Nightbringer
vietmykeAdrian, Maellinn, and Victor
The Road to Eamonvale
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The cart wobbled to a stop before the carnage. Adrian gaped at the scene before them. As the ox-drawn cart turned a bend in the road, the copse that had been obstructing the path ahead from view finally gave way and revealed what must have very clearly been the site of an ambush - likely picked specifically because of how the road turned and the manner in which the trees obstructed a traveler's view of anything around it.
There were no bodies or bones - either somebody had gone out of their way to have cleared them, or else the wildlife had already gotten to them. But scattered off across the side of the road against the verge of trees like so much sweeped-up rubbish were the broken and shattered remnants of what must have been a wagon at some point. Broken planks of wood, a severed axle, and the splintered remnants of a wheel, some lengths of rope, and a twisted length of cast-iron all lay in a heap. One of the larger intact segments of wooden paneling had a dark, splatter-pattern stain across it. The length of a fallen tree which had probably been obstructing the road previously was missing its limbs, and had been haphazardly dragged partially off the road so as to make room for passage by caravan - though the remains of its stump still crested the lip of the road.
There were two additional unusual sights accompanying the grim scene. On the clear opposite side of the road, right at its boundary, the packed earth had been split open right next to the dirt and verdant soil. A massive stalagmite, twice as thick around as a heavyset man and taller than the cart itself, sprouted from the ground in casual defiance of what basic, natural principles of geological formation. The apex of its spire was a cruelly jagged spear rather than a smooth and rounded tip as might be expected of a natural stalagmite, and was also graced about its crown by another off-color darkened stain.
A ways off the actual side of the road and past the first line of trees was also something of an unnaturally formed clearing. There was a massive sink-hole in the ground, impossibly spherical beneath its lip like some kind of opened drawstring bag set into the ground. The upheaved and sundered bodies of more than a dozen trees surrounded the hole, some having fallen altogether into the open into the shade below, a few forming an impromptu leafy roof over the pit. Below, just visible beneath the heap of branches and leaves, was a single skeletal arm adorned in tattered and worn chain-mail and clasping at a pitted and rusted short-sword.
Conspicuously pinned to the tree over the remnants of the other wagon with a nail was a Wanted Poster. The scene of the ambush was doubtlessly weeks or more old, but the sign itself look relatively new.
Maellinn looked at the curious geological formations with the interest of a tourist, and it wasn’t until she caught a glimpse of the hidden skeleton did she pale.
“I think we should hurry through here, John,” Maellinn goaded the oxen, who snorted in reply.
“Big hole,” Adrian observed the wreckage. She climbed off the wagon with the intention of investigating further but caught sight of the wanted poster. Tearing it off from the trunk, she squinted at it critically for a while before finally declaring “can't read. Victor?”
Victor who had seated himself back amongst the duo snatched it out of her hands and scanned it’s contents with a scowl. “Hrm, just a bounty. Pretty hefty stuff this lady’s pulled off…” he began mumbling the series of crimes being pinned onto her name. “We better be careful, report it in the next town over. I don’t want anything to do with whoever can pull -that- off.” he motioned at the destruction they began passing. He rolled up the parchment for keepsake and passed it onto Adrian, telling her to pack it away in the back of their wagon.
Adrian scurried off and leapt into the cart, her head poking out behind the front bench. The ruined treeline, great swathes of earth torn out of their rightful place...and a faint feeling of unease, with the thick spikes and shattered remnants of a wagon not too unlike their own. Her gaze flickered back and forth from one point to another. “Is John okay?” She asked, motioning to the stationary beast. “He has been walking for many hours. But we must not stay here.”
“He wants to nap I'm sure,” Maellinn answered, her eyes pasted to the scene before her, “let's-- let's keep going then.”
Victor added a meek grunt of approval to Maellinns words. “Let’s.”
_____
Dusk was beginning to creep in on the horizon when Maellinn, Victor and Adrian finally trundled towards Redbrook, a fairly sleepy village nestled against a clay bank river. It was the picture of rural perfection; thatched rooftops, a creaking waterwheel and a sturdy bridge lit by sputtering lanterns. However, the further the sun slipped back towards the horizon, the more doors appeared to lock. Villagers were hurrying to the buildings. Even the tavern was starting to bar the doors as they rolled in.
