The Peoples of the world had their own gods. Dwarves, Erlkin, Gnomes, Humans, and others, all races had their own pantheons.

Above those gods existed the high most, the gods of the very elements of the world. One for each of the elements, Light and Dark, Fire and Water, Earth and Wind. And a seventh for those people called Unsown, who had it within them to become aspected to any of the six

Between the greater elemental gods and the lesser cultural gids existed a third set. These other gods, they had various titles. The all gods. The cardinals. The duals. Each god unique to no people, claiming their right to aspects universal to all peoples. They represented the best and the worst of all those things.

Furustitia of Fury and Justice.

Amobido of Lust and Love.

Superrofance of Pride and Arrogance.

Lassisfactio of Sloth and Satisfaction.

Avariatas of Greed and Charity.

Admirvitia of Envy and Admiration.

Gudentia of Gluttony and Prudence.

Fancy names for fancy gods, but the common soul knew them by the face they wore, such as Furustitia being called Rage, Justice, Hate or Passion depending on what whim had taken it. Each Incarnate was known by many names, with one exception. She possessed but two names.

A black robed lady, known both by her appearance as The Masked and by her function. Death.

It’s long been known that children have a sensitivity beyond that of adults when faced with the strange. It is a rare adult that is able to maintain that sense of curiosity and wonder through their later years in the face of eking out a marginally comfortable existence.

Pella didn’t know her grandmother was such a person, Pella just knew she loved the woman who never brushed off Pella’s wild stories.

That’s why it went that way.

When he walked past the window of the outermost house of the village, Pella found herself spooked. She might not have put it that way, but when she ducked out of the window, that was the thought that crossed the mind of Pella's grandmother.

Ellodie couldn't let that go of course, so she mustered her strength. “Come ‘ere… child. Did you see… somet’ing?”

Little Pella turned her head, looking at her beloved grandmother with wide eyes and pattered across the floor. “No,” Pella replied habitually.

Ellodie laughed weekly, “T’ere is no one… else ‘ere, my child.” Mustering what strength she could, she lifted an arm slowly from the bed and rested it on Pella’s head. The little eight year old reached up with two arms and held her grandmother’s wrinkled hand as it slid to Pella’s cheek. Pella rested a third on the hand closest to her that remained on the bed. Elly continued to smile at the child that wasn’t truly of her blood, but had been a better granddaughter than she had hoped for.

“I saw a ‘uman wit' a raven on ‘is shoulder,” Pella whispered, “And a mask on ‘is ot’er shoulder…”

“Oh~” Elly responded, letting the word draw out gently. “Did ‘e scare you?”

Pella paused for a long moment as she thought about it. Her grandmother never made fun of Pella’s true feelings after all. Finally, she answered. “No… but ‘e looked so sad.”

A hint of a smile played across Ellodie's face. Pella missed a subtle look of realization in Ellodie's eyes. “You ‘ave not’ing... to worry about from ‘im... little Pella,” Elly let her hand fall back to the bed. “Now… close t’e windows… and see to your parents.”

“Okay~” Pella replied. She pattered over to the window to close the shutters against the chill wind of the late season and headed to the door. “See you later Grandmama.”

Pella had run off before Ellodie could form the words. But that didn’t stop her from speaking them. “At least… once more, I beg.”

The Raven turned her head and cawed, a low sound, drawn out for a moment.

Koren turned his head to follow her line of sight.

“Something to worry about Lady?”

The raven shook her head, followed a moment later by her shaking out her wings, giving no response to the question. Koren looked at the cluster of huts at the entrance to this little village. South Bend wasn’t a big place by any stretch of the imagination. Just a stopover between somewhere and absolutely nowhere.

But then, he was just as likely to end up in either of those places.

More than a few shutters closed at his passing. In some places, a tall dark stranger might draw interested gazes. But with a Raven on his shoulder and him in all black? Far be it from any superstitious villager to strike up a conversation with this man.

The Inn was up ahead. A small building for a small village. It looked to have a tavern on the front with a second story at the back for travellers and another building attached for the owners.

The village was as busy as expected in the midday. Children ran past him, laughing and waving sticks, backs laden with baskets full of forest bounty.

The pinging of metal on metal rang out from the blacksmith here on his left. An elderly dwarven woman glanced sideways at him as she hung clothes out to dry there on his right, the second set of arms shaking out a shirt. Most of the adults would be out seeing to crops, there was much to harvest after all. Koren arrived at the door with a glance upwards.

