Fog Warden
The old man nodded as the logs in the grate crackled and popped.
“Yes, I remember it well. There were seven of them, good hunters all. The marsh-folk had been plaguing travellers again, so they gathered up their followers and headed out onto the moors. This was at the height of the suppressions, you see, so there was still some fight left in those damnable mutants. I can't remember their names, but I remember their faces. They were smiling and joking as they set out in a great cavalcade.
“Seven hunters and two dozen soldiers, plus all the staff and porters for their gear. I waved and cheered with all the other children. It was like a festival, yes? The roads were almost clear for the first time in living memory, and these heroes were going to show the last of the bandits what-for.”
He paused, his blind eyes gazing into the fire.
“The one that made it back...that poor girl. She was so badly burned they thought she was a beast at first. The acid and poison had ruined her. But she returned to tell us all about the disaster. My father, the doctor, treated her wounds as I listened at the door.
“Something came out of the mist, she said. Tall as a tree and about as hard to topple. Spindle-limbed and hooting like a fog horn. Dressed like a soldier too, like it was mocking them. Like it was deriding our pogrom against the mutants. It melted men and animals, even the tents, as it moved. Nothing could stand that terrible miasma.
“Seven hunters faced it, and six died. The soldiers fled or were rotted where they stood. The porters died screaming. But she fought it, even as it burned her skin away. She cut it down and brought its head back as a trophy. Carried it in her fleshless hands for mile upon mile through the fog.
“But when they opened the sack she had dragged across the moors, there was nothing inside but filth and bog water.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “She laughed when she was told. Kept laughing too, all the way to the Bedlam House. Poor girl.”
This picture happens to be my wallpaper too.
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Has anyone encountered them yet? If not...do you want to?
And here is the last story, along with a page from the new game. I hope people have enjoyed these Halloween tales!
Harpies
Ten little pilgrims!
Ten little pilgrims!
Climbing up the stair!
Down come the Harpies!
Down come the Harpies!
Catch them unaware!
Bekka's breath came in hard pants as she sprinted back to town. Toben had stopped screaming, which was a bad sign. It meant that the rest of the cacophony would be hunting for fresh meat. The next verse of the childhood rhyme ran through her mind, and she thought she would go insane.
Nine little pilgrims!
Nine little pilgrims!
See how they run!
Down come the Harpies!
Down come the Harpies!
To snatch another one!
She and her friend had gone to the edge of the steps to smoke stolen tobacco and talk about what they would do when they finally left Pilgrim's Progress. They had done it so many times over the years that they had forgotten the warnings, or just dismissed them. They were teens, practically grown ups, so what did they have to fear?
The cawing got louder, and Bekka tried to run faster. She heard Lissa trip and fall a few paces behind her, but didn't turn back. Instead the words of the song leapt into her head like a maddening mantra.
Eight little pilgrims!
Eight little pilgrims!
Hiding in the night!
Down come the Harpies!
Down come the Harpies!
Giving them a fright!
As her heart thumped in her chest, the verses kept coming. Seven little pilgrims, praying to survive. Six little pilgrims, sitting in a cave. Five little pilgrims, four, three... Lissa started to weep and howl as the flock of harpies descended on her. Bekka's eyes were blurry with tears, but she didn't stop running. The town gate was not too far now. If she just kept ahead of the beasts she could make it. If she stopped...there would be no little pilgrims coming home that night.