Open Chronicles Law of Contagion

[Asuego 'Susanna']

(OOC notice: please do not include a large number of sidekick NPC soldiers. I'm DMing here and there to progress the story, otherwise i'm prepared for any deviation ;D .)(Magic users better stay in incognito mode for their wellbeing for now! ;P And the story is somewhat grim/dark.)


Early summer in the spine. Western lowlands. Road to Grimere, Hilstaff.

The sun was quick to fall, casting the mountains to the east in golden hues, with you atop a long hill with lowlands left and right. Grasslands would cover as far as they could before being kissed by forests in the distance.
A mission notice, a promise for hunting jobs led you on a short journey to Grimere, perhaps you weren't even all alone. They say it's some miserable place not worrth the land it's on.
The trek so far was long and tiring, and when a fenced off tavern in the open came to view, the thought of a warm bed would be hard to ward off by now.

They say in the night many monsters come forth to torment the living, so hardly anyone with any brain cells left in their head would dare sleep outside. And one thing the commoners hated more than the monsters...were wielders of magics.

 

[Matteo]

The hooded mountaineer walked a beaten path through woodland. The sun dropped, and with it, the temperature. In his left hand was a leather strap, which he used to lead a goat by the name of Stump.

The mountaineer reached a clearing in the thin tree line. From there it was grassland that covered a considerable distance. He came from the north. While there were some treeless areas around his village, there was nothing quite this open around his home. The clearing made him uneasy. He imagined horse-mounted bandits approaching him, and how he would be in deep trouble in such a scenario.

As Matteo scanned the area, his attention was caught by a lone tavern in the midst of the sea of green. It was a welcoming sight. He could see the faint glow of light from the distance. His feet seemed to move without will as if his body was begging for respite after nearly two months of walking. Yes, rest and warm soup did seem quite appealing to the tired man.

"Come, Stump," The mountaineer coarsely said, and lightly tugged the strap in his hand.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

The unguarded gate was in a far better condition than the shabby wall that surrounded the inn. At least it looked as if it had done its job well, bearing marks of many different beasts.

The yard of the Inn was oval and rather spacious. A few small pigs oinked quietly as the mulled through the soil and chickens have long left to roost in the coop. Some shrubs and dwarfing apple trees grew next to the fencing while clutter and chopped wood lay further inward.
A single, narrow dirt path led to the low inn. Its roof was a mixture of thatch and wood shingles while its windows were like small squares.
An inviting, warm light came from them.

Three Wends from the area were camping just outside the Inn. Somewhere by the door but further to the side near some hawberry trees. They were half numb or half-asleep drunks, head between knees with a bottle each in one hand, all gathered around the softly crackling fire.
One rose his head lazily, elbowing the second: "Il widish tega? Tabushka."
The second was briefly roused, his speech slurred. "Ne kdo? Ci lude? Koza?"

"Ajajaja aj aj aj ajajaj. Zdrovoi." The third stood up, his wide herder's hat covering most of his face, with only a heavy stubble and sinister smirk visible from his famished frame.
the other two seemed a bit surprised and only watched as the third ambled towards the mountaineer.

 

[HotepseAken]

The region of the Spine: far from Nubydos and Cipra. Quite the jaunt, though portal stones eased the distance needing tread. Still, it was an area that the Mortuary Cult had no record of presence in. Thus, Grand Priest HotepseAken jogged idly along the road, looking to see what lay about this massive mountain range. Plants, herbs, berries, living creatures.

He had a pair of Canopic jars already from the dissections he had made thus far. He was coming to the conclusion that the Humans of this Region did not differ significantly from the norm across the world, though he might have to add another autopsy to his scrolls just to be certain. The slimmest difference in glands, organs, or development needed to be logged.

A jogging Anaphite could keep pace with a healthy horse's canter, giving the traveling Physician a very good range in his travels. He traveled light, even for desertfolk, and made excellent time across the open expanses. Through forests, he had to slow, of course. It would not do for one such as he to trip and fall, potentially breaking something.

