Blackgrave

The clanfolk who lived in the swamps were unphased by the spirit activity. Fishermen were out in the swamps on boats despite it being night, children splashed water with their feet on the wooden walkways, and a few older men were up on a balcony smoking from a pipe.

Akecheta was unsurprised. Despite being raised Aredesan by Speaker Everdeen before her death, he learned about his people and their natural spirituality. To those that belong to the Crow Clan, spirits are not something inherently good or evil. They simply exist. Crow Clan shamans often commune with the dead, and have spirits aid them in battle.

Like other members of the Crow Clan, Akecheta had a spiritual connection with his crow, who he named after the woman that raised him. One that allowed him to communicate with her without words. Her presence was always with him even if she was up on a tree. If he concentrated hard enough, he could even see through her eyes, something he thought was special when he first discovered it, but soon found out was common among the Blackfeather tribe.

As Akecheta approached the first walkway, the group on the balcony all stopped murmuring and looked down at him. He paused, unsure if he should continue. Everdeen flew past him and perched up by the large murder of crows gathered on the tallest house. Everdeen was anxious at first, but after the other crows gave her some space, she spread her wings and stretched, letting out a satisfying caw. Akecheta breathed easy. If Everdeen was comfortable, then he could be as well.

A tan man with long dark braided hair approached him. He had a crow feather woven into his hair that stuck out from behind his head and was adorned in leather and furs. He examined Akecheta from top to bottom before speaking.

“What is it you want?” the man plainly asked.

“I want to know what’s going on here,” he motioned with his eyes towards all the people. “I take it you know it's only targeting Bryarsmen?”

“That and witch hunters,” the man replied.

“I just want the killing to come to an end,” Akecheta said. “Surely someone here has seen the spirit, if not them, than their crow.”

The man peered past Akecheta before speaking in Wufolic, the tongue of all the clanfolk. “Shhh, speak softly of the spirit. Bryarsmen listen well even if they claim not to speak our tongue.”

He led Akecheta up to the balcony and to a railing that overlooked the swamp. “This is Bryarsmen’s doing. They caused her to become this. She won’t leave until she gets the one who did this to her.”

“What exactly happened?” Akecheta asked, replying in Wufolic.

“Altera’s caged bird was ripe with chick. The night she disappeared I saw Captain Wellers come from the water with a grave look in his eyes. Altera was on the bridge by the sentry tower holding a lantern,” the man placed his hands on the railing and a crow landed on his shoulder. “They thought the mist would shroud them, but the crows see all.”

Akecheta noticed all of the crows out in the swamp. There were dozens. Some were high up on trees, others low and near the water looking for something to eat. “Who is Altera’s caged bird?” he asked.

“Conero’s daughter, Vasha. The girl too pretty to work the coppermines. She was Altera’s caged bird.” The man softly petted his crow.

“And you're sure that this Vasha is the spirit?”

“Yes,” the man nodded. He called over a young boy who ran over and hugged his leg. “Tell him,” he said to the boy as he patted his back. “Tell him what happened when you got lost in the swamp on your raft.”

The boy stared uneasily at Akecheta, but with the encouragement the man gave him, he found the strength to speak. “I was in the water when the mist showed up and I couldn’t find my way back home. I heard a baby cry, so I thought I was near town and paddled towards the cries. I was near a large fallen tree when I saw her. It was Vasha, and she led me back to town through the mist.”

“And the cries got further away as you were led back to town?” Akecheta asked and the boy nodded. The man rubbed the boy’s head and gestured him off.

“If she is given who she desires, she will pass on from this place.” The man held his gaze on Akecheta. “Any more questions?”

“No,” Akecheta shook his head. “Thank you.”

Akecheta left them and Everedeen followed .The others had only just returned from talking to the townsfolk in the chapel, and met up with Akecheta outside of the tavern.

“Lets secure our lodgings before speaking on anything. While we eat we will discuss tomorrow's plan,” Lord Gremmelt said as they entered.

Inside there was a bard plucking a melody on his lute. He wore a fine yellow dress coat with blue buttons. He had a neatly trimmed goatee, his dark hair was in a ponytail, and by his side laid a large dog with shaggy gray fur. A few townsfolk were gathered around a table drinking, and three Bryarsmen sat in the corner. Naja approached the bard while the others paid for rooms and a drink.

“May I pet your hound?” she asked him. The bard continued to pluck on his lute and smiled.

“You may, if Elliot allows it,” he replied. Naja offered up her hand slowly to the dog who rose to sniff it. He planted his nose on her knuckles and gave it a few licks before rubbing his snout into her hand.

“Good evening, bard,” Lord Gremmelt said as he approached. “Didn’t imagine I’d hear any music this far out in the swamps. What brings you out this way?”

“I am just a traveler here to play a tune. I have the habit of going with the breeze you see. And as it has been, so shall it be, that when that breeze blows once more, I will take my leave,” he turned slightly away from them. “But this place is somber. There is a coldness in the air.”

He smiled and returned his gaze to them. “This tune is all I can do to ease these people, and allow them to get a good night's rest.”

“Have you been here long?” Naja asked.

“I only arrived this morning. And come tomorrow I will be gone,” he replied.

“Ahh, well good tidings bard. We shall enjoy your melodies while we eat and drink,” said Lord Gremmelt. He and Naja returned to the others to discuss what they knew, and what tomorrow would entail.

