The Boar’s Bane

You sit by the hearth as the courier unrolls his message. Firelight plays across the room while the lean man speaks: Master Elara confirms the Blighted Wildcat is the work of dark sorcery and thanks you for the evidence. She has opened a discreet inquiry in the Hall and suspects a network, perhaps a cult, corrupting artifacts. Her directive is blunt — you and Theron are to return to Oakhaven at once; the true source may lie within the city’s oldest secrets.

You ask Master Thorne for the slate. He retrieves the ancient board from his strongbox and hands it over. Its wood feels warm beneath your palms. With practiced, angular strokes you scribe the old runes of the kingdom — the Huntsmen’s cipher for battle plans — and summarize your misadventures: the snare and the blighted boar, Reynard’s death, the locket returned, Joric’s betrayal, the brigands, and the Blighted Wildcat. At the end you prick your thumb and smear a drop of blood along the slate’s wooden frame. The runes flare, blue to red, then settle.

You set the slate down and wait. A low hum rises; new runes etch themselves across the surface. Heyshem’s words appear: Yohan. Your message received. Grave news. Go to Oakhaven with Theron. Trust Elara. Trust Theron. We will prepare here. Gather all you can. Move with purpose. Our time returns. Heyshem.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

You read the message aloud. Master Thorne’s surprise hardens into respect; Theron’s eyes take on determination. You tell the magistrate your kinsmen will keep watch over the woods while you go to the city. You request to borrow the slate; Sheena, your sister, will bring your replacement within the week. Thorne agrees and welcomes her.

Theron prepares a courier for Oakhaven with the bloodied rag; you and he ready for travel. A practical question follows: Reynard’s remains. You ask if Elara would prefer cremation here or transport of the body. Theron advises cremation is both honorable and practical given the state of the remains; a personal item or earth may be brought back to Oakhaven.

At Reynard’s desecrated camp you and Theron build a pyre. Flames take the body; the locket and journal have already been secured. From the remains you recover Reynard’s gnarled walking staff. The staff bears a copper point at the base, a wicked thorn at the tip, and faint runes along its length. You recognize it as a writing staff — a blood thorn that, used with a slate, might render scratched words upon a corresponding board. Where that matching slate lies you do not know yet.

With the pyre burned and Theron packing the journal and locket, you shoulder the staff and provision yourselves. You have enough jerky for the forced march ahead. At your word, the two of you set out at a hard pace toward Oakhaven, the road unrolling beneath your boots. You intend to go straight to the Hall, present Reynard’s belongings to Master Elara, show her the staff and Heyshem’s directive, and learn the next step. You are of the wilds more than the city, but duty pulls you into its heart.