Peekaboo

Han lead the way into the dark corridor holding the everbright lantern high trying to get all the effects of the dim light. In Han’s other hand he held a knife ready to throw. Kol positioned himself nest to the everbright lantern protecting Han’s now vulnerable side. Quinten followed them impressed again how the twins always seemed to work well together. Everyone else fell into place behind him with Sorn bringing up the rear with the second everbright lantern. Everyone stayed close to each other occasionally throwing sharp glances at the darkest corners of the already bleak hallway it was all a testament to what they had recently been through.

As they walked farther into the shadows and away from the light of the open door the more alive the darkness seemed. It became oppressive almost solid pushing at the feeble light of the everbright lanterns. They all continued to go deeper taking comfort that they were near things living. As they continued to walk into the gloom Quinten looked back at the dim light at the end of the hallway slowly getting dimmer. Something wasn’t right about that something was off about the slowly fading light suddenly realization hit him like a hammer and he ran back to the door shouting to the rest of the group.

“The door is closing. We are going to be trapped in hear.” They wear now all rushing back to the fading light. Quinten realized that they would never make it in time no matter how hard they ran. Frustration knotted his stomach “Halt, stop running, come back we would never make it anyway.” The light turned into a sliver and then disappeared altogether. ”we’ll find out how to open it after we find what we came here for.”

Quinten knew his voice was tight but he had to keep strong as he saw silent resignation on his companions faces. They continued down the bleak hallway each taking up their original positions but this time with an added air of glom and a hunch to their shoulders. It seemed as if nothing had disturbed this tower in some time. The dust hung heavy everywhere and the air carried the smell of a newly opened grave. Quinten was looking at the ground so he was the first to spot the small trendal of fog seeping through the cracks of the stone floor.

“Stop everyone don’t move.”

“What is it?” Heljah asked peering around him. “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s the fog its back.” Now everyone looked down and saw the fog getting thicker. They all made a circle with their backs to each other and readied their weapons. They waited and the fog got thicker. Soon their knees wear hard to see and only Sorn’s shoulders and head wear visible. As quickly as the fog appeared it left almost as if it was blown way or sucked quickly back from wear it had come from. Everyone stayed were they were not sure what to expect and expecting anything at the same time.

Quinten was desperately trying to see past the circle of their light. Desperately trying to have some kind of extra warning if it was at all possible. As he looked off into the darkness he heard a small giggle in back of him. Which one of his companions thought this was funny to him he could see no humor in the situation. Suddenly he heard again and quickly looked in back of him. A small ghost of a little girl looked back up at him, she couldn’t be older than six, she giggled and disappeared. He was left staring into the wide eyes of Kol strait across from him.

“You saw that to right?” Kol nodded and started looking around again.

“What was it what did you see?” Sorn asked looking around expectantly.

“It was a little girl she giggled and then just disappeared.” Now everyone was looking around. Valasar had his strange collection of odds and ends out again and began rubbing them and muttering looking worriedly from left and right tail twitching and the frill on the back of his neck going up and down. Suddenly the little girl was back running around the group and laughing. She ran up to Valasar and grabbed at his tail. Valasar was so frightened that he nearly jumped out of his skin. The little girl giggled, laughing she ran around Heljah peeking out every once in a while at the frightened Valasar and giggling. This sent Valasar into a fit of bowing and continued rubbing and more mutterings under his breath. The ghost girl loved it, throwing her head back and laughing, she ran around the group using each one as a shield to peek out at Valasar.

“She is playing with you Valasar.” Quinten said in amassment he had never seen anything like it. The little ghost of a girl seemed infatuated by the tall lizardman. The group just stared at her as she ran around and used each one of them for protection.

“This is not playing. This is what you do when stalking pray.” Valasar continued to look nervously at the apparition obviously afraid for his soul. With that he started praying fervently for any other death besides the one at the hands of a three foot less than solid girl. The little girl jumped out from behind Han and made a pickaboo face at Valasar, at this Valasar jumped again; she giggled and ran in back of Sorn who was just slightly taller then her. Sorn white knuckled stood still, he was handling this no better than Valasar.

