By Goose Day

It has been  a long two days, but we are on the road to Thraben once more, sword in hand. 

I had explained to Geralf the importance of getting the sword back, and he explained that it must now be in the hands of none other than his sister.  She was an insane necromancer, he explained, and had been terrorizing the moors with her army of undead for years.  He was merely here to stem the tide of her designs and eventually stop her.

Our ally gave us food and shelter, and I admit I have never dined so well in all my days.  I tried to sleep, to rest after the battle at the moors, but my brain was plagued by my failure. 

Last night, we were invited to a feast by our gracious host, and at this feast we would learn the true nature of our benefactor.  We were led into a grand hall, with a long dining table set in the middle of it.  I expected the hall to be filled with the village’s inhabitants, and in the strictest sense of the term, I was correct.  Geralf announced our presence with a flourish, and our would-be dinner companions looked up from their plates.

Each one was a stitched congregation of stolen parts, an arm here, a lip there.  Some had been made to resemble the humans they once were, while others were more grotesque sculptures of flesh, with four arms or twin torsos. 

Geralf beamed with pride, and clearly sought our approval at such a display.  Reika made no noise, but as I glanced at her I could tell we shared the thought: it was time to leave.

I had to decide how to extract ourselves from this ridiculous event without raising this insane man’s ire.  As fate would have it, the decision was made for me.  The windows suddenly shattered, and another dripping horde of undead poured through.

This time, they were accompanied by a woman I could only assume was Geralf’s sister, since she was wielding the Bloodletter and shouting commands to her army.  Once she saw Geralf, her anger took a new focus.

She demanded a book – pointing at the mantle where indeed, a skin-covered book was set, open to a page covered in crimson symbols.  The undead of both sides commenced to battle while the two siblings began to partake in childish bickering over who owns the book.

Reika took this chance to simple walk over and grab the book, dangling it over the fire.  Brother and sister stopped their argument and both let out a shriek that stopped each of their undead armies mid-swing. 

“Give Raben the sword or your precious book will be no more than ashes!”

Perhaps there is hope for Reika yet.

Raben

97^th of Hunter’s Moon, Ava. 719