A wind-bent tree with countless hanging branches decorated the sign hanging above the door. Just as he has been told by a passing stranger. He had been promised good food here. Koren looked forward to it.

He pushed his way through the door setting off a set of wood chimes and alerting the proprietor.

“Oi!” a voice shouted from further in. “Gimme a moment, I’ll be right out fer ya!” A clatter of noise clearly told Koren that dishes were being cleaned.

Koren walked in to look over the public room. A handful of tables surrounded by squat, sturdy chairs. Only one equally sturdy and squat wrinkly old man sat within the room, the dwarf napping in his seat while nursing a drink. The walls were decorated with antlers and more than a couple of crude wood carvings of animals or scenery, almost certainly made during the long winter days.

The room was dim, lit only from the open windows adjacent the entrance and sides of the room. Further in was a bar in front of an open door into what was certainly the kitchen.

Koren shed his travel pack, letting it hit the empty floor next to the entrance with a heavy thump, then walked to the bar to sit on the middle stool with a sigh. The tables he had walked past and the bar were smooth and clean. The only hint of mess being an empty plate in front of the napping old man. A well cared for place that matched up well with Koren’s other senses.

Moments later a squat old Dwarf stepped out. A typical hill dwarf, the old man had a proper head full of gnarled roots growing with bright green leaves. He had stripped his rootbeard of leaves however, a habit typical of dwarves who often cooked. One set of thick hands perpetuated the eternal stereotype of barmen everywhere by drying a cup he was holding onto with a cloth. His other set of arms he placed on the bar, his knuckles and wrist covered by patches of thick bark.

“Well, I’m Nok, t’e owner of t’e Windbent Willow. w’at can I do fer ya ‘uman? ‘Ere for a night or mebbe more?”

“Just… one night,” Koren replied with a friendly tone while laying a few coins on the bar. It was rare he had the luxury to stay anywhere longer than that. “But I have heard good things on the road about your food! I don’t suppose you might have something on the go?”

“Aye, I can do soup and bread at t’is ‘our,” Nok noted, picking up a coin and biting it before nodding his head, “Fer more it’s gunna have to be later in t’e day. And yer companion?” Nok gestured to Koren’s raven with his hand palm up, not a twitch of suspicion in his face. Somewhat rare for a dwarf, but then, Nok would see every traveler to visit this place.

And not everyine feared what Koren was.

“I understand, and Lady I can just share with” Koren replied, “I’m hoping for some good food, but I admit my stomach isn’t feeling so choosy.”

“Ka!” Nok laughed once, “well, if’n yer stayin t’e night, t’e stairwell leads up to t’e rooms wit’ anot’er stairwell at t’e back.” Nok turned to walk back to the kitchen, “Well get comfy and I’ll get ya a key and some soup.”

Koren settled in. “So Nok!” Koren yelled in friendly tones to the dwarf as the gnarled old man left his sight, “Anything interesting going on?”

Nothing less was expected than the sharing of news, if he didn’t ask Nok, the dwarf would ask him. They conversed until Nok returned with the promised items, and conversed afterwards as Koren ate. As Koren had hoped, the food was good.

Halfway through the meal, a little dwarf girl with a wonderfully leafy braid of roots wound around her head ran in. She looked at Koren for a moment with nervous eyes that flitted back and forth. He didn’t miss where her eyes landed.

“Pella!” Nok called, “Come on t’en! T’ere is work to be done!”

“Yes Papa~”

Few things went quite as ugly as a problem of inheritance. Grandmother Ellodie had lived a very long life, but had only had the fortune to bear a single child. Unfortunately, that son of hers had failed to be anything other than a burden, and a beast. While Ellodie did her best to raise a good son, the early death of her husband had inflicted a great deal of damage on those plans.

And her son had long been strange, with all the signs pointing to a dark future. The harassment and cruel pranks upon other children. The savaged and twisted bodies of dead animals...

Arket had run away from the little village of South Bend, determined to make something of himself in the capital. He had also stolen his father’s sword and dagger, as well as a stash of coins on his way out. He returned decades later, destitute and damaged.

The sullen, impatient and cruel young man simply added bitter and old to the list of descriptors on his return.

What Arket found upon his return was an ailing mother who had declared her wealth to go to the innkeeper and his daughter. A mother who wouldn’t even let him sleep in his old room!