In the distance, an inn rose. The promise of a warm fire and the comforting stench of souls pushed HotepseAken on, leaning into a full on run. The distance vanished in short order, the Anaphite slowing to a jog for a quarter mile before coming to a walk. The inn was close now, the gate in view, as well as four humans by appearance.

He shook his mendicant staff, the scales coming free and jostling for a moment before they became still. Stoic as ever, the clack of bronze on stone announced the doctor well before anyone could be surprised by his arrival. His appearance, sudden or not, could be cause for alarm; nearly nine feet of towering Jackal-Man, shirtless and with eyes white like the blind.

Clack... Clack... Clack... they drew within speaking range, though offered no greetings nor warnings; their staff alone should speak for itself, though as always there were those who didn't recognize the serpent wrapped about a priestly staff. The scales around its head swayed rhythmically, portending to something proud and ancient.

Clack... Clack... Clack... Clack.

 

[Matteo]

First, not understanding the speech of the three men unsettled Matteo. Second, he did not appreciate the herder’s expression and manner in which he approached. Third, the sudden appearance of that large creature was beyond the mountaineer’s understanding. He’d never seen a bipedal thing so physically imposing. Aside from its evident strength, it moved with grace. He, being a simple hunter with no outstanding talents, felt incredibly small following his brief observation of the unique being in from of him.

Stump’s leash was in his left hand, yet the goat obediently stood at his right side. Matteo stepped closer to the goat, because his short-sword was fastened in with the rest of the baggage that Stump carried. He felt a bit more secure being within arm’s reach of his only protection. The sword itself resembled a xiphos.

His eyes darted between the tall creature and the herder. Finally, his gaze settled on the thin human. “Do you understand me?” His voice was coarse but he spoke clearly and slowly.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

» Ne zradvoi, jejheta. Ka pas je ti. « The drunk shepherd seemed to lose all his courage when the black hound man presented himself. He stumbled a little backwards and onto his hind. Turning around, he stumbled back to the campfire and across a small animal pen.
»Tabouška, zašta je Ilja stracił odvege, ili je tam zvir!« The first man muttered to the second. He sounded concerned.
»Ajajajajaja... Ki je ovo. Ajajaj...samo pas ti opiyni prase.« Tabouška lowered his head again after taking just one glance, not sharing the fear of his two companions.
In a mere minute, he was already asleep.

 

[HotepseAken]

HotepseAken looked between the two humans, one of them recoiling from intimidation. Slowly, the Anaphite turned to regard the remaining (he assumed) shemphard. His eyes held a dim white glow, his face implacable as if wrought from stone. His eyes drifted down to the goat.

Hotepse sunk to a knee, scratching the goat behind the ear, before turning to look at the human more evening, "Im hotep se," he said in a calm voice, "I come in peace, human."

He rose then, turning towards the inn, and opened the gate with care. It creaked slowly, far less rusted than the Doctor had anticipated. He crossed the threshold, turning to allow the shepherd to cross as well, before closing it behind himself. Wordlessly, he made for the inn.

The path to the inn's front door caused the resounding, consistent 'clack' of the copper cap to beat out a rhythmic herald that cracked over the animal noise and murmur of daily life. It stopped only once the antiquated creature laid its hand upon the door to the inn, opening the door and stooping down to enter.

A tavern or inn always had three types of people in it, no matter where it was. It could have more, the time of day might dismiss some, but there was always the drunk, the the chipper, and the quiet. HotepseAken was the latter, something he could ill enjoy in partial thanks to his appearance as well as his occupation. The other half truly seemed to come down to fate; trouble found him, especially when he wanted some peace. Still... the wiser folk kept their distance, and fools would be sorted out in swift order.

He took stock of the tavern quickly. The only thing he desired was to seat himself before the fire, clean his tools, and get some rest. Wordlessly, he moved to the fireplace and centered himself, exactly in the middle and exactly six cubits away. Close enough to enjoy the warmth, far enough away to not hog the fire. His staff came to a rest dead-center, scales still on either side, the copper cap at its base keeping it steady.

