A thick cold wet mist settles onto the rough and bearded face of Ser Valden. The fog that settles around him protects him from the prying light of distant stars. He sits now,  in the eternal darkness of the dying world, with his back against a sun starved tree. The open air of the world fills his lungs, as he opens his eyes and discovers that he is no longer a prisoner of the slumbering giant. His eyes struggle to adjust in the near pitch black world that envelops him- the ambient light of celestial bodies is unable to provide a reference point for where exactly he may be.

How long had he been a passenger aboard the coffin?  Its fanatical pallbearers marching ever forth … where were they heading? What was their objective?

Valden, finally coming to- reaches for a torch… and lights it.

The flame of the torch humbly attempts to reveal the secrets of the dark, and in doing so reveals to Valden that he is in a heavily wooded area.

Directly across from him, atop a dark stone…. Sits the horrible mask of the giant- its obsidian eyes staring at Valden with pupils born of torchlight.

Valden laughs to himself and says, “You’re right… I am an Unholy Beast… and now you know what I am capable of. I will not be caged.” 

Valden, the reality of his hunger and exhaustion becoming more apparent to him by the second, immediately reaches into his rucksack and pulls out his last ration- tearing into it like a starved animal. Valden had been in that godforsaken coffin for 3 days, yet he is unable to divine this himself.

Valden stands, and wields his torch like a sword.. attempting to cut away the dark mist that obscures his surroundings. The dark of these woods push back against the light defiantly, as if offended by its very presence. Frustrated, Valden grunts and turns to regard the mask once more.

The mask, notably smaller now, sits and stares into the darkness ..its horrible expression unchanging. Valden grabs the mask by the wispy black hair that erupts from its scalp with his free hand, and lifts it from the stone. It was heavier than he expected.

"Looks like you're coming with me, now. Back into the dark with ye."

Valden shoves the occult object into his rucksack with no regard for its preservation. He was glad for a break from its piercing stare.

Valden trudges forth through the mist, ducking beneath the fog as if it were cobwebs hanging from the ceiling of a crypt. This darkness and thick fog would make traveling difficult, but he still needed to try and find a landmark that could clue him into where he was.

After several hours of what felt like meandering, Valden comes upon what appears to be a sequestered village in this dark forest. Almost seamlessly, the trees around him become structures... houses... shacks... this village is perfectly integrated into the woods. And much like the woods... this village appears desolate. There are no immediate signs of life. No lit sconces, no chattering of residents, nothing.

Valden, cautiously pushing through the fog, discovers a rather shabby structure. He moves to the destroyed doorway and peers inside. A quick assessment of the space as the torchlight floods the room reveals to Valden that no one has been inside this structure for a long long time as every surface is covered in a thick dust. Notably, all the furniture in the room has been stacked along the back wall. Valden moves in, disrupting the dust, and heads to the back wall to inspect the stack of furniture.

There's a door behind the haphazard pile. Valden begins removing the old rotten wooden furniture with his free hand, some of it falling apart as he pulls upon it. He clears enough to be able to reach the door. The door gives way with ease, and as Valden steps into the room- the torchlight once again reveals what would have been hidden in shadow.

Bodies. The stench of rot assaults Valden... and he must test toughness.

Valden resists the immediate urge to vomit, but feels as though he won't be able to remain in this room for too long. The stench is overwhelming. The bodies, in an advanced state of decay, sit in a circle, their backs facing the center. Many of the bodies still sit upright, leaning against adjacent bodies for support.

What happened here? Why was the door barricaded from the outside? And why did these people arrange themselves this way?

Valden, unable to determine much else from this ghastly scene turns away to head back out the door, but as he does, the torchlight once again reveals the secrets of the dark. Written in horribly messy black script, the words SHADOW and HORROR adorn each side of the door. The words are written over and over, seemingly written in panic... and in.. blood? Yes, this was all certainly written in what is now dried and crusted blood.

Valden begins to feel as if he is choking on the heavy stench of rot, and exits the structure. Something sinister happened here, and Valden could now sense the weight of loss all around him. It was unfortunately, an all too familiar feeling for him.

Valden feels the sudden urge to leave this place, and as he turns to walk out of the town, he is halted by the sight of a shadowy humanoid figure standing roughly 40ft away. Valden steps towards the shadow aggressively.

"Begone, shadow... let me pass..."

But as Valden moves closer, he notices that the shadow seems to swallow the light cast from his torch.. more and more with each step.... until the torch is extinguished. Valden stops now, standing silently the in darkness, 10ft from where he last saw the now hidden shadowy figure. From the silence, an all enveloping voice fills the air.

"The path you walk is one of redemption. Although, you may be too late. Why did you tarry so long, and let evil run amok? There is much blood on your hands."

"What do you know of the path I walk? How can you lay the persistence of evil upon my shoulders alone?"

"You know very well what you are capable of- the power you possess. Yet you choose to suppress this strength in favor of your own self preservation, at the cost of peace for so many others."

Valden feels these words echo through him as if he were now hollow. The truth of the words bounce violently within him as they build to cacophony. Valden, exhausted.. falls to his knees.

"I admit, I have abandoned my honor and it can never be restored. All I can do is attempt to right my own wrongdoings ...before this world meets its end."

The torch in Valden's hand erupts into flame once more. The shadow was gone. Valden stands, and moves to where the shadow once stood. In its place, lay an old sack.. containing jerky, fruit, and even a waterskin. Perhaps the shadow was pleased with him.

Amongst the food lay an old leather bound journal. Why would the shadow leave this to Valden? Perhaps it would contain answers pertaining to the fate of this village. For now though, Valden needed to find a place to properly rest. The air of this village had now changed, and Valden felt that it would be okay to camp here for the night.

Upon bedding down, Valden decided to open the journal and see what he could learn. The journal starts out as you would expect, simple entries detailing the daily comings and goings of a woman who seemed, for lack of a better term... normal. As the journal continued on, the handwriting took a noticeable turn for the worse. The sentence structure, the adjectives employed, and the formatting all became much more erratic and desperate. Something had poisoned this woman's mind, this much was clear as Valden trudged onwards through the journal. Valden's blood ran cold as he read the words upon the final page. In an ink that could only be blood, the following words were written:

"In circles we sit, lost in shadowed dread,
Stewing like candles, cold, and dead.
The blood of the town shall drench the trees,
As Ser Valden's honor withers, diseased."

Valden, emotionally conflicted. closes the journal, and sits with the words for a moment. Guilt morphs into anger, and Valden roars into the night, his Yellowed teeth drenched with saliva, hungered for the blood of a witch.