Treasurer Kin.

103^rd of Hunter’s Moon, 719

Ereschstag, the town of Elder Rimheit’s parish, was a short ride on a stolen horse.  I never thought I would be chronicling my own crimes, yet once this is over I will gladly hand over the evidence of my sins and pay the price.  It is the only way I can redeem my name.

I found the church easily enough, as a group of pilgrims were marching in slow progression towards it.  I fell in line with them, and walked that lonely walk that is only possible when surrounded by strangers.  Twilight was taking over as the sun lost yet another battle with the moon.

To my surprise, the procession turned just before it was about to ascend the church’s steps, instead filing into a gated opening leading to the catacombs underneath.  A strange custom of Kessig, was all I thought upon entering.

I heard a metal clanking sound ahead of me, and that was when I noticed that the catacombs had been refitted to form some sort of prison.  Stranger still, this sullen congregation had begun locking themselves in, one per cell. 

So much twisted reality had assaulted my brain over the past few days that I can never be sure if I am dreaming or not.  It was then that one of the self-imposed prisoners spoke.

“You don’t belong here.  I suggest you leave – for your own sake!”

Just then I heard the unmistakable sound of stone grinding on stone, and I looked down the ragged hallway to see a heavy door rolling into place.  I started to run, but it was futile.  I would soon learn the nature of this charnel house.

It started as an agonizing scream.  The people in the cells began to twitch and convulse, as gurgling noises permeated the cavern.  The man who had warned me was now staring intently at me, as the body around his eyes began to twist and contort.

The sickly sound of ligament being torn and flesh being stretched was unbearable.  As disgusting as it was, I could not look away.  I watched as the man’s humble form twisted and bent into that of the werewolf.  The screams and gurgles were soon replaced by howls. 

At every cell, clawed hands slashed at the air, intent on flaying the flesh from my bones.  I had fought these creatures before, but only when the numbers favored us.  Now I was but one piece of meat in a hall of hunters.

The jail bars had clearly been reinforced to contain these things, but I did not know if it would contain their strength at being so close to food. 

I found myself kneeling in prayer.  Perhaps I have not lost all of my faith.

In the morning, the guards that rolled the stone door open greeted me with a blow to the head.

Raben