Black Wolf Rising. Chapter 3: Witch in the Woods

The scent of various herbs intermingled together to create their own unique presence that slipped first into the odd dreams that plagued Arynn’s mind. Dreams and imagery vivid as reality collapsed into a mist that wavered at the edge of consciousness before they became but lost figments.

A groan of pain spilled from her lips as she became aware of the aches that throbbed through her chest, leg, and head. Her eyes stayed shut as her mind took in the sound of a crackling fire, and the warmth that bathed her, and the brush of a fur lined blanket against her naked skin. Something was wrapped around her leg tightly.

Slowly opening her eyes, Arynn looked around, finding herself laying in a bed against the wall of a cottage. As her vision became clearer, the blur of sleep fading, she noted that the walls were at once hewn by human hands, and grown. The natural curves and swells of a tree mingling with the straight cuts of a saw. Sunlight struggled to get in through the dusty windows, ivy both inside and out letting only strands of light to stab inwards, leaving only a few candles left carefully on shelves and tables to light the abode.

Confusion and concern swirled together in Arynn’s mind as she sat up, supporting herself on an elbow, groaning at the movement in her back. The blanket falling from her shoulder let cooler air wash across skin that was starting to feel too hot. Propped up, she continued her scan of the cottage.

There was sparse furniture, only a desk covered in parchment with a few ink pots and quills to the side, a few shelves littered with strange odds and ends, a counter that was growing out of the wall though the top had been cut into a perfectly flat surface, and a table with two chairs on either side. Herbs were everywhere in the place; dried, freshly diced, or pulled from the ground. Those were the scents that had broken into her mind.

With one hand keeping the blanket up at her chest, Arynn slowly swung her feet outwards. She spied her gear laying in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. Nothing seemed to be missing. Her tongue slid across dry lips, making for perfect timing when she found a wooden cup and a clay pitcher nestled carefully on the floor beside her.

Lifting the pitcher she sniffed at the contents; just water. Ignoring the cup she brought the pitcher to her lips. The water was cool,  refreshing as it splashed down her throat. As she drank, a raven’s cry almost made her choke and drop the pitcher. As it was, she set it down carefully, eyes moving to the window from where the sound had come.

The black feathered bird was perched upon the window sill. It tapped at the glass with its beak, as if to try and get Arynn's attention. Wiping a forearm across her lips, Arynn watched the bird, its eyes gazing at her through the pane.

The cottage door opened with a creak that pulled Arynn's attention from the window and the raven outside. A woman in a long dark green cloak stepped inside, a basket of herbs in one hand, blonde hair falling from within the shadows of the hood.

"You're awake," she said with a friendly voice, with a hint of a harsh rasp. Her free hand rose and drew back her hood, revealing pleasant features, and a ragged scar across her neck.

"Where am I?" Arynn asked, shifting in the bed, pinning the blankets to her upper chest with one hand. She was surprised when no pain flared in her leg.

"My home, in Venshoft Forest," the woman said, the second after a moment's pause. She pulled off her cloak and hung it upon a peg that grew out from the wall to accommodate the wool burden. Beneath it was a simple dark wool dress that clung to her curves.

"You saved me then. My thanks. But, I would know my saviour. My name is Arynn," the Demon Hunter said, bowing her head slightly. The woman paused in her approach to the bed, hesitating before giving an answer, her fingers absently tracing along her throat.

"Selena," she said gently and finished her walk to the bed. Carefully she took hold of the sheets and glanced up to Arynn, before pushing them back to reveal the hunter's leg, and the bandages wrapped around it.

In silence she unwrapped the bandages, Arynn letting go of the blankets considering what was unveiled by Selena just a moment before, letting the woman push them off her patient entirely.

As the bandages came free, Arynn stared down in wonder at her leg. Where a gaping wound should have been, was only a fine white scar.

"How long have I been here?" she asked, and Selena looked up.

"I found you last night, you've slept through the morning," she informed the hunter who blinked. It began to sink in; this woman was a practitioner of magic. The abode itself was certainly a strong hint, but this kind of healing did not happen without the aid of one of the Gods. Up here in Aenkleth, that meant the woman was either an apostate, or worshipped one of the dark Gods of Hell. Neither of which was good for Arynn.

Her sword was all the way across the bed. She had her bare hands, but she wasn't sure how quick the woman would be with her spell craft. Selena's eyes snapped up to Arynn.

"I could have left you out there. It was tempting. People doing what they thought was good gave me this," she said, fingertips gesturing to the line across her throat. This close, Arynn could see it was the scars of a noose.

"You demon hunters are even worse. Hunting and killing things that don't follow your Gods without trying to understand those you slay. This is my home hunter, and I will emerge from it alive no matter your actions. No matter that Lyxa wishes you alive for some reason," the witch said with narrowed eyes.

Arynn had her answer though, and lay back, pulling the blanket over herself again. She thought of the raven that had woken her last night, warned her of the druden attack just down the road. The bursting skull of the drude that had tried to kill her. Pieces falling into place, Arynn looked to Selena.

"It seems I find myself with strange allies in these dark times," she admitted, partially for immediate practicality. Partially because she knew Lyxa and Aalzgoth were not friends, and using the forces of one against the other could only be beneficial.

Even as the words left her mouth though, Arynn could not help but feel a clench of nervousness. If the witch spoke truth, then one of the dark Gods had taken an interest in her. Selena grunted as she stood, moving towards one of her counters. Her hips swayed gently with each step and Arynn leaned back. The witch had seen her utterly bared, she felt it fair to savour a peak.

As Selena grasped a string of vine like herbs hanging before her, chopping them into fine slivers. A sweet scent flowed through the cabin as oils flowed out onto the counter top. Selena glanced over her shoulder, and Arynn let her eyes move upwards.

"It seems your reputation was not entirely out of proportion," Selena said gently, and at this Arynn frowned. She did not have a reputation in the north as far as she knew, and very few knew much of her down in the south, save those with the coin to afford her services. Demon hunter's often worked alone and in the shadows.

"Do not look so surprised. I've heard enough whispers from the beaks of ravens to know of who you are. You've been watched for some time now from my understanding," Selena said, taking five strips of cloth and laying them carefully in the spreading puddle of oils.

"By what?"

"Spies. Demons. Ravens. I don't know the specifics, I'm just a forest witch."

