The spring night air was cool and the graveyard was quiet. The moon, nearly full and shining red, was a reminder that their time was limited. Naja, Carbrey, Orthos, and Beef carefully looked around and found wreaths of flowers had been laid out for the dead, and among some, were a few purple petals of witchbane. They spread out and collected them.

“I think I found something!” Beef called out. He stood next to the large stone tablet used for Festival pyres at the end of every month.

“What is it?” Naja said as she approached.

Beef pointed to the soot that remained on top of the tablet from decades of use. The tablet had been cleaned in the past, but some ash remained from Judgement’s burning. “Someone’s been scratching off the ash and collecting it.”

“The Ashenmancer might have been here.” Naja ran her finger across the tablet.

“Why though?” Beef questioned.

Naja shrugged. “Human ash is a powerful substance when used with Arcane, though its practice has been outlawed and declared Necromancy. Anyone using human ash for their spells is to be killed on sight.”

“Do you think he will return?” Beef asked her and she stood silent for a moment thinking it over.

“Possibly,” she replied. “And we may have the element of surprise. From what Akecheta tells me his undead army has been considerably thinned. He might return to town to retrieve more ash, or look to bolster his numbers. Come, we should hurry back.”

Naja motioned for everyone to follow her back towards the church. “Orthos and Carbrey, you take the first watch. Make sure you both stay close to the church, and don’t lose sight of one another. We’ll all be inside, you need only yell and either Akecheta’s or Cha’Rak’s crow will wake us.”

“First post is best post!” Carbrey replied with a smile. “Looks like we Jorgman are sticking together on this one!” The two slapped hands and chuckled.

“Let’s just hope it's calm. I’d like to mix a few potions of witchbane before we need them,” Orthos replied, smiling back at his companion. The two of them remained outside while the others funneled back into the church and found a place to lay their heads.

While everyone tried to sleep, Naja tossed and turned on the hard floor until she gave up and saw that Benwall the Brave was having just as much trouble. He donned his ornate, silver breastplate, and carried a large steel shield bearing the symbol of Providence in gold. On his hip, slung from his belt, was his silver mace. He looked somber, as if having to adorn the armor and shield were a great pain to him, one that he must bear despite the difficulty.

Naja made her way over to the Speaker. “Can’t sleep?” she whispered. He stood in front of the large, gold, sixteen pointed Sunlit sun on the wall. In its center the symbol of Providence was proudly displayed.

“No,” he told her quietly. “I can sense something lurking out there.” He turned to face her. “Just on the edge of the wood.”

“Werewolves?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“No, some other evil is at play,” Benwall replied. His eye brow lifted and he turned his head, as if he were scanning through the very wall of the church. Horror crossed his face, and he turned back to Naja. “You better go rouse the others. They’re on the move.” The moment she heard, Naja darted to her companions.

“All of you up, now!” she yelled. Before they could even grab their weapons, they heard Orthos and Carbrey shouting from outside. The townsfolk awoke to the commotion and panic quickly consumed the air.

“Silence!” Naja yelled. “You all remain here, we don’t know what is outside, but no harm will come.” The whole room stood still, besides Torskaal who struggled to get his armor strapped on.

“Rest Torskaal,” she told him. “You are still wounded, and we need your strength tomorrow. Besides”—she looked around at all the scared faces—“these people need something to occupy their thoughts. Perhaps it's time for one of your tall tales.”

Torskal chuckled. “Aye, I reckon that ain’t such a bad idea.” He playfully raised his brows and turned to the other sea dwarves. “Torvin, Norvaal, how about we tell them of the time we ran into Black Ballaster out at the Salt Sea!” The other dwarves all let out a cheer before breaking out their flasks full of ale.

“Ere, everyone, pass it round and take a sip. Let old Bluebeard tell you a daring tale of adventure while out on the high seas!”

As Torskal distracted the town with his story, the Witch Hunters poured out of the church, ready to fight whatever was waiting for them.

The darkness of night was broken by the soft glow of the red moon overhead.

Skeletons, zombies, and a single large, lumbering ogre stood in front of a tall and gaunt man in hooded green robes. All of the dead crept slowly towards the church. The Ashenmancer moved around behind them, issuing orders, and using them as cover. His army had been crippled, but it still outnumbered the Witch Hunters by twenty.

“Once the Ashenmancer falls, so shall his army!” Naja yelled. She slid her short sword across her palm, sending flecks of blood soaring into the air as a vibrant flame erupted on her blade. “Leave nothing but ash!” she commanded, lifting her flaming brand high. Five blazing weapons raised up to join hers and the Witch Hunters all shouted a passionate warcry.

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Behind the hedge, Beef and Orthos rained down arrows and bolts across the battlefield. The surrounding hedge served as a barrier and funnel, allowing only one point of entry or exit. Benwall, Everett, Cha’Rak, and Naja pressed forward together, meeting the large undead ogre in between the hedges.

Big, ugly, and dripping wet with sludge, the ogre slammed its massive arms down on top of Cha’Rak. With a dive and a spring, he slashed the ogre with his sickle. Behind him, Benwall uttered a prayer of Providence and held his mace up high. Gentle glowing golden light shone from his mace like the sun and all that stepped into it had a surge of energy flow through them. They felt invincible.

Everette drove his pike into the ogre’s maggot filled gut, pushing with every ounce of strength he possessed, he kept the ogre in place. Naja manifested a flame in her hand, heaving it into the lumbering ogre as Everette’s pike was slowly swallowed by its flesh. The fire smacked into its pale purple skin, and steam rose up off of its sludgy body.

