Chapter 14: Tragedy and Teeth

“Nothing is older than stone. The deep rock lay undisturbed long before even the Gods walked the surface, and it will be there long after they lose interest in the long-bones. Remember that youngling, and remember we have lived and survived in the earthen deeps.” - Words of Korr, Grandmason of Gurdwa Hold.

The rest of the afternoon passed, and Natalie kept herself busy with the minutia of running an Inn. She surreptitiously questioned Barnabas about Gurni’s schedule. The two of them did business, and the old Merchant was confident the Dwarven Prospector would be in town tomorrow. True to his word, Cole kept to himself, only leaving his room to collect dinner and make about a minute’s worth of polite conversation with Wilhelm. Natalie’s father had questions about Filip’s, and Cole provided barebones answers. Stating that Filip's sister had died during the Breech, and that he would hunt down the responsible Undead.

Eventually, nighttime came, and the Silly Goat emptied faster and more thoroughly than normal. The day’s chaotic events provided plenty of impetus for people to not risk the streets at night. The Nobles rarely abducted nocturnal travelers anymore, but that was not a gamble many were willing to take. So by the time the Inn’s bar officially shut, the Silly Goat had been practically empty for close to an hour. With only Natalie and Wilhelm on the ground floor. An unusual silence hung between the two as Natalie wondered how to breach the subject. Wilhelm did her the favor in the profoundly uncomfortable way only a Father can.

“So are you sleeping with Cole?” he asked with an almost matter-the-fact tone. Natalie almost dropped the glass she was cleaning, barely catching it after a few mid-air grabs. As Natalie caught the glass and her focus, Wilhelm continued. “I’ve not objected to any of your past romances and only want to voice my concerns, not try and control you. I do worry about the danger he could get you in. Rest-Bringers live a hard life, even more so in Zaubervold. It’s commendable of him to try and help; it’s actually practically heroic of him. And he wouldn’t be the first heroic type to attract a young woman’s attention.”

Fighting the slight pink blush that was filling her normally pale face. Natalie snapped. “I’m not sleeping with Cole! Hells, I’m not even interested in him romantically.” While that was true, memories of Cole’s sculpted torso flashed unbidden into Natalie’s mind. She ignored the treacherous part of her that wondered how Cole’s scarred skin would feel against hers.

Now it was time for Wilhelm to look awkward and confused. “Oh! I’m sorry, I just assumed. Well, he seems the polite sort, and while I’m happy to let him rent a room, I do think getting entangled with him wouldn’t be the best idea.”

“Jag it,” thought Natalie, she’d hoped to do this with a degree of subtlety, but that option was sailing away as fast as the wind could carry it. After a steadying breath, Natalie dropped her hammer blow of a statement. “I’m not courting Cole, but I am working with him. Helping him to hunt some of the Undead that attacked three years ago.”

It was Wilhelm’s turn to fumble in shock, dropping the mop he had been using. Natalie continued talking even as Wilhelm’s eyes bugged out slightly. “He can help Glockmire and help us get revenge. The Varcolac is on his list, and so is what killed Filip’s sister. Cole’s strong enough to destroy them, but he needs someone to help him, and that’s going to be me. It’s where I was this morning; I accompanied him to where he found Felix’s body. It’s what I’ll be doing tomorrow as well when he destroys the Walking Channel.”

Had that only been this morning? Natalie found her thoughts drifting slightly as she spoke. So much had happened, and yet little time had passed. Telling her father all of this was a gamble and not one she’d wanted to make. But the deed was done. Now Natalie needed to manage what came next. Before a truly tense silence could settle between them, Wilhelm asked: “Why?”

He looked at his daughter with the type of deep concern only a parent could muster, and the worry in his eyes almost made Natalie falter. She saw the fear in his face, the fear of losing the only family he had left. It would be one thing for Natalie to leave and start a new life. The idea of having her die horribly at the hands of some undead terror was beyond what Wilhelm could stand. Doubt and guilt flushed through Natalie, but she stood her ground.

