Session 27: Bad Auntie Report

General Summary

It is a quiet night in Logvale. The cold of winter has long since left the woods, and even the refreshing winds of spring have lessened, making room for the warmth of summer. Even during the night, the temperature remains comfortable. Still, all windows and doors are closed, for a foul presence has haunted the small loggers’ hamlet these past nights. Nightmares have plagued most small children, dogs and cats have grown irritable and skittish and even the strongest and bravest woodsmen avoid the shadowy alleyways between wooden cabins. It has been years since an aura this evil and oppressive has fallen on Logvale, 5 years to be exact. Back when Corvu came to slay the magnificent fey stag, Sylvesse.   It is well past midnight when a solitary figure walks out onto the abandoned streets. The figure is small and hunched over, using a gnarled and twisted wooden staff to slowly walk towards the front porch of the largest building in Logvale, The Broken Branch Alehouse. As the figure steps from the covering shadows of the alleyway across from the inn, the torches on the nearby town gate flicker and die. The two guards stationed at the only entrance to the village don’t notice, for they are cast into an unnaturally deep slumber.   Still cloaked in darkness, the figure walks closer to the tavern but does not try to enter. Stopping about ten feet in front of the porch a bony old hand reaches into a moldy pouch to pull out brightly glittering dust. As the dust is carefully sprinkled on the dirt in front of the building, the figure recites ancient words of power in a croaking female voice.   When the final syllable finally echoes through the empty streets, the shadows seem to dance as the torches spring back to life, their flames reaching far higher and burning much brighter than before. The light is reflected off the diamond dust that slowly sinks into the dirt. The torches die back down with the disappearance of the final sparkling mote. Then, for a second, it seems as though the evil has passed and quiet has returned to Logvale. The cloaked figure does not move, however. She simply stares at the patch of dirt she just enchanted, anticipation growing.   Eventually, the ground in the small area begins to move. Slowly at first, but more violently soon enough. Something is working its way up. It does not take long for a headless, skeletal figure to dig itself up from beneath the street. As the undead being rights itself in front of the cloaked woman, she cackles.   “Welcome back, Corvu. A little lightheaded I see. Let me help you with that and reunite you with one of you loyal hounds at the same time.”   Again, the bony hand reaches beneath the cloak. This time it reappears with the decomposed head of what was once a wolf. Shambling up to the corpse she motions it to kneel and when it does so, she places the wolf’s head on its shoulders in an almost ceremonial manner.   “There, knighted as well, just like your quarry. Now go and have your revenge and mine, Corvu, former hunter of Neverhold, knight of Rune Hill.”