Blackgrave

The Witch Hunters slept in shifts and paired themselves up to bolster the militia's night time patrol. The town was quiet and no one dared step foot from their homes after dark.

As the sun rose to the east and broke through the branches of the surrounding trees, the townsfolk crept from their homes like mice, each carefully examining their surroundings before stepping off for the day’s labor. Having shared the final watch, Naja and Ra'Selas climbed atop the church and watched over the town from its roof, enjoying the sunrise as it came.

“How have you been?” asked Ra'Selas. He leaned against the bell tower with an arm resting on the hilt of his sword.

“It's still hard to believe,” she replied, her hands resting on her knees as she sat on the ridge.

“No one in The Order lives forever,” Ra'Selas said plainly, adding, “but Benard seemed special. By the time I joined, he was already leading hunts and you were already flying beneath Gremmelt’s wing.”

“I remember when you arrived.” She smiled slightly. “You and Benard didn’t really see eye to eye.”

“No, we didn’t.” Ra’Selas sighed. “But he was right, and I was wrong. I hadn’t known that at the time, but I do now. You belonged in The Order then, and you belong in it now.”

Naja looked up at Ra’Selas. “It isn’t your fault.” She yawned and stood up. “I was only twelve when I began my training, far younger than most Initiates.”

“Despite my concerns, it was nice to see another Zenidition, regardless of age.” He pushed off the belltower and looked out at all the townsfolk milling about.

“Our people are in the minority here, and it gets worse with every passing season. The only thing that brought immigrants from Zenidar was Princess Yashana’s betrothal to Lord Bryar. But with her death, little see any reason to cross the Ennothian Sea to Alger. And those that still do are nothing more than vagrants, runaways, or shady merchants dealing in secrets and betrayal.”

“Were your parents part of the initial immigration like mine?” asked Naja.

“I was actually born in Zenidar, though I was far too young to have any memories of our homeland. I can remember my mother talking lovingly of it though. She always spoke of the black sand and how blue the water was as it crashed on the coast,” Ra’Selas said.

“My parents didn’t speak much of Zenidar,” replied Naja. “But unlike most, our family came alone. I’m not sure if it's because we had no other kin or if one of my parents was an outcast; they seldom spoke about the past.” Naja stretched, taking in the rays of sunlight as if it empowered her. “Did your family come alone?”

“No,” Ra’Selas said bitterly. “Both of my father’s brothers came as well. One brought with him a wife and child of his own, the other came alone.”

“Are they still alive?” Naja asked.

“My uncle and his wife both met their end in the same mining accident that claimed my own family. Their daughter lived with my other uncle until she followed in my footsteps and enlisted in the Scrydell Infantry,” said Ra’Selas with a hint of anger in every inflection.

“Did she survive the war?”

“Yes.” Ra’Selas clenched his fists and stared out at the trees. “You’ve actually already met her, she is among our ranks.”

A sudden flash of realization struck Naja’s face. “Wait, you and Ithena are cousins?”

“Unfortunately so,” growled Ra’Selas. “It pains me to admit it, but I cannot hide the truth. The soldier who scorched women and children throughout the war and earned herself the title of Wildfire is my kin. She has stained my family name and brought ire towards our people with her sadistic actions.”

The fury in his blue eyes was a thunderous storm. He hated Ithena for making his career in the military nearly impossible. He may have been The Eagle of Scrydell, but all people remembered of the war was the atrocities, not the heroics. He might as well have done nothing.

“Lord Gremmelt says if you cling to your Torment, it clings to you,” she replied with a raised eyebrow. She moved away from him, adding, “I’m going to wake the others. It’s time to hunt.”

When Naja made it to the inn, the others were already eating their breakfast. She joined them and once everyone had their fill, all eight Witch Hunters set off on the day's hunt.

Naja, Orthos, Carbrey, and Beef found Torskaal smoking his pipe outside of the smithy. He was sitting on a bench and humming a tune, beside him was Beef’s silver chain hook.