“I want to leave Glockmire a better place. Even if I leave and find something else beyond here, I’d still be wracked with worry about you and everyone else. How could I live the life I want if my hometown was overrun by monsters! Dad, I want to leave Glockmire, but I want to do so with my head held high and my heart not weighed down with guilt.”

Wilhelm slumped against a nearby table and asked. “And you think getting involved with Cole will help you? Do you think becoming entangled in the affairs of Gods and Monsters will help you leave a happier life? Dammit Natty, this isn’t one of your stories! Your Mother and I worked so hard to protect you from that part of the world. To keep you safe and give you the tools to survive our world. Not to dive headlong into danger out of some misguided sense of nobility!”

Natalie felt like she’d been slapped; her Father had never before spoken to her with such venom. It was not truly directed at her, she could tell. But it was the acrid pain of grief turned inwards and allowed to stew in hidden misery. Natalie knew she should feel sympathy for her father and try to comfort him. Instead, she felt a bolt of anger go through her. This was exactly why she was walking this path. Her father had lost the love of his life and was robbed of anything resembling closure or justice. While he hid the pain and anger well, it spilled out like bile and pulled forth a quiet fury from Natalie.

“Yes, you and Mom taught me to be careful, how to survive and avoid danger.” spat Natalie. “We did everything right, we followed the laws of both Gods and Monsters, we made a happy life for ourselves. And still, that didn’t stop the monsters from coming and killing Mom!”

Wilhelm flinched, and Natalie continued. “Dad, we kept safe and tried to help others in our own tiny way. But that didn’t stop that *Thing* from killing Mom. The monster ripped into our lives and hurt us because it could. And all we could do afterward was hold a Jagging funeral and hope it didn’t happen again. You, me, everyone in Glockmire did the same thing. Because we didn’t have any other options. We accepted all that death and destruction as a fact of life and just tried to move on. But it doesn’t have to be like that anymore! There are good people in this world who stop the monsters, and I want to help them do it!”

A slight crack came to Natalie’s voice as she continued. “Dad. Mom died terribly, and we couldn’t do anything to stop it. Now I can help make sure no other little girl or husband experiences what we did. I know I’m risking my life, but if anything is worth it, it’s this.”

Silence heavier than stone and pregnant with stress filled the air between Father and Daughter. Eventually, after a small eternity, Wilhelm broke it. “Very well.”

Slowly he got up from where he slumped against the table and approached his daughter. With tired arms, muscled by decades of repetitive chores, Wilhelm hugged his only child in silence. Tentatively Natalie returned the hug and felt wetness on her shoulder and felt her father shaking slightly. He was crying silently, and soon her own tears joined with his. They stood like that for a time, holding each other and weeping. Eventually, Wilhelm broke the embrace and spoke, his voice still gravelly from sadness.

“I guess it’s to be expected. We tried to raise you to be a good person who stood her ground. So I really can’t complain that you are holding fast on something your heart says is the right thing to do.” Reaching down, Wilhelm ran his fingers through his daughter’s hair and rasped. “I can’t stop you, and even if I could, I don’t know if it would be the right thing to do. But you need to promise me one thing.”

Natalie nodded her head, and Wilhelm put both of his hands on either of her shoulders. Looking into his daughter’s amber eyes, the Innkeeper spoke with a firm strength he’d rarely called on before. “You must survive. Whatever happens with Cole and whatever fury he brings down on himself. You must survive it. Promise me that Natty, promise me you will survive and find your own piece of happiness.”

Trying not to cry again, Natalie croaked. “I will Dad, I’ll survive and make you and Mom proud.”

A slightly sad smile touched Wilhelms face as he chided. “You have for a very long time Natty. I might be afraid for you, but I cannot stop being so proud of who you are becoming.” They hugged again, and when it broke, Natalie headed off to bed. Her heart was simultaneously lightened and burdened by her Father’s words.