Conversations had been had over time. Nok and Ellodie were more than willing to cede the house to Arket, but Ellodie would be handing many of her worldly goods over to Nok for the sake of Pelly and she would not tolerate Arket in the house until she was no longer there. He would have to stay at the Inn. Forget that Nok put Arket up for no cost. Nothing less than everything that was his mother's would satisfy Arket.

Many were convinced that Arket’s anger and bitterness had driven Ellodie to the brink of her end far faster than necessary. It was a difficult suggestion to deny. In truth, Ellodie's love for little Pella soothed the old women's soul. Ellodie was simply at the end of the best life she knew how to live.

While Arket was useless in many ways, he had at least proven himself a passable hunter. But passable was not the same as successful, and on this day he returned empty-handed. His temper had long simmered since the day of his return to the village and never settled. Long Arket had depended on drink to dampen his dark moods, and for the most part, it worked.

But here, in South Bend? Well, if he wanted to drink, he had to look at Nok. He had to look at Nok, and he had to look at little Pella as she scurried about delivering food and taking dishes from patrons.

Such was his mood that he didn’t even notice the human garbed in black with a raven on his shoulder that evening.

Such was his mood, that when the tavern closed for the night and Nok’s wife shooed everyone out, Arket followed the innkeeper and his daughter to what was supposed to be his house. Arket’s hand on his pocket.

Such was his mood that he never noticed the one who followed him. But then, there was something more involved in that case.

Pella ran up first and put her hand on the door, but her Papa’s voice caused her to turn.

“Well, w’at do ya t’ink yer up to tonight t’en?”

She turned around to see old Arket at the short path to the house, standing on the first flagstone. His dull grey roots and leafless head shifting slightly as he looked past her papa, and at her.

“I t’ink it’s time we ‘ad anot’er talk,” Arket replied, his voice low. Pella didn’t like the look in his eyes. Although his eyes were rarely anything but cold.

“We already talked, and we ain’t come to an agreement you liked yet,” Papa replied with annoyance as he turned. “If yer unwillin' to give ground, we’re gonna keep goin’ in circles.”

Papa stepped forward, putting himself between Pella and Arket. Then another person arrived. The Human her Papa had been talking with, with the black cloak. With the strange emotionless mask on one shoulder. With the raven with glittering eyes on his other.

“Well…” Arket replied, walking up to Papa, “I t’ink I ‘ave anot’er point wort’ listenin’ to.”

“And w’at’s t’at?” Papa asked.

Pella looked into the next yard. The neighbours were watching closely, her Papa and grandmama’s son. She glanced further down the way, and found more were watching… but no one was looking at the outsider.

“Well, w’at I been t’inkin’...” Arket said, slowly drawing out his words as he slowly stepped forward.

Pella looked at the tall dark man, then heard him speak as he looked to the Raven. “This is the first?” He unhooked the mask from his shoulder and held it over his face. She could see through the eye holes as he picked it up, but when he looked through it, she could see nothing. “Ah, so it’s him… but does it have to be?”

The raven cawed. Pella knew they were talking.

“No!” Papa said harshly, his tone pulling Pella’s stare away from the Human. Her papa stepped up and bumped against Arket’s chest, upper arms crossed, lower arms with hands on hips. “You been t’inkin’ all kindsa t’ings and t’ey are all wort’ dung! I ain’t gonna consider talkin wit’ ya unless you say yer gonna give ground!”

Arket moved suddenly.

Yet the Human was quicker. The mask fell from his face, and the raven flew as the Human rushed in like a blur of shadow. Suddenly he was grappling with Arket. Papa stumbled and fell to his butt, utterly surprised by the sudden scuffle. Now Pella was convinced, no one had even noticed him!

A human was no match in close quarters for a dwarf. That’s how it should have been, but just as quick as it had started, it was over. It was a soft sound from Arket that ended the short fight.

“Ah.”

Such a simple sound. Koren stepped away. Arket’s upper arms were held up and away, his lower arms clutched the dagger in his stomach.

“W’at did you do, ‘uman?!” Papa shouted suddenly.

Pella ran up and grabbed her Papa’s closest hand. “They saved you!” she whispered with fright, shivering as she hid behind her father.

Silence reigned as the dwarf named Nok finally looked at Arket. Arket stumbled back, then pulled the dagger from his gut, only for the blade to hit the stones with a clatter.

Arket looked up at the Human, then just as suddenly his gaze snapped to another and his face twisted into an expression of utter fear and he squealed. He left the blade where it lay as he scrambled back to his feet, stomach leaking blood. There it lay as he turned and ran, gasping and frantic. There it lay as he escaped into the dark of the night. The dagger glinted with red… and with green.