In a slow and fluid motion he sank to a kneeling position, his belt coming off and lain before him, just in front of his balanced staff. He adjusted it, slightly, before unrolling it and revealing dozens of small, unique knives, bladed spoons, even a small saw. Dowels, clamps, and clippers; bowls, mortars, and pestils; many, many vials padded with linen cloth to protect them during transit, each filled with some concoction, distillation, or herbal elixir, concentrated to preserve space.

To the layman, these were the tools of a torturer or a lord, things purpose-made for some austere undertaking. To those with the wits or experience to have seen them before, the nature of a Physician was self-evident. A large vial of brown liquid was selected, emptied into a bowl, and the first of many instruments dipped into it. As it sat, he unfurled a sheeps bladder cloth and laid it to one side; within it, a spiced linen cloth with an alluring scent that befit its importance.

And so he set about cleaning, soaking the tools in the alcohol solution before laying them to dry upon the antiseptic rag. Slow, methodical, ritualistic. Calming.

 

[Matteo]

Matteo followed the lengthy being into the tavern after hitching Stump to a post outside. His sword was now fastened to the belt on his hip. He sat next to the physician, which is what the mountaineer assumed the thing was. One glance at the tools laid about clued him in. There was a comfortable distance between them. He pulled his hood down, revealing shoulder-length hair half tied up. His bangs and sides were pulled back, with the rest of his hair curtaining over the back of his neck. He watched the physician in silence. For such a large thing, it moved with surprising dexterity. There was no clumsiness in the way it handled such fine tools. He couldn't even guess the purpose of some. He has enough knowledge of self-aid to mend himself while on a hunt. He wondered how extensive this creature's knowledge was.

"I have never seen such tools," He stated, "Nor have I seen such a being as yourself. From where do you come?"

Matteo, being knowledgeable about many types of beasts and creatures around the spine, was quite curious about this unique being. Large, beast-like, yet clearly quite intelligent. Could it even be considered a beast? He continued watching the being clean its tools.

 

[HotepseAken]

Economy of movement; no action made by the Anaphite was wasted. Centuries of practice and experience could hew into any being a level of perfection only the most dedicated humans could reach. Each instrument soaked in solution for precisely ten heartbeats, dried for fifty upon the antiseptic rag, then flipped mechanically-

"I have never seen such tools," came a voice, shattering his concentration. Was it the thirtieth beat? He lost count, "nor have I seen such a being as yourself... from where do you come?"

HotepseAken could not identify an accent, though perhaps that was the subtle influence of being exposed to this region for a few months. He closed his eyes, estimated over fifty beats had passed, and rotated his tools before speaking.

"I was born in what you call Amol-Kalit," he said in a voice rich with patience and care, "in the Tomb City of Scahtaphoses. These are all instruments of the healing arts."

He rotated his tools again, beginning to fall into his rhytmic actions. He paused a little longer though, at the end... had he soaked the last scalpel long enough? He had, of course. He actually counted it out. But, still... Little things like this always happened during interruptions. He did so hate interruptions. Regardless, he was a guest in these lands, to say nothing of the sacred vow he had taken upon taking the name HotepseAken.

He looked over at the seated man, his position kneeling on the floor almost eye level with his interrogator, "Ah, the Shepherd from before... I am pleased your voice has found you," he said, his dim eyes seemingly taking in all of his features, "yes, yes... Im Hotep Se. Pardon me," he turned back to his tools after he had finished greeting the man formally once more, "I was merely cleaning my tools after travel upon the road. I must be certain of my timing, too long and it may tarnish and degrade the bronze. Too short, they will not be sterilized properly."

Once more, the tools rotated, and his eyes closed, counting and listening with as split an attention as he could manage, "Is there something you require? I could take a look at your teeth, if you so wish; though, you do not strike me as beset by a toothache."