“That was a fast turn around,” Beef said as they approached.

“We should thank him for his haste.” Naja headed towards the door of the smith.

“Don’t bother”—Torskaal held his hand up—“he’s sleeping.” Torskaal blew out a big poof of smoke and licked his lips. “Now, let's get this little adventure underway.” He slapped his knees and shoved his pipe in his pocket.

The five of them headed off to the edge of town when they saw Benwall. He was returning from the graveyard with a rigid brow and somewhat sunken shoulders, though when he noticed them, a smile replaced his somewhat stern expression and his whole body became erect as it had the day prior.

"Good morning, Speaker," Naja said and the others echoed. Benwall had just closed the iron gate when they reached him.

“Good Morning, Witch Hunters, Bluebeard,” Benwall said with a nod. “Be careful out there, it's easy to get lost even when you know the way.”

“You don’t need to worry yourself with us, Speaker! I've seen the camp myself. Though I must admit, it was only at a distance." Torskaal grinned.

"I’m sure I can get us there from the mine." He rubbed at his freshly oiled beard, mumbling, “Just gotta get my bearings is all.”

“Do you also tend to the graves?” Orthos asked Benwall who nodded.

"Yes, though today I was visiting my wife and daughter," his reply was somber. It was clear he was carrying around the pain of their loss, though he hid the best he could. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I don't think so, but thank you," Naja told him. “Though, when we return we may be in need of your service. If there is a werewolf out there, I don’t imagine we will come out unscathed.”

Benwall nodded. “I can’t mend the threads of Fate, but I can cleanse any curse before it takes root. Come to me if you are bitten, but do not fight like I can heal any wound.”

“We will tread cautiously,” Naja replied. Leaving Benwall and the town behind, the five of them headed off into the woods.

The walk took several hours and was filled with Torskaal sharing stories from his youth. He had been a Jorgman for nearly 40 years before he retired to Waldenhauf to live a quiet life with his older brother and two cousins. Though he had left the sea behind, he still made a trip to Yuru Kyld every few months to purchase a heavy supply of Jorgfinn oil to maintain his beard's illustrious blue sheen.

When they first spotted the mine off in the distance they noticed a large gray wolf sitting out in the open. It was covered in blood and before they could close in on it, it took off into the cave.

"There goes our element of surprise," Torskaal said. "Best approach weapons out."

Outside of the mine a fallen sentry tower and a deteriorating palisade wall were the last remaining signs of the once profitable zinc operation.

When they passed the wall Naja signaled for them to fan out and search the area. Immediately they noticed the tracks. There were five sets and some kind of struggle ensued between them. It looked like humans and a wolf, though they weren't together. Two of the tracks came from a different direction, and only three tracks went into the mine. One of which belonged to a wolf.

Carbrey dropped down to a knee and studied them closely. He followed the tracks with his eyes before pointing out a large paw print.

“There was a werewolf here," he told them. He followed the prints but it disappeared in the Chaos of the other tracks. "But it must have transformed back," he added.

"Blood! I found some blood over here!" Torskaal yelled from behind the fallen tower. Naja told Beef and Orthos to keep an eye on the cave while she and Carbrey investigated.

They found Torskaal on all fours crawling around like a dog after the trail of blood. They followed him until they reached two bodies that had been hidden away by the fallen sentry tower. They were covered in lacerations, bite marks, and the furs that wrapped their body were torn to shreds and bloodsoaked.

Torskaal picked up a dagger covered in dried blood. "We got some silver here." He grimaced at the brutality. Both men's heads had been chomped down and eaten all the way to the neck. Carbrey knelt down and examined the teeth pattern left behind by the assailant.

"The only two things that could have done this are a dire wolf or a werewolf," Carbrey said.“

With the tip of the silver dagger, Torskaal lifted up a few strands of long gray hair mixed in with the blood. "These men were from the Greymane tribe." He shook the dagger free of the hair, adding, “Even without the gray hair, the fur armor and bone daggers would be a dead give away."

