said. Whatever was going on here, it was gone now. What happened in Sossaboro? The Witch Hunters looked to Lord Gremmelt for a plan, and he knew that whatever was happening in Sossaboro, whoever was buried, left behind bodies. Something never to be done. “Let’s go see our fallen brother.”

The graveyard was behind the houses where the clearing met the woods. A small iron gate surrounded it and only two dozen or so tombstones were found within. A stone slab used for Festival pyres laid in the back, and would remain unused until Chaos gave way to Greed. An unmarked shallow grave was beside it. The Witch Hunters surrounded it.

“Our fallen brother lies buried here, and we have to take him back to Witchbane Keep to be burned so his spirit can rest. Sossaboro is only a day’s travel. We will leave him here for now. Once we have recovered the rest of our fallen kin, I’ll decide if we get involved with whatever is happening in Sossaboro.” Lord Gremmelt knelt down beside the shallow grave and placed his hand on it.

“Rest easy brother, your Festival will soon come to pass.” The others bowed their heads, some said a prayer, others just looked down in silence. They left Eddlesreef and took the northern road out of town.