The little girl ran out from behind Sorn and made another grab for Valasar’s tail. Already put of Valasar took a couple of steps back tail flicking back and forth before coming to rest on a stone in the hallway. All the warning they had was a tinny click and then a spear was hurled across they path that they would have taken. The little girl looked frightened and disappeared only to reappear clinging to Valasar’s leg. He was to freighted to do anything and just stood there looking down at the little ghost seeking his protection.

“No one move. This passageway is trapped no telling how many are ahead and how many are behind us.” Quinten looked around for signs of more traps; everyone else did as well except for Valasar, he was being preoccupied at the moment. The little ghost girl run up to Han and tried to take the lantern away from him. When she couldn’t get it way from him she ran over to Sorn and started blowing on the lantern he held as if trying to blow it out. She looked frightened and started to try to take the lantern from Sorn, making throwing motions as she did. Quinten put everything together fairly quickly.

“Destroy the lanterns.”

“What are you crazy we won’t be able to see it’s to dark in hear as it is.” Heljah yelled back.

“Do it now.” Both the lanterns shattered against the walls plunging them into darkness. It seemed like hours as they waited in the darkness and Quinten wondered if he had done the right thing. Slowly the walls began to glow and the ceiling and eventually the floor. Along the floor there would be an occasional stone that refused to glow and stood black against the floor one of these was the same stone that had set of the trap. “It was all magic even from the beginning. The darkness who would want to go in that without a light. Only you have to go without a light to see the way.”

“Darkness light.” Heljah said quietly. “Its part of the rime, Darkness light, I never thought about it like this.”

“No matter we have to continue on.” Quinten said starting forward he would be the first to catch a trap if the glow missed on he had lead them on this mission it was only right. The little ghost girl appeared before them skipping ahead of the party carefully dodging the darker spots on the path. Soon they came to a staircase and again the ghost lead them up occasionally she would skip a step and Quinten made sure that everyone else did as well. As they neared the top the little ghost ran down a short corridor and through a broken door Quinten followed her being followed in tern by the rest of the party.

It was a good sized room close to what Quinten guessed was the top of the tower. It looked like a study full of books and scrolls and in the center of the room was a high backed chair. A Skelton sat in it its face in its hands almost as if had died in the act of weeping. It still wore the rich robes of a high wizard faded with time. Cluching tightly to its leg was a much smaller skeleton. The little ghost ran over to it or beside it and picked up a stuffed animal, to Quinten it looked like a lizard, she ran over to Valasar holding it by the tail. She lifted it up as high as she could and made movements indicating she wanted Valasar to take the old thing. Very carefully Valasar took the offering and gently placed it in his sack a small tear made ring in the dust at Valasar’s feet. After Valasar put the sack back on his back the little ghost giggled running around the room and dancing.

“I suppose you would like to know what happened here?” a tall ghost walked out of the shadows and strode across the room to stand next to the skeleton eternally weeping. He was wearing the same robes of a high wizard but they fit him a little better. The little ghost girl run over to him throwing her arms around his leg smiling.

Ghost Town

A steep series of steps on the last leg of the journey, leading up to the abandoned mining town. Little more than dirt held back by wooden logs, it started Heljah off into a rant about shoddy craftsmanship, but she clambered up much more nimbly up than the rest of her companions. Every hundred yards or so they would come across little stone-mounted everbright lanterns. Many were still glowing despite more than seven years without care, but some were broken or flickering. A few were even missing, shorn straight off the sheer side of the mountain.

With the rocky peaks on to the west, darkness came early. Far out on the golden plains of Thrane they could still see the bright light of the sun, but the mountains cast long, jagged shadows.

Looking down, down at the spindly treetops and craggy rocks far below gave Han a stomach in revolt. "Kol, that's a pretty steep drop, wouldn't you say?"

"Han, I do believe it is a rather steep drop."