Wilhelm sat down and looked at a sculpture above the fireplace. It was of a Bride and Groom at their wedding. Something his wife had carved for their tenth anniversary. Speaking both to himself and the memory of the woman he loved, he said: “Iona, I don’t know where you are out there. Maybe your soul has already been cleansed and taken a new body. Maybe one of the God’s anointed you as one of theirs. It doesn’t matter, but if you can, help our daughter. She is going to do the right thing, and I am afraid it will destroy her.”

Then in the heavy silence that followed. Wilhelm sat and stared at the fireplace, watching the flames die as he prayed to every God who might listen.

Cole met Natalie at the entrance of the Silly Goat the next morning. Dressed in a utilitarian dress and carrying a restocked pack, Natalie hoped she was ready for whatever happened today. She’d grabbed the hatchet her father used to split firewood. It was no longsword, but few tools rival the utility and violent potential of an axe. Aside from that, she’d packed some dried meat and bread, enough for two days, and a collection of anything else she thought would be useful. Natalie knew she couldn’t carry everything she wanted, but she came close.

Cole, by contrast, carried his usual pack and cloak. A slight bulge in the bottom of his bag betrayed the skull’s presence, but Natalie nor anyone else noticed it. Aside from the skull, the only thing different about Cole was an unusually sunken look to his eyes, like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. Natalie noticed his apparent exhaustion but didn’t bring it up. She did, however, announce. “I told my father what we are doing, he didn’t approve, but I think he understands.”

A slight smile quirked up the left side of Cole’s face. “I know. Today was the first time he didn’t say good morning to me.”

Natalie let out a slightly annoyed sounding huff at that. “It’s my decision to help you with this. I would expect better from him than blaming you.”

Cole just shrugged at that. “Parents are rarely rational when it comes to their children, or at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

His words snagged on something in Natalie’s mind. ‘At least that’s what I’ve been told?’ Natalie hadn’t asked about Cole’s childhood, but it suddenly occurred to her it probably didn’t match hers at all. Perhaps he was an orphan, raised by the Temple? That would explain much. But now wasn’t the time to ponder such things. Maybe she could ask him later?

“Well, let us head to Gurni’s home. Barnabas gave me directions,” said Natalie as she refocused on the task at hand.

And so they set off, walking through the slowly waking streets of Glockmire. The duo got many strange looks, and more than one pedestrian scurried out of their way as they walked along. It was strange for Natalie, and she turned to ask Cole but lost her chain of thought upon seeing his face. A heavy scowl marred his already damaged face. A confused Natalie asked. “What has you looking so grim?”

Cole’s face relaxed, and he seemed momentarily confused before realization clicked into place. “Oh, my apologies! I didn’t even notice. I guess some of the fear I saw was warranted.”

Looking around, Natalie understood what he was saying. Fearful eyes watched the two of them from behind drawn curtains or cracked doors. The few people they’d run into on the street were a handful of the unlucky ones who hadn’t managed to avoid Cole. Terror saturated the air around them, and once she noticed it, Natalie felt a chill go down her spine. A memory came to her unbidden at that moment, of the time she’d helped a childhood friend and her family shepherd their flock into town. Another Shepherds dog had come across the flock, and the Sheep had reacted with the same sort of nervous intensity Natalie saw around her. The livestock of Glockmire sensed another predator but didn’t know its intent.

Cole had picked up the fear around him, and it had agitated him enough for it to show on his face. This, after all, was exactly the sort of thing he’d sworn to fight. Mortal folk reduced to nervous sheep, awaiting the hunger of cursed corpses. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Cole let a mask of aloofness fall into place and let Natalie guide him to their destination.

Glockmire nestled itself right up to the sheer cliff and jagged rock of the nearby mountains. With a series of quarries, mines, and neighborhoods built into the stone. The constant digging into the mountains resulted in patches of mined-out rock that had been converted into cheap housing. It was not a slum by any standard but far from the well-maintained homes and businesses of the Silly Goat’s neighborhood.

