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</div><br/><br/><i>I sense the darkness clearer<br/>
<b>I feel a presence here </b><br/>
Harvest moon<br/>
A change in the weather<br/>
<b>I feel some evil here </b><br/>
Harvest moon<br/>
I hear some frightful noises<br/>
<b>I don't go out at night </b><br/>
Harvest moon........</i><br/><br/>Wolves Hollow temple was an old place. A place with a history. Long ago, man had settled there, clearing away forest and hewing back the wild. Priests sang hymns to gods of light and fire, traders plied their wares, and a town grew. Thrived. But this was Carpathia. A land that does not yield easily. A land where many secrets still lay buried, awaiting the day they see the surface once more. It did not happen quickly. A bad winter, followed by the vanishing of cattle. Then farmhands. The people of Wolve's hollow fought back, as best they could. Men gathered swords, bows and shields, the priests gave their blessings....<br/><br/>And history falls silent.<br/><br/>They burnt the town and fields. They moved far from the Hollow. Those that were left. The fire did not diminish the land, or the forest that stretched across it. Now, ruins stood, flanked by the forests. They were shattered things, rotting wooden houses, the remains of a tavern and wooden palisade...and all bore the marks of the fire. All save for the temple. A sturdier structure then most, this church of those great gods of fire and light. Of hope and hymn. In times of trouble, it was a fortress and redoubt. A house of healing for the wounded masses. But it was more then that. It had always been more then that. As impressive as the structure was the outside...<br/><br/>As with all things, beneath the surface it was...so much larger.<br/><br/>The catacombs held the dead of the town, in theory. The dead of that priestly order. They had seen some use, but much of it was empty. all those twisting underground passages held now were some scattered skeletons, spaces for rites and worship, places to pay one's respects. All gone to ruin now. But....there was something else. Carpathia was a land of many secrets. And Wolves Hollow held one such secret. In the center of those catacombs, once protected by two heavy iron doors, was a casket. Once bound with silver chain, and warded by the priests of that singularly unfortunate temple. Time had rusted the doors, time had tarnished the chains and made them fragile. Time had worn the edges of the casket, giving it jagged, pointed edges.<br/><br/>The secret of Wolves Hollow temple stood unprotected and unguarded. But for all that, it might still have been safe. Had the catacombs not been....disrupted. The stagnant air of centuries had shifted. Light, however brief, had shone on places that had not seen it in many long years. The temple, the hollow itself, had been intruded upon. Encroached upon.<br/><br/>Outside, the moon rose, as the last feeble rays of the sun were struck from the sky. That celestial herald was full and gibbous....and stained, this night, the color of blood. On it rose, first masked by the tree tops, those jagged branches and leaves blocking the light of that body as the first hour of knight began to tick by. But soon...it was evident in the sky. Under the watch of the Blood Moon, the Witches Night began.<br/><br/><div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2F727magazine.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2015%2F04%2Fblood-moon.jpg&amp;hash=1753e94eff9300131c43106e61cc3ef5" title="blood-moon.jpg">
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</div><br/><br/><i>A paleblood moon <br/>
A place consumed <br/>
A paleblood moonrise </i><br/><br/>It started with wind, howling through the forest. Whistling through those branches that had masked the moon. But more came. The wind was but a messenger. The sky darkened. Clouds blew forth from the east, blocking out the stars that had shined in void. Yet leaving the baleful gaze of that crimson moon untouched. The winds intensified. Branches swayed. Some broke. Then came the rains. Torrential and pounding. Sudden and swift. Battering the lone stone temple with all the fury of a primordial beast. Then the lightning. The crack of thunder.<br/><br/>...The howl of wolves.<br/><br/>Cutting through the frenzy and chaos of the storm came the sounds of a pack on the hunt. Darting from the forest on swift legs, their eyes gleaming with intent. Over the palisade they came, scarcely pausing. Through the ruins they went, not even stopping to sniff the ground. Onward and onward this pack moved, urged onwards by one particular wolf. Who stood out amongst the shadowed forms. A beast of sheer white, with  intense yellow eyes that could rival any flame. Together, led by this brute, the lupine creatures closed in on the temple.<br/><br/><div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.discordapp.com%2Fattachments%2F358822703257485324%2F488213033139830785%2FWolves.jpg&amp;hash=067fa5989a1f9a0da6be1313788deec7" title="Wolves.jpg">
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</div><br/><br/>The entryway gave them no pause. This stone fortress, this outpost of man in the wilds, served as no deterrent. The wolves stalked through entrance. Over old benches. Past the altar. Moving with a speed and purpose one seldom saw in creatures of the wild....then...baying and growling, they closed in on the stairs to the catacombs. Their eyes standing out like will-o-wisps in the darkness. Warnings of the danger to come. Through the darkened catacombs they came. Not stopping for anything. They were hunters on a scent. Moving with all the purpose of an army on the march. All with that great white brute in the lead.<br/><br/>They were closing in.<br/><br/>Closing in on the only other creature with a pulse in those darkened catacombs.