"I sure hope I don't stumble and oof-" Han made a big show of stumbling straight into Heljah, and then he tried to run into Valasar, though the lizardman avoided him nimbley.

"Han, stop it! You're going to throw someone off the edge!" Quinten was much grumpier than usual today.

Han continued shoving and pushing in the middle of the band. "Sorry, oh, you could have fallen their, sorry! Oh! Saved your life!" Kol rolled his eyes at his brother, and then gasped as one of Han's pranks almost pushed him off the edge. Sorn was right there behind him, pushing him back to safety, but the weight was to much for the little halfling, and he hovered for a moment on the very edge of the precipice, before cartwheeling backwards and out into open space.
Their was a moment of horrified silence, everyone looking at Han. Han's face was white, his hands cold and hot by turns.

Then with a shout the halfling, now safely mounted on his Soarial, rose up above them, his steed flapping her great wings. His laughter at his own jest sent everyone off into nervous chuckles, but Han was a little more careful after that. A somber mood hung over the company like the cloud vapor that clung to the mountainside, and they took the last steps in silence.

Finally they reached the village. Chill houses struggled up the steep sides of the narrow valley. The pitched roofs were rotting and broken. Rows of whitewashed walls and softened corners marched row by row behind a low stone wall and spindley ironwork fencing. The only sound was the growling moan of the wind.

About a quarter of the town was blackened, the charred houses mere husks or less, the streets covered in charcoal and pitch. It brought back cold memories of the War, and for a moment the party shifted aimlessly, each lost in their own thoughts. They entered one of the homes closest to the gates. The shutters were broken, the curtains in tatters and blowing like ghostly fingers. Two skeletal figures, a woman and a child to judge by the tattered clothing, were wrapped in each others arms in one corner of the room. Cobwebs and dust covered the little house in awful silence.

"Lets spread out." Quentin said after a moment, quietly. "It's already dark. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd rather not spend any time here after night falls for true."

They broke off into groups of two, searching house by house. Each told a story of work caught midway, filled with frozen remains and old sorrows, but nothing definite. Their was a particularly fine gold necklace in one of the larger houses, a few silver coins amidst the broken pottery of another. Han left it, and Kol, left the things of the dead to the dead. They'd already seen the curse over this place at work once, and they were not eager to face that kind of a fight a second time, despite their earlier bravado.

Han noticed a little road that led up, behind the village. Just above them he could make out the well-kept entrance to a tower, built partially into the mountain, where a few everbright lanterns still flanked the heavy stone doors.

A faint sound of laughter brushed past them.

Han turned back, to look past his twin, and stared at the village below them. True night was fast falling, and with it a silvery outline tingled across the village, a misty silhouette of what the it must have been like before- whatever had happened. Misty forms rose up around the gutted buildings, and human shadows walked the streets, stopping to talk to each other, pulling phantom carts. The howling of the wind had calmed, and now took on an almost conversational quality, as if they could make out snatches of conversation if they listened hard enough.

Kol noticed something in the expression of his brother and turned to look at the village. Ghost-children tumbled past him in with squeals of delight, and he jumped out of the way, only to have a cart-wright pass straight through his body.

Heljah and Quinten hurried up to the small rise where the twins stood, ignoring as best they could the ghostly apparitions around them. Suddenly Valasar was next to them, wild eyed, tail lashing. He had out a pouch of strange trinkets he was rifling through- a few downy feathers, a green stone, a tooth, a rats paw. He mumbled something under his breath, eyes darting from side to side, bowing nervously at each ghost as they passed.Tera swooped low and Sorn jumped from her back to the ground, whistling for her to circle high overhead. The halfling stood tall with his companions, but his hands were white-knuckle clenched.

"We should not be in this haunted ground," Valasar hissed nervously, the frill of spines on his head arched and trembling with his anxiety. "We will anger these spirits, who have not had the grave-rights performed for them."

"I agree with big scaley." Heljah muttered.

