dead man’s tales
freliaes:
Axe +1
Graverobbing. Innes can’t say the occurrence is entirely unheard of, but it’s disgusting all the same—to dig up the recently deceased, and use their corpses for Gods-knows-what purposes… it is unforgivable, and Innes had every intention on bringing these perpetrators to justice. Peace, to the grieving families. Respect for the fallen. To grant them the final, peaceful rest they deserved.
He knows of Orson’s wife. Heard the stories, and received the reports, about the changes in Emperor Vigarde’s demeanor. To be used, manipulated, and denied that final rest was an even crueler fate than death, one he wouldn’t wish upon any self-respecting soul.
And so, the Frelian prince lies in wait underneath the shadow of trees, with scant slivers of moonlight being the only source of illumination within the darkened wood. Their investigation had taken them to this forest on the outskirts of western Adrestia, where sightings of strange men lurking about at night had been reported by several locals. But for the half hour or so he and Fernand have waited, nothing of import has happened.
That is, until a touch of firelight passes—a torch, held by a man walking down the road. Though upon closer inspection, ambling would be the more accurate term. The man’s movements are odd; his footsteps slow, shoulders slumped and legs unsteady, as if he were in danger of toppling over at any moment. What little skin is illuminated by the torch appears to be clammy and pale, prompting Innes to turn to Fernand, confident that the professor was of a similar mind.
They’ve found their persons of interest.
@eideslanze
Fernand is no stranger to witnessing the dead reanimated as monsters. Graverobbing, however, wherein the deceased are dug up for some unsavory purpose and denied their right to a peaceful rest—such an act is vile beyond reproach, and one he will not stand for. Have the bereaved not suffered enough, that they must also face the bodies of their lost kin being stolen? Were it his own family’s graves being looted—and may they continue to sleep undisturbed, if there is anyone in the heavens above still listening—he would know no peace until the villains were dealt their due punishment and then some.
This darkness is damnably difficult to see in, though. Hidden amongst the shadows cast by towering tree trunks, the pair of professor and student ( nobleman and prince ) wait and watch for signs of unusual activity as claimed by the locals. Of ghastly-looking men lurking in the woods at night, shuffling about as if possessed. To Fernand, the description is more reminiscent of revenants than graverobbers, but there is no telling for certain until they see for themselves.
And see they do, after a seeming eternity of patient vigilance. The torch is a shining beacon against the dark of night, carried in the grip of a pale figure walking—shambling—along the path. How unsightly, he thinks as Innes turns to him, a decisive look in sharp eyes with regard to their discovery. There can be no doubt now—this is what they’ve been looking out for.
“Ghastly, indeed,” he murmurs, expression pulled into a grimace. “I had hoped that to be an exaggeration on the villagers’ part.” Slowly, Fernand steps out from behind the tree from which he’d hidden himself, careful to make as little sound as a man in armor can manage lest he make his presence heard too soon. “Shall we go and greet him, then? But keep an eye out for more of his ilk—I doubt he is the only one wandering about at this hour.”
The grip on his lance tightens as he begins to inch towards the light, Innes’s more muted steps following suit. Best to be prepared for potential hostility, in the event things go south. “The hour is rather late to be lurking in these woods like some manner of wraith,” Fernand calls out to the man, cutting through the ambience with a knife’s sharpness. Up close though, he can make out a glassiness in unfocused eyes, adding to his concern as to whether it is even a living human being addressed. “State your business, and be quick about it.”