“I always thought villages were open and welcoming” Victor commented at the behaviour of the villagers as Maellinn lead them into Redbrook. Adrian watched from her perch, tilting her head. The cart had slowed to an amiable pace, so she hopped out and jogged across the street. Her head turned this way and that before she pointed to her left.
“It is… odd,” Maellinn remarked. She looked at Adrian and called out, “see any stables?”
“Yes!” She called out. “The inn is here!”
Maellinn let out a sigh, “perfect.”
Once at the stables, Maellinn quickly jumped from the wagon to unbridle John. The ox stamped his hoof as the leather straps of the yolk peeled off of his hide, leaving raw imprints from all the pulling. Maellinn gave him a quick pet, “you did good.”
“He’s good at his job, no wonder you cherish him.” Victor said as he began with the process of unloading his hunting gear, deciding against keeping them in the wagon over night he slung them over his shoulders.
“Stinky John,” murmured Adrian softly as she came tottering out from behind the wagon, arms full of monster hunting gear.
“He is very good at his job,” Maellinn flashed a smile that quickly faded, “I just realized how hungry I am.”
Without any warning Maellinn dove into the wagon and began rooting through her things. A shirt went flying, as well as a few socks before she stopped and yanked free a burlap pouch from her laundry. Juggling it in one hand she gauged its weight, grimacing. She tugged the tie that kept it closed and peeked inside, her grimace turning into a frown, pulling out only a small scattering of coins, “running a wee bit low.”
“We’ll resupply tomorrow. Maybe see why everyone's acting like there’s a bandit raid about to happen.” Victor says, tilting his head in the general direction of the by now long dead quiet village homes. Adrian made an impatient noise, arms trembling from their heavy load. At this Victor motioned for the trio to enter the tavern.
The Dirty Duck was a much smaller establishment than the inn in Bradle's Worth. It still retained some of its coziness but the fire had been laid low into a reddish, dim glow that suffused the seating area in semi-darkness. This was staved off somewhat by the multitude of candles on the tables, but it still felt ominous - tense almost. Like the rest of Redbrook, this building was also doing its damnedest to appear abandoned.
“Close that bloody door, will you?” The elderly innkeeper cried out. He meant it not out of malice, but out of fear for his own safety. Once the adventurers had shuffled inside his shoulders slumped with resignation. “You picked a terrible time to show up,” he sighed. “It'd be a sin to kick you out of doors, so if you're here for a meal I'd ask you stay for the night - even if it is down here by the bar.”
At the mention of food, Adrian tugged at Victor's sleeve. “Hungry, Victor…” she tentatively asked.
Maellinn dumped the small scattering of coins from her burlap purse onto the counter, “what’s this get us?”
The innkeeper studied the coins, plucking the largest one from the counter. He scratched his chin and looked at Maellinn, “these aren’t minted for this kingdom, miss.”
Maellinn lowered her eyes but the man grunted, a small hospitable smile turning his lips, “I’ll accept it anyway, you all look gaunt as it is.”
“Thank you!” Maellinn beamed, but the man was quick to slap a finger to his own lips and shush her, “just, keep it down, yeah?”
Victor quietly settled by a table as Maellinn took care of bartering. His mind raced to the bartenders behaviour, not at his kindness but at his apparent fear. Resting his equipment besides his seat he scanned the rest of inn and made note of the dimmed lights, not that it was hard to ignore (it gave the place a very atmospheric feeling), and waited for his companions in contemplation.
Maellinn arrived at Victor’s table, a wooden plate in each hand, with a soggy biscuit and mashed potatoes on each. Her steps were careful and quiet, her face focused on avoiding the squeakier floorboards. After a few more well placed steps she finally arrived and placed one of the plates in front of Victor, settling on the opposite side of the table for herself.
“You didn’t have to… you know.” Victor pointed his chin and the plates of food.
“Oh!” Maellinn looked surprised, then grimaced as she turned to meet the glare of the innkeeper. Turning back to Victor she all but whispered, “well-- I know. I just… well we’ve been on the road for a whole day, I thought you’d be hungry.”
