[center][color=00BFFF][h3][u][b]Magnus Arhakaine[/b][/u][/h3][/color]
[sub][color=00BFFF]Location:[/color] The Graveyard on the outskirts of Salarn
[color=00BFFF]Interacting With:[/color] Empty graves and Tavern staff[/sub][/center][hr][hr]

	There was a graveyard on the outskirts of the town named Salarn, which in better times would have provided the citizens who lived there with a place to silently pay their respects to those who came before them, a place where they could give their departed loved ones the respectful send-off that they deserved into the next world, a place for peaceful reflection and quiet prayer. That was before the dead started getting climbing from their graves.

	Now though, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone from Salarn who was still willing to venture from their relatively safe homes into the forbidding graveyard, in fear of stumbling across a deceased friend or relative who had suddenly clawed their way back into the land of the living, and was now wandering aimlessly sporting a bad attitude and a hunger for human flesh. Those souls still brave enough to venture into the boneyard would be disappointed if they had gone looking for the undead though, as the place was now empty and silent, not a single corpse to be found, walking or otherwise. In fact, the only person in attendance at the burial ground today was an outsider to Salarn, a traveller looking for fame and adventure. 

	Magnus Arhkaine, as the tall adventurer was known, hadn’t realised that his hunt for renown would take him to quite so many graveyards, but he’d slowly come to accept that spending more time than any right-thinking person would like in cemetery’s was just one of many [i]‘perks’[/i] that came with the job. This particular boneyard was more vexing than most though, as there was a mystery here that was beyond Magnus’ abilities to discern. 

	He’d arrived at Salarn the night before, meaning to solve them of their Orc problem, only to hear that they’d suffered attacks by the undead not two days before. Realising that their issues with the fiendish shamblers was a touch more pressing than their ongoing war with the Orcs, Magnus had asked for directions to the graveyard, meaning to investigate. Upon arriving he had found all the graves dug up and abandoned. And that’s where the mystery lay. The bodies hadn’t unearthed themselves, they had been [b]exhumed[/b] by an outside force. Who, or what, had done the deed, well he just couldn’t tell, and that lack of knowledge was gnawing something awful at him. 

	He cast around the area one last time, hoping to stumble upon the missing clue that would make everything fall into place, but knowing deep inside that it wasn’t going to be so easy as that. After another hour had passed he admitted to himself that without more information, he was never going to solve the case of the missing bone bags. Scratching at his beard, and with one last suspicious glance over his shoulder at the offending graveyard, he made his way back to the town. 

	Skulking around cemeteries was thirsty work, even at this chillier time of year, and seeing as it was around lunchtime, Magnus figured to head back to the Crossed Swords, get himself a bite to eat and something to wash his frustrations away, and maybe quiz some of the locals about recent events a touch more thoroughly. Someone must know more about what’s going on than they were letting on. 

	He got a few sideways glances on his way through town. It had bothered him the night before when he’d first arrived, like he had food caught in his beard and no one was telling him about it. However, he’d since discovered that, on top of their recent troubles with Orcs and undead, the people of Salarn had also had to suffer a crew of adventurers like him, and they’d apparently caused quite the ruckus. Something about an apocalyptic fart that had caused all the cows in a two-mile radius to produce sour milk, and then releasing a half-orc prisoner out of jail even while the constable ordered them not to. In light of all that it was understandable really, the locals being a little edgy around strangers.

	Magnus made his way into the Tavern, the place being conspicuously busy for a mid-afternoon, when most people should be busy working the fields instead of filling themselves with cheap ale. Considering their troubles though, it was hardly a surprise that most would rather be determinedly drowning their sorrows than doing any real work. The swordsman claimed a table near the fire for himself, and gestured for the attention of one of the tavern workers.