Veros speeds his horse up to approach the site. There, he quickly dismounts and stares at the numerous remains, trying to grasp at any clue as to what had occurred here. The inner circle of victims consists of eight people, and the outer circle – spaced away enough from the inner one to allow someone to walk between them – is made up of eighteen. Every single one of them is positioned the same: on their knees, hands behind their back, head hanging forward, facing away from the center of the circle. Each person has been so badly charred, that it's no longer possible to determine any sort of finer detail about their appearance outside of the fact that they were adult humans. They practically look as if they had been carved out of giant lumps of coal.
“What... is this?” Veros, who is usually composed, repulsed nearly beyond words at the sight, and has no idea what to make of it. “I've never seen anything like this before. Who did this, and why?”
Erik and Zyra approach the site, too. Neither of them have any sort of hypothesis they could dream of making that could explain what they're seeing. However, Erik suddenly has an epiphany.
“Wait.” The archer begins to piece together things in his mind. “I think I've seen this somewhere.”
“Where?” Veros inquires immediately, desperate for an asnwer.
“I've read about this when I was a boy, in my father's library. – a book about religious history.” Erik begins an explanation. “This is called 'Aldrua', a sacrificial ritual.”
“A sacrificial ritual?” Veros repeats the phrase with a tinge of bewilderment, and looks back at the human circles. “I've never heard of anything like this before.”
“That's because the ritual was outlawed over three hundred years ago.” Erik continues. “King Eodemherth the Third and the clergy put a lot of effort into phasing out this practice, going so far as to totally wipe any mention of it from scriptures used at functioning monasteries and chapels. They said it was 'barbarism masquerading as worship'.”
“What in the world would drive them to do this? What was the purpose of this ritual?”
“If I recall correctly, it was used mostly during disease epidemics, meant to offer many people at once so they can dispose of the sickness plaguing the land.”
“This...” Veros shakes his head, his voice lowered by the sheer disappointment he feels at the thought of his people being driven to such awful measures.
“As I said, the crown and clergy went through great lengths to make sure this ritual was forgotten among the common folk, so...” Erik continues, tilting his head in confusion. “I don't know what shocks me more: the fact they performed this ritual, or the fact anyone out here knew about it at all. As far as I know, the only way left to learn it is so either read the same books I did in the library, or be taught it by someone who did.”
Veros doesn't say anything. His head is swirling with a hurricane of different thoughts. Who did this? How did they learn of the ritual to begin with? How long ago did this happen? Could it have been prevented? Can the people of Yhordran truly be driven to such madness so quickly? Deep down, he feels like someone, anyone – either himself or another – should've been able to solve the mystery of the mist before something like this could've happened. His feelings around these questions are only worsened by his realization that the likelihood of any of them being answered is slim. If anything, he began this journey in hope of getting closer to answers, not further away from them.
As the scouting team continues to stand perplexed and dismayed at the gruesome ritual site, the inspection team finally rejoins them, perched on their horses.
“What in the hell?!” Kellar's voice is first to be heard as they approach the charred bodies. “What fuckin' curse is this?”
“Oh, dear...” Royd voices his shock, as well. Atticus, equally appalled but also curious, can't help but dismount his horse and get a closer look.
“Who did this?” The knight asks to anyone who can answer.
“We don't know.” Erik responds. “This is an old sacrificial ritual that was banned over three hundred years ago. There's very, very few people who could've orchestrated this.”
“How the fuck does anyone up here know of a ritual that hasn't been used in hundreds of years?” Kellar wonders aloud.
“That's what we've been asking ourselves.” Erik replies bluntly.
“These sacrifices...” Atticus speaks up while looking at one of the remains. “I don't think I see any signs of them being tied up.” The knight looks closely at the hands of one of the bodies. Their wrists aren't clasped together by rope or any such binding. Rather, one hand simply holding the other.
Veros heaves a sigh at the new information. He doesn't know what's worse: these sacrifices being forced to die, or doing it voluntarily, as they have different, but equally bad implications. He decides to take his mind off it by trying to talk about something else.
“Were you all able to find anything?” Veros forces out a question aimed at the inspection team.
“Nah.” Kellar answers with a disappointed shake of his head. “Just dirt, dust, and worthless trash.”
“There were some signs that this place has been looted before.” Royd chimes in. “We're still not even halfway into the affected region, so I'm sure plenty of other groups have gotten here.”
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“Did you encounter any undead?” Veros asks.
“Actually, no, we didn't.” Kellar replies, slightly surprised at the realization. “For a place this big, you'd think there'd be at least a few stragglers here and there, but we haven't seen any.”
“Do you want to keep searching the area for loot?”
“Honestly...” Kellar sighs and slumps his shoulders. “I don't want to bother with the place anymore. We're halfway into the village and haven't found a damn thing. I doubt there's anythin' in the other half. Not worth wastin' daylight.”
“Alright.” Veros acknowledges with a nod, but isntead of departing immediately, his gaze is drawn by the burnt remains once more.
“If looters came by here, then they must've seen this, right?” Atticus asks, still crouched next to one of the charred bodies.
“Unless it happened somewhat recently.” Erik responds with his own conjecture. “I don't know how or when, though.”
The knight then hears the subtle crunch of something moving on the dirt. He looks down at the corpse near him and notices tiny flakes of ash falling from it, despite there not being even the slightest breeze in the air.
“Let's continue on, then.” Veros finally gives the order to depart, and turns toward his horse, ready to mount and depart.