Adrian had absolutely no reservations towards eating food that somebody else paid for. She reached out for a bowl and prodded at the mash inquisitively with a spoon before scooping some into her mouth. “What am I eating?” She decided to ask once she was around a quarter of the way through.
Victor faintly smiled at Adrian’s eagerness to eat: “Aren’t you forgetting something, Adrian?”
Adrian looked at Victor. Her spoon hesitated mid-air. Her features crumpled up in the intense effort required to remember something that might have been vague and insignificant when taught, but was absolutely essential in this moment. She glanced pleadingly at Victor for the hints that weren’t coming her way. “Every gift given has a price?” she offered with uncertainty.
“... What? What does that even- no! I mean to say ‘thank you’.” Victor scowled at her.
“It’s one of the oldest rules,” Adrian responded blandly. “Everything has a price. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Eventually.”
“Which reminds me,” Maellinn looked to Victor, “we need to find a job to do and quick.”
“I got a feeling there’s something stirring here as it is. Everyone's on edge.” Victor pointed out. “You two eat, i’ll chat to the owner.” he nodded at Maellinn before slowly standing.
“And ask him if there are any mills around, I'm out of flour,” Maellinn quickly added.
Victor rolled his eyes to himself as he approached the innkeeper who was silently standing by his countertop with a worrisome look plastered on his wrinkled old face. He offered Victor a nod of acknowledgment as he approached him. With a lowered voice their conversation began.
Maellinn watched as Victor walked off. Shrugging she stabbed a spoon into her mashed potatoes and began eating. After a few full bites she nodded at Adrian, “how long have you and Victor been together?”
“Some weeks,” Adrian replied, peering down at the meal confusedly and taking slow, nervous bites. “I am happy that he has helped me for free. He taught me many things. Like coins.”
“I would have never guessed, you two are almost like siblings,” Maellinn smiled, keeping her voice hush, “how old are you anyway?”
Adrian looked down at herself. “I do not know.”,
“Oh,” Maellinn gave her a sympathetic frown, “I suppose in the wild woods you don’t really need an age, huh?”
She paused and then offered a warm smile, “well, you’re out of the woods now. How old would you like to be?”
Adrian looked enthusiastic about the idea of choosing her own age. She mused over the concept whilst experimenting with her mashed potatoes. “I like the number seven,” she offered, “but I already was seven before I hid.”
Maellinn thought between bites of mash, “ Mm... Mm... yeah, can’t be the same number twice.”
She picked up her biscuit and took a bite. Immediately her face twisted into a scowl, an unusual look for her usually friendly face. She plopped it back down onto her plate and whispered, “whoever baked this biscuit should be ashamed.”
Maellinn took a few seconds, and then her usual cheery face reappeared, “why were you hiding, anyways? If we can pin why, maybe we can pin how long and add it to seven.”
Adrian gingerly pushed her plate away and gripped her hands. “My village was-...it was attacked. By monsters.”
“Like the kind Victor defeats?” Maellinn scooped up the last of her mash and was holding it in front of her face, studying it.
“I do not know. He has not taken any work since I arrived.” Adrian paused to stuff her face. “I was very young, they looked worse than they might have been.” She peered up at Maellinn. “But that is why it is best that I remain with Victor. He promised.”
“I guess that’s why it is best we both do,” Maellinn let her spoon fall back onto her plate with a dull wooden thud, “I’m scared of monsters, too.”
As Maellinn and Adrian were amidst their conversation, Victor had managed to wrap up his quiet mumbling with the bartender, finalising their silently struck deal with a thankful nod Victor lumbered back to the two girls and sat himself amongst them again in silence, a serious expression on his face to indicate the severity of the situation before he said anything else.
Adrian attempted to alleviate the situation by generously offering her plate of half-ruined mashed potatoes and the soggy remnants of the biscuit. Amused by Adrian’s attempt, Maellinn followed suit and pushed her plate towards the man as well.
“Well, there’s good news and bad news.” he told the two, reaching out for their respective plates to start picking at the remaining scraps to fill himself with. “Which one first?” he raised his brows at Maellinn.
“Good first, good always comes first,” Maellinn smiled.