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

The low ceiling of the building would be considered uncomfortable to even a man of six and a half feet in height. Having to bend over for each support of the ceiling.
But once comfortably sat down, the closeness of the small inn came as a tight warm feeling.

Perhaps the solemn loneliness the two were greeted with was not much of a concern this soon. With how blinding the fire could be, hardly one could notice that the rest of the patrons have huddled behind tables or hugged the walls and pillars, all in observation of the, perhaps not the man, but the strange anaphite

Eventually, the innkeeper came around, mustering up the courage after seeing how the man and beast were completely peaceful with each other
The innkeeper was a stout, burly man, looked rather human but with some dwarven features about him. His hair was russet while his front locks and beard were curly black. Atop his small scalp was a red woolly cap and most of his clothes were obscured by a creamy white apron.
»Are you a doctor, my good...sir.«

 

[Matteo]

Instruments of the healing arts. So, his assumption was accurate if not completely on the mark. Matteo knew the geography of Liadain, so Amol-Kalit was familiar to him. That Tomb City, on the other hand, was a complete mystery to the hunter. He listened to the brief explanation given by Hotep Se, and nodded to himself. He doubted that he would ever need to know such a thing, but enjoyed listening anyways. He respected Hotep Se's diligence. The way he could dedicate himself to his work, just like Matteo dedicated himself to his.

"I see," He said at the end of the explanation, "I suffer no ailments." He was direct, but not impolite.

"I am Matteo," The mountaineer broke the momentary silence with a late greeting. He just watched at Hotep Se cleaned. For a moment, he thought of clearing up the shepherd misunderstanding. It mattered not, for the innkeeper approached.

His voice broke the silence that the physician and hunter shared between them.

 

[HotepseAken]

HotepseAken regarded Matteo, closed eyes, carefully. He had no need for assistance, yet seemed intent on conversation? Hotepse allowed himself a ghost of a smile; these humans, so little life in their limbs but so eager to spend it on flights of fancy. An admirable trait given how easily the Anaphite as a people fell into rote as the world withered away around them. He supposed this Matteo was breaking his own routines, whatever they were, in an interest in being personable. That was something he could admire.

He offered no acknowledgement for the fact he had been spoken to was enough in his eyes. In the corridors of the Tomb Cities sanctums, years could pass without a word spoken between anyone, all members of the inner city working and living in sufficient light with sufficient food for their tasks. This... excess of spare time heaped upon him by a stranger would never get old. Nor any less frustrating, though he stifled his displeasure with impassive neutrality.

"Are you a doctor, my good..." the stout and sturdy barkeeper began, stumbling over a proper address, "sir?"

Hotepse ceased his frail excuse for a smile, "Yes, and No," he replied with precision, turning to face the newcomer. He looked upwards, slightly, at the keeper, greeting him "Im Hotep Arragoth. I am a Siwanew, Physician and Priest. I am not of the nobility. Who needs my aid?"

He was direct, almost impatient, and put the last of his tools on the antiseptic rag to dry. His dimly glowing eyes locked upon the dwarfish man with a certain boredom, anticipating something that would require minimal effort like a broken foot, or perhaps a pox. He did not rise nor move a muscle, only his head swiveling to regard the newcomer with a lukewarm, though soft, reception. In a word, he was eager for work.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

The inkeeper calmly stated. »No, no, just curious a little. Can I help you? My daughter will bring you drinks and food.« He bobbed his head lightly, having a hard time not staring too much at the Anaphite. He directed his gaze towards Mateo, »And you, sir?«

 

[HotepseAken]

If his eyes held any emotion still, they would have expressed disappointment. His expression was unchanged however, stoic as ever, and he turned away wordlessly. The last of his tools were cleaned, put away, and he sat back with his task done.

"I will be resting for a moment," He finally answered, "Once the sun begins to rise, I shall trouble you no further. I ask only to sit by your fire, as I have taken the mendicant vow."

