Charles
Dark Crimson Rose Lodge of Sorceresses
Tint cabin of the lodge.

Something felt odd. The birds fled all at once, the air felt static, and an overwhelming mix of presences flooded the senses of the sorceresses that remained awake to get the remedies ready on time for travelers.

"Something isn't right..." One dared to say as she felt a shiver down her spine.

...

Belladonna of Taemar
Nearby town

Anybody barely knew anything, which was frustrating Bella to her very core. It was getting late, so she decided to go back to the lodge to rest for the night.

Right at the skirts of the town, she halted her horse when she crossed paths with a traveling merchant that often came by the lodge.

"Belladonna! Long time no see"

"Greetings Amos," She did a respectful nod with her head "How is business going?" 

"Just came back from the border, I'll pass by the cabin tomorrow. I managed to get that weird thing you asked me for a couple weeks ago" 

"Oh right on time, it will come in handy. Thank you" 

"You're welcome, can't let my best clients get disappointed!" He said with joy "Speaking of, the lodge must be getting even busier lately, huh?" 

"The usual, why?"

"I just saw a group of people going in the direction of the lodge. They were too far for my old ears but I heard something about reaching a coven, must be more travelers seeking help"

An alarm set off inside the witch. 

"How big was that group, Amos?" 

"A bunch of men and a woman" 

"It can't be... Why would they even go there, how-" Her monologue got interrupted by a big blur of black feathers that approached quickly. 

The nervousness of her trusty raven confirmed what Belladonna feared. 

"The paladins..." Color drained from her face as the words rolled out of her mouth. 

"The what?" 

"They were no travelers, they are the paladins. Witch hunters" 

"Oh..." Realization hit the merchant "Oh no" 

The horse sprung into a rushed race at Bella's command. She only hoped she could reach the cabin before the paladins did, but as she would find out, she hoped in vain.
Lawrence
Ser Wendel Sommerling van Spenglersbek
Near a tiny cabin in the Taemish wilderness

Wendel, despite his size, moved through the swampy terrain with grace. Long since acclimated to this landscape, he had a good eye for where to put his foot and where not to. As the sun died, the sounds of birds, frogs, and insects became the musical accompaniment to their foray. He'd wondered before setting off if wearing a visor would have been safer against these evil hexes, but now he realised that he could not afford to obscure his vision in these conditions.

When they came to a stop, he listened attentively as he pressed his form against a tree. Just as the shifter was being released, his eyes widened. "Wait!" He said in a forceful whisper. "Will the shifter not catch the plague herself? The scholar said that these witches are rife with the pestilence."
Kari
The Paladins
Near the Dark Crimson Lodge.

Ian furrowed his brow at the young Taemish knight.

"I do not care if the shifter gets the plague or not. She's lucky we do not execute her for her crimes at the council." He hissed at Wendell, the disdain ripening his voice.
Michael
Wisdom Serafina 
Castle Grunewald Library 

Serafina listened to the woman with a sad smile. 'Oh, poor child.' She thought as Anna discussed honoring both the Southern Pantheon and Frozen Gods. Serafina glanced down at her hands intertwined with the girls and took a deep breath. "I cannot, in good conscious, marry you under Auryn if you acknowledge gods outside of the Southern Pantheon. If you do not convert, my lady, Mafalda will not be with the Ibethiel forces. You would be sending innocent men to their death in a war you will not win." 

The Wisdom relaxed her grip and pulled away, her sorrowful gaze meeting the other woman's. "Without a promise of conversion, you will not wed Lord Pinewood and the knights of Ibethiel will not march to the Witherlands." She continued. "The decision you must make is difficult. My offer of a private Northern ceremony is an effort to make you feel comfortable, but also allow you to say goodbye to the gods you claim are testing you."
Heather
Cecilia Lyanah
Near the Crimson Lodge

As they neared the Cabin, Cecilia could feel the excitement rise up within her. She looked back towards the group who waited for her attack, noticing a few grew nervous towards what they had planned. Surprisingly to the shifter, one of the men questioned her own safety towards the plague which was soon shot down by a Paladin. "It's *Sweet* That you care but no, I can't fall ill. It's one of my many talents." 

Turning to face Ian, a small smile grew upon her lips as a question of her own grew in her mind. However, it was more of a precaution due to her experience back at the castle.

"Just to clarify so I don't fall into any more shit. I can kill any of the witches I come across in this cabin, correct? If there is any collateral damage on my behalf, will I be blamed and prosecuted for it?" Cecilia had to make sure this was answered before she shifts and attacks a coven.
Kari
The Paladins
A tiny taemish cabin

Ian couldn't help but roll his eyes at the question, even if it did make sense to ask it.