Natalie led Cole into one of the mine-turned-burgs in the district’s middle. Cole had to duck when they entered the tunnel; its crudely carved ceiling barely reached a hundred and eighty centimeters, forcing the large man to stoop. Shortly after the entrance, they saw doors on either side of the tunnel, small signs hung from them, marking out ownership and purpose. Most were storage chambers, but a few had names scrawled on them. Cole had no frame of reference, but he guessed these were some of the smaller or shabbier apartments in the rock.

Eventually, after a minute or so of walking deeper into the repurposed mine, they reached their destination. Here the Sun’s light was all but absent, and a mixture of cheap glowstones and candles provided the scant illumination. A door that would have required Cole to almost fully bend over to enter sat at the end of the hallway. “Gurni'' was etched into the wood in a perfectly angular script. While the name was written in Western, the sharp corners of the words reminded Cole of Dwerick, the Dwarven language. They were in the right place.

Natalie looked to Cole, and after a nod of confirmation, she knocked on the door. They waited a minute, and as nothing happened, Natalie knocked again, a little louder this time. A rough voice barked, “I’m coming, you thin-boned bastard!”

A few seconds later, the door flew open, and Gurni stood in front of them with a distinctly irritated look on his face. He stood at average height for a Dwarf at maybe a hundred and ten centimeters. While short in stature, he weighed about the same as a large man, his bones and muscles denser than any human. A bulbous nose, protruding brow ridge, and thick red beard further marked him out as Dwergaz. Gurni looked at the two of them with suspicion, his green eyes narrowing as he spoke.

“You’re Madeline, Wilhelms daughter right?” he asked, a single calloused finger pointing at Natalie.

Natalie nodded as she corrected him. “It’s Natalie, but yes, I’m Wilhelms daughter.” She then gestured to the looming Cole, who had to hunch down to see Gurni properly, and said. “And this is Cole, He’s a follower of Master Time, and we’d like to borrow a moment of your time.”

Gurni crossed his arms in front of him and grumbled. “I have no use for Gods, especially one who only helps the Dead. So if you’re looking to convert me, then you can find a better use of your time pissing down a deep-shaft.”

This was not going well. The Dwarves, as a rule, had little patience for the religions of their taller neighbors. Their own Gods had abandoned them millennia ago according to their own myths and even now only revered a small collection of venerated ancestors. Many well-meaning Priests of both Human and other varieties had tried to “adopt” the Dwarven people into their faith. Something most Dwarves found incredibly insulting and bothersome. Which was what Gurni assumed they were doing.

Frantically waving her hands as if she could blow away the misconception, Natalie spoke. “No, no, we’re not trying to do anything like that. Cole’s not a normal Priest; he’s a Rest-Bringer, the one who arrived in town recently.”

That got Gurni to relax a fraction but not by much. “I’ve heard of him,” he growled. “But what does a Rest-Bringer want with me?”

It was Cole’s time to speak and test the waters with the surly Dwarf. “I’m fairly certain a dangerous Undead is nesting in the ruins of Lungu. I intend to lay it to rest, but to do so, I’d like more information about the village and its destruction.”

That got Gurni to pause for a moment and think before asking, “Well, why come to me? There are about a dozen of us who survived that nightmare still in Glockmire.”

Natalie had talked little with Gurni over the years, but she now understood why he and Barnabas got along. So perhaps a bit of brutal honesty, the type Barnabas would respect, would work here as well.

“I thought you would be stubborn enough to not care about how the rest of the town is scared of Cole. And I also thought you might know something about the Undead, since some of the remains that make it up are Dwarven,” said Natalie.

Gurni stared at them bug-eyed for a few seconds, and then he swung his fist into the opened door, cracking the wood slightly. Under his breath, he spat some Dwerick. Cole knew only the absolute basics of the rumbling, cracking tongue, but he could make out enough foul oaths to impress even the most jaded tunnel-rat.

