The mark wrapped around Regg's neck, like a boa constrictor choking its prey to death.

"I couldn't tell you what it is," Ington said gravely. "It could be a sign from Shule Firstborn himself, for all I know. An act of god," he added, seeing Regg's confusion.

"Well, Dal, you know about people like me, do you know what's going on?" "I would've said something already if I did," The boy snapped. "Of course you don't, of course you don't! You know, for all you say about being some great explorer like that Demen guy, you sure don't know much about the world!"

"Oh, shut up, Regg!"

The two paused for a moment. "I'm sorry," Regg said, breaking the silence, "I just, I want to know what's happening to me, you know? It's...I -"

Right by his lifemark, Regg saw another gash emerging on his flesh.

"There's another one! By god, what else? Where else?"

"I can take you to the town healer tomorrow," Ington said. "I'm not sure what she could do, but it's worth a shot. Maybe it's some sort of pox that she can cure."

More scars began to form by the time Regg headed to bed; there was practically one on every joint of his body, excluding those on his fingers and toes. Thinner, less noticeable marks formed all over his chest while he was sleeping. But the neck wound was most prevalent. Regg woke up several times that night, and each time he would count, in the pitch-black room, the scars on his form. Twenty-five, he ended up counting. The night was long, cold, and terrifying, and no matter what Regg couldn't seem to get any rest from his long day of work.

The night faded away as the sun rose on that early winter day, and Regg got up early, eager to see the healer. The hours before he and Ington departed felt like days to him.

"Well," Ington finally said a while after finishing his breakfast, "I suppose we should leave."

"Uncle, I don't know if you should be going so far on that leg," Dal told him with a ring of concern in his voice.

"Ah, tommyrot."

"I could go with Regg instead, that's all I'm saying."

"Yes, and you could go fight beastmen in the forest with that adventurer you always talk about. Someone has to feed the cows, boy, and I sure can't with 'that leg of mine,'" Ington asserted.

"Mr. Ington, I think he has a point -"

Ington opened the door. "Are you coming or not, Regg?"

On the rickety cobbled road Ington stumbled upon his ever-shaking leg, gripping his cane firmly. "Tommyrot," he mumbled.

Down the hill they went into the center of town, where a few shops stood. Still haphazardly staggering about, Ington lead Regg into one of these shops. Inside, it smelled of herbs and oils, and the walls were lined with intricate fabrics that Regg couldn't take his eyes off of.

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"Reon quilts, if you're wondering," the healer announced as she emerged from the back door. "My grandfather's. They're family heirlooms. What can I do for you today?"

"This is my, erm, farmhand," Ington said. "Yesterday all these scars started appearing on his body, and we don't know why."

(Wisdom check: Challenge Dice = 1d10, Skill Dice = 1d6+0. The challenge dice is rolled, equating 7 points. Regg rolls a 3 and fails the check.)

Suddenly, Regg knew what to say.

"I'm a Lost-mind," He blurted out. "I think it has to do with that, but I don't know."

The healer tossed him a cold look, while Ington's face harboured an expression of shock.

"Ington," The healer said, growing serious. "You have been harboring one of them in your home? In our village?"

"He's not a bad man, Elyra. He's caring, and hard-working, and..."

"The Man in Velvet was a Lost-mind. The same Man in Velvet who slaughtered my people like animals! Ington, by the good word of Firstborn, the Reons of the Valley will never forget what creatures like that did to us!"

Elyra drew a knife from her belt, staggering forth. "Words of the Swamp Spirits, I draw on thee in my hour of need, to make my sprints faster and further, to make mind and muscle stronger, and to draw twice the blood from my foes!"

(Prayer Check: Challenge Dice = 1d10, Skill Dice = 2d4. The challenge dice casts a 6, as the skill dice teeters until it lands upon a 7; a slim pass of the check by Elyra. Her Strength, Dexterity, and Intelligence all temporarily increase by 1 [STR=3+1, DEX=4+1, INT=1+1].)

"Regg, you fool!" Ington cursed. "We have to run!"

The two dashed out and up the road (As they are running uphill, there is a -1 penalty to all Dexterity checks.), the Reon healer sprinting behind.

(Regg's Dexterity Check: Challenge Dice (1d6+5)-1, Skill Dice 1d6-1. The Challenge dice lands on a staggering 8, while Regg falls behind at 2. The check is failed, and it seems as though the day may be lost for Regg...)

Regg felt the enraged healer's breath on his shoulder. He grew stiff like a corpse, trying to run faster, but slipping on the cobblestone, now forced to crawl away until he finally regained his footing. This was futile, however; as he pulled himself back up, Regg was toppled by his assailant. He could swear his heart stopped beating for a moment, his veins stagnant as he felt the aura of the woman so close to him. He shivered. He was dazed from panic as Elyra raised the crooked Reon knife a few inches above his throat.

Then, he noticed something.

Ington would have been running at a slower pace than he was, but Elyra had gone straight for him. Perhaps this was fueled by her rage, but Regg could tell she was equally furious at Ington. This would have to mean...

Out of the corner of his eye, Regg couldn't see Ington at all. Only his cane, lying right next to the edge of the cliff path.

Regg's blood became white hot as he realized that Ington was dead.