Quinten's mouth was a hard line. "We'll get what we came for and leave as soon as we can. Gentlemen, is this the place?" He gestured to the imposing tower behind them.

"Looks like it," Han said. In the silvery ghostlight from the town and the flickering of the everbright lanterns, the tower crouched over them like some gluttonous monster in the gloom.

They approached the stone doors of the edifice, glancing back nervously at the suddenly 'lively' town. Two corpses seemed to be clawing at the entrance. One clutched the side of the door, while the other, clad in heavy dwarf mail, had struggled to inscribe a final message on the wall before expiring. The message was in dwarven runes, and Han tired not to think to hard about what had been used in place of ink.

"Let me see what I can do." Heljah leaned over the dead dwarf, absentmindedly tracing the symbol of the dwarven god Iluvar over his forehead before pushing him gently aside to concentrate on his last message. "It's pretty faded, but I can still out some of what it says. 'To free the dead.... circles.... lock... cursed gate.... shake.'"

"What?" Han asked, scratching his head.

"It's just nursery rhyme." Heljah said in frustration. "Dwarvish children sing it when they play skip-a-drop."

"What's the whole thing then?" Quinten asked

"If you wish to free the dead
from slavery in circles bled,
You must unlock the cursed gate,
Though it cause your knees to quake,
For only when the bound are free,
Can they find rest eternally.

Sorcery the whip, blood the key,
Darkness light, trail the ash tree.

And then you start counting how many times you can jump over the drop without falling in." Haljah finished.

"Sounds terrible." Kol commented.

"It's quite safe, as long as you tie your rope properly." Heljah said.

"No, I meant the rhyme. Why do you have a nursery rhyme about the undead?"

"Why do you humans have a nursery rhyme about the plague?"

"Okay everyone, give me a moment." Quentin looked at the rhyme, and then at the door. After another minute or two he fiddled with it--Han couldn't see what he was doing--and then the great stone doors opened with the deep grind of stone against stone.

"Wow, you figured out how to open the door just from that rhyme?" Han said, impressed.

"The key was in the lock." Quinten said. "Alright. Lets say goodbye to our ghostly friends for now, shall we?"

Involuntarily, the whole band looked back at the village. The ghostly buildings now seemed more real than the broken structures beneath them in the dark of the night. The whole village of ghosts now stood, silently watching them. The wind was gone, and not a whisper was heard. A single figure, an old dwarf with sad eyes and a scraggly beard, he waived slowly, and then the entire apparition wavered and fled. All that could be seen now were the shadowy forms of the broken buildings.

Han grabbed one of the everbright lanterns from its sconce on the wall, pealing the skeletal fingers back. Sorn grabbed the other. Together, the band crept into the tower.

Another Desk

Cassandra shuffled through the constant pile of papers on her desk wishing once again that there was less paperwork required for her position. She leaned up against her high backed chair trying to stretch the tight muscles in her lower back. It had been a long day and she had never liked paper work. She felt more comfortable on a battle field her life in constant danger ordering units and coming up with battle plans discussing tactics. Tactics were easy compared to the constant barrage of documents required by the city of Sharn. She did the work though without complaint to the other members. They had followed her and trusted her and she would do everything in her power to protect and take care of them.

She rubbed her eyes with her right hand trying to dispel the ach that was behind them. She then looked down at her other hand her namesake. She held it up in front of her and flexed the fingers. It looked more like a claw then a hand but what could you expect from those that gave it to her. Cassandra Silverhand and indeed the hand did have a silver sheen to it. Beautifully intricate and strong the hand would look more at home on a monster than its current owner but Cassandra would have it no other way. The hand was a testament of a past life. A life that had, as it were, a very high price to live.

She flexed the silver hand again and a quit noise of different parts stirring accompanied the movement. The magic that allowed the hand to move was ancient and would never wear down. Cassandra did not know how old the hand was or indeed were it had come from but was grateful for it all the same. She began to touch the thumb of the hand to the three claw like fingers in a series of movements. Exercises she had to perform every day when she first got her hand and was getting used to it. There was of course the constant hum of gears greeting each of her movements. The hand had never been made for stealth and indeed the constant hum had gotten her and others into trouble when silence was needed. The noise and hum of the gears had also lead a new friend to them. One, which was now a part of their lives and the company.