"These witches are the scourge of the continent. Have at it shifter, and don't fear any collateral."
Heather
Cecilia Lyanah
Near the Crimson Lodge

"Perfect!" Cecilia clasped her hands together in relief before turning to face the direction of the Lodge. Inhaling deeply, the shifter felt a sharp pain rush throughout her body as the bones began to break and rearrange themselves beneath her skin. The movement of her skeleton could be visibly seen to those who decided to watch the shift for themselves while the sound of her shift was audible to those near her as they snapped out from their original place. Not long after the sound of her bones breaking began along with her cries of pain, Cecilia managed to shift from her human form into one of a large wolf. Annoyingly for the shifter, the shift itself took longer than she expected and was slightly more painful than usual due to the silver inflicted wounds from the previous day. 

Without any hesitation, the moment her bones formed into their new skeletal shape, Cecilia forced herself into a sprint towards the lodge. As she neared the cabin, the shifter threw herself headfirst towards the door and tore it from its hinges. A snarl tore from her throat as she went for the first person that came into her line of sight, lunging towards them before using her canines to rip through their neck, severing their head completely from their body. The body was yet to fall to the floor when the shifter immediately went for her next target.
Charles
Dark Crimson Rose Lodge of Sorceresses
Tiny cabin of the lodge.

The door flew open, a beast with thirst in her eyes entering like a raging storm.

"Shifter!" One managed to scream out before her guts were sprawled across the floor.

"Save the remedies!"

Everyone awoke, some screaming while meeting their fates, some trying to store the books and remedies away from harm, some trying to fight.

Wooden floors creaked, winds blew open the windows, the fire of the candles and fireplace danced towards the enemies and tried to engulf them, water from the nearby swamp started crawling it's way up the enemies' bodies trying to reach their lungs... The spells could not be held for long, as such strenght drained their energy, so when one fainted other took their place with the spell.

It was being a massacre, they fell one after the other, fighting as much as they could
Lawrence
Ser Wendel Sommerling van Spenglersbek
A swamp in Taemar

It was horrible to watch her transform. All illusions of grandeur faded as Wendel beheld the beast of battle they were about to let loose. The sight of the abomination bade part of him step forth and drive his present weapon into its seemingly vulnerable flank. It bade him end its suffering. But he didn't. He was too scared. Besides; it was on their side, wasn't it?

He held his dry tongue, rather than voice any more doubts. The beast sprinted off and burst through the cabin door, the effortless destruction nearly making him flinch.

Then, the screams. The shrill sounds of women being butchered pressed hard against his guts. Where were the yowls of pain from phlegmy, froglike throats? These witches didn't sound like the ones from the stories. What was happening? Why had they sent forth a monster to begin their work? There was no valour in this.

Wind struck his bare face, and his lavender eyes widened. The windows were open. The shadows of carnage made the light waver within, and soon the light grew brighter; began to move, even. Tendrils of fire flew out and raced towards them. Wendel gasped as the flames warmed his face, as bog water ignited beneath the swooping blaze.

Before the fire could reach him, he ducked behind the tree. His heart raged in his armoured breast. His mind raced. What were his options? Running? Hiding? Waiting it out? His consideration ended abruptly when a new sensation arrived: he could feel some strange wetness travelling up his leg. Up, not down? Panic bloomed when the liquid infiltrated his gambeson and reached his neck. He looked down. Murky water of the bog was swelling up to engulf him.

Wendel's breath caught in his throat for a moment. Then he screamed. He sprang out into a stumble, boots squelching on the ground. "Hog's nose, magic!" He cried. Were the others in peril? Or had the hexes smelled out his fear in particular? Either way, their position had been discovered. There was only one way to go now.

"Fight!" He thrust his spear out. "Charge, friends!" He took his polearm in both hands and began bounding towards the cabin, leaping deftly over roots and flaming water. Wind fought against him, and bright fire stung his eyes. He pressed on in a blurry haze until the light of the door filled his vision.

"For king, country, and the Great Hog!" His spear was raised high as he stormed in. It firmly struck a witch's heart and pinned her against the wooden wall. He grimaced and glared, but only for a moment.

The witch's eyes were full of pleading. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. Brown, youthful hair, freshly matted with blood. Wendel's hollow eyes travelled down to the tip of his spear as her spurting heart painted it crimson. He looked down further. Her hands were clinging weakly to her intestines.

Snarling. Wendel turned his eyes to the left. The creature was tearing through a woman's trunk as she shrieked, as the others tried bravely to fend off the monster with their magic. She wasn't the shifters first kill, it seemed. He looked down upon the other pieces. Glassy eyes met his own as their owner's upper half sat against the wall.

*Monster. Wendigo. Gnashing at his throat. Thin limbs. Dark and cold. Everything black. Many hungry, empty eyes. Everything draped in black. Children screaming and burning. Everything black. Black!*

Slackjawed, he looked at the woman he'd finished off, and withdrew his weapon from her flesh. She slumped against the floor, innards spilling out. Despite their fierce spellwork, the witch's seemed doomed against the savage beast. This wasn't what he was meant for, not this kind of disgusting slaughter. Amidst the chaos, he could only think of one sentence:

*Protect the weak and defenceless.*

Wendel's long arm grabbed a witch by the arm. Swearing, he turned around and practically flung her against some of her huddled companions, away from the shifter. He regard all the witches in the half of the room behind him. "Back!" He commanded, voice was harsh and trembling. His face was red, and his eyes bled tears.

