The world was a beautiful place - Logan was wrong in his dark musings. Luna was sure of it. The beautiful mire with its ample, swirling pits of mind-magic was the most fantastic place she’d ever laid her eyes on. She didn’t know how to dance, yet she still tried - swinging and leaping over the pits, landing graciously on the other sides where she would pirouette and exclaim her love for her dark companions, one-by-one.
Logan had another view. He watched the girl slam face-first into the mires time and time again while mumbling incoherently in between screams of what sounded to be intense pleasure. Next to her, Abraham seemed mostly unchanged, but his eyes had widened and he would frequently look to the sunrise to cry - his mouth sealed by forces unseen.
“I’m glad we’ll be in Jornheim before the diarrhea strikes. Worst thing I ever seen - worse even than the hives.” Logan spoke darkly, his arms folded behind his back as he followed after his two stumbling apprentices. Smile nodded agreeingly. “I remember. It’s not the kind of scenery you forget.” Finally, when the two had shambled far enough ahead, Logan looked to the suspicious, green eyes of Smile’s beast before questioning the Ghast: “It’s clear you didn’t just come here for the walk, Smile. Longmire’s far away from most things - why’d you come? Just to see Jorn?” As she spoke with muteness, he spoke with authority. They had waited for the opportunity for days, but with Luna’s disposition, it seemed something better left discussed when they were on their lonesome.
“No. I came to ask for your help.” Logan looked up to see Smile stare at their companions with the same keen interest he did.
“What’s this matter? And why not tell me when we were still on solid ground?” She bobbed her head in acknowledgment of the questions.
“An investigation into heretical acts. To the Northeast. A town by the name of Cadia. I’d like you to leave those two with Jorn and come with me - alone.” He reared his head at the request.
“That’s a high ask. I’ve waited ten years to be with her and that boy needs all the support he can get - they both will. Jorn’s… well, I've told you about him.”
“I understand. But for practicality’s sake, it would be a better use of their time, yours and mine if we could deal with this matter on our own. The Governor does not know I’ve asked your assistance.” He cracked his neck and sawed his shark-like teeth back and forth, mulling it over.
“But you expect you’ll need muscle for this? This sounds like something that’d be better suited for your mind-tricks than my guns or swords.” Her head bobbed.
“Yes. But you can sense the Hellspawn.” Meaning, he’d likely get to perform his most favored duties - killing Monstrum.
They stopped for Logan to look at the red skies rising above the planes of decay. As the rays crept up on the horizon, it brought with an unmistakable beauty - showering the dead, yellow grass to make it appear as fiery red as his filthy hound. He stared into the pool at his feet to look at his mask’s furious set of teeth.
“It’s a farming town. It used to export large amounts of nutrifungus, but they shifted their industry to supply meat. They’re now producing so much that it’s causing a flooding of the market. The Governor commends their exports, but His Eyes have found some discrepancies in the production.” This sounded like the type of interior mumbojumbo that the Eyes were always on about - controlling markets and punishing the heretics; things that did not concern Logan. But if the request came from Smile, that meant something. Everything did when it came from her.
“I’ll do it - for you. But I want you to commission something for me from The Eyes.” He’d say she seemed relieved or glad, but she never really was. She was never really anything - not anymore. The wide-eyed mask bobbed. “Of course, Commander.”
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The town of Longmire was unimpressive to all who first came there - from the sparse, defensive, sharp pules dug into the mire to the housing itself. Dilapidated buildings surrounded a larger, taller staved cabin adorned with ornate carvings - heroes killing Monstrum in the hundreds had been etched into the wood before it had been treated with liver-oils, filling the air with a lingering, fishy musk. In front of the Hall stood a brazier - burning brightly for the rugged people of the Mire to cook skewered fish, amphibia and the rare meat before bringing it inside the dining hall.
Abraham and Luna were both shivering as they walked along the dirt, trodden road that had appeared from nowhere a few kilometers back. The effects of the root had long since dissipated and now that the sun set, the post-euphoric melancholy only heightened the unnerve she felt as she looked at the rugged inhabitants of the mire.
They all had bushy brows and were obviously filthy under their massive coats of pelts. They glared at the visitors with suspicion, some even loaded crossbows and bared their blades threateningly as they saw the white masks in the wake of the melancholic procession.
Zeke seemed to know his way about the town and, exhausted as he was, he bid his partners adieu with a bow of his head and slinked off behind the hall, where they imagined he’d find a stable to rest in. Likewise, Logan stepped up to the fire - unafraid of the suspicious, skin-clad men. He raised his hand in a greetion and motioned back at his two, sad companions.
“We’re here for Jorn. Is he in?” One of the trappers pulled back his fashioned hat and narrowed his eyes at the mask.
“Who’s askin’?” Luna couldn’t make sense of the question - he spoke oddly, not even pronouncing most of the words.
Logan exhaled through his nose, as if dreading to answer.
“A Ghast. Just please - is he in-”
“That you, Toofy? That sounds like toofy, dunit?” The man asked, turning to his suddenly keenly interested compatriots by the fire. They all bent back and forth, as if hoping to see something beneath his mask.
“It doesn’t matter who I am, I’m here for Jorn, just-”
“Toofy’s back! Guys - it’s Toofy!” The old man shouted towards none in particular, his wild, white eyebrows drawn up to his forehead to reveal his gray eyes of excitement.
Within seconds, every door and hovel in the town had emptied its sparse population to the road, where the people continued to approach them to shower Logan with questions of the outside worlds and not a single word made sense to Luna.
“How big are the crawdads!?”, “How many you killed out der, boy!?”, “Show us them toofs!” Were but some of the screams of the six-dozen people shouting at their returning celebrity. Logan groaned into his palm and took a step up on the brazier to shout: “My name’s Logan and I’m here to see Jorn, damnit! Jorn - are you here somewhere!?”
The people cheered as they saw him in all his tall glory, whistling through missing teeth and roaring greetings. The crowds went even wilder as the tall doors of the dining hall slammed open to reveal a glorious form.
Luna immediately understood that he was Jorn- an elderly man clad in a long, gray, tattered coat. Underneath his coat, he had a black, equally tarnished and ripped shirt. It was as if he had put on his fineries two decades previous and worn them until that day, where he could grin down at the black-clad man standing atop the brazier.
“Did anyone say Toofy!?” He roared - sparking the crowd into another frenzy. The man at the top of the stair was by no means a large man. He was tall and thin, not unlike Logan and he carried himself much the same as he stepped down the stairs. Like the rest of the villagers, his wild, white eyebrows were bushy and impressive - much like the white head of peppered hair. When his lips split apart, Luna saw that several of his teeth had been coated with gold and the ones who remained were somewhat yellowed.
His scruff chin bobbed up and down as he made animalistic sounds and raised an aged finger to the black figure to shout: “You get that mask off, boy, we wanna see them toofs!”