Carefully Selena began to roll up the now pale green bandages, forming tight cylinders that she carefully tied off with a slip of red ribbon. She then carefully slid them into wooden tubes and sealed the ends with leaves tied into place. Taking a nearby candle, she snapped her fingers, lighting the wick with a flame that sprang from her fingertips.

"Why?" Arynn couldn't help but ask as she rose from the bed, letting the blankets fall from her form.

The only response she got was a simple shrug, and the hunter began to dress herself, though she did note how the witch took a peak over her shoulder before resuming her work. Tilting the candle she ensured no air would enter her tubes as wax dribbled over the edge of the leaves and placing each of her five containers on their sides to let the wax dry.

"We should leave as soon as you are ready," Selena said suddenly.

"We?" Arynn said as she gathered her weapons and slid them into place after a quick inspection to ensure the witch had done nothing to them.

"I've killed druden now. Whatever silent truce I had with the minions of Aalzgoth is over. It will not be long before they come for me, and I have no desire to be amongst the Sluagh. Besides," Selena turned then, staring at the hunter before her, eyes narrowed. "You owe me your life."

"Strange allies indeed. Where's Khali?" Arynn replied, adjusting the belts holding her weapons to rest comfortably.

"Your horse? Outside, probably munching in my garden, the beast," Selena said, testing the wax on her tubes with a single finger. Seemingly happy, she slid them into a satchel and slid it over one shoulder before grasping her cloak.

"There's still a lengthy ride to Lairdon," she warned, and Arynn nodded as she followed the witch out the door, the other woman slipping into the long cloak for travelling. Taking a hold of the twisted stick that served as a latch, Selena opened the way to the outside.

Arynn was the first to step over the threshold and in the sunlight that broke through to light the forest's floor. The trail that curled from the front door and into the forest soon vanished, hidden by fallen leaves and grass. Arynn doubted many would be able to find the witch out here in the depths of this far stretching forest. Just to her right, penned in by a simple wooden fence was the mentioned garden. Various herbs and vegetables were spouting up from the dark soil. And in its centre, munching on a head of lettuce, was Khali. The destrier snorted and looked up at Arynn, and began to make his way to the opened gate.

Soft whispers caught the hunter's ear, and she looked over her shoulder. Selena stood by her front door, fingers pressed gently against the entrance of her home. Soft green light ebbed out from her fingers and soaked into the wood. Branches twisted with deep groans and curled into the doorway itself. Without magic or a good axe, no one was getting inside. Arynn felt a shiver of nervousness run its cold finger down her spine.

Clicking her tongue behind her teeth, Arynn called Khali over, the horse letting out another grunt as he left the garden. Selena sighed at the sight of plants broken beneath the war horse's hooves.

"I don't suppose you have a ride for yourself," Arynn said as she grasped Khali's reins firmly, earning a snort from the beast.

"No. I've had little reason to travel for some years now," she said stepping towards the horse and Arynn nodded.

"Best we walk then. No need to wear Khali out," Arynn said, but kept a hand on the reins, turning to walk with him down the path. "Besides, if you can't ride, and I don't know where to go, walking will be better for everyone."

A rustle of branches caught her attention, and the hunter's hand flew up to the sword jutting over her shoulder. A single smooth motion had the silver edged steel sliding free as her eyes glanced amongst the trees that suddenly seemed too crowded.

It wasn't the druden, they never made a sound until they were upon you. The smell of rot that weaved through the forest answered Arynn's question for her. Just as Selena had feared, the Sluagh had found them.

With no sounds other than their footsteps, the undead slowly came into view. Flesh hung off their bones as slack faces stared at the victims that awaited them. From all around they came, the two women turning slowly to see more corpses walking around the cabin they had just left. Their stench was almost overpowering, brown blood crusted to their forms.

Neither Arynn or Selena said anything, the witch drawing a small dagger from within the confines of her cloak, while the hunter drew her sword. She couldn't fight them all, though most held no weapons.

"Get on the horse," Arynn said firmly without looking at the woman who had saved her.

"I don't know how to ride," Selena reminded her.

"Doesn't matter, just get on," she said, the first of the creatures now stepping free of the tree line, a fine blade held firmly in its hand. It must have been a soldier once, judging by the armour it was clad in, a great crack in the chest showing a possible cause of death.

As Selena climbed up into the saddle, Khali bared his teeth, letting out an angry snort at the approaching dead. Arynn though leapt forward to the nearest one, the dead soldier. Blade rang out against blade and the dance of death was upon them both.

Silver steel scraped against steel as Arynn swung her opponent's blade outwards. A quick twist of forearms and wrists brought her blade crashing down onto the sluagh's elbow. The sword's edge bit deep, pushing mail into flesh but not severing the arm. Thick brown blood seeped through the rings, and the creature launched its head forward for a brutal head butt.

Meeting the strike with the pommel of her sword, she watched the creature's nose crush inwards. It showed no pain, no concern for its well being. She had to turn, blocking a strike from the side, and kicking the top of its knee. Bone gave way and a long slice to its neck nearly took the creature's head off. More gore spilled down its front as Arynn pulled her blade free. The edge scraped against the sluagh's spine, pulling it forward. Yet still it did not fall into a true death.

"Selena, go, now," Arynn yelled, kicking the cracked chest plate to knock the creature back, and spun to meet a second. Her sword whistled in the air, and lopped an arm off in the mid forearm. The severed limb fell to the ground, but the creature came forward without concern.

"What about you?" Selena yelled, as Arynn kicked the second undead creature away, and thrust her sword through the centre of the first's face. A palm behind the pommel through enough force into the strike to send the point crushing through bone and out the back of the skull.

"I'll catch up. Just, hold on," she called out, pulled her blade free, and already having to deal with the second again. A quick slash downwards bit into its thigh, and her feet carried her backwards as a third and fourth monster came at her. One with a dagger, the other a pitchfork clutched in both hands.

Khali let out a whinny. Whether the destrier had reacted on his own, or Selena had figured out how to give commands, Arynn could not see. She had brought her sword up before her, catching the thrust of the long makeshift weapon between two of its prongs. A sharp twist tore the pitchfork from the sluagh's one hand, which reached out for Arynn's throat.

A quick stomp snapped the weapon in half, and she turned fast, swinging her blade in a tight arc. The second monster's head fell from its shoulders as the sword cut its way through, the body collapsing to the ground. But another was already nearly upon her. Arynn rolled backwards, away from the reaching arms. As she came to her feet, she led with the point of her sword, driving it up under the chin of yet another sluagh. Chips of bone broke off on the crown of its head, and Arynn pulled her blade free swiftly.