Atticus turns his head as well, with the intent of returning to his mount, Annaliese. Yet as he stands, the awkward crunching noises he heard before are suddently amplified to an almost roar-like volume for a fraction of a second. The knight swings his head back around toward the body was we looking at, and now sees its form, standing threateningly before him, its face lacking any detail aside from its cracked, dark surface. One by one, all of the sacrifices follow suit, and awkwardly jolt their bodies upward with momentum one would not expect from ashen remains.
“Oh, fuck!” Kellar screams at the top of his lungs as he and all the other Mistwalkers stall for a short moment to mentally adjust to what they're seeing as the horrific beings slowly shuffle towards them.
Atticus's eyes widen in near-paralyzing shock; every synapse in his brain is sending countless signals to every muscle in his body to attack or flee. However, as he reaches for his sword, the faceless black corpse lunges forward and tackles him to ground.
“Atticus!” Veros, who had the time to back off and prepare for a fight, runs in to attempt to save his comrade, but other corpses lunge at him to prevent that, and the fight begins.
Royd is quick to dismount his horse and start wildly swinging his massive axe at anything that isn't properly alive, and Erik starts to loose arrows as quickly as his arms can move while his horse slowly backs away from the approaching undead. Whenever the charred cadavers take a fatal blow, they simply crumble to dark dust where they stand. Atticus struggles to keep the one flailing undead who jumped him away, fighting it off with one arm while trying to crawl backwards.
“Spherus Infernum!” A high-pitched shout is heard from behind the knight, and suddenly the blackened corpse he is fighting off explodes in a fiery pop. He looks at the source of the fireball and sees Zyra, pointing her open palm forward. He silently sends his gratitude and wastes no time in standing back up and readying his shield and sword for a fight. Some of the undead reach Kellar, who is still sitting on his alarmed horse's back.
“Fuck off, ya damned corpses!” He yells as they attempt to get firm hold of his legs, but he takes his daggers and stabs them directly in the head as his steed thrashes around.
One of the undead manages to wrap their arms around Royd, but the bulky warrior is far too strong for it, shaking its grasp off with little effort, and returning the favor with a swift swipe to the neck with his axe, cleanly removing its head from its shoulders. Atticus and Veros defend themselves just as well, utilizing their shields for defensive bashing, then following up with a single, well-aimed swing of their swords that causes the corpses to fall into piles of coarse, black sand. Before long, the Mistwalkers overtake the entities as the last one is killed by a precise arrow to the head by Erik. The fight lasted no more than a single minute, but the six are left exhausted, especially Atticus, Veros, and Royd.
“Is that it?! Are they dead?!” Royd yells, trying to catch his breath, but still in a fighting stance, ready to continue if need be. Atticus, with his shield still raised, walks up to a pile to ash that used to be one of the undead, and kicks it into the air. Nothing happens; it doesn't take a new form.
“I think they're dead for good.” The knight responds.
“Either way, I think we've overstayed our welcome enough. We're leaving.” Veros gives immediate orders to depart, and no one disagrees. The three warriors on foot retrieve their horses, mount them, and they all quickly ride to Legarthat's northern exit without saying a word or looking back.
After the group is about a mile past the village's borders, Veros, who is up front, raises his hand and gives the signal for the others to finally slow down so they can collect themselves.
“Is everyone alright?” He asks.
“Physically, yes.” Kellar answers, snarkily but honestly. The others follow with affirming nods and dispirited grunts.
“I don't suppose all of that was a side effect to the ritual?” Veros attempts to ease the mood with some dark humor, though part of him is genuinely curious.
“Not from what I've read.” Erik responds rather bluntly.
“If this only scratches the surface of what this mist is capable of, I don't know if I want find out what kind of shape Armasstadt must be in.” Kellar freely expresses his newfound reluctance to continue with the journey.
“Well, at least they weren't too tough.” Royd tries to spin a positive outlook on the encounter. “By the way, do you think those creatures would count at 'unique conquests' we were told about back at Zenith Gate?”
“Are you fuckin' thick, man?” Kellar harshly shoots down whatever plan the big fighter is considering. “They count unique conquests judgin' by how big you can prove it was. Those were just normal humans. Besides, what the hell are you gonna bring back? Gonna show 'em a little bottle of ash? They'll think you're mad.”
“I'm just throwing out some ideas to make some more coin. Those foul beings were the most 'unique' things we've seen out here besides the usual limping corpses.”
“We're still not even halfway to Armasstadt.” Veros interjects. “We may have a possibility of encoutering something truly horrific.”
“I appreciate the reassurance.” Kellar sardonically responds.
Atticus and Zyra are at the very rear of the group, both quiet since leaving Legarthat. The knight leans a bit towards the pyromancer to speak to her.
“Thank you for saving me back there.” He voices his gratitude in a modest tone.
“Oh. It was nothing.” Zyra, not expecting a thank you, humbly – and a bit nervously – shakes her head. “I would've done it sooner, but I still can't build up my concentration in an instant like I should.”
“Either way, I appreciate it.” Atticus still gives his earnest thanks.
“Yeah, well, I can't have my instructor turn into corpse food before I've finished using him.” Zyra, feeling the atmosphere to be a bit too formal, suddenly cracks a joke.
“It would indeed be irresponsible of me to let that happen.” The knight voices agreement as a true, unabashed smile crosses his face. The mage freezes for a moment, realizing it was the first one she had seen him make since meeting him, and it feels like it might be the first sincere one he's made in a long time.