Flecks of clotted blood, black in the firelight led to where Elena and Bill sat in a vile pool of half digested soup where Bill was covered in blood and vomit.

It had taken less than five excruciating minutes to clear what glass Elena could still find out of Bill’s mouth, but the toll the sharp material had taken on his mouth, throat, esophagus, and even his lungs was a brutal sight. It was bad enough that she yelled at Jim to knock the poor man unconscious for her to even be able to start clearing his mouth and airways. Tears flowed freely, making clean tracks in the freckles of blood her loyal attendant had coughed onto her face.

However, there was one small consoling fact: Elena now had a lead, in the form of Bill mentioning some newcomers in the camp to Jim before the tainted stew had been consumed. The information on the father and daughter pair was lacking, but it was better than chasing men who disappeared in the dark. And they could do nothing more for Bill at the moment.

Elena laid Bill on his side in the recovery position, and tilted downwards, to prevent him from choking on own blood, then turned to the others. “Jim, Carlos, I loathe the idea of leaving Bill undefended, but we can’t take any chances. Don your armor as quickly as possible, grab your weapons, and follow me. We must check the rest of the campfires, check with the men to see where those two were seen last, and find their trail before it gets cold.” She doubted they would come back to harm Bill again. If they had wanted to kill him they would have done it faster. No, they were making a statement.

The two men – a mixture of horror, trust, and fear evident in their expressions in the face of the sudden ordeal, spun to follow her orders. Meanwhile, Elena tapped her hand on the pommel of the sword sheathed at her waist as she considered the problem at hand.

Two saboteurs, possibly. They could be in a ‘wrong place wrong time’ situation… but this is too convenient. And, from what Jim heard from Bill, they come from Drassington, as refugees. Could they be survivors driven mad from the sights? I saw it plenty enough when I was there. Few mortal minds would be capable of seeing the true form of the Rat King and staying sane, given that just a glance was enough to pressure heroes protected by magic. Or are they related to the demons? This sabotage… could it be Mavier? He never seemed to resort to actions like this before, at least until he met that mad half-elf. Does that mean he adapted, or learned quickly from Tim? Or is it someone else? Perhaps someone that followed Tim? I recall Adrian mentioning that he tracked down a gang that was aiding Tim in the slums. He said that they all fell by his hand, but the slums were a large district in the city. It might be possible for someone to successfully escape pursuit there. Even if it was from that fucking lunatic Adrian.

Bah. It’s like we’re chasing at shadows in the dark back in Drassington again.

Elena shook her head to clear her thoughts, unsheathing her sword as she heard Jim and Carlos approach in their battle gear.

“Keep a sharp eye out, you two. Look for any details, anything that seems amiss. If this really is tied to our enemies, then they may very well be hiding with only the subtlest of details to point towards them. Best case scenario, this was an accident or an attempt at framing and we will provide that family with our protection. Worse cast, they serve Mavier. If that is true, do not hesitate for even a single second to cut them down. Two of your predecessors were murdered by either him personally, or through a scheme Mavier was heavily involved in. Please don’t add any more to that count.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ellie kept her eyes wide, all the better to serve as a lookout to her good friend Galler. He followed her lead unsteadily, never truly tripping or falling, but still forced to be cautious in his blindness. However, neither of them felt safe in stopping until they reached Mavier’s camp, and Ellie was even beginning to wonder if she felt safe running in the direction they were going still.

“I know, I know Poncho.” Galler gasped out between heaving breaths. Even a gnome as fit as him was beginning to feel the exhaustion of sprinting over rough terrain. “Broken twigs, footprints, and a slight taste of warm iron in the air. Something’s ahead, but we don’t have much choice. This is the quickest way back, and we’re on a time limit before the heroes realize that we bolted.”

Ellie took on a dejected look at that fact, but Galler roughly patted her on the head and then lifted her up, setting Ellie on his shoulders like she was used to by now.

“Hey Poncho, it’s okay. The stew trick might not have the best timing, but who could’ve known about the strange stuff around their camp. Without those, it would’ve been a fine trap and I’m sure both boss Tim and ol’ Bert would be proud of you for thinkin’ that one up. Though, if we live, please, please be more cautious. Keep an ear to the ground, all right?”

As Galler spoke, the forest gradually widened up, the thick underbrush changing to a sparser area with multiple jagged tree stumps directly adjacent to withered old pine trees. It was mostly still a mixture of greens and the occasional tree decked out in full autumn colors, but every so often Ellie caught a glance of something she had never seen before: trees that appeared to be rotting where they stood, somehow almost drained of any sort of color. To make matters worse, the smell, no the stench, of warm, liquid iron was growing stronger.

And then, she saw it and banged on Galler’s shoulder for him to stop. The pair screeched to a halt, safely hidden behind a thicket of brush that was completely drained of all color and life. It was, what Ellie realized after staring at it for almost a minute flat, a hole. A rather large hole, and she was sure that the stench of iron was emanating from it. That, and… the faint wailing of a baby?

Ellie shook her head, and then looked towards Galler questioningly. He stared at the hole, as much as a gnome with his eyes torn out of their sockets by his own hands could stare. His breaths still shuddered from their flight from the camp. Every exhalation of air was visible through the chilled temperature of the night.

Another minute passed, the gnome and the little girl still silent in their attempts to make out just exactly what they were looking. Until, a dark figure walked up to the lip of the hole. It was, as good as Ellie could tell despite the distance between them, a human soldier. He was one that Ellie was unable to recognize, but she could see his tanned skin in the moonlight, along with a set of tarnished chain mail he was wearing. One step, two steps, and then there was no ground left between the man and the pit.

A flicker of movement came from him, and the soldier’s body twisted forwards to reveal something that Ellie hadn’t noticed at first, due to her own surprise at seeing the soldier.

It was a body.

One that Ellie could barely hear faint groans coming from, even from where she was hidden.

The soldier was throwing another man, one still breathing, into the pit that reeked of warm iron.