Khali had broken a hole in the circle when he ran off into the woods, Selena on his back. Broken, trampled bodies lay in his wake, leaving a neat hole for the demon hunter's escape. More and more of the Sluagh was pouring out into the opening, and Khali's hole would not be open long. Arynn burst forward, legs carrying her into the woods.

Twisting her body and ducking low, she avoided the branches that reached out to snag at her. All around her, the silent dead marched towards her. Relentless, uncaring for the bodies left in the witch's front yard.

Boots snapping twigs underfoot, Arynn sprinted as fast as she could. When a sluagh stepped out from behind a tree and levelled a spear at her gut, the hunter twisted out of the way as best she could. The point snagged on a ring in her mail after slicing into the leather overtop. Her momentum tore the spear from the sluagh's hand, but she stumbled in a roll to the ground. The creature turned and came at her, not even going for its own weapon.

A swift kick to its knees had the creature falling, a second sharply delivered strike with her boot had it tumbling to the ground beside her. With her free hand grasping her axe, she pulled it from the loop it hung in, and twisted her body. The axe blade burried in the back of the sluagh with a dull thump. The snap of bone told the hunter she had gotten its spine.

Pulling the weapon free, dripping blood, she looked back from whence she came. The forest was full of the dead, stumbling towards her, wanting her life for their own. The hunter scrambled to her feet, kicking leaves and dirt up behind her. She swiftly slid her axe back into place, and left the paralyzed sluagh were it lay.

By the time she reached the packed dirt road, her lungs were burning, but she had managed to get some space between her and the horde that followed. Selena waited there, sitting on Khali's back, her eyes wide with fear, knuckles white around the reins she clutched. The destrier's hooves were covered in that thick brown blood and scraps of flesh. The horse just snorted as Arynn came forward.

"Good boy," Arynn said, patting Khali's neck affectionately as she sheathed her blade, before gesturing for Selena to release the reins and slide back in the saddle. Just as the witch moved, the hunter climbed up into the saddle.

Wrapping her arms around the hunter, Selena pressed herself tightly to the hunter, who glanced back into the woods. She could see the slow moving forms of the dead moving amongst the trees. Pressing in her heels, Arynn had Khali start off down the road in a hard gallop.

~***~

A few more hours on the road, stalked by the Sluagh all the while, and the trees finally gave way to rolling fields of grass that the country was so well known for. To the north were the mountains and beyond the highlands of Aenkleth. To the south was a broad river that glistened in the late afternoon sun. Staring at it a few moments, Arynn eventually realized it was the Lora River, that ran through Lairdon itself, and east to the Elesan Sea. Even now she could see the furled sails of a trading barge making its way west, and eventually south. Out from Aenkleth, and perhaps freedom from Aalzgoth's newest campaign.

The fact that what looked to be a military vessel of some sort was following behind the barge told Arynn that the rivers were not safe from the dark God's wrath. She did not want to know what he had surging beneath those waters.

Able to breathe easily, she slowed Khali down to a trot. Gradually, she became aware of the sensation of the witch pressed tightly against her back, though the hunter's own armour dispelled much of the sensation of Selena's soft form. If the situation were any different, Arynn would have allowed herself to enjoy the press of breasts to her shoulder blades, delicate yet callused hands wrapped around her stomach.

As it was, the near escape had the hunter on edge, and a smudge of smoke streaking the sky between her and Lairdon had her nerves alight. The two rode in silence along the road until they began skirting a fence that blocked off wide fields of burned crops. Smoke curled up from the ashes, a few poles that had once held scarecrows jutted up from the smouldering rows of what should have been the coming harvest.

"His legions have gotten even closer to the capital than I guessed," Selena said softly, but Arynn said nothing in reply. She knew what was to come, for it would be the second such scene she would bear witness to in as many days.

If the Sluagh and Druden were staging raids so close to Lairdon, she doubted that troops would be able to head west to the Convent of Saint Genevieve. As Khali's hooves carried her further along, she saw the edge of the village itself. Now she saw the bodies, at least the ones too far mutilated or burned to rise again. Left amongst the skeletal remains of homes that had collapsed upon themselves.

Slipping from Khali's back, Arynn slowly walked to the village's centre, glancing at each torn form of each villager, and their children. Blood stained the ground, soaked into packed earth and the rubble of homes. Severed limbs and heads were scattered amongst the bodies, strings of entrails making macabre lines along the ground.

"Oh no," Selena whispered as her eyes settled on the pike in the circle of the village's centre.

Impaled upon it was a woman's head. A strikingly beautiful woman in life, though a pair of horns curled from her forehead and over her hair. Her eyes and tongue had been torn out from her face, leaving crusted blood running over her cheeks and her chin. Arynn frowned at the sight.

"What was a succubus doing here?" she said, as Selena slipped from Khali's body. The destrier snorted, uncomfortable amongst these ruins.

The witch moved towards a large ruin, and found a body trapped beneath a heavy wooden beam. Covered entirely in black chainmail, except for her back, the dead woman lay at what had once been the entrance, a bloodied sword still in hand. The stump of her neck was ragged, and the leathery wings emerging from her back were tattered and broken.

"Fighting, and trying to protect these people," Selena said, getting Arynn's attention.

The hunter looked at the slain demon, and the bodies behind her. All children. Before her, dark druden blood was splashed all over. It appeared the hand maiden of Lyxa had fought off a good number of the beasts before succumbing. She had never imagined the day would come that she felt respect for a demon, but here it was.

Kneeling by the body, Selena carefully pried the sword from the fingers of the fallen succubus. She brought it over to Arynn, hilt resting on one palm, blade on the other. The hunter looked upon the sword, forged with the near black metal of Hell, with veins of earthen silver running through the blade. Runes she couldn't read were carved on either side of the fuller, running from the rain guard to the midpoint.

The cross guard itself had two prongs that curled like talons aimed towards the point, and supple leather was wrapped around the grip. The piece was capped in a raven's head pommel, with twin gems for eyes.

"Designed to kill the damned," Arynn said, looking once again at the succubus, and the bodies of those she had died defending.

Selena nodded slowly, and pulled the sword to herself, taking off her cloak to wrap up the weapon, hiding it from view. Arynn moved again to Khali, and took the horse's reins in hand. She started to walk through the village, keeping her eyes straight ahead. She had seen enough death in her life, that she didn't need more memories.

