Normally a place filled with birdsong and the sounds of the forest, the northern part of Stillwood Forest was silent, the wildlife hardly daring to breath as a dark shadow stalked past. Demonic Rabbits retreated into their burrows, Giant Spiders skittered up trees and hid in their webs, while the normally dominant Red-maned Wolves lay low, whimpering quietly as the beast passed by.

“Halt.”

With a grating sound, a harsh voice rang out, causing the beast to stop as it entered a small clearing. The clearing had clearly seen better days, as the traces of battle were still fresh, the scars of combat visible even to the untrained eye. Broken arrows were scattered across the forest floor, the moss and grass that normally covered the ground underfoot scattered and mangled from numerous footprints and gouges in the dirt. Scorch marks and bloodstains could be seen throughout the clearing, although the largest concentration of both were at the far end where a collapsed pyre could be seen next to a prone black figure.

Dismounting from the enormous blood-red wolf that had borne him here, an enormous hobgoblin stalked over towards the collapsed figure. His grey skin bore the marks of many battles, and the enormous sabre at his side bespoke of his willingness to fight many more. Reaching the figure, the hobgoblin knelt down, observing the many wounds upon the corpse of an enormous black wolf. The burnt shafts of several arrows jutted from its chest and throat, and slash wounds could be seen everywhere on its paws and front, indicating that it had suffered dearly at the hands of its killers.

“The slash patterns… Scouts. They don’t use fire magic though,” the hobgoblin muttered, his guttural voice piercing the quiet forest air. Rolling the enormous wolf over, he appeared to search for something within the remains. Finding something, he deposited it into a pouch at his belt. Finished with his task, he ran his fingers through the bristly fur of the wolf, closing its eyes with a gentleness that belied his appearance.

“Ster Agnium,” he intoned. Done with his task, the hobgoblin stood up, making his way over towards the fallen pyre. It had not been long since the pyre had burned. Fresh soot covered the grass nearby, not having been washed away by the recent rain or the wind that had howled through the forest only two days before. Within the pyre, burnt sticks mingled with blackened sticklike objects, all mixed together where they’d fallen as the pyre had collapsed on the forest floor.

Eyeing the remains of the pyre dismissively, the hobgoblin sneered, his foot stamping down upon a blackened object in the center of the pyre. With a cracking sound, the burnt skull shattered, its brittle form no match for the hobgoblin’s booted foot.

Returning to the blood-red wolf, the hobgoblin jumped on its back, directing it back the way they’d came as he brought a pale gemstone from his pouch. Making a quick sign in the air, the hobgoblin spoke. “I’ve discovered Giram’s worg.”

“Dead, I assume?” a harsh voice echoed back through the crystal.

“Yes. Although she took out one of the rats with her. The other seems to have been aided by an outsider. She’d been subjected to fire magic.”

“What of Giram’s equipment?”

“I recovered most of it from his corpse. I doubt the scouts had time to loot his body before moving on, not with Giramskra on their tail,” the hobgoblin replied, referring to the dead wolf behind him.

“And his spellbooks?”

“His spellbooks burned with his mount.”

“Good. The scouts may have escaped, but this was to be expected. Return to your post and double the patrols. Doubtless, the Novanalbans will send other rats to investigate. We’ll take this opportunity to kill as many as possible as we finish our preparations.”

“I shall do as you command.”

“Good,” the voice replied. “The situation is still salvageable. But Grimarok? Fail me again, and you’ll wish for the mercy of Giram’s fate. Understood?”

“Yes, Commander Redclaw.”

With that, the crystal went dark, as silence once again returned to the forest. Depositing the crystal back into his pouch, Grimarok’s eyes went dark. The Novanalbans had slaughtered one of his worgs and humiliated him in front of his commander. Soon, there would be a reckoning.

Soon.