No one spoke, their words frozen in the night.

Then everyone realized the Human was no longer there.

Arket was easy enough to track in his panic fueled escape. When they finally found him, he lay dead and cold.

Pella lay in Ellodie's arms, crying softly. Elly’s laboured breathing likely added to the child's distress.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Elly said with care and love as she stroked the back of Pella’s head, rustling the young leaves of Pella’s braid. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

A couple of hours had passed. Nok and his wife Ryne sat in the living room, having closed the door behind them so that Elly could comfort the young Pella in peace.

But Ellodie still had a touch of curiosity left in her, and she was afraid for the Pella who would soon have even fewer to talk to. “W’at… did you see little Pella?”

Pella froze. Several moments passed, then she lifted her head to look at Elly with tear-stained eyes.

Elly gathered her breath and spoke further. “T’ey told me... of t’e man. But w’at… did you see? W’at did t’e… rest not see?”

Pella wiped her face with a sleeve, clearing away tears… and a little snot. She closed her eyes, ordering her thoughts like her grandmama had always taught her. Finally, she opened eyes, now clear with concentration and will, and she spoke.

“The ‘uman, ‘e followed Arket ‘ere, but no one saw ‘im,” Pella replied with confidence. She trusted what she saw and she knew grandmama would believe her. “‘E ‘ad a mask on ‘is s’oulder, a mask no one seemed to notice. He out it over 'is face, but w’en ‘e put it on, I couldn’t see ‘is eyes.”

“Did t’e mask change?” Ellodie asked.

“Not yet,” Pella replied.

“Not yet?”

“At first, t’e mask was… blank. It ‘ad no expression.”

Elly nodded her understanding. It hadn’t been time yet, of course it wouldn’t change.

“But t’en t’e ‘uman dropped it… and it vanished for a moment. At t’e same time ‘is raven flew away… but t’en t’e raven came back. But it wasn’t a Raven anymore.”

“Ah… t’e Raven was wearing… t'’e mask.” Ellodie guessed.

“Yes,but it turned into somet'ing. Turned into smoke. T’at smoke got bigger, until it looked like a ‘uman too… a woman! But ‘er mask...”

“‘... Was very angry, wasn’t it.”

Pella’s voice was very faint at the end. “Angry, and sad.”

Ellodie pulled Pella in for a reassuring hug. Even that was almost too much for her. She then turned and looked. “Well t’en, w’at do ya ‘ave to say fer yerself,” she asked. “Was it a split?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I was given the luxury of a choice tonight.”

Pella jerked away, turning in surprise to see the man sitting at Elly’s small desk, the chair looking too small under his tall frame. Again the raven sat on his right shoulder, and the mask hung off his left.

“Ahhh, good for Nok, it would be a tragedy for 'im to go so soon,” Ellodie replied softly, “But… no split… for me.”

“No…” He replied again, “I am sorry.”

“Sorry!” Ellodie said with surprise, her voice rising slightly, “Ka, ka, cough, cough.” her laughter turned to hacking in her ill health. She took a moment to collect herself as Pella’s head swivelled back and forth. “Aaaa, fergive me,” Elly said softly.

“Of course.”

“Grandmama?”

“Rest child. I know ‘e… scared you, but for ‘im to… visit me is an… an ‘onour. May I know your name?”

The man looked out the window for a moment, there was a hint of light in the dark morning sky. His face flickering slightly with emotions as he gathered himself. Ahh, to see his concern, Ellodie wondered if he was new to his role. He turned back. “I am Koren,” He turned to look at his raven, while reaching across himself to pull the mask off his shoulder as he stood, “and this is Lady Cherise.”

Pella watched nervously, naturally afraid of the woman and the angry mask.

Koren held up the mask, passing it in front of the Raven Cherise while stepping to his left. The raven disappeared in a cloud of smoke. That smoke billowed out and coalesced into a feminine figure robed in black. The mask shifted, not to rage as Pella expected, but to soft grief and gentle love.

“Grandmama?” Pella asked again, clearly afraid.

“At rest… my child,” Elly said, mustering the last of her strength for one last hug, pulling Pella to her chest. “T'e Masked lady ‘as come fer me, and ‘er face is full of love.”

“W’at?!” Pella cried as her adopted grandmother explained. “No!”