Victor nodded, chewing on some mash for a long time before swallowing and responding: “Place has been haunted for a week now. And yes, by the sounds of it it’s not just the residents going mad.”
“How is that good news?” Maellinn looked horrified.
“Well, there hasn’t been anyone contracted for it yet. So our timing is impeccable.” Victor reached for another mouthful of food, nodding along. “I came to a mutual agreement with the owner here. They don't have much coin, but they’re willing to give us supplies worth of several weeks for us three in return for fixing their problem. How’s that sound?”
Maellinn perked up, “perfect! Although-- what about flour?” She questioned meekly.
“I’m sure we can add that to our list of supplies. Not sure if their standards going to meet yours though.” Victor added, finishing up the remainder of the plate.
“Flour is flour, I’ll take anything at this point,” Maellinn shrugged, “so what’s our first move?”
Victor took a moment to contemplate. “First we need to find out more. Spirits and such… not really comparable to animals. There’s a reason it’s targeting this place. Find out a who, why, and when. It’ll bring us one step closer to getting rid of it.” he explained to the two.
“Hm, okay,” Maellinn tucked a hand under her chin and leaned on the table, “how do we figure that out?”
“We watch it,” Adrian responded. “Maybe we talk to people. People lie, or get angry. We watch-...thingie. See what happens.”
Maellinn closed her eyes, her head resting on her hands, “oh.”
Victor nodded at Adrians words, “Something like that, we have to get a bit investigative.” he paused and shot a brief glance at where the innkeeper was previously standing. “I asked the innkeeper but he couldn’t tell me much. Just mentioned the person who was first attacked.” he turned back to the two and continued: “Everyone's turned into a shut-in since it’s first appearance though. No more community gatherings, kids don’t go out to play. There’s not been any deaths though.” he stopped, letting the information settle amongst his companions as he began to further ponder the situation.
“How do you eat it?” Adrian asked solemnly.
Victor furrowed his brows at the girl, “You… you don’t, Adrian. I don’t even think you -can-”.
“How else are you meant to destroy it?” Adrian continued, looking just as perplexed as Victor. “It will come back if you do not destroy it. The only way I know that works is eating.” To demonstrate, Adrian took a mouthful of biscuit, chewed and swallowed. “Gone forever.”
Victor furrowed his brows at Adrian, “No, that doesn’t work. Besides it’s not really forever gone, it’s just in there.” he pointed at her stomach.
“It's mine now. I changed it and now it is mine.” Adrian spoke with the patient certainty of a maddened idiot. “How do you destroy something you can not eat?” She repeated.
There was a loud thud as Maellinn’s head slipped off her hands and fell to the table. The tired woman jolted up, her eyes popping open, “huh!?”
She blunk twice at Victor, “I’m so so sorry, what were you saying on how to deal with spirit wisps and what’sits?”
Victor looked at her in seriousness and replied, “By being well rested. Something we should get on to doing.”
“Not sleepy though,” Adrian protested.
Victors head snapped at Adrian with a scowl, “We’re not having you wander around the night, besides last thing we want is to cause a ruckus at night. You sleep.”
Adrian grumbled into the scraps of mash she endeavoured to scrape out of the bowl, with such a precision that you'd think she was trying to clean it for the innkeeper. “Where is room?”
“Just down the hallway.” Victor pointed in its general direction. “It’s smaller than I expected here.”
The tavern's rooms were standard affair - a double bed, a small seating area with armchairs and a low lying coffee table, and some shelving units to put away the essentials. Adrian had brought in some of the equipment - a sufficient quantity to be able to excuse herself early and devote herself to dissecting the room in its entirety. She looked in, under and behind the bed. Every drawer was opened. The wide edges of every floorboard were fumbled with pasty, bony fingers. She couldn't find fault in anything save for a loose board, which she began to pull out of the floor but was rudely interrupted by Victor's boot on the board and a short lecture on property damage. Reluctantly abandoning the faulty floorboard, Adrian sat cross legged on the rug and stared at Maellinn for a while to cheer herself up.
Maellinn looked about and smiled sleepily, “looks like you all got a good spot for the night.”
“Be good,” she winked at Adrian before turning, “I’ll be with John in the stables.”