Following quietly behind, Selena hugged the blade of her Goddess, her cheeks glistening. She said not a word.

The demon hunter could only think of how monumental her task had grown.

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Black Wolf Rising Chapter 2: Upon the Road to Lairdon

The sun had risen above the horizon over an hour ago, and Arynn was standing before the bed she had spent the night in. She had changed back into the hard leather and mail armour after a hearty breakfast, and was currently picking her weapons up from the bed.

The silver etched sword slid easily into its scabbard, a dagger into a sheath across her lower back, a single edged axe slid into a metal loop on her belt, and the composite bow that was so popular in the south fit easily into a sheath that would let her keep it strung for the ride to Lairdon.

A soft knock came at the door as Arynn adjusted the straps that held her scabbard and bow sheath firmly across her back.

“Come in,” she said looking over her shoulder, hand instinctively straying towards the dagger.

When the door opened and Gillian walked in, Arynn had to consciously let her hand drop from the hilt. If the novice noticed it at all she said nothing on the matter, instead simply sliding into the room, glancing at the sword angled across her aunt’s back.

“You’ve only just arrived,” she said, Arynn turned to face the young girl.

“There is nothing I can do here,” Arynn was careful as she spoke the words, gently laying her hands upon Gillian’s shoulders.

“You can fight. Mother always said you could. That you were a hero of Ilimm.”

Arynn struggled not to laugh, to snort in derision. The few letters that travelled all the miles between here and wherever Arynn found herself had never been talk of heroism. Evelyn had made her thoughts rather clear when Arynn left home. Perhaps though her sister never wanted Gillian to think the same of her blood. For that, Arynn was thankful, and did manage to keep her face neutral.

“Be that as it may, I am but one woman. If I can get aid from Lairdon, we should be able to push back the sluagh and druden both,” she said instead, pulling her cloak from the wooden peg hammered into the wall beside the door, the fur of the garment flowing over her shoulders.

“So then, you’ll leave me, as you did mother. For what you think is best.”

Arynn turned, seeing her niece standing but a foot from her, fists clenched at her sides until her knuckles were white. There were tears in her eyes as she tried to defy her aunt. Arynn felt a twinge of guilt, a familiar scene once more playing out before her.

“What I know is best. Prepare yourself Gillian, the dark is deeper than you expect.”

With those final words, Arynn slipped out of the room, quickly making her way out into the courtyard. She found Amelia standing there with a horse that was not the one she had ridden in on. His dark brown coat was well groomed, and the saddle strapped across his back well made. Arynn raised an eyebrow, as she took in the creature, noting its muscles, the firm gaze it held with its soon to be rider.

“A knight once came through here. Bloody and wounded from a fight, we nursed him back to health over a month. For some time we didn’t think he would make it, but make it he did. The day he left, he said good bye to his destrier, not wishing to lead such a beautiful creature to the bloody end he knew he would eventually find for himself. So, we kept Khali. It’s been over a year now, but he is a restless soul. Battle is in his veins, as peace is in ours. He will not find peace here... but with you, I think he may help us bring it here,” the high priestess said as Arynn walked forward, running her hands through Khali’s mane.

She leaned her head forward, until their faces touched, his hard skull pressing gently against her. He let out a snort, but didn’t pull away.

“Thank you Amelia.”

“Don’t. Just as you cannot stay, we know now that neither can he. The knight might very well be dead, finding his end. I set him free not for you, but for him. Go Arynn, and return swiftly.”

The demon hunter nodded, trying to think of a response, but instead swinging up into the saddle, feet hanging at the horse’s flanks. She looked ahead as the gate began to open for her, and pressed in her thighs.

Khali shot forward, urgent for impending freedom, hooves cracking against the stones and dirt of the roadway as horse and rider shot out into the early morning. Neither looked back at the convent, relishing the feel of wind in their hair, blowing across their ears.

Eventually though, Arynn brought Khali to a slower trot, not wanting to wear him out so soon after setting out. Just before mid day, the sun at its zenith, the cool mist of the morning gone, Arynn had to pack her cloak away in her saddle bags, filled with fruits, nuts, and dried meat for the journey.

The pair paused by a stream, piled rocks the closest that came to a bridge, the water trickling between them. While Khali leaned his head low to drink, Arynn filled her canteen, before tossing an apple to the destrier, and taking one herself.

For a few hours after she walked side by side with Khali, gently holding his reins lest he get any ideas about leaving her, with all her gear. She was starting to rather like the beast; well trained, strong. She patted the side of his neck before mounting him again, continuing on her path.

She had never actually been to Lairdon, the capital of her home country. Only heard stories of it, but it couldn’t be any larger than Porma, nestled on the glittering coast of the Marizan Sea. Nor rival its beauty. Still, for Aenkleth, it was a place to see.

As night began to fall she set up a small camp, tying Khali to a tree with a loose knot. She didn’t dare start a fire, but fed a few apples to Khali and bit into some dried meat herself, chasing it with a few swigs of water and nuts. She already missed the candied nuts so common in the south.

Leaning against a tree, Arynn folded her arms behind her head and let her eyes slip closed, fingertips drifting across the hilt of her sword even as she fell into sleep.

Darkness swirled through her mind, interrupted by violent and vivid images. A flash of blood and severed limbs with a loud piercing scream, gray and cold. A gasp in her ear and the smell of sweat as a naked woman rose before her, visage hazy as a clawed hand ran up over her breast, golden, black and warm. A priestess upon her knees, amidst dazzling light.

It was the cry of a raven that pulled her from her sleep, and the nightmares that haunted them. She shot to her feet, sword sliding slickly from its scabbard in the moonlight. Above her the bird rustled its feathers but did not move. Arynn frowned at the creature as it twisted its head, eye staring directly back at her.

A shiver crawled down her spine; ravens, the messengers and spies of the demon Goddess Lyxa. Staring upwards at the bird, she slowly moved towards Khali. She had stored her bow carefully across his rump, her quiver on the side of her saddle for ease of transport. Had the Raven brought nightmare’s upon her, delivered at the whims of a succubus? Or was it the spreading darkness of Aalzgoth twisting even her dreams?

Just as fingertips grazed the bone and sinew of her bow, she heard the scream from down the path locals called a road. Loud, a mixture of pain and utter terror. The raven’s wings burst into a flurry of movement, carrying the creature into the night sky and from view.