A dozen different emotions passed through Gurni’s face before settling on cold anger. The growling accent of a Dwerick speaker entered Gurni’s voice. Pique stripping away years of practice in Western. “So why do you want to go to Lungu? Did your God decide it was time to help after everyone was dead? Or did the Sangracki’s up in the Castle buy you with gold still wet with blood?”

Sangracki, literally meaning Blood Thief, and was the Dwerick word for Vampire. The words' simplicity also perfectly encapsulated the language and its speakers. Short, to the point, and with no attempts to be delicate. Cole didn’t rise to the bait and simply told the truth. “A child asked me to avenge his sister and destroy the Undead that killed her.”

As he said it, Cole met Gurni’s eyes, no small task considering the height difference, and both men sized each other up. Natalie didn’t know exactly what sort of unspoken communication was occurring, but it seemed Gunri had confirmed something about Cole. Haltingly as if he feared the answer, Gurni asked. “The Undead Dwarf you are hunting, does it have golden teeth?”

Cole simply nodded, and Gurni slumped against the door frame. His bitter stoicism was fractured by a painful realization. Letting out a slight groan of pained sadness, the Dwarf spoke. “It’s my Brother. You are hunting what's left of my Brother.”

Natalie covered her mouth in shock, and Cole simply nodded and spoke. “When the dead is done, I will need to confirm it with the boy who petitioned me, but after that, the remains will be yours if you wish.”

Shivering slightly, Gurni muttered. “I buried him already; must I do it again?” Before Cole could answer, he continued. “Lungu’s Priest prayed over the bodies, and I used Black Salt to mark his passing. His soul should have been freed, and his flesh safe from corruption. What went wrong?”

A questioning, almost pleading note colored the Dwarf’s voice, and Cole gave him a moment to recover before responding. “His soul was freed, but the protection on his body was corroded by outside influence. Your Brother has not been trapped in Undeath all this time.”

Gurni let out a deep rattling sigh of relief. This was the first concern anyone who learned a loved one had Risen always had. To be trapped in a prison of rotting flesh, subject to maddening pain and hunger, unable to control your mind or ruined body was a fate worse than some of the lesser Hells. To know his brother had not suffered such, took away much of the Dwarves' tension. Cole broke Gurni from his relief with grim words.

“That being said, his body has still been desecrated and is doing harm. Which I will stop, a task that will be all the easier with any information you can provide.”

Gurni nodded slightly and looked behind him to his home, and grimaced. “Let's find some privacy. My nook won’t fit you Cole, but I know someplace nearby.”

He led them to an empty storage room large enough for Cole to stand upright in, and Gurni started to explain. “Lungu was nothing special. It sat among some foothills with decent grazing lands and a few mineral veins. My Brother Buri and I ended up there by chance, but we made the best of it. I’ve always been good at finding good deposits, and he could smith well enough to impress a human. So the villagers accepted us. They liked having people who could repair their tools and find new places to excavate.

Gurni leaned against a wall and looked up at the ceiling, lost in memory. “But nothing good ever lasts forever. Buri, that hopeless idiot, fell in love with a human woman.”

Cole raised an eyebrow at that. Zaubervold was a rural backwater by most standards, but even here, discrimination between Humans and Dwarves was rare. The two peoples had shared a long history of cooperation. Gurni saw Cole’s expression and guessed his thoughts. “No, nothing like that. The girl's parents were surprised but were open to having the village smith as a son-in-inlaw. The problems came from a rival suitor. He never forgave Buri for stealing away what he felt entitled to. And I’m fairly certain he killed the entire jagging town in response.”

That brought forth a whole minute of stunned silence from Cole and Natalie. Gurni used the time to pull up a handful of finely ground pipe-weed and put it in his mouth. Chewing on the pungent herb, Gurni continued as if he hadn’t said anything remarkable. “I could never prove anything in the aftermath, and there wasn’t much point. The dumb bastard poisoned himself as well. See, it takes a lot to make a Dwarf sick. Our kind have been working in damp, toxic tunnels since the Gods first arrived. So if you were to poison one of us, half-measures wouldn’t work. And whatever killed all those people was quick and brutal.”

