The old wizard grimaced as the young mercenary took charge, but he did not say anything about it himself. He had lived a long time, and if someone else wanted to take the blame for when things went poorly, well, he was fine with that. He grinned at the youth, long lower canines giving his already sinister appearance and added twist, as if that was even possible.
The notice board seemed like a decent idea, but he was not so sure they would find anything. He was, by trade, a sorcerer. His senses for the occult were highly refined, fine tuned machines that had done him great service through his long life. Something made his senses scream, giving dire warning of the danger they were in...but his senses could not identify what, how, or where. There was no perception of sorcery having even been used here recently. Just a low grade miasma of...of what?
The old warlock reached into a small leather satchel at his belt, and withdrew a long necklace. It was made of teeth of a variety of
species, and it was quite clear that the majority of them were not from animals. He began to run them through his fingers one at a time, muttering something to himself that was indistinct. He could feel something in the air, and he did not like it one bit.
And then, for a moment, he could feel it. Whatever it was. A presence, a very powerful presence, a very
old thing. Magic sprung up around the old wizard as he continued to mutter, and for a long moment he was lost in the incantation. Whatever it was that had descended upon them exerted pressure upon him, pressing is defenses as surely as an expert swordsman would an opponent of great skill. For a moment, there was only the struggle to keep the thing, whatever it might be, at bay.
And then it was gone.
Toothless sagged where he stood, sweat on his forehead, and took in the situation. Two members of the party down, crossbows having been discharged into their feet. Blood dripping from their erstwhile leaders hand from a self inflicted wound. The old man shuddered.
"Why don't you say something more obvious, young buck?' The raspy growl from his throat carried a warning to it. "Do not move just yet, let me tend to our friends here." Unrooted from the spot he had been holding his ground on, Toothless made his way to the fallen twins. Kneeling, preparing to place his hands on both at once, he paused.
Something indistinct stood in the center of the village green. A visage, humanoid in appearance, wearing rags that were more tattered and moldy than whole, with a featureless face and scraggly black hair fluttering in the light breeze. It was looking at him - them - with an expression of anger. Except that its face did not have any defining features, so how could it possibly express anything.
Toothless opened his mouth to speak, blinked, and the thing was gone. He knelt there, unsure if he had seen anything at all..but the balance of evidence suggested he had.
He shook himself, and offered some of the healing that he knew to the hobbled pair. It was crude and painful but effective. "I would say...some kind of ghost, except a ghost doesn't make hundreds of people disappear into thin air..."
***
They had split up to check houses in this part of the village. There was very little to see.
The mercenary captain entered another building, this one a two story affair with a sign over the front that bore a sigil on it rather than words. A cart, and a pickax by the look of it. Which fit the interior of the building quite well, for beyond the office in what was presumably a workshop of some kind, there was a great deal of rock, white quarts shot through with veins of a very familiar metal.
So. The town was here because of a mine somewhere nearby. That still did not explain where everyone had gone, and was therefore useless information for her purposes. Looking through the building turned up nothing, as had every other building they had looked in so far.
In fact, all she had discovered was an unnerving sense of being watched. She reflexively made the warding gesture again, as she had every time she entered a house or building, every time she went into a room. The sense of watchfulness was tinged with a feeling of frustration, but that was just her mind playing tricks on her.
She stepped back outside. There was no sign of Tian, nor of
Szesh and it had been a while since they had parted ways with the others. The white-haired warrior stood in the middle of the dusty street, hands on her hips. Completely confused as to what it was they would do next. There was no evidence of anything untoward in this town beyond its emptiness and the pervasive feeling of wrongness. Just-
The howl of the dragonkin cut through the silence like a knife.
Aeyliea spun around and saw the smoke rolling from a building - the one that Szesh had gone into, if she remembered correctly. Even as she pelted toward the building, ready to do battle with something, anything, the dragonkin came bursting out, shouting about some kind of curse. She slowed, and finally stopped out of reach of the man, unsure of what was going on.
Breathing a little hard, her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, it is cursed?" A moment, a pause, and then she pointed up the road leading out of town. "Is that one of the people who live here?" The man was still distant, and she found herself waiting to hear an explanation from Szesh and for this stranger to come closer.