Naja motioned for them to join the others. “All signs point to a werewolf. Get out your silver and follow me.” Orthos notched a silver tipped arrow, Beef loaded his crossbow with a silver bolt, Naja unsheathed the sword she bought from the smith, and Carbrey unhooked his Shabetsu steel mace from his belt.

“I’ll just stick with this.” Torskaal held up the silver dagger.

"No sense in moving silently—they know we're coming." Naja conjured a ball of light and placed it on Torskaals shield before they ventured inside.

Within the mine they found an old railway car sitting on a busted track, and a few boxes and barrels long ransacked and left behind. The ceiling was low, and the corridors were cramped, only allowing two people to walk side by side at time. It was cold and an overpowering smell like rotting eggs thickened the air as they descended. They carefully moved through the mine keeping a vigilant watch for any sudden movement. After many turns and drops, they could see a faint light up ahead in the next opening.

“We know you are in there, throw down your weapons and surrender or welcome death!” Naja yelled before allowing a moment to pass. They heard shuffling of feet and a few battered breaths up ahead. Once it subsided, they rushed into the room.

There they found a Wolf Clan man holding a bone dagger and at his side was the bloodstained wolf. He was breathing heavily and his sweaty face was twisted with pain. His stomach was wrapped in a green fabric that was soaked on one side with blood. A clean bandage loosely clung to his left arm, high up by the shoulder.

As they all entered and the darkness gave way to the light, they noticed the young woman behind them. She was fair skinned, had wavy brown locks that fell past her shoulders, and was wearing a tattered green dress.

“Haldor and Juniper, I presume?” Naja asked with her sword pointed directly at his neck.

“Yes, and who are you?” Haldor replied. A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead and rushed down his cheek.

“Witch Hunters,” Naja plainly told him.

Haldor shook his head and backed away. “Witch Hunters!” He threw down his dagger, fear flashed in his eyes. His gaze darted wildly from Witch Hunter to Witch Hunter as blood rushed to his face and his muscles twitched uneasily. He glanced at a second pathway that led into the room and stepped to run, but Juniper wrapped herself around him.

“No!” she cried. “You can’t, you're too injured. You’ll rip your wounds back open!”

“I have no choice, they’ll kill me regardless!” Haldor shrieked. Naja and the others hesitated to charge with Juniper between them.

“Please,” Juniper spun around, her brown eyes gushing tears. “Don’t hurt him! He can control it. He protected me!” Juniper spread arms and stood in between Haldor and the Witch Hunters, determined to not let things fall to violence. Carbrey crossed the room to the other exit, trapping the boy from any escape.

Uneasy and afraid, Haldor held his hands up in surrender. “Wait! I can help you, please listen.” Haldor moved slowly from behind the girl. “I.. I know what they're planning!”

“Save it!” Beef yelled. His crossbow was fixed on Haldor’s heart. Naja firmly lowered his crossbow, and motioned for the others to do the same.

“Explain the situation to us. Help us understand what’s happened here and who is planning what?” Naja said as calmly as she could. Relief instantly washed over Juniper and Haldor as they both let out a heavy sigh.

Haldor took a deep breath, and stepped past Juniper. “Five days ago, I was attacked on my way to Waldenhauf. It happened in the blink of an eye.” He unraveled the bandage around his arm to expose large faded fang marks near his shoulder.

“I thought I would die there in those woods as they all seemed to spin around me. I don’t remember the night all too well, but when I awoke I found myself revitalized, like I was born anew. I was sharper, stronger, more keen on sight and smells, and my old pains had left me. All that remained of my injuries was this scar.” He rubbed the scar with his opposing hand. “I knew what it meant. I had been bitten by one cursed by Shabetsu. A werewolf.”