“The suitor, his name was Dinu, was a shepherd and would have plenty of time to gather poisonous plants. He was also angry and stupid enough to probably dump his failures into the town well or something like that. All I know is my brother was one of the first to get sick, and so was Dinu. Buri outlived the dumb bastard, but not his fiance. We buried them next to each other. I think they would have wanted that.”

As that sobering tale finished. Natalie asked. “Why didn’t you tell anyone this before?”

Gurni made a noise that could have been a laugh or a sigh. “I did, but you humans had worked yourself up thinking some mad cultist was responsible. Which it might have been, but either way, the story of Dark Gods and Cults caught more traction than mine about spurned love and stupidity.”

Natalie digested that as Cole asked. “How were they buried? I know it's unpleasant to remember, but I need exact details.”

Shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth as he recalled the ugly memories. Gurni spoke: “We didn’t want to stay in the village. We couldn’t trust the water or anything else. So at the Priest's direction, anyone who could hold a shovel helped dig a trench of sorts. Turning old Teo’s herb garden into a pit. We put all the bodies in the pit, trying to make sure they all had space, but… By that point, more of us were dying, and our supplies were running low. So we had to….layer them eventually.”

Gurni looked slightly queasy at the memory, something supposedly rare for a Dwarf to feel. He was not the only one; Natalie looked a little bit sick as well. Talking about Undead in abstract terms with Cole and hearing the story of a mass grave being created were two very different things.

Cole gave them both a moment to collect themselves before asking his next question. “What happened to the Priest?”

“He was among those who got sick. His god's protection kept him alive long enough to bless the dead. He was the last one we put in the grave before we covered it up and left Lungu,” said Gurni.

Shaking slightly, Natalie moved towards the door and excused herself. Cole gave her a concerned look, but she brushed it off. Outside the storage room, Natalie leaned against the hallway’s wall and slumped down, so she sat on the ground, her knees pulled up to her chest. It was how she used to sit as a child when something frightened her, and some unconscious instinct pulled up that half-forgotten habit. Burying her face in her dress's fabric, Natalie let out an exhausted sigh. The last few days, no, the last week or two; had been a whirlwind of tumult and stress. A virtually never-ending barrage of tragedy, death, and horror. It was starting to wear on her.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, Natalie was torn. Part of her was ashamed she was letting the circumstances get to her. Another kinder part pointed out these were extreme situations, and with time she’d get stronger. Just as muscle grows with stress, her ability to handle this tumult would increase. Natalie hoped that was true, and all this “exercise” would pay off. As she sat there, glumly staring at the far wall, Natalie wondered if helping Cole was a good idea?

It wasn’t; she’d known that from the beginning, but that hadn’t stopped her. She’d chosen to involve herself in this, and Cole had given her every opportunity to step away. Natalie was not going to back down, no matter how much it hurt. A terrible mix of pride, grit, and willful determination would see to that.

Maybe fifteen minutes later, the storage room door swung open, and Cole stepped out. Natalie hurriedly got to her feet, straightening her clothing and meeting the scarred man. Cole looked at her and started to speak, but Natalie cut him off.

“I’ve made up my mind on this. I’m going to accompany you and help this town. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I’m still going to do my best.”

Cole let his offer of freeing her from any perceived responsibilities die on his tongue and smiled softly. He started walking towards the exit of the strange tunnel complex, and Natalie followed after him. After a quick look around to make sure they were alone, Natalie asked. “So? How did it go?”

Cole glanced at her before speaking. “He gave me directions to Lungu, a general description of the town and where they buried the dead. He also has no desire to claim his brother's bones, only asking that they be buried again once the matter is finished.”

The two of them exited the tunnel, and Natalie had to squint her eyes as the Sun’s bright light stung her. Soon it passed, and the pair walked towards the south-end of Glockmire. Seeing their direction, Natalie asked. “I take it we are leaving now?”