Cassandra allowed herself a small smile as she thought about him and his awkwardness with their society. As she was wondering how he was doing on his first quest away from Sharn her thoughts were interrupted by hoofsteps steadily getting louder. They continued to get louder and things in Cassandra’s small office began to shake as they drew near almost taking on an angry tone. The steeps stopped suddenly in front of Cassandra’s office door. Not letting the owner of the hoofsteps knock or announce himself she called out in a clear voice.

“Go ahead and come in Bloodmane its open.”

The first lieutenant of the Silverhand Company opened the door and began to enter shaking his head and letting out a soft bellow as he did so. The door into Cassandra’s office was not small but even so it had never been built for someone like Bloodmane. The big shaggy Minotaur had to enter carefully ducking his head and turning it sideways to allow space for his bullish horns. After safely getting his head through the doorway he entered first with his right shoulder a ropy scare running from his shoulder to his midriff clearly visible. A great lion like mane covered his head and most of his neck continuing in a line down his back. The mane and the shaggy hair that covered his legs making feathers around his cloven hoofs were a rust colored red giving him his name. A much shorter coat of chestnut fur covered the rest of him.

He came and stood in front of Cassandra’s desk fury in his eye. It is common knowledge that it would be better to put your head into a bucket of scorpions then to be in an angry Minotaur’s way. She could tell by looking at him that he was angry, but really anyone could right then. Eight feet tall and five hundred pounds anyone would be careful when Bloodmane was mad. Cassandra though slowly gathered her papers and put them into a draw almost ignoring Bloodmane’s stair. Suddenly both of Bloodmane’s hands slammed into Cassandra’s desk causing the sturdy desk to grown in complaint.

“Do you know what that son of goat, that that two bit half-elf has done know?” Bloodmane roared his sharp teeth flashing in the light of the everglow lantern. Usually calm and stoic it was generally hard to get more than two words out of Bloodmane. Quinten on the other hand had a knack of getting under his thick fur. Cassandra was sure that most of the time it was unintentional but other times she wondered if Quinten did some things on purpose just to see Bloodmane’s reaction.

“Before you go on to tell me could you please remove your hands from my desk I don’t want to replace it again so soon.” Bloodmane threw back his shoulders and thrust his thumbs behind the thick belt he had holding up his kilt. His anger a little abashed from the memory of the first desk he had ruined. The way that he stood it almost looked like he was standing to attention Cassandra had asked him not to do that anymore but some habits were hard to break. Sighing she leaned back in her chair.

“Ok Bloodmane why don’t you tell me what are good Quinten has done this time.”

“Good GOOD all tell you how good he is. You know that blasted awful smell that has been around for the last couple of days?” Cassandra nodded. She had not been able to smell anything but then Bloodmane had a very powerful nose likely the only other person that came close to his since of smell was Vallasar. “Well it was coming from his room. He had left food in their half eaten. The gluten couldn’t even dispose of it before he left.”

Cassandra listened quietly and calmly letting her old friend vent his frustration. She knew that this matter was not the real problem, even though it did annoy him and give him an excuse to come and complain about Quinten. Bloodmane didn’t like the fact that others were out helping the company and he was not. More to the point others were possibly getting the chance to fight while he was stuck in Sharn doing errands. He was no more suited to this life than she. Cassandra decided to get right to the point.

“I didn’t want you going on this mission because I knew it was something only Quentin could complete.”Bloodmane blinked and once again he was the calm right hand of the company.

“What do you mean?” He said gruffly.