Maybe they wouldn't listen. It didn't matter. If Sir Wendel died today, he would live forever. One of the other steppesrangers might have said something like that to him once.

He turned to face the shifter. Had it realised his intentions yet? He took a deep breath, and spread his legs into a stance. His long spear swayed tentatively until his iron grip fixed it in the direction of the monster.

"I've met Paladins in the north, beast!" This was true. "This spear has a tip of silver waiting for you!" This was false. Were the tales of that weakness even true? He tensed his muscles to stop his strong but willowy body from spasming. Perhaps he was about to find out. "Your work here is done! You're free!"
William
Nikita Valacar
A tiny cabin in the Taemish wilderness

A single arrow, lit aflame, zipped through the air, piercing its way onto the thatched made roof of the wooden cabin. Lighting it ablaze in this bright crimson inferno. Soon then that the entirety of the dreadful place scorched in fiery flames.

In the heat of battle, Valacar peered forth out of the shrubbery, baring himself a longbow and a quiver of arrows coated in pig fat, dressed in the thick hide of the conquered boar. He was expectedly late, but he had just made it before all else could fail away in admissible disaster. Distilling this allured energy into a rather chaotic foray.

His eyes gazed around in awe. Watching on the sheer discourse that waylay before him.

Valacar limped himself forward, looking to those remaining of their little company. He pulled another arrow and ignited it over the smoldering patch of burning shrubbery. In quick and sudden precision, he reeled back his bow and fired it into the Witches direction. Piercing one directly into their shoulders.

In that panic, the sounds of painful screaming and wailing lingered in the air. A hesitation crossed Valacar's mind, reeling him back to a slow and careful realization.

*These were the screams of people...*

It was there that his gaze witnessed the fearful eyes of the Sorceresses within the cabin. A lot unfolded from within, and a disasperating feeling punctured Valacar's wistful heart. His attention turned to Wendel, moving about the bloodied chaos. Shock prevailed in Valacar as he witnessed the young companion stand bravely forth in front of the Shifter, standing his ground to protect the Sorceresses. 

At that second, quick flashes of thoughts and feelings pierced through his mind.

He cursed something under his breath, pulling himself away from the very purpose he was there.

The knight pulled back his bow and waited for that perfect shot...

Out of sheer willful luck, the unlit arrow traveled forth into the cabin and attacked a weak and petty shot onto the Shifter. It did nothing but bounced off her rugged hide.

Quickly, he pulled over his Boar's hide and began roaring like a maniacal fool. Hoping to steer her vicious attention onto his own woeful stupidity.
Rosa
The Islanders
The Witches Cabin

The Islanders watched as the party charged forwards, enveloping the small coven with fire and chaos. Shadows flickered around them, throwing wild, inhuman shapes amongst the trees and reeds, which seemed to breathe with their caretakers. They watched as the witches undulated in the fire, chanting dark words and commanding the flames and waves from the bogs to destroy their enemies. Water began to rise through the reeds in thick tendrils, darting fast up the pantlegs of their enemies and constricting them like snakes. Fire grew form, leaping from the bonfires and candles, enveloping the men as they ran to the cabin. The screams and the blood they spilt only seemed to make the witches grow stronger and more resolute in their chanting, their words growing hurried and vicious. 

They were not, however, magically impervious to crossbow bolts. 

_Thunk._ A silver tipped bolt found its way from the its notch and into the throat of the witch casting the incantations. In her last moments she grabbed at it, fingers slick as they slipped away and fell silently into a crumpled heap. The Islanders moved forwards and opened fire on the witch looking to take her place. _Thunk._ This one caught her in the shoulder, and she shrieked, pulled down by the weight of the heavy bolt. The men with the packs on their backs began passing off preloaded crossbows, and stayed behind to crank and reload the spent ones.

The Islander that had fired the bolt at the second witch took the lead, coming upon her writhing body. She was screaming, gripping at the shaft and rolling as she tried to remove it. The area around the silver was black and smoking as it interacted with her skin, tainted from years of blood magic exposure. 

"We're innocent!" She shouted, "We're innocent! We are a peaceful coven! You cannot do this! You cannot kill us like anim—" _Thunk._ 

The Islander grunted as he placed his booted foot on her chest, yanking the bolts from her. As he stood and reloaded his weapon, they looked at him with suspicion. 

"What?" He asked, lips pulled up in disgust. "Dey're fucking _witches,_ lads. If dey talk to you, you'll go crazy." He handed the crank back to the boy in the back, and reset the bloody bolt. "Aim for der fuckin' mouffs." 

The Islanders continued on towards the cabin.