[color=39b54a]Matrim[/color] Goldencrest Mentioning [@Whoami] Interaction with [@Ellion] and [@Kitty] Matrim jumped as he heard someone shout at him. Apparently some of those people were in here as well. Her title she gave to her group seemed strange, huntsmen of the royal court? He didn’t even know there was a royal court, though that was likely his fault. Before he could respond the people seemed to become quickly distracted with something and it sounded like they left. Oh, problem solved, he thought. It wasn’t a few moments later when fog began to settle in, a thick fog making it impossible to see in front of him. [color=39b54a]“The hell?”[/color] He asked aloud. A scream sounded off at the edge of town. A scream that ripped through the soul; unnatural, wrong, and like it was bursting out of someone on their last breath as some demonic entity was devouring their insides. Matrim cringed at the sound of it, and then heard movement nearby. Entering the room was an undead creature, likely a former resident of the town, who now likely wanted to murder the hunter. The undead shambled towards him, and when it was a few feet closer Matrim stabbed his spear right into the thing’s neck. The stabbing did absolutely nothing and the undead took another step towards him. [color=39b54a]“Oh go back to hell ya shit!”[/color] The hunter pulled back and flipped his spear over to the blunt end, slamming it against the leg of the creature. This actually worked, causing the undead to fall and making the head the victim of Matrim’s boot. The undead stopped its movements, for now at least. [color=39b54a]“Of all the damn things to fight, you gave me the one bloody thing I can’t stab,”[/color] Matrim muttered as he unscrewed his spear tip and tied it back on his belt loop. His spear would have to go back to being a quarterstaff for now, but he could not fight many with the blunt weapon. More movements sounded from outside, including the whinny of a horse, probably from the carriage. He heard a scream in the very tavern he was in, and ran in to see a huntsman dogpiled on by multiple undead. They were tearing at his flesh, ripping him to pieces. The man was far from dead, and all Matrim could do was take advantage of the distraction and exit the building. He ran to the center of the street, but with the fog so thick it was so difficult to know where he was going. [color=39b54a]“Oh come on, come on…”[/color] he muttered, spinning in circles to try and figure out where to go. The undead chose his direction for him, approaching him on all sides except one. The hunter turned towards the open spot and ran, skirting around the undead who came near him. Several times they surprised him and almost tackled him to the ground, but a quick move with his quarterstaff felled the creatures. The fog didn’t seem as concentrated on the outskirts of town, and Matrim could only tell he had reached the forest when he nearly ran straight into a tree. All manner of curses came out of his mouth at that moment as he continued to run. He wasn’t sure if the undead were still following, and turned his head to see anything, which was likely the second dumbest thing he had done today as he couldn’t see anything through the fog. He was so preoccupied with his own stupidity that when he turned his head back he suddenly ran right into a boy that also happened to be running in the forest. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ [color=00aeef]Aromull[/color] Speaking with Bobby [@Aer] inside Witches Paradise (mentioning [@blackdragon] and [@kitty] ) [i]Right Before Flint’s Entrance[/i] Bobby nodded in thanks to Aromull, as he pulled his hand back. His hands full with cups and pitcher. He turned and placed them on the back counter as he continued to explain why he was looking for him. He looked back over his shoulder to show he was still listening as he cleaned a few of the cups quickly. Then pouring a new drink in them. When he found out he was trying to compile knowledge of the supernatural into a book. He turned around, interested now that someone other than the damn church was trying to compile this stuff. He glanced at the pages, recognizing most of the sketches in his book. He chuckled. When he asked for a few questions. He was sure it was going to be more than a ‘few’. He didn’t look like a guy who could handle himself so he shrugged. But he didn’t say anything. He then decided to ask why he named his tavern the way he did. He gave a mischievous grin. As he scratched the back of his head. He was drunk when he asked the carpenter to make it and wasn’t talking straight. Lazy at first to correct it but it grew on him. Later finding it fit the place perfectly. Chuckling [color=f7941d]“Well because it's full of items that can send witches to [i]their[/i] paradise.”[/color] He swept his hand behind him full of supplies ranging from herbs to powder, holy water to silver laced weapons. [color=f7941d]“Anything and everything that can help them reunite with their fallen angel of a ‘husband’.”[/color] Aromull gave a nod and took out a small notepad that was in one of his pockets. He quickly wrote a couple notes from Bobby’s answer, and also noted the variety of weapons available. [color=00aeef]“I see, I see. So why-”[/color] he was interrupted by the sudden opening of the tavern door and the spilling out of a man, likely a hunter, who was suffering from several gregious wounds. [color=00aeef]“Oh dear, that gentleman does not seem to be in the best shape,”[/color] Aromull said as Bobby rushed over and started barking commands to everyone else. He watched as one woman also began barking commands and starting applying medical aid to the wounded hunter. Her methods seemed decent enough, especially with the conditions she was confined to. One other woman approached and placed her hands on the man’s forehead and said something that was drowned out with the rest of the noise in the tavern. This second woman seemed disappointed with her own results, and Aromull had no idea what she had been expecting. The scholar managed to get a seat at a table next to the three, sitting up straighter to get a better look at the wounds, focusing on the more serious ones. He made a quick sketch of all of them on a scaled body, noting the specific placement of each wound. Every injury was part of the story, and would also be helpful when he learned what creature had done such an act later.