The morning fog was still dense on the floor of the old forest, making the way ahead treacherous indeed. Between the evergreens, you could occasionally see the column of smoke as it rose into the air. As you grew closer, it was obvious it's source was within the town's protective walls.
The old rusted gate was already open as Ilsha rushed through it, the others close behind. Their heartbeat quickened as their fears where confirmed.....
As Ilsha rounded the corner of Frad Ganny's house, her uncle's shop came into view. Its porch had collapsed and tendrils of fire were creeping across the roof.
The herb shop sat on the side of the town's main road, which now appeared to be brimming with growing chaos. It seemed most everyone in the village was gathered in a writhing crowd trembling with fear.
As the others came up behind Ilsha, they saw the scene that was causing their friend to tremble. Among the good people of Calim's Spring, evil dwelled. Two men, dressed in the dead black of the Order of Shadow, where addressing the villagers. Among the crowd, hushing them with their mere presence, other servants of the One God moved about.
The big hulking creatures loomed like wolves among sheep. They wore black armor, augmented with various spikes and blades, and carried huge, wickedly curved, swords on their hips and backs. Most stood easily 7ft tall, their bodies rippled with muscle and where adorned with various patterns of scars and tattoos that likely had some significance to those knowledgeable in such things. Their skin ranged between grey and grayish green and their eyes where the feral yellow of a predator. Many wore their long black hair in elaborate braids; others shaved part or all of theirs off completely. They growled at townsfolk who got too close, their mouths full of sharp teeth, with oversized canines, and a pair of lower tusks just long enough to protrude just over their upper lip.
Isen Valnev, the herbalist, sat on his knees before one of the orcs. His head hang in despair, or was perhaps forced down by the orc who gripped his hair.
The town’s guardsmen moved about he crowd, urging them to be quiet and not make a scene. Choric spotted his father, Danil Evenhand, directing the guardsmen, and trying to keep order in the crowd.
Kal looked around, desperately trying to get a look at the blacksmith’s shop through the crowd. For a moment he got a glimpse, and saw his mother and father being held by orcs as they violently searched their home and shop.
Nearby, another orc held a human woman. She was forced to her knees, bound with her arms tied to a shaft of wood across her shoulders. The woman was Tena Bailey, Jon’s widow. Her face was bruised, her nose bleeding, and her cheeks stained with tears.
Constable Grady Stover was being confronted by one of the men in black. The man wore black plate armor, and wore a cruel looking longsword on his back over his cloak. The hood of his cloak was thrown back, revealing long brown hair and icy blue eyes. A crow sat on a barrel nearby, as if listening to the conversation between the two. Stover was shaking his head rigorously, as if denying some misdeed.
The other man turned toward the crowd. This man wore the same black platemail that his accomplice wore, but he was much older, nearing his 60s by your best guess. Long white hair cascaded down his back, and his sword, black as if carved from obsidian and adorned with silver, hung at his side. His right hand wore a strange gauntlet of black metal. A large red ruby was set in the back of the gauntlet and each fingertip was adorned with a one inch long sharpened claw shaped ruby. A pink scar ran across a milky white left eye and down his cheek. His other eye was emerald green, and glanced about as if searching for something. A large black wolf sat lazily at his side, observing the crowd and acting as a guardian for his master. The older man sighed, mumbled something to himself, and raised his hands. Suddenly his voice boomed unnaturally loud.
“Know you all that you look upon Sirifai Caleborn, Legate of the Shadow, Servant of the One God, Priest of the Order of Shadow, and Ambassador of Theros Obsidia!
Under the Legate’s gaze, the crowd fell as silent as the dead.....