“Be at rest, my beloved Pella. It is… time, but I go wit’… love and grace.”

“No…” Pella cried weakly into Elly’s chest, hiding her face from the truth.

Koren looked to his lady Cherise. She waited patiently.

Pella cried in Ellodie's arms. Her shoulders shaking as she cried herself out. Until finally she let go. Pella stood back, touching her Grandmama’s cheek one last time.

Elly wiped away the last of Pella’s tears, or at least the last she would see, then looked to Koren.

“Only ‘uman advocates of… t’e Vessel are given to making a Choice. Uncooperative… younglings… right to my end, ka ka.”

“Well, sometimes it is better that way,” Koren replied, a little indignant.

The lady leaned slightly, stretched out a hand of pale, cold flesh and touched Elly’s cheek. The old woman sighed, “Oh… so warm…”

And breathed her last.

“Ya won’t stay?” Nok asked quietly, “It ‘as bin a difficult night, but ya still got my gratitude.”

“No, as I said, I was only here for a day, I really do have places to be.”

“Very well t’en, safe travels good man.”

Koren shifted the pack for comfort and Lady Cherise squawked and fluttered her wings to balance. “I appreciate it, it has been a pleasure.”

The human stepped out, not expecting to see Nok again, or at least for quite some time. He stepped out to a somber morning, many still in mourning for the loss of a cherished elder. A feeling he knew all too well.

Quietly, respectfully, He walked back the way he had come, passing the houses and somber villagers, passing a house now entirely empty of life and headed down the path. He had many days ahead of him, the forest was thick along this path, but that was nothing new to him.

At the intersection that split off the path to the village of South Bend, he found a small girl resting against a tree, her eyes red from crying, but silent for now. As soon as she saw him, Pella climbed to her feet and stared at him.

He stopped in front of her. Standing at the path, he traded somber looks with a tiny girl standing within the shadow of a tree much taller than him. A slight wind rustled the leaves of the tree and the leaves on her head.

Koren smiled, friendly but sad, and spoke. “Do you know, little Pella, why Ravens are the symbols of the Vessel?”

“No…” Pella whispered softly, watching with sharp eyes.

“Many think it is because they are scavengers that eat refuse and the fallen,” Cherise squawked rudely at him and shook her tail. Koren smiled again and continued. “But that’s far from the whole truth…”

Pella didn’t respond.

“The other reason is because Ravens and their smaller cousins the crows, they aren't just scavengers. These birds find the jewels, the shining treasures, and carry them off.” Koren reached up and his Lady leaned into the neck scritch.

Koren looked at his companion, his smile turning soft, “Just as the Vessel finds shining souls, to deliver them safely to the next life.”

“My grandmama, she is ‘appy now?”

“I don’t know… but she lived as good a life as she could,” Koren replied, “and I think you were all the reward she ever hoped for.”

Pella had one last question. She screwed up her face and concentrated hard on her words to overcome her natural accent. "Why, Cherise?"

Koren sighed. He reached up and cupped his Raven's side, pulling the black bird to his cheek. "Because this is my beloved Lady Cherise; as good a woman as I have ever known. She is my love, a woman I was unable to give up, to my bitter end." the Raven squawked its complaint, finally, and wiggled free to jump on his head. "That's how we are chosen really, the true disciples. The advocates of the Masked. We are those who simply couldn't accept… Wouldn't accept. Until a deal was struck."

"Are all vessels ravens?"

"Well, no, but they are the most common."

"Oh."

Pella didn’t say anything more, but her shoulders drooped and she leaned back against the tree. Koren looked at her for a moment, but with her curiosity satisfied, Pella had nothing more to say. Koren nodded, turned and continued down the path.

Pella may have been a young girl, but she wasn't ignorant of the stories. People passed onto the next life all the time and all over the place. How could the Masked One be everywhere to collect those unfortunate souls?

Well, the Masked One had help. Advocates and vessels, roaming the world to collect the newly departed. The masks they wore a symbol of their duty and of their God. To the living, the masks showed a blank white face, void of expression. To those on the cusp, the masks reflected the worth of the life coming to an end.

Pella watched the Human walk, death riding his shoulder. Watched until he was long out of sight. It would be a much longer time before she admitted she had seen a vessel of The Masked, the God of Death.

That she had seen the Mask filled with wrath for a soul turned evil.

That she had witnessed the Mask of grace for a soul that was truly good.

All brought into her life by a Human with a smile that was a mask of its own.

End