10. Ash, Smoke & Tears

All that was left of man known as Plain Martin was part of a neck chain Surina had grasped, charred ash a stink of some cologne the man had worn.
Gilles and the others looked at the Dragonborn, wondering what mayhem could explode but after a brief moment Surina sheathed her sword and pocketed the neck chain and promptly left.
The others decided to stay clear of the dragon born for now.
When she disappeared into the night, Eberond started to help Orn bury the dead Silver Fangs in shallow graves, though on the dwarf’s suggestion to keep clear of Maria, who grasped her dead husband Grigorie.
Bal’Aur and Gilles left them to their devices, strolling back to Trg in the midnight.
Gilles and Orn discussed their situation furthermore, with Eberond suggesting the dwarf to turn away from the wickedness the Silver Fangs had stooped to, but the dwarf simply said he had little choice in the matter. Yet he promised to help him find Slyblade, who Eberond had said had betrayed him with the intent to kill the half-elf.

The Bluff

The next morning, Gilles rose early and approached the Mer’s House, where Mama should be found at. Although it was early, he managed to intimidate the bleary eyed secretary to wake the Mer.
Mama approached shortly, descending the stairs. She looked at him with some disdain but offered him inside her office. The room was functionary, documents and books placed orderly. The portrait of the Grand Marshall overlooked them both.
The cleric extended his hand and proffered the forged document to her. Looking into his eyes she took the document and then read it, with the Grand Marshall’s signature and seal emblazoned below. After uttering a sigh, she reneged on her decision to keep Bergand’s Curiosities, promising Gilles she would indeed allow the shop keep to open his doors once more. She admitted she was very much against the idea, but at this stage had little else to do.
She offered the door for Gilles who promptly left. The others had already left Trg, escorting Odar and his little blue wagon but Gilles caught up with them shortly. He planned to return to Trg shortly and collect his due from Bergand.
As he joined the rest of the adventurers, he didn’t notice Eberond’s down cast eyes and nervous expression. Surina was not with them, and Bal’Aur told him that the dragonborn had chosen to stay in Trg for a day or two but would catch up with them soon.

A Crimson Halo

A weary Eberond didn’t notice Gilles return with the group, he was too deep in thought. He was recalling a dream that tortured him last night.

The half elf returned to the Barren Tree, though it seemed taller and meaner, threatening to tear down the midnight sky. He crept through the long grass, the sharp blades mirroring his own dagger. His quarry lay before him, its back facing Eberond. As his steps continued to bring him closer, Eberond wondered, had he not killed this man that night or an eon ago? Dagger in hand he was now bare inches from his oblivious quarry, so close he could smell the whiff of ale and a cheap wench.
Within a split second, Eberond grabbed the quarry down into the long grass and pushed the blade deep inside the back of the skull. Standing up, the half elf admired his work but then noticed that the man’s face resembled the dwarf from Smolder Mines. Despite his insignificance, the dwarf’s name, Skongrat Ironbraid, floated at the edge of his consciousness.
A line crossed across the dwarf’s neck, and dark crimson started to flow freely. Despite the darkness of the night, Eberond could clearly see red droplets encircling the head, like a dreadful halo.
The body jerked and started to get to its feet, whilst Eberond backing away, trying to wake from a dream. The dwarf shuffled awkwardly towards Eberond, lifting his grimy hand to its neck. Still advancing forward, it pushed its fore fingers deep inside the throat wound, and grabbed the skin and flesh. Eberond gasped in horror as the quarry started to pull the skin off, tearing it from the neck and then from the face, in a gruesome fashion. Yet where there should have been a skull, cartilage and facial muscles, was the bare face of a person.
Eberond had seen this face many time before, staring back at him from the reflection of water or a clean blade.

It was his own.

The Clan is Summoned

Odar pointed to the ruins of the inn and said they will lunch here and let the horses drink from the lake. He didn’t appear to mind that he nearly died here yesterday during the encounter with the Tabaxi.
They left the road and sat down nearby the glistening lake, eating the scrumptious food gifted by Ralf Tenemu as they had left Trg.
No one noticed the two approaching figures, until these strangers uttered a happy greeting. Bal’Aur turned and saw two full blooded orcs, quickly realising it was Delg’Aur Skorpsbane and Mer’Aura Wolfsplitter, people of his clan. They exchanged joyous greetings, clasping hands and Odar grumbled but invited the two Orc to sit and share lunch with them.
Delg’Aur explained that he and his kin partner were off to Junstol to find Bal’Aur, so this coincidence just saved them two day’s travel. He had been tasked by the clan chief, Bal’Aur’s father, to find him and let him know that the clan was moving within the week. They had received word of a summit in Death Sea where various clans would meet. Bal’Aur did not have to come and but they wanted him to know in case he seeks to return soon to the clan, that they would be away for some weeks. In case he sought the clan, it would be near Mount Dar in the north for another seven days.
It was evident that Bal’Aur felt torn between going with the Clan and fulfilling his Proving.
After some further chatter and banter, Mer’Aura nudged her partner to look beyond. Delg’Aur saw a black coach pulled by two black mares approaching towards them and the two orcs bid them farewell, slinking off into the landscape.