“The following day I spoke to Aldo, my elder cousin, of what occurred and he told me to seek out Benwall the Brave before it was too late. I tried, but before I could reach the church doors, I ran into Elder Cashtar. He saw my scar and screamed that I was a werewolf. The townsfolk and militia began to gather around me, and I feared they would not believe me so I fled.”

He held back tears and swallowed his spit, casting his gaze into the dirt at the Witch Hunters' feet. “It's only by chance Juniper heard it all and followed after me. I didn’t know what to do, so I took her with me and we ran to Aldo. But it was too dangerous there. None of them carried the curse and I didn’t want them to be lumped in with me when you Witch Hunters arrived.”

“And as to how you have found me like this,” Haldor continued, “last night, two of Oliver’s men came to recruit me into their clan. They said they were done hiding, and they planned to slaughter everyone in Waldenhauf come the next full moon. I told them they were crazy, and I would have no part in it.”

Anger crossed his face and he snarled his lips. “They tried to take Juniper from me. I had no choice. If I hadn’t awakened the curse of my own, they would have killed her. So, I tore them to shreds and feasted on their flesh. One of the bastards had a silver dagger, he was able to get me in the gut as I clamped down on his skull.”

Hadlor looked up and into Naja’s eyes. “I won’t ask you to spare my life, but please, let no harm come to Juniper or the people of Waldenhauf.”

“And you know where Oliver and his men are staying?” Naja asked and Haldor nodded.

“I can take you there. I know the way. They’ve made some old elven ruins their home. It’s deep in the woods, far to the east.” Haldor shifted his gaze to each Witch Hunter hoping to find an ounce of sympathy among any of them. “Though, I take it you’re thinking of killing me.”

Silence hung in the air. He was by all rights what they had come looking to hunt. If they killed him now, no one would blame them. He was a werewolf. Carbrey, Orthos, and Beef all looked to Naja for what to do. She felt the weight of the man’s life in her palms and wondered what Lord Gremmelt would have done.

“Perhaps we won’t have to,” Naja finally replied. “Orthos, do you have a potion of witchbane?”

“I do. But it won’t work if he’s already transformed.”

“I know,” Naja replied. She turned to Haldor. “When exactly last night did you first make the transformation?”

“Late,” Haldor answered. “The moon was already out, so well into the night.”

A smile broke on Naja’s face.

“Be sure to thank Fate for her kindness.” She grabbed the elegant vial that held the Waters of Ay'tala and handed it over to him. “Drink this, and the potion of witchbane Orthos has, and you will be cured.”

“But how?” Haldor asked in disbelief.

“The Waters of Ay’tala can turn back a person’s time, though only one day,” Naja replied. “I expect you will return the favor by showing us where the ruins are.”

“Anything you ask.” Haldor held the vial in his hand for a moment. “But, maybe I should stay. I could help you fight them better if I carried the curse. I don’t know how many werewolves there are in his pack, but I know there are at least eight men who fight alongside Oliver.”

Naja shook her head. “Don’t mistake this for compassion or leniency. Had I not possessed the Water’s of Ay’tala, your head would already be on the floor. We may have brought you back to the light, but fighting alongside a werewolf would go against everything we stand for. Besides, I have no plan to face them down today.”

Upon hearing this, Haldor downed the bottle without a moment’s notice. “By the gods,” Haldor put his hand on his stomach before ripping off the blood stained bandage. The stab wound was completely gone.

“It worked.” Haldor smiled and Orthos tossed him the vial of witchbane. He drank it down and after a moment, the scar on his arm faded away to nothing.

“My word, never thought I’d see the day a Witch Hunter healed someone of Shabetsu’s curse.” Torskaal loudly laughed and slapped Haldor on the back. “You better thank the gods lad, I don’t reckon this sort of thing happens often.”

Haldor burst into tears, thanking each of the Witch Hunters with a bow and incoherent jumble of words. Juniper wrapped herself around him and the two embraced while they both joyfully cried.