The vow in question was one of poverty; while on the road, the only possessions he brought were those suited to his task. He did not have money, nor any significant barter goods, only his trade (with which he dispensed freely and without reservation).

"If none are taken ill, nor in need of aid, I can only ask for the smallest charities. I thank you," he turned as he spoke, facing the innkeeper again. Those more traveled could detect the slightest hint of Elvish pride in his voice, a tell of one's age. Though humility in service to any and all had ground the edge off of it, it was clear that the Anaphite had taken measure of those whom spoke to him.

 

[Matteo]

"I am a hunter of sorts," He replied to the innkeeper, "I am responding to the rumors of work around this area."

He considered explaining more, but that would suffice. He was merely an innkeeper, after all. After a moment, he spoke again.

"Would you happen to know of what I speak?"

Matteo's appearance was rough. He often spent his time far from the reach of civilization and cared little of his appearance. Despite this, his appearance was quite clean. Aside from not properly bathing for two months, he appeared fine.

A bath would indeed serve him well at this point.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

»Very well, it's dangerous outside at these hours, we have a sleeping quarter at the back that you can use. My name is Brenn, and this is my daughter Saskia.« The man briefly motioned towards the young lass that walked over to them, holding a tray with beer for someo ther patrons.
She had a round face and seemed a little taller than her pa. Her hair was orange like carrots and lightly wavy. She had a curvy, attractive body and a voice that sounded like a peasant farmer girl's.
»What will it be my good men? Cheese plate or komodo's soup? We have good beer and ale to spare as well.«

The other tenants slowly couraged up and began sitting on the tables again, some returning to play cards or finishing their drinks for the night. Others decided they'd rather retire to the sleeping quarter, which was a large room with bedding on the floor.

»Ha, better ask what's not wrong. You're not from the lowlands, are you?« Brenn cackled. »On the westside spine there's all kinda monsters at the lowlands. And the humans sometimes act like them too. Ain't much a half dwarf can do when different races squabble.«
Brenn's face shifted to a light concerning frown.
»Are you going to Grimere? That place is all sorts of wrong. I had relatives there, but they since moved to Verdin. 'Perhaps I should too' . Heard that people are going mad and some disapeared.«

»Some say it might be the rowdy elves, others say it's some moon madness or a disease. Perhaps a witches curse. But they recently eradicated most of them, including the good walkers.«

 

[Matteo]

"I know of the lowlands," Matteo grumbled, "Grimere is indeed my destination."

He looked between the innkeeper and his daughter, then to the patrons of the inn.

"Rumors are often of little consequence. Investigation will expose the truth," He shifted on his stool, and looked back at Saskia, "Soup, if you would."

His eyes found their way back to Brenn, "Relatives. Have they ever said anything? Or do you know of any of your patrons that would know more?"

Matteo had spoken more than he felt comfortable with. He wished for the interaction to end soon, but he did appreciate the knowledge being passed to him. Despite his usual distrust of rumors, the mountaineer was unusually considerate of what Brenn said. He did not know for certain Grimere's situation, but he intended to find out.

"Ah, and milk if you have it."

Alcohol did not agree with Matteo.

 

[HotepseAken]

If the offer was made, then the traveling doctor could only accept graciously.

"A rich beer shall be enough," Hotepse said with a gentle smile, "may the divine favor you, say."

The Doctor turned away, their face losing the brief show of good humor for an impassive mask of focus. They bowed their head, eyes closed and ears gently twitching. Every voice in the tavern main room was audible, as if the speakers were standing right beside him. He took in these rumors, of foolish serfs driving off their Wise out of ignorance. While he was hardly going to judge someone, AnapAmun certainly would. The sorrows these people would visit upon themselves would last for generations.

He said nothing, of course. He looked to have fallen asleep the moment he closed his eyes, kneeling before the fireplace. His meditation would last him all night, leaving him acutely aware of the world around him as he rested. Judgement and thought left his mind, replaced with calm and balance between the light and the dark. Until roused by stimuli or the passage of time, he would remain just so; he didn't even look like he was breathing anymore.