“What I mean is that this was all a set up and it required Quentin’s background to complete.” she had not let on to Quentin’s background figuring that that was his to tell. She doubted if Quinten knew how much she knew of him. “A group came to me recently that know of Quinten they asked me for help. It seems that one of their number is a traitor and overzealous to boot. They asked me to help them come up with a plan to bring him out into the open so he could be dealt with. They also said that Quinten was the only one that could do this. It’s because of the hate that this individual has for him that is what would bring him out into the open. I don’t know why he hates him so much but looked at this as a good opportunity to make connections. Not the best connections mind you but we need this kind to, if we are to survive in the city. Already the number of jobs that have come are way have dwindled.”

“So what about Quinten haarm I mean what about those who went with him?” Cassandra smiled to herself for all of Bloodmane’s gruffness he also cared deeply for the company.

“They should all be fine. We found a small town in the mountains that had been destroyed and abandoned in the war. All we had to do was make up a good enough reason to go there then connect it to one of their high ranking members. As it was they are to look for documents and a rumor was put out in their organization that they were important and could ruin the individual that was connected to them. So more than likely Quinten will get to this village and find nothing there, or find some old dusty documents and bring them back. All that is left then is for the traitor to contact them and demand the documents thus sealing his dome. So in the end all it will be is a lot of walking.” When she was done talking she looked at Bloodmane as he processed all of the information. Suddenly he smiled showing the long canines that never belonged on a bull.

“He is going to be angry when he learns it was all a ruse.” Said Bloodmane.

“And I expect he never will, I have handled the situation so the payment comes through him.” Cassandra gave Bloodmane a piercing look and continued. “I will be very angry if I find out he learned of this conversation.”

“Do not worry about me, if you will excuse me.” Bloodmane said and started to leave the room as carefully as he came in. As he was about to close the door he turned around and commented with a smile. “It will be better if I’m the one who knows.”

Cassandra could only smile as she was once again alone in her office. She put her hand down and pulled gently and then a little harder on the desk drawer. Sighing she made a mental note to look for a new desk.

The Bodies

“This belonged to the others we heard screaming?” Quinten asked.

“I believe they may have been the men that Sorn reported to you two days ago.” Valasar nodded to the Halfling.

“What were they doing so close to us?” Han asked.

“Probably trying to make sure we don’t poach on their territory,” Quinten answered absently, rifling through the pouch. “Three men aren’t any serious threat to us, but maybe they would have been looking for ways to discourage from going further.”

“Probably bandits.” Heljah spat on the ground.

Quinten pulled out a single small scroll, a few battered copper coins, some herbs, and a small, rotund figurine in dragonstone- A fat merchant, the symbol of the god Kor-Anan. “They could have been woodsmen, seeking to defend their territory.”

“They had swords.” Sorn pointed out, “And some light armor. I doubt they were merely hunting.”

“Whoever they were, they’re dead now.” Quintens’ voice had a curious flat quality to it.

“What’s that coin- the larger one, with the half-compass?” Heljah suddenly grabbed the coin, holding it up to the light. “This is the mark of the-“ She stopped speaking, suddenly, glaring at Quinten.

Quinten shrugged, “It’s Aurum.” He glanced at the others in the party. “A band of thieves in high places.”

“We’ve had a run-in with them before.” Heljah was glaring at Quinten, but he returned the stare with one of his own. Sorn wondered at their reaction, but kept quiet.

“If those men Sorn saw were from the Aurum, then we’ve got a lot more competition for this little excursion than I had anticipated,” Quinten replied lightly. He stood up abruptly. “Let’s take a look at the bodies.” Quinten directed Kol and Han to the south side, down the steep path. He sent Valasar and Heljah to the east, where Valasar said the body was a little harder to discover. Sorn and Quinten took the west, the closest to the clearing. Nobody said anything, but the suddenness of the attack, the screams before hand, it was all a little unnerving.

The bright sunshine and birdsong were harsh counterpoint to the violence that had so recently occurred. Soren and Quinten moved quickly through the underbrush, skirting a few boulders and ledges, to where Valasar had indicated the third body to be, on top of a small rocky outcropping with a clear view of the clearing a hundred or so yards away.