Even before it was gone, Arynn had pushed the strange event from her mind. It was something to ponder another time. Already she had untied Khali’s reins, and was in his saddle. The sword across her back scraped against leather as it slid out into the open air, silver glinting in the moonlight.

With thighs pressing firmly against fur covered flesh, Arynn was soon guiding Khali down the road, his hooves beating against the ground in a faster clip with each step. Trees whipped past her as Khali sped along the road, before taking a turn at a fork that plunged directly into the forest.

With only a slight curve ahead of her now, Arynn could see the flickering light of torches, burning wagons, and shadowy figures moving in the glow they cast. Steel glinted in the firelight, and the sounds of fighting and dying carried through the forest despite the pounding of Khali’s hooves.

As she came closer, Arynn could see the tall thin forms of the druden, sliding like shadows through the low lighting amongst what appeared to be a caravan of merchant wagons. Guards sporting chainmail and metal caps fought desperately against the demonic foe as merchants, wives and children hid or ran.

Khali did not shy from the druden, and Arynn inwardly thanked the good training the destrier had received. A lord snort burst from his nostrils as he charged forward, head low to protect his neck, hard skull aimed towards the first of the unnatural creatures.

The demon turned, a woman, gray and tattered rags hanging from its emaciated form, a black steel sword in its deceptively small hand. Its large mouth hung open, blackened blood pouring over its chin and across its chest, a loud shriek pouring out into the night before Khali’s head cracked against the creature, sending her spinning to the side.

Screeches of the damned things came from all around her, and Arynn slipped from Khali’s back. The destrier’s ferocity could not make up for her lack of knightly training.

With her boots on the ground, a drude rushed to her, an axe in its hand. The demon’s wide black eyes were leaking the same blood as its mouth, and it shrieked loudly. A familiar sensation of cold dread grasped at Arynn’s spine, but she ignored it, instead taking a single step forward and swinging her blade at an angle before her. She felt the sharp edge of steel and silver bite through cloth and flesh, cold blood spraying outwards as her sword cut the drude from hip to shoulder. As it collapsed to the ground, smoke poured out from its wound, an almost skull like visage snarling in anger before it dissipated with the drude’s death.

The demon hunter could not pause. Pivoting she brought her sword downwards into the shoulder of another demon. The silver in her blade snapped through the bone of the monster and it let out a familiar screech as a black cloud burst out from the wound. Kicking the dead thing off her blade in another spray of black blood she was moving again.

Her sword swung upwards from along the hard packed dirt. More blood, and a head flying free from the neck that had once supported it. The decapitated corpse slumped off a guardsman it had pinned beneath it, the man’s face white with fear but still alive. Words to Ilimm poured out from his mouth, hands shaking as he gripped his wavering shield, but Arynn had no time to snap him out of it.

Beside her Khali was moving on his own. Bred for war he did not shy from the combat, rising upwards and lashing out with his hooves at the druden that came before him, even crushing the skull of one of the demons into shards of bone and sloppy gore that spilled to the ground.

“Push the demons back, and we can live to see the dawn,” a man in fine mail overtop of fine breeches and a silk tunic said from atop one of the larger wagons. A loaded crossbow was clutched in his hands that he now raised and fired. The bolt lashed out into the darkness, earning a scream.

His brave words earned a few calls from the surviving guards as they moved to rally around the large wagon while the man atop bent to reload his crossbow. A figure crawled upward behind him, and Arynn shouted at him to turn around before a drude slithered out from beneath a burning wagon. Its hair smouldered, small flames flickering around its face as it screeched, a long wicked blade slicing for Arynn’s legs.

A shout of pain tore itself from her throat as the jagged steel ripped through the thick leather of her breeches and into the flesh beneath. Unable to look to see if her warning had been heeded by the man atop the wagon, she twisted her arms, smashing the flat of her blade against the sword cutting into her, snapping it from her. With a quick shuffle she moved back as the creature continued to crawl outwards her, arms out wide, elbows poking above its back.

A quick kick of her boot to the back of its head slammed the creature into the dirt. The demon hunter’s hands moved quickly, reversing her grip on her sword. It plunged downwards, sinking into demonic flesh, breaking ribs, earning a shriek and a black cloud.

Pulling her sword free with a wet squelch she looked up in time to see a drude shrieking as a long knife slid across the richly dressed mans throat. Bright blood sprayed out from the gaping wound in the light of the fires. The man’s eyes were wide in terror as the moment of death descended upon him, his mouth flapping in a desperate search for words or breath.

It was the breaking point. Gripped in fear, the caravan guards started to run into the woods. Those that weren’t fighting and still remained were descended upon. Their screams stabbed into Arynn’s brain as she tried to stay and fight. Another wagon caught fire, the flames licking upwards towards the sky, a dark smudge of smoke obscuring the stars above.

Druden were crawling over the wagons, burning and unharmed alike. People were pulled screaming from their hiding places, screaming as claws dug into their flesh. Twisted cackles filled the air as the demons gorged themselves on fear and death.

Finding Khali, Arynn climbed into the saddle as quick as she could, ignoring the flaring pain in her leg, the hot, sticky warmth sliding downwards. This was a lost cause, and as much as it pained her to admit, she could not save them. There were too many of the creatures. As her thighs pressed inwards, her hands pulling tightly on Khali’s reins forcing the destrier away from the frenzy of battle, Arynn sped back down the road, past the scene of slaughter, back again on the road to Lairdon.

She glanced over her shoulder, and saw them. Druden turned to silhouettes by the raging fires consuming the goods held within the wagons. They stared after the retreating demon hunter, one upon the largest wagon holding a severed head. Silent as death they stood, and stared.

Slowly, like shadows, they began to vanish, slipped into the woods, hunting down those fleeing the wreckage of the caravan. Arynn cursed to herself, speeding off again down the woods. Behind her, screams continued, each one a painful shard. She clutched at Khali’s reins, concentrating simply on the road before her.

As hooves pounded into the ground, Arynn felt a wave of dizziness come over her. Blood was seeping further down her leg, making her breeches cling to her skin. She dared a glance downwards, to see the leather split apart, the flesh beneath opened in a ragged weeping wound.

Taking one hand from the reins, she clamped it down over the wound. She gritted her teeth as dirt and grime from leather clad palms pressed deep into the gash. She did not relent though, instead pressing even tighter.