Anaphite were dreamless sleepers. Receiving a vision was considered one of Divine portent, though HotepseAken had only ever received a few. When the Keeper's daughter arrived, his eyes snapped open with a gentle breath in. He offered another thin-lip smile, his ears pivoting to face away in a show of thanks. While his body language might be alien, its similarity to a dog's would likely give the young woman an impression enough.

Woe be she, and HotepseAken, if she tried to touch him though. He hated being touched... it would quickly sour the budding affection he had for the mayfly.

The beer was drank without comment; it was far from the fruity, spiced drinks of his people. Still, it satisfied. He was still satisfied from the soul he had devoured off a cut-throat brigand half a week back, so minimal sustenance was required. Plus, if he got hungry again, he had three Canopic jars in his belt-sash, each imprisoning a mortal soul for use.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

Saskia left, bringing the milk and ale not long after. Business was slow at these hours, do it fifn't take her much time either.
»They've only spoken of what they've seen there and it may very well sound like rumours. So it's up to you to figure out what's really going on. All I'm saying is, it's probably something more than blasted moon lunatics.«

----

The night was not quiet. Monsters yowled in the dark, but none transgressed past the walls.
Yet each smash against the walls, one would think, they're going to enter.

Bt they did not.
How did the people sleep here.

 

[Matteo]

After some time spent observing the inn, he sipped the milk which was pleasantly warm. He attempted to question the few patrons but found little success in the endeavor.

The soup and milk combined with a warm hearth made Matteo groggy. Sleep soon befell the mountaineer.

He merely sat against the wall with a blanket draped over his shoulders. His shortsword rested against his body as sleep overcame him.

 

[HotepseAken]

The ears of the Anaphite priest twitched at every howl, bang, and cry from outside. Whatever the creatures were, HotepseAken was dimly aware of them. His conciousness was resting despite being alert for any sudden changes in sound. The outside threat had not departed from the morning sun when the doctor opened his eyes and sprung to life once more.

The belt was drawn up and fastened, the satchel with his tools slung across his shoulder, and he stood fluidly. His holy staff had not budged from its position during the night and was taken up with mechanical rigidness; it didn't even bob when it moved, so stead was the hand that grasped it.

The Anaphite made his way to the door, his internal clock telling him that, for this area, the sun would be up soon. The moment his hand touched the door, the banging and howling stopped.

It opened inwards, and the dull blue of a new dawn lit the fields and expanse. In the distance, slinking, nondescript figures could be spied retreating. The sun's coming had dissuaded the creatures from attempting anything against the Anaphite, imposing as he was.

Were he of less-disciplined temperament, he might have stepped outside last night to shut up the creatures. Well, they were quiet now, and the road called. He began to walk.

The staff clacked rhythmically, scales bobbing, though he paused at the threshold of the gate out into the wider world. A thought crossed his mind... a simple spell, more of a seal of approval to any traveling Anaphite who might come across the tavern in the future.

Deftly, HotepseAken scratched something into the base of the fence post with the base of his rod; a few basic hieroglyphs, a decree of blessing by the gods. According to Anaphite lore, a kindness paid to the Emissaries of the Gods was a boon many times repayed. If tradition held, this declaration of quality would ensure prosperity for the keepers family and good health to his children.

Simple as; let the Gods witness this sign, and any other travelers who needed comfort. With that, he turned and left.

He walked for a spell, the Clack of bronze ceasing as his speed picked up. With a flick, the scales were flung about, latching upon hooks with precision from years and years of practice. Once he felt warmed up, he would begin to jog. Shortly afterwards, he would run; the distance and speed of a traveling Anaphite were extraordinary. Wherever the road wound, whatever was along the way, would be encountered swiftly, so long as he didn't abruptly take slowly companions along for the adventure...

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

The last of the horrendous sounds was the call of the rooster atop the inn roof.
Exactly three times he called out, likely enough to wake those in the deepest of slumber.