“Come on,” Naja said abruptly. “Save the tears for Fate’s union, we are heading to the Greymane tribe to speak with Aldo. I take it you can lead the way?”

Haldor nodded and wiped his face. “Of course, follow me.” They all followed Haldor out of the mine, happy to have avoided the unnecessary bloodshed.

As they neared the mouth of the cave, they stopped dead in their tracks when they spotted a massive figure waiting for them outside. It stood taller than most homes in Waldenhauf, was covered in thick green scales and had a deadly stinger for a tail. Its claws and spikes were solid copper, it stood on two massive feet, and had only wings to serve as its arms. It was a wyvern.

“Well I’ll be,” Torskaal said as he spotted his broken pike sticking out between two scales along the wyvern’s neck.

“I suppose it must want me to finish what I started,” Torskaal said with a smirk. “Poor bastard can’t take to the skies with those wings anymore.”

“If it can’t fly, then it won’t be able to escape,” Carbrey said. “Looks like we’ll all be getting ourselves some wyvern leather. Let’s just hope no one catches the stinger!”

“You can join if you desire, but we didn’t save you from Shabetsu’s curse just so you could die here. I suggest you stay back,” Naja told Haldor before her and the others all charged out of the mine.

When the five of them emerged from the shadows of the mine, the beast locked eyes with Torskaal. It roared angrily and stomped its feet on the ground before lowering its head and charging towards them.

Carbrey and Torskaal swung around its left while Naja flanked its right. The wyvern lunged at Torskaal, clanking off his shield with its powerful fangs. The sea dwarf bounced back, nearly tumbling to the ground from the force.

“You no good bastard!” Torskaal yelled as he plunged his dagger into its snout. The beast reeled back and lunged again, this time harder and more ferocious. Torskaal was sent flying into the air, he lost his bearings and crashed into the dirt. Dust kicked up as he scrambled to stand.

Carbrey charged the creatures side, slashing and bashing like a wild storm, he broke through its scales and smashed his mace hard into its exposed gut. The wyvern cried out and lifted its stinger high.

“Get up Torskaal!” Orthos shouted. He and Beef were side by side at the mouth of the cave launching arrows and bolts as fast as they could. The missiles may not have sunk very deep into the creature's flesh, but they aimed for its eyes, hoping to blind it.

The wyvern swung its large stinger completely around itself. Naja and Carbrey jumped over it but Torskaal was caught in the middle of getting up and was not so quick. He let out a ghastly wail as the stinger tore through his leathers and plunged into his belly. Blood flew from his gut as the stinger recoiled and raised up high again. Torskaal fell to his knees holding his stomach, blood slowly pouring from the wound. He struggled to raise his shield, but his arms were heavy with poison.

They wyvern lunged again, this time looking to make him a quick meal. But before the beast could finish the job, an explosion of ice went off on its back. Blue and white misty frost flew into the air, and a cold wind blew all around. The beast let out a painful wail before falling over on its side with a heavy thud. It was dead.

Carbrey rushed to Torskaal’s side and examined the hole. “That looks nasty."

"I'd say so," he replied as he held his breath. "Nothing fatal, but the bastard did get me." His hands cradled his gut as he laid looking up at the sky. His vision blurred, but he could still make out the vague shapes of the Witch Hunters standing above him.

"Here." Orthos handed Torskaal a small quaked vial full of a light green liquid. "Should help nullify the poison." Torskaal brushed it away.

"Save it, I'd rather have some ale." Torskaal loudly groaned before standing up and shaking himself. "Well my armor might have a hole in it, but at least I got my pike back.” He let out a painful laugh, holding his stomach with every contraction. With a labored breath, he slowly walked over to the dead wyvern and pulled out the broken pike tip.

“You really should drink the potion,” Orthos urged him. He thrust the vial back towards the sea dwarf. “You may not be as affected as one of us would be, but i’ve seen too many Jorgman lose their lives trying to toughen out a poison.”