Shrieks sounded from the woods; the druden were hunting her now. Someone screamed, high pitched and horrified. Arynn clamped her eyes shut, trying to ignore the sounds, to fight off the dread closing around her heart.

Then something hit her hard in the chest. For a brief moment that seemed to stretch outwards into eternity she was falling, her sword spinning through the air beside her. Khali came to a thundering stop as his rider was thrown from the saddle, her arms flailing for purchase in nothingness as her eyes locked onto the assailant; a drude swinging out from the trees. When her back hit the ground, her breath exploded from her lungs, leaving her gasping for air even as her skull hit the ground, making a dent in the hard packed earth of the road.

Blood pumped out from her leg, spreading into the ground beneath her, as her eyes tried to focus on what was above her. A drude’s pasty face glared down at her, cool blood dripping from its eyes onto her neck as it toyed with a dagger.

Another pair were trying to carefully moving around Khali, twisted spears in their hands as they dodged the destrier’s wicked hooves, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

A raven cried out, the druden paused, long enough for Khali’s hooves to smash one to the ground, crushing its chest with a loud crack. The horse spun, back legs lashing out, sending his second attacker flying into a tree, its skull cracking open on the thick trunk.

The last of the demon’s looked up to the branches, and glanced back at Khali once. Arynn reached out for her sword, her palm settling on the comfortable leather wrappings around the hilt, before the drude’s foot stomped on her wrist. The heel of its boot ground into her, making her shout out in pain as its dagger rose above its head.

A head that suddenly exploded in a shower of bone and gore. Globs of brain and an eyeball splattered across Arynn, as a raven called out, flying from the shattered remnants of the demon’s head, off into the treeline.

“The, fuck?” Arynn whispered softly, as everything grew dizzy once more, the world fading out into a blurry haze as darkness encroached on her vision. A cloaked figure was drawing near, but there was nothing the demon hunter could do.

The realm of dreams claimed her as her body gave in to agony and injury.

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Black Wolf Rising Chapter 1: The Convent

A single letter was all it took to get Arynn riding through a countryside she had not seen in over ten years in the mist of early morning. The words of the message scrawled upon cheap paper by the hand of someone who scarcely knew how to write, yet no amount of spelling errors could hide the urgency behind each word. A call home, after so long. Something evil was stirring in the shadows, that even the faith of the rural folk could not repel.

Grasping the reins tighter as she rode hard, the chill of the mists swirling around her trying to pierce the cloak of thick black wool and fur that hung from her shoulders, the supple leather of  her tunic doing its part to protect her as the inn she had stayed at through the previous night faded deeper into memory.

She had wanted to travel through the night to reach the home of her sister, the only family she had left up here in Aenkleth, but the rumours and whispers from those that stayed at the inn last night had convinced her otherwise. It wasn’t their words that convinced her something was lurking in the night, but rather their fear. Arynn had not lived so long ignoring the signs of demons and monsters.

As the shoddily paved road turned upwards, towards the crest of a hill that ran from the mountains in the west that sheltered Arynn’s childhood village, and three miles east, she remembered the last time she had traveled this road. Nearly eleven years ago, she had been heading the opposite direction, a young woman with no husband, no children, and no future in sight, never thinking to ever set eyes upon the wooden beams and thatch roves of what had once been home again.

Now, as she crested the hill and emerged from the mist, overlooking the plains before her, still struggling to overthrow the morning fog, she saw smoke curling upwards towards the sky. Not a single column, but many thick plumes of black that lazily drifted upwards menacingly. Right where Glenval village was nestled.

With a shout, Arynn kicked her heels into the flanks of her horse, the recently purchased and as yet unnamed rouncey letting out a whinny as it broke into a hard gallop. Arynn’s heart pounded in her chest as the clatter of hooves and patches of dirt sounded in her ears. She kept one hand on the hilt of her sword as she rode through the mist.

Time stretched out for the demon hunter, the early morning hours turning to an eternity as she rode hard and fast, the horse’s breath coming in short snorts as it struggled to keep the pace his rider demanded. Foam dripped from behind the horse’s bit as it pushed itself at the behest of a stranger.

By the time Arynn had reached the outskirts of the village, her horse was struggling to walk straight, and the mist had slid away to a pale morning, the sun hidden behind a sheet of gray clouds that had swept in from the mountains. Slipping carefully from the saddle, Arynn reached over her shoulder and pulled her sword free of its sheath. The silver inlaid down the blood groove and curling like veins along the edges glimmered ever so slightly in the pale light. Her gaze swept over Glenval.

Each house was a smoking ruin, only blackened skeletons remaining of humble homesteads, smoke still rising from the mounds of ashes where once there had been furniture, walls... people. Leaving the horse stamping at the ground in discomfort at the edge, Arynn began to walk inwards, eyes flicking to splashes of blood smeared across stones laid carefully into the dirt to make pathways.

A raven let out a loud cry from the far edge, from the forest where the villagers gathered their wood and hunted their meat. The demon hunter kept moving, unable to find a single corpse save the occasional severed limb, though she could see all too clearly the entrails draped over the edge of the well in the centre of the village.

Sword at her side, standing beside the well she had drawn water from so often as a child, had tossed the occasional coin into to make wishes, she looked upon what had been her home. Had continued to be her sister’s home until some time last night judging from the smoke. She was having trouble conjuring memories of an innocent time with the stark reality of the present before her.

As Arynn’s gaze moved slowly from the husk of one home to the remains of the blacksmith, something caught her eye. With careful and deliberate steps, her eyes snapping from one location to another, she approached the ruins, stopping at the front steps and kneeling to one knee.

The smear of blood here was darker than the rest, almost black, and it stank horribly.

“Druden,” Arynn said softly to herself as she rose to her feet, noting that every scrap of metal had been taken from the blacksmith. So the demons had come to her home and razed it to the ground; the druden were not the most subtle of creatures.

Another piercing cry from a raven in the woods, the bird of death seemed like a beacon. Arynn followed its call, her footsteps too loud to her ears in the silence of a dead village. She left the path and walked through grass that grew taller and taller until she reached the edge of the tree line and peered into the shadows cast by the looming trees of the woods.

“Ilimm save us,” Arynn whispered, lifting a thumb to her left brow and pushing it upwards to her forehead.

That’s where she saw them all; the villagers, swaying ever so slightly as they dangled from ropes tied firmly around the thickest branches. The soft creaking was eerie in the morning quiet, disrupted only by the occasional beating of carrion wings.