Brenn seemed to be the only other human awake early in the morning, likely standing vigil throughout the night.
While cleaning tankards with a washcloth, he bid the Anaphite farewell, and any other that might have left this early in the morning.


The road to Grimere would be long, but nothing to compare after so much road already behind them. First wild fields began to show up on the sidelines. They were barren and unkept, lined by feral hedge and parasol shaped apple trees.
Under some tree in the distance, too far to see clearly was some kind of commotion.

 

[Matteo]

Matteo was pulled from a peaceful slumber from the sound of the Anaphite preparing for his departure. Groggily, Matteo watched as the being ducked under the doorway and left. It took some time for Matteo to rise and gather himself. Matteo said his thanks to Brenn as he left.

In the distance, he could see the large silhouette of the Anaphite.

My word, Matteo mused, You move fast.

They both traveled the same road for some time, with the Anaphite disappearing after some point. Matteo wondered if their destination was the same. If so, they would see each other again. The mountaineer pulled his goat companion along, sometimes speaking to it to pass the time. Brenn had kindly brought Stump in during the night, otherwise, the goat surely would have been killed.

Some time passed. In the distance, Matteo could see the Anaphite's distinct silhouette. He was under a tree. Around him, he could see smaller frames.

He was sure the Anaphite would not actively seek trouble, but whatever trouble would ever find the tall being would be of little consequence. Despite this, Matteo hastened his stride to join the physician.

The commotion became clearer the closer he got. Upon arrival, a few heads turned to watch as he approached.

 

[HotepseAken]

The jog never wound up to a run.

Slowing down once more, the Anaphite mortician began to walk towards this commotion about the tree. It was, for lack of a better word, chaos. A crowd, writhing in the mortal fashion of pandemonium before some threat it had cornered. Hanging from the tree, corpses. Some, old. A few, just releasing their mortal coil.

HotepseAken felt his nose bounce, his maw salivate, as he watched the souls release from one of the hanged, her vital spark extinguished and Ka departing to the next life. The momentary distraction of that dragged him away from outrage over the bodies being left to rot in the elements, being so disrespectfully abandoned. Of course this indignation returned with a vengeance, narrowed eyes and twitching ears.

Next came awareness of the commotion, filtering through the cries and screams. More people on the gallows, more serfs eager for a show of blood and brutality. To the Eldar, it seemed so very barbaric. What did they gain from this? What was there to be-

Then, he spotted the next victim. A bizzare and unique creature, pale of skin and red of eye: An albino, most likely, and an elf as well. Such a rare creature, elf or no, but with their limited rate of reproduction... Once this show was over, HotepseAken would need to work fast if he wanted to autopse the corpse and understand this magnificent creature and who it was in life. It could be critical to understanding Albinism and elven biology. Such a mutant was exceedingly rare, and a prized find. Why... HotepseAken could not claim to have ever seen such a creature.

He was just as awed as, likely, the elf was at seeing him, an imposingly tall, ancient, and powerful creature. He met its eyes, his white portals to the soul showing with no hinderance the thousands upon thousands of spirits devoured over its life. Such a creature as they were, both of them, could do little to hide just what they were. Not from each other.

Somehow... HotepseAken felt some respect for the other creature. How beautiful it was... If only he had come to know it in life. What such Eldar could have shared between them, without fleeting Manfolk to muddle the process.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

It was a grizzly sight. From the ancient tree hung horpses old and new. Many young, most in their ripe years in fact, a few, however, were very old. All were dressed in some kind of peasant dress and long skirts, muddied from this and that occasion.

They dangled from the tree like some kinda decoration.

There were about 7 peasants beneath the tree, five men and two women, talking together like some flock of birds on a tree. It was hard to discern anything between them and the white witch that was held back by two of the men while a woman looped a noose around her neck.

»Your fields will be barren, your men impotent, I curse you with the worst of fortunes to come. Each night, not one but ten barghests will haunt your yards.«