Nostrum: Tales of Valor

Silence

"Do you find it strange, Briar? That The Council would permit us to leave in place of others, even when we were at the heart of a present threat?"

"Perhaps that's why they would rather us be away." Briar raises the Kneller's bell in his hand and turns it about as he speaks. "If the Great Beast has picked up Belial's scent, it would be best to remove him from the current situation."

"How might that be?"

"Well," he begins, clutching the bell's clapper in his hand and twisting it back and forth, "that depends on what remains unspoken. Perhaps, they wish to preserve his safety. Sending him off with beliefs that the beast hasn't taken hold of his scent would give him a chance at recovering. Or...," he pauses, snaps the thick metal apart, and tosses the clapper aside, "they have hopes that the beast will trail the scent." Slinging a rope over his shoulder, he ties both ends together. Then, loops a portion around the handle, pulls it tight, and lets the bell fall securely to his side. "Who are we to say which it is?"

The pair look back at Belial, who lays at rest beneath a simple tent; Constructed of cloth and a few crude wooden posts. Twisting about in place, attempting to get comfortable, he grunts and exhales weakly. The others turn back to one another, Cronn takes a moment to prod at a small fire Briar had thrown together, stirring the ash and embers. As a slightly larger flame emerges, he places his makeshift poker aside and outstretches the palms of his hands. Briar does the opposite, pushing himself away from the flame and planting his hands against the damp ground in a way that allows him to lean back, using his arms for support.

"They must know that we couldn't possibly reach all of The Knellers in one night."

"With the numbers we've been given? Certainly not. Yet, we do what we can."

"It's becoming quite the trend."

"Hmm?" Briar- having been gazing into the cosmos- looks back at Cronn, who shivers as he continues with his attempt to keep warm.

"We're given specific orders to follow. They can then last a week, a month, or go even as far as a year ahead. Yet, without fail, the orders change before we can truly fulfill them. Why is that?"

"Priorities change. When nothing more is happening, we return to our original orders. We clear out nests and we report our findings. When there is more going on, nests are the least of our worries. The Knellers are a much larger threat at the moment, as the assistance they will undoubtedly provide the nests with could easily overwhelm us."

Cronn thinks about the response for a moment. Seeing it in Briar's eyes that these words are firm beliefs, he disregards them. Looking back on Belial once more he bolts upright and onto his feet, kicking a portion of the embers up as he does so. Briar, noticing this, does the same with his crossbow drawn.

"What is it?" Briar vigorously whispers.

Cronn doesn't audibly respond. He simply jabs a finger through the air, pointing towards an area beyond the tent. Briar squints, trying to look past fog illuminated by the fire's glow. In his efforts, he spots what Cronn already has. The strange movements of a ghostly apparition, not far from where they are camped. As the entity wanders on, seemingly oblivious to their existence, they watch it carefully; Cautiously. Briar, choosing what move to make next, places his hand against Cronn's chest and steps away from the fire's warmth. With Cronn keeping near Belial's weary body, Briar follows the entity deeper into marshlands. The soundless being traverses terrain with troubles, not unlike those any other man would have, but doesn't seem too concerned with their surroundings in the process. Whereas Briar continues to watch with his weapon drawn, and a third eye on all else that he passes. Just to be sure that nothing unsuspected gets the best of him. With the shadows cast by their fire becoming distant, his interest in following the being and desire to head back start to intertwine, growing rampantly together and giving no clear victor of the two. The urge to follow pecks at his spine and the urge to go back crawls beneath his flesh, causing goosebumps to sprout. Until the apparition changes its behavior. Freezing in place, it darts its head to both sides several times. Even in its strange form, Briar can see the obvious outline of a torch in their hand, shifting back and forth with the direction they peer in. A sign that something malicious lingers nearby. As the form steps forward, into a pool of water, the liquid does not stir. Watching intently, he sees the visitor douse their light and crouch, submerging most of their body, seemingly out of fear. Briar's eyes grow wide as the ghost is swiftly knocked off their feet by an unseen force. Swinging wildly, the spirit struggles with its attacker. Doing all that they can to fend off what Briar remains ignorant to. The silent combat plays out for what seems like an eternity as Briar oversees it, wanting to assist but not knowing how. Then, it comes to an abrupt end. As the apparition falls on their back, they jerk their head upwards in an attempt to get air, but the thing that they struggle with sees the opportunity in their blinded state. As their head emerges it is swiftly forced down once again. Their arms fall limp and all but one knee comes to rest beneath the water. Finally, the form fades away, as if to have never existed in the first place. Yet, Briar knows it to have been there; Knows that a ghastly fate has been met.

As this revelation is made, the clear sound of water stirring makes Briar's blood run cold. Slow movements in the unknown become rapid sloshes, approaching him at an alarming rate. Taking what he has just witnessed into account, he aims his crossbow in the same direction he saw the other get ambushed from and fires a shot. Sparks fly from the weapon and yellow bolts of burnt wick zip off from a spike-covered ball. Nearby trees can now be seen through the darkness, along with the eyes and open maw of a lycanthrope. The well-placed shot clings to the beast's tongue, searing the surface and continuing to shoot off sparks. Unexpecting, the beast yelps, and recoils in pain giving up on its advances and trying desperately to remove the thorny orb that now pricks at the roof of its mouth as it bites down. In doing so, the creature accidentally seals its jaws shut, just as the wick's exposed extension burns up.

CRACK!

Covering his face, Briar feels brain matter slap against the sleeve of his overcoat, followed by the sound of a heavy splash. Looking out over the carcass, nothing but a stump neck remains above the beast's shoulders as it slips into the pool. Being swallowed by the bog, what portions of its mangy fur had managed to combust are extinguished. All that is left on the surface are the bubbles that escape through the creature's gaping throat. After stomping out the charge's remains that had made their way onto land, Briar stares into the void. Giving himself what he feels is enough time to digest what has been seen. Then, he turns towards camp and calmly begins the short trip back. Now intending to keep awake for the duration of their stay.