Each of them had been stripped naked, their flesh bearing the long cuts of knives that had ripped the clothing from their bodies. The wounds that killed them had been made only worse by the birds that descended to feast upon the dead flesh, pulling strings of meat out from ragged holes in the skin to let it dangle.

Stepping into the grotesque orchard, Arynn carefully stepped around each of the bodies. Some of the men had their genitals severed, leaving a bloody hole with crimson trickling down to their heels. Some of them had been hung still breathing gauging by the rope burns on some of the palms that now lay by their sides uselessly.

Then Arynn spotted her. Even with her belly cut open, entrails trailing across the undergrowth of the forest awaiting the next carrion beast to come along and snag it, and her face a mass of purple and black bruising, and ten years of age changing her features, Arynn recognized her sister. A strange rush of emotions ran through the demon hunter as she stared up at her own flesh and blood. It had been so long that Evelyn no longer felt like the family she was, but she had been Arynn’s sister.

“I’m sorry,” Arynn said softly, taking hold of Evelyn’s hand gently, and knowing the gesture was utterly pointless even as she said it.

She was thankful for the fact that Evelyn was here; it meant her corpse was not wandering the countryside as one of the sluagh. She was far too late to save her sister, but she could avenge her. She had not expected the legions of Aalzgoth to have gained such strength here in Aenkleth.

Still holding her sisters feet, Arynn let her eyes move amongst the other corpses swaying around her, the creak of branches and rope almost overbearing in the otherwise silent wood. She felt her heart drop, for she couldn’t see Gillian; Evelyn’s daughter, and Arynn’s niece. She would be fifteen now, scarcely a woman, yet from what Arynn could gather, young Gillian was amongst the sluagh now.

Turning, Arynn stepped out from the forest, anger, sorrow and regret spurning within her heart as she sheathed her blade. She could make it back to the inn easily enough, but she needed more information on the movements of the druden, and if there were groups of sluagh wandering the area. There had been a convent just an hour’s ride to the north east, on the way between Glenval and Lairdon, the sisters might know something.

Gently taking the reins of her still recovering horse, Arynn began to start out, following the road that curled across the grasslands, skirting the forest that stretched far to the north. Absently, she wondered how many deer and squirrels were happily running about on this day.

The journey was longer by foot of course, and when she spotted the convent in the distance, another hour’s walk to the small hill it was perched upon, Arynn took a long drink of water, deciding to save her food for when she was mostly safe within its walls. She didn’t see any smoke rising from the holy site, which was a good sign. Perhaps Ilimm had not lost all his powers here in the north of the world.

Starting the climb up the hill, Arynn caught a sound on the wind. One hand upon the reins of her rouncey, the other reaching upwards to grasp her sword, she turned and looked towards the forest, listening.

Nothing else came after it, and she hadn’t be sure to begin with what it had been, so she quickly turned upwards again, moving step by step to the convent. Soon she was standing before the gates that led into the courtyard of the convent. Through steel bars with silver embossing curling like vines up the metal, Arynn could see the gardens lining the edges of the courtyard, the simple fountain in its centre displaying the St. Genevieve pouring water from an urn curled gently within her arm, and the crushed stone pathways that curled from the gate to each of the buildings within.

Directly on the other side of the gate though, spears clutched firmly in weathered hands, swords sheathed at the thick leather belts around their waists. Leather and chainmail armour was covered by a tabard split into quarters of blue and green, the symbol of a fox clutching a chalice and a sword upon it. From beneath kettle helms the two men stared at her, the left most one with a scar that left his cheek a horrible mess and his beard struggling to grow around the deformed tissue, was chewing on a piece of jerky.

The symbol was familiar to Arynn, she had seen it a few times during her time in the south. The Fox Company, one of the many free companies that had worked as far south as across the Marizan Sea. She’d not heard of them working this far north however.

“Sanctuary,” Arynn said, eyes moving between the two mercenaries.

“Not ours to give,” the one on the right said with a simple shrug.

“Then find me someone that can,” Arynn said firmly, and the two mercenaries merely glanced at each other before offering a simple shrug. Movement behind them caught Arynn’s eye.

“For the sake of Ilimm open the gates. You are not paid to turn away travellers, but to slay the beasts of this land. And seeing as how your acting, you may as well turn your blades upon each other,” a woman said, anger clear in her tone as she stormed up to the mercenary guards. For their part, they looked ashamed.

The woman’s garb was that of the priestesses that worshiped within the convent, except her white robes had golden lines running over her shoulders and down to her waist, where they burst out like sunrays. A rope of matching colour was tied around her, the tails trailing down with the folds of her robe. The high priestess of the convent, and not the same one that Arynn knew from so long ago. Yet, she did seem familiar.

As the guards opened the gate, the woman offered a sad yet warm smile to Arynn, ushering her inside, gesturing that she walk with the priestess. The demon hunter quickly fell in step with her, while a young woman in the gray robes of a novice came up to take Arynn’s horse to the stables.

“It has been many years Arynn Atwood. It is a shame that your homecoming must be in such, dark times,” the high priestess said, and the demon hunter was surprised that the older woman had recognized her. She looked closer, trying to pretend that the ash gray hair that was shaved until only the top of her head had growth, was more lively, that the crows feet and wrinkles creasing the forehead were smoothed out.

“Amelia?” Arynn said with some surprise, and the priestess smiled gently. A truer smile than what she had worn before.

“I’m guessing you’re here for your niece?”

Arynn quirked an eyebrow, and looked to the old priestess.

“Gillian is here?”

“Of course. She is amongst the novices.” A brief pause, gravel crunching beneath their footsteps as Amelia turned her head to Arynn, while the news sank into Arynn’s mind. “You didn’t know did you?”

The only reply the demon hunter could give was a slow shake of her head, before letting out a long breath of relief. A pair of mercenaries wearing only tunic and breeches wandered past, laughing quietly to themselves, Arynn’s eyes tracked them only briefly.

“No. Evelyn never mentioned it in any of her letters. Does she know?”

“She knows as much as any of us. That Glenval was attacked by druden last night, and that sluagh have been seen emerging from the village. I’m guessing you do.”

“Evelyn is not amongst the sluagh.” It was the only answer Arynn felt she could give, she could not bring herself to tell even the high priestess what she had seen in that wood line, no matter what horrors Amelia must have seen to prove herself worthy enough to inherit the position she held. She certainly did not want Gillian to know the vicious details. “She is dead.”