She’d anticipated this, but it still sent a momentary flutter of uneasiness through her. This was a big leap, and Natalie doubted she’d ever truly feel ready for it. Cole answered her calmly. “Lungu isn’t that far away, and if we leave now, we can make it there by late-afternoon.”

A jolt of dread filled Natalie as she realized what else Cole had left unsaid. They would need to spend the night in the wilderness. The momentary pang of fear made her miss a step, and Cole glanced over and offered her what he hoped was a comforting smile. “I’ve spent many nights in lands similar to these safely. We will be fine.”

Natalie didn’t feel as reassured as Cole probably hoped, but her anxiety abated slightly. Soon they reached the south gate and passed through it. Cole didn’t recognize the guard stationed there, and Natalie tried not to draw any attention by talking to the surly-looking woman in the gatehouse. Leaving Glockmire, they set out down the road and towards Lungu.

After maybe a kilometer of walking, once the walls of Glockmire had started to properly fade, Cole stopped and fished in his bag. Natalie watched as he pulled out a line of cord with a pendant attached; it was an amulet of some kind. Cole handed the amulet to Natalie, and she immediately felt a wave of cool power wash over her body. Similar to her previous experience with Master Time’s attention, but much more subdued and gentle. Turning it over in her finger, Natalie saw the pendant was a piece of carved bone, with a crude hourglass etched into both sides.

Cole gestured to the odd gift and spoke. “I spent much of last night working on that. It’s a protective charm, invested with some of the power my God has gifted me.”

Natalie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she bit back some poorly timed comments on Cole’s artistic skills; he was many things but not a carver. Another darker thought also struck her. Where did Cole get the bone fragment? And did it belong to an animal, or a person? Natalie voiced neither of those concerns as Cole explained the amulet.

“It’s crude but fairly powerful. Lesser Undead will ignore you as long as it's on your person. Still, It's not full-proof, and if you went out of your way to get something's attention, you would succeed. Hopefully it will keep the Charnel and any other undead we encounter focused on me, and away from you. It also should help hide you from other unnatural threats but will do nothing to stop a mortal or beast from pursuing you. Which should be fine. I doubt any dangerous predators will be close to Lungu, be they wolf or bandit. Lastly, if something goes wrong and you need to run, the protection should last long enough for you to make it back to Glockmire.” finished Cole, an intense focus coloring his voice.

Cole rarely drew upon the miraculous powers afforded to him as a Paladin, relying on his skills with a pole-arm and blood magic to fight. So investing much of that divine allotment into something that would protect Natalie had been the obvious choice. He just hoped it would be enough to keep her safe.

Natalie nodded nervously and put the necklace on. For a moment, she felt a shiver of disgust as the cold bone touched her sternum, but it quickly faded, replaced by the gentle pulse of Cole’s divine protection. It felt soothing in a strange way, like the comforting chill of spring water or the touch of polished glass. Feeling it wash over her, Natalie looked up at Cole and asked something she’d wondered since she had involved herself in all of this. “What do I do if you die? Do I just run for Glockmire and tell the local Priests what happened? Is… is there somebody I should try and contact?”

Cole said nothing for a moment, his eyes focused off on some memory or idea in the middle distance. Eventually, he slowly said, “If I were to die, or even if things start to go poorly, you need to run and not look back. Don’t hesitate; just run and survive. If I can, I will return to Glockmire as soon as possible. Even if you are certain I died, wait a week before making any plans. But if I don’t return, I suggest you try and leave Glockmire as soon as you can.”

What Cole said lined up closely with what Natalie had already planned to do, but one thing stuck out to her. “Why wait a week? No offense, but considering the sort of things you fight, that doesn’t make much sense.”

Cole’s lips hardened into a smile that looked more like a grimace, his myriad scars flexing with the tightened skin. “Have a little faith that I am very, very, VERY, difficult to kill.”

And with those ominous words, he set out towards Lungu, and Natalie followed after him, not for the first time wondering about the stories behind his scars.