“At first light we will leave town and go to the woods where the Bryarsmen left the werewolf. The Arcane mark I placed on him should still be there in the morning. My gut tells me that the werewolves we fought outside of the church were freshly turned and rely on the moon for the curse to activate," Lord Gremmelt sipped his mead.

"It's likely the werewolf we ran into on the road yesterday is connected to this. Speaker Argus here in town mentioned the Redguar stopped in to pray for their friend. In not so many words the good Speaker suggested their friend had been bitten, and they wanted to be the ones who put him down."

"Hah!” Ronso slammed her drink down. "No sense looking for them then."

"Did you speak with the smith about your halberd?" Gremmelt asked.

"Yes.” Ronso let out a disappointed sigh, saying, “he said it should be repaired by midday tomorrow."

"And what did you learn from the Crow Clan?" Lord Gremmelt asked Akecheta.

"From what they tell me, the spirit belongs to a young woman named Vasha. They referred to her as Altera's caged bird," Akecheta replied. "The man I spoke to said he saw Weller's and Altera out on the walkways the night Vasha disappeared. It sounds like she was pregnant and Altera wanted to silence her."

"Sounds like Altera has a taste for birds despite his aversions," Ronso said after she finished off her drink. "So, he knocked her up and before the baby was born he took her out?"

"It does look that way," Akecheta replied.

"Was there anything else?" Lord Gremmelt asked.

"Two things,” Akecheta answered. “First, a child said he had gotten lost out in the swamps while on a raft. He had followed the cries of a baby thinking it would lead him to town. Instead they led to a fallen tree - that is when Vasha supposedly appeared and led him back to town. Second, the man I spoke to believed if she was given those that killed her, she would find her rest after their deaths."

"Could the Crow Clan could be behind this?" Ra'Selas asked. "Altera kills the girl then the Crow Clan turn her into some kind of vengeful spirit."

“It’s definitely a possibility. Crow Clan do not see spirits in the same light as Aredesans,” added Kangee.

"Did you get the impression they were involved?" Lord Gremmelt asked.

"Everdeen seems to think they were trustworthy. She felt at home in their flock." Akecheta fed Everdeen a piece of bread. She took it graciously and hopped up and down.

"Hmm," Lord Gremmelt scratched at his chin. "We know that two things cursed with Undeath are out in the swamps, and close by at that. Come tomorrow, after we follow the Arcane trail I want to stop in at the copper mine and have a look around."

"You think the Redguar were involved in the other’s death?" Ronso asked and Gremmelt shook his head.

"No, but did any of you recognize the others?" Lord Gremmelt had, and wanted to make sure the others knew just who it was that failed to put an end to the spirit.

"Rupert and Divas were Initiates too," Naja said with a solemn look on her face.

"And I recognized Taucki," Akecheta replied.

"All correct," Lord Gremmelt said. "However, it's not who is there that you should be concerned about. But rather, who is not." He folded his arms. "Witch Hunter Benard must be the one in the grave back at Eddlesreef."

Benard was a nameless man who had trained under Gremmelt since he was a teenager. He was an exceptional hunter, and despite not claiming the title of Lord, he was respected as one.

"Then this blade is his," Ronso grasped the hilt of the longsword that she tied to her belt.

"Use it well," Lord Gremmelt told her.

"What happened here?" Naja was pale and uneasy. Having trained under the same master as Benard, she and he had far more kinship than the others. "A spirit, werewolves, and 4 dead witch hunters. Not to mention the hex bag back at Eddlesreef. Do you think all of this has to do with the coven the sea dwarf told us about?"

"The Daughters of Chaos?” Gremmelt asked her and she nodded back. "We won't know more until tomorrow. Get some rest.” Gremmelt hid his sour attitude about Benard the best he could, but as the day slowed down, his mind began to weigh on him.

Everyone was eager to sleep for the night so they quickly finished off their soup and mead. Lord Gremmelt packed his pipe and called Ronso and Kangee to him before they left for bed.

"Tomorrow. I'd like it if you two would follow my orders instead of doing whatever you want."

Ronso lowered her eyes. Having grown up within the walls of Witchbane Keep, she was raised to be subservient to any Lord. However, she had a bad habit with springing into action without thinking things through, a mistake that cost many young Witch Hunters their lives.

"I can't help myself," she protested. "When battle is right before me my heart puts a beating in my chest that pushes me to act. I can't control the fact that I was born under Frantic."

Gremmelt raised his brow and blew out some smoke. “That excuse won’t work on me. Your birth is just the starting point, not the goal,” he pointed to his chest with his pipe. “My spirit is colored the same as yours, yet I strive towards Perspicacity.”

“Understood, Lord Gremmel,” she told him.

“Kangee?” Gremmelt said somewhat authoritatively.

“Understood,” he replied.

“Good. Get some rest,” Lord Gremmelt ordered and they left him.

He finished off his pipe and listened to the bard's tune. What happened to Benard? A spirit alone would never have gotten the best of him. Someone interfered with this, I can just feel it.

Lord Gremmelt remembered the first day of Bernard’s training as if it were yesterday, how eager he was to get a blade in his hands. How small and weak the boy had been, and how long it took him to cut through a Shylar tree and officially begin his training. At that time things weren’t so official. There was no King’s seal to wave around, and no one called on the Order. Instead Witch Hunters traveled from town to town, seeking out evil wherever they could.