A Gold Piece For Your Thoughts

As the Black Coach came closer, Brutalithops stepped on to the road. The others stayed near the lake and the ruins and watched from afar.
The black coach came to a halt, guided by its driver. Next to the driver was the fearsome Goliath, who did not appear to take much attention of the goblin but his eyes scanned for possible threats. The driver, a man in simple dark brown cloak, knocked on the side of the coach and Brutalithops approached. The door opened ajar and the goblin looked up the Witch Huntress, Kaziya.
The goblin gave her respected greetings and provided a short summary of the situation, which was quite limited considering he was not involved in the events at the Barren Tree. The Witch Huntress told the man in the brown cloak to pay the goblin, and in turn the man threw a small pouch which clinked heavily in the goblin’s tiny hands. The Witch Huntress dismissed the goblin, and reminded him that they would contact him in the usual manner when need be.

With a crack of the lead, the rider urged the mares to pull and the coach drove off in the direction of Trg.
Brutalithops came back, shrugged his shoulders and continued lunch.

Goodbye, Father

The adventurers and Odar then finished the rest of their journey, arriving in the small home village of Junstol. The day was fair, with summer still not at its worst.
Despite the adventurers being away but for a night, the villagers seemed somber. As the wagon wheeled further and they were just about to pass the smithy when Bal’Aur noticed Mirabel, the half orc black smith sitting and weeping, consoled by the town apothecary, Mrs. Eren.
Bal’Aur approached them and as Mirabel stood and run to his embrace. He felt her body tremble, the deep sobs easily telling a horrible thing has happened.
Between the sobs, Mirabel explained falteringly that her father had been killed. The Witch Huntress had declared that the bite he sustained at the Smolder Mines from the strange Neogi could gave infected him and that he needed to be destroyed, lest a contagion spread to anyone else. Despite her furious argument against this, Mirabel could not dissuade the two Soulguard knights seizing her father.

A small pyre was quickly put together and Kovac was tied to the stake, all the while Mirabel screaming for mercy. The man would have been burnt alive was it not for the Goliath calmly stepping over to Kovac and with little effort, broke his neck. Following the Witch Huntress’ signal, the pyre was lit. While he lived, Mirabel did not get a chance to tell her father goodbye and now his body burned, consumed by the fire and rising up in the black smoke.

Plotting Revenge

Following the events at Mirabel's, the avdnetures found a place to talk about their plans. They all agreed that the Witch Huntress was a problem that needed solving. Even Brutalithops who was under the Witch Huntress' employ was eager to be rid of her.
He mentioned that he didn't know her for she revealed nothing of herself, but his keen eyes had spotten some interesting things - she wore a collection of unique looking rings on her gloved hands, the kind that could possibly be more than what they looked like. The goblin also noticed that she was careful to conceal her ears, and they looked as if they had been altered. Bal'Aur ventured a guess that perhaps she was related to elven kind, and Brutalithops nodded that it could be a possiblity. Gilles summed up that the rings may be of magic.
When the adventurers asked Burtalithops how he communicated with his employer, the goblin said that he would receive words directly in his mind, in Andrey's voice. He was the driver of the coach and they adventurers guessed that this man could be a spell caster of some kind.
It was here that Gilles revealed to the group that he was more than just a cleric, but indeed a spell caster, chiefly a wizard. With a quick uttering of strange syllables and intricate weave of his hands, he summoned a floating orb of magic. The rest of the adventurers seemed bemused, for it appeared they had already had some ideas before about Gilles' gifts.
On their assumption that the Witch Huntress was using magic, a forbidden art, the cleric wizard continued on, exploring the idea that they obtain enough evidence so that even the State and its authorities could not ignore that the Witch Huntress a criminal. The rest agreed and decided to return to Trg.
Gilles said that he had matters here to attend to which could help further their cause.
He also said that he would need to reveal to Surina his abilities.

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It was evening, and the group decided to slake their thirst at the Dog's Leg.
The tavern was calm, with Zdero Pero polishing cups and a mournful tune was being played by Hope on her lute. Some people groaned and left a table, leaving a grinning man sweeping in a pile of coins.
Brutalithops asked if the others were interested in a game but they declined.
Brutalithops then sat down opposite to the stranger and the man obliged. The fates were undecided, despite even Gilles discretely helping the goblin, for the two games of Three Dragon Ante had both players share the same flights leading to a draw.
To the stranger's disapointment, the goblin declined a third game and enjoyed his drink instead.
Later that night Bal'Aur returned to his temporary home at the black amiths, He heard the restlesness of Mirabel. He softly entered her room and as she lay in her bed, her back facing Bal'Aur. In this state she reminder him of a crumpled leaf, crushed underfoot by footsteps. He asked if she needed someone to hold her. Without turning, she nodded.

Contemplation

Meanwhile, Surina strolled through the main street of Trg. The lanterns were slowly being lit as the sun started to recede, but the town was full of people of varying class and fortune. The censers continued to burn the herbs to mask away the slight smell of fish that easily lingered from the docks. At least it was more pleasant than the smell of the heretic burning last night. She had come to terms with the encounter - she realised that the heretic deserved death but it was premature. Information could have been gleaned from the man but alas it was not so, but even in his death answers hinted at revealing themself. Helm worked in mysterious ways, so said the Bishop Nazdrav during her earlier conversation that day.
Surina took a silver piece from her purse and dropped it into a beggar's cup and kept walking, as behind her a black coach receded down the road and towards the sunset.