Torskaal grinned. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.” He took the vial and drank it down in one gulp. “Gahhh, the damn taste always gets me. I would have rather just drank some mead and called it a day.” Torskaal jumped up and down. “Ahhh! That's better.”

“Easy,” Naja said to him as she approached. “You are still bleeding after all.” She dropped her pack and rifled through it until she found her medical supplies. “Come here, let’s patch this up.”

Torskaal looked down at his stomach and shrugged. “I suppose I shouldn’t just let this go,” he replied. Carbrey helped take off his armor and he laid down while Naja examined the wound. As she worked, the others emerged from the cave and joined them.

“That Shatterblade really did a number on the poor thing didn’t it?” Carbrey said to Naja.

“Lucky for us,” Naja replied as she threaded a needle. “Despite his flaws, Vassal Altera knows how to make a good weapon.” She looked down at Torskaal. “I’ll need you to hold still, this might hurt.”

“I’d say,” Carbrey said as he looked over at the now dead wyvern. “Do you think the time will come when everyone gets one?”

“Hard to say,” replied Naja. “Sit still,” she told Torskaal. She stitched the wound closed with the precision of a surgeon. It hadn’t gotten very deep thanks to his armor, but had she not closed it, it would have continued to bleed. She let out a sigh and wiped the sweaty hair from her face.

As she wrapped Torskaal’s gut with a clean bandage, she added, “Altera isn’t really someone The Order should trust. It would be nice if we could utilize his factory for supplies, but as it stands, he likely had his hand in our brother's death back in Sossaboro.”

“I heard about that,” Carbrey replied. He shifted his gaze to the others who stood by the wyvern examining it. “Word is you guys never really figured out what happened to them.”

“I’m afraid so,” she replied as she cut the bandage and fastened it close. “You’re all set,” she told him. “But you need to be careful from here on out, if this gets hit it's going to open back up.” Torskaal sat up and thanked her before getting his armor back on.

Naja turned back to Carbrey “We just don’t know what happened. We think Altera could have killed Divas and Rupert, but there was no evidence. Sure, he had a slender blade, but I just don’t believe he would have killed them, even if they confronted him about Vasha.”

She rubbed her head. “Benard found something out, something big. But all we know is what that boy and that bard told us. Just that Blackgrave can’t be searched for and that a witch made her coven there back during the age of Divinity.” Naja shrugged and let out a sigh. “Benard was always cagey about his past. It wasn’t a secret his sister was part of a coven, but he wasn’t open about it either. It was his crusade.”

“All Witch Hunters have one,” Carbrey replied. Just then, Beef tried jumping up on top of the wyvern, but slipped and rolled back to the ground.

Naja smirked and closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Maybe not everyone.” The two laughed and moved over to the others.

"You think we have time to carve her up?" Carbrey asked Naja.

"I suppose we can spare an hour of the day.” Naja looked up to the sky and found the sun. “It's still early. Everyone fill any empty vials you have with its blood. Orthos, see if we can extract some poison from the stinger." While Torskaal sipped water inside of the cave and nursed his aching belly, the Witch Hunters all got to work carving.

The sun was directly overhead when the hour had passed. While the Witch Hunters worked, Haldor crafted a sled from tree leafs, twigs, and vines so they wouldn’t have to carry it.

"What will you do with all of it?" Haldor asked Carbrey who helped him drag it.

"Nothing until we get it back to Witchbane keep. There we will use it to make armor. Wyvern scales are sturdy and if used in a mask, can filter out breathable toxins," Carbrey answered.

"And what about the blood? I understand the poison, but what would the beast’s blood do for you?" Holdor asked.

"Come join the Order and find out," Carbrey cheekily replied.

"What?” Haldor’s face was playfully aghast. “You'd save me from one death sentence just to have me take up another?" Haldor sarcastically asked and they both laughed.