It was clear the skeletons wraiths had done it. The flesh was scored and bruised with a brutal efficiency, and the horror on the man’s face was still evident. Rigor mortis was setting in. In the cool mountain air, the scene was all the more stark, the wet blood bright in the sun.

There was something strange about the body.

"This look like one of the bandits you mentioned earlier?" Quinten asked, squatting down and ignoring rank smell.

No stranger to the battlefield, Sorn also bent over the body. "Yes, but he was different before. He had on half-plate leather armor, Aruldusk cut, and carried a bow, arrows, and a sword." He touched a finger of the right hand. "See here, this man was clutching a pommel when he died."

"Where's the sword?" Quentin took a quick scan of the surrounding countryside. The treetops closed in around them, the clearing was the only open space to be seen.

"Check his hand." Soren picked up the limp member. "See how it is powdered white?" He gestured to other points on the body. "There and there, bruising from wearing armor, but again, all I see is that white powder."

"Like the skeletons. They turned to powder. But somehow I doubt they were working together.”

"I think I’ve seen this before.” Sorn wracked his memory. “It was a Karnathi Death-Spell. Anyone killed by the undead soldiers were raised by fell magic as more wraith-warriors.” He shivered. “Nasty stuff. Bet you wish you had that elf cleric with you now, instead of a half-bit lousy old scout like me.”

“Sorn, the attack was a magical- I doubt you could have predicted it. You had already spotted these men; you shouldn’t feel bad about the ambush.”

“Maybe.” Sorn tried to sound cheerful, but guilt gnawed at his gut. He should have been closer to the party; he should have seen this coming.

"The Thrane Inquisition is very diligent about rooting out old burial mounds," Quinten said. “That was one of their big issues with Karnath during the war- the use of undead. I wonder why this crypt, wherever it is, wasn’t found?”

"But what about this town we are going to. You said it was destroyed in the War."

"A Death-Curse? Massive enough to level an entire village in one go?"

"I've seen stranger things." Soren bent down. A strange tattoo had been sliced in half by a particularly nasty blow. "What's this?"

"Mark of the Aurum." Quinten said grimly. "So it was them." To himself he muttered, “Not going to like this.”

"You sound bitter." Soren looked up at his larger companion. There was something strange in his expression, but he couldn't quite figure out what it meant.

The half-elf was about to reply, but a shout from the direction of the twins made him turn. They jogged quickly to meet up with the others.

There was a little farm stead. It was gone to ruins, grown over by ivy, saplings shooting up in the back plot where a garden must have been. The stones were torn from one side of the building, but it mostly looked deserted. Chalk-white powder was everywhere on the ground.

“Look at this! I think we may be near the outskirts of the town.” Hal gestured them over.

“It looks like it’s been deserted for some time.” Kol remarked. “Since before the end of the War, even.

“Looks like you were right, Sorn.” Quinten gestured to the ground, where the powder lay. “The skeletons resting place. If this was part of the town, it makes sense that the death-curse would extend this far out.” In one part of the wall was a small hallow, a little shrine area. Quinten reached inside his pack, and pulled out the little statuette, replacing it in the alcove. It slid into place as if it had always been there.

The air around the little house shivered, and abruptly the chill in the air lifted. The sun beat down on their heads again, and brightness came back into the air. Somehow, the sudden brightness after the previous events was even more foreboding.

Kol was the first to break the silence. “Let’s head out.” He said.

Sorn whistled for his Soariel companion, worry nagging his bones. He should have been there to warn the band- as scout, it was his job to watch out for dangers like this. It didn't help that no one else blamed him. Death-spells were notoriously tricky to spot by mundane means, but still.

Sorn pushed his goggles down. It wouldn't happen again, not on his watch. There was a rocky cliff face near the abandoned cottage. Taking a running leap off the edge, Sorn spent a breathless three seconds in free fall before Tera was under him. Together they labored upward, to gain altitude, a grim new determination in their eyes.