Carbrey dove over the hedge and bounded back up with both hand axe and mace at the ready. He slashed and hacked through bones and brittle flesh as he pressed towards the Ashenmancer.

“Damn, Rotten Mary’s!” he screamed, crushing a zombie's head with a swing of his mace. Just then, the ranks moved as the Ashenmancer waved his hands around. They were tunneling towards the others, but with it, an opportunity was before him.

He charged past the slow moving skeletons and swung his handaxe into the hooded man’s side, but as he struck the figure it dissipated into a cloud of black smoke and laughter. The smoke instantly flew away before converging together behind another row of skeletons and forming back into the Ashenmancer.

As soon as he re-formed, the Ashenmancer took off towards the gathering hall. Carbrey chased after him with Akecheta and Ra'Selas a few paces behind. Suddenly the man turned back, a sinister smile stretched across his pale face and he lifted his ash-covered hands. Thrusting his finger towards them, he shouted, “Shockatoia!”

A vibrant bolt of electricity flew from his fingertip and straight through Carbrey before arcking wildly and hitting both Akecheta and Ra'Selas. The three of them rattled and convulsed from the shock before all falling to the ground in a torrent of pain.

Empowered by the holy light of Providence, the others tore into the ogre. Their weapons burned its flesh on touch, and with a final slash of Cha’Rak’s flaming sickle, the ogre went up in a blaze of white light before turning to ash in an instant. With nothing left standing in their way, the five of them poured out of the hedge and rushed the remains of the undead army.

The Ashenmancer pressed away from the fallen Witch Hunters. He stopped and moved his hands around mystically, uttered something under his breath, and pointed directly at one of his skeletons. It dropped its weapon and broke off into a sprint towards the five as they emerged from the hedges.

Diving in between them it exploded, shooting bone fragments in every direction. Benwall’s shield and armor took the brunt of the assault, but the others had jumped away and were now separated by small squads of undead soldiers staring them down.

Carbrey ground his teeth and slammed his fist into the soft earth.

“You won’t get away that easily from me, you bastard!” he shouted, forcing himself back up. The Ashenmancer stepped back in rigid astonishment at the Witch Hunter’s display of sheer willpower. With shaking legs and heavy arms, both numb from the shock, Carbrey set his sights on the robed man’s neck.

The Ashenmancer grabbed a bit of ash from a pouch on his side and began to rub it together in his fingers as Carbrey stumbled towards him. Just as the fiend finished his curse and pointed his finger once more, a flaming arrow struck him in the shoulder and he reeled back in pain.

Come on Carbrey! Orthos landed his arrow, now you just have to finish the job! He slammed into the Ashenmancer, toppling over him as they crashed to the ground. The two wrestled, kicking and punching as Carbrey tried to get on top of him. The man was skinny and weak, but with Carbrey’s numb and trembling arms, they were evenly matched.

Ra'Selas and Akecheta slowly rose to their feet as skeletons surrounded them. They were numbed and weakened, both of their weapons had lost their flame, and each could hardly stand. They stumbled back and regrouped, facing down the skeletons together one at a time. Ra’Selas heaved his sword wildly with both hands while Akecheta focused all his energy on blocking with his shield.

Carbrey slammed his head into the Ashenmancer’s nose, breaking it with a satisfying crunch. He tore away his wrist from the man’s grasp and brought his handaxe down towards the robed figure's head.

With a quick smack, the Ashenmancer knocked his arm off course and punched Carbrey in the eye. The two rolled on the ground, each trying to be on top. During the Chaos, Carbrey lost his handaxe but quickly replaced it with the dagger on his belt. He headbutted the man again and buried his dagger into his chest.

Over and over he stabbed the skinny frame until it no longer rose with breath or struggled beneath him. Blood splattered Carbrey and pooled around his knees. The Ashenmancer was dead, and his army all fell back and remained motionless.

“Burn everything!” Naja yelled before plunging her flaming sword into one of the zombies' chests. One by one, they burned the remains until all that was left was burning flesh and bone filled ash.

Benwall trudged through the bones and rotting flesh, uneasy and distraught at the charnel carnage. He let out a heavy sigh, lowered his mace, fell to his knees, and prayed quietly to Providence for protection and guidance.

With everything now dead, they removed the Ashenmancer’s hood and checked over the body. It was an elven man with pale skin and long black hair.

“I’ve never seen an elf who looked like this,” Carbrey said. He turned the dead man’s face from side to side. “What do you make of this?”

Carbrey showed the others the Ashenmancer’s tome, handing it over to Naja as she approached. It was a black book and its pages were written in blood and in some kind of code. It was nonsensical when read, and no one could understand any of the illustrations or what exactly was written.

“I can’t say for certain, but it belongs with the others. This was their hunt, we just helped out.” She handed the book to Akecheta. “I trust you will join us for the raid tomorrow?” she asked. Akecheta grabbed the book and nodded.

“Do you even need to ask?” Akecheta said playfully. “Of course, I wouldn't want you to get too much glory."

“Good.” She softly punched his arm in endearment. “I don’t know how dangerous it is going to be, but if everyone in his camp is a werewolf, it’s going to be a bloodbath.”

“I’ll be sure to bring my towel,” Akecheta replied. “Is it just us, or will others be joining?”

“Haldor will show us the way,” Naja replied. “Torskaal might come if he has regained all his strength. I would tell him not to worry, but with Orthos and Carbrey here, I don’t think any Jorgman would fail to join us.”

“It’s decided then,” Akecheta said. “Tomorrow, we hunt.”