“It will give Gillian some comfort to know that her mother is in Ilimm’s light, and not in the shadows of demons,” Amelia said gently, and Arynn nodded in response, but the high priestess was not yet finished. “If not for Gillian, then why did you come?”

“Information, shelter for the night.”

“I can offer sanctuary for the night, but I have precious little to tell. The nights have been getting worse with each passing day. Aluma’s eye is blocked by thick clouds, and those that wander beyond torchlight have been dragged away by the druden. Packs of the sluagh have been seen to the south, slowly moving eastwards. We’ve been under a siege of sorts,” Amelia said, and Arynn nodded, though inwardly wondered if this woman had ever born witness to a proper siege to make that comparison. That she had made it inside the convent so easily, Arynn wondered how prepared for the coming days Amelia actually was.

Their walk had taken them to the front doors of the chapel, the second largest structure within the convent, loomed over only by the dormitories where both the priestesses and novices slept, and ate. There were a trio of mercenaries, one of them in leather and chainmail armour, sharing a bottle of wine between them.  

“That why you have the mercenaries?” Arynn asked, and Amelia simply nodded slowly.

“There have been threats rising around Lairdon. The Order of the Burning Blade has been busy at the capital, and the king’s armies are marshalling in case Baron Henry decides to rebel after all. My pleas for aid have gone unheeded, leaving me with no other option than coin to drop in the coffers of a free company to try and protect my people. Twenty men in total,” Amelia said, looking towards the drinking trio on the steps. “They can fight, but they leave much to be desired when it comes to piety.”

“I see that,” came Arynn’s dry reply. The mercenaries either didn’t hear them, or simply ignored them.

“So, demon hunter. What will you do?”

“It sounds like I’m starting to Lairdon in the morning. If the sluagh are headed east, and there are already threats around the city, then Aalzgoth’s aim must be out there. I need to find out what it is, and why he is hitting Aenkleth so hard when his focus had always been in the south.”

Amelia nodded gently. “I will have a room prepared for you, so you might at least get a good night’s sleep. I can also make sure your horse is prepared for a journey and pack some fresh provisions.”

“Thank you.”

“I helped bring you into this world Arynn. I wouldn’t be a very good mid wife if I let you flounder and perish on the road.”

Arynn nodded as she looked to the ground. Seeing mother’s face, pale and drenched with sweat, dark circles around her eyes as she gasped for breath, the sheets between her legs sodden with blood.

“Come, I’ll take you to see Gillian. She’s in the orchard behind the dormitories,” the high priestess said, snapping Arynn from her memories before they could take proper hold. The demon hunter nodded and let herself be guided along another pathway that curled behind the double storied structure on the south side of the convent.

The orchard ran from the outer walls of the convent, fifteen evenly spaced trees away to the small gap that separated it from the dormitories. There were ten rows of those fifteen columns, each with plenty of room for two carts to be pushed through, with ample room between them. Yet another mercenary was seated at a bench, absently sharpening a knife, his eyes watching a pair of birds that fluttered between the branches. Only two novices were in the orchard at the moment, inspecting the apples hanging from the trees, placing the ripe ones within a basket that hung from their forearms.

Even though the last time Arynn had laid eyes upon her, her niece had only seen four summers, she recognized Gillian immediately. Her thick brown hair had yet to be shaven along the sides and back, and she looked like her grandmother. For a moment Arynn just watched with a smile with Amelia standing beside her. The high priestess said nothing for a moment, but eventually laid a hand upon the demon hunter’s shoulder.

“Go on, before you frighten the poor girl.”

Arynn let out a short laugh that was even shorter in humour as she moved slowly into the orchard. The mercenary sharpening his knife watched her with a raised eyebrow, his knife pausing for a moment half way down the whetstone, but he made no further movements as Arynn walked forward.

“Gillian?” she said carefully, and the girl turned, an red skinned apple held within dainty hands that nevertheless looked callused and worn. Convent life was not an easy one. For a few seconds Gillian looked confused, and didn’t say anything.

“I’m Arynn, your aunt.”

“You came,” was her answer, the corners of her lips turning upwards ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry I could not get here earlier.”

“So am I,” the reply held just a hint of bitterness, and Arynn could not find it within herself to blame the girl. She let out a sigh.

“You’ve seen Glenval,” she said, a statement, not a question. As she waited the answer she gently placed the apple she held into the basket on her arm.

“Your mother... is not amongst the sluagh,” Arynn said, choosing her words carefully. She watched the same clash of emotions run across Gillian’s features that she had felt in those woods when she found her sister. Finally Gillian nodded, and moved forward, drawing Arynn into a tight hug, taking the demon hunter aback slightly. An apple fell from the basket, hitting her in the back of the calf, but Arynn ignored it, soon wrapping her own arms around Gillian’s.

Then the basket fell with a dull thump, apples rolling across the evenly cut grass, and Gillian buried her face into Arynn’s shoulder.

All Arynn could do was hold her niece tight as she began to cry.

Next Chapter

World Information

Here information will be posted as it comes up in the stories as a reference for readers.

Locations

Eurtha: The continent the majority of the story takes place in. Mostly grasslands, forests, and mountainous areas. The population mostly belongs to The Church of Light. 

Aenkleth: A northern kingdom with thick forests, and steep cliffs bordering the oceans. Its capital city is Lairdon. 

      
Lairdon: Capital of Aenkleth. A bustling city with the mighty Cathedral of Aenkleth, and a chapter of the Burning sword housed within. It houses the king, but is ruled directly by a duke. From its position straddling a major river, the city is a hub for trade within the nation.

Loran Castle: The king's own castle in Lairdon

Venshoft Forest: A massive forest to the west and north of Lairdon.

Lora River: The large river that runs through Lairdon to the Elesan. Also runs around Waentes.

Marizan Sea: A sea that splits the continent of Eurtha in half, east to west. South of the sea is mostly desert and jungle.

Dieties

 

Ilimm: The chief God of light. Represented by the sun, the giver of light, of fire, of warmth and heat.

Aluma: The bride of Ilimm, a Goddess of Light. Represented by the moon. The guardian of night, Goddess of love and growth.

Lyxa: Goddess of darkness, of blood, war, lust. The matron of vampires, the sacred whore.

Aalzgoth: God of darkness, of decay, of sorrow, of destruction. The patron of shades, the reaper of joy, the destroyer of paradise