Chapter 37

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The Portal closed with a loud boom, yet danger was still lingering in the air like bad breath. A black smoke cloud enveloped Linus’ chest and the young man fell on his back. The wooden floor creaked and bent as his elbows stopped his fall flat.

Men around him retreated from him with haste, leaving him in an empty circle. Only other Mad Dogs didn’t stagger. Jack, Orla, and Zaun stood over him looking at him with worried glances.

“Are you hurt?” Orla went on her knees in front of him and pulled his leather shirt open with a force ripping off his buttons.

Her Strength stat granted her enough power to rip all the buttons out from reinforced leather. Buttons flew off and rolled on the ground leaving Linus breathing heavily in panic and bare-chested.

He was not injured or at least not injured from what they could tell from outside. Instead of any visible wounds, there was a red tattoo right under his chest in form of a drop of blood. It was located right in the spot where the bird crashed into his chest. Red as a drop of fresh blood, a tattoo was engraved on Linus' body against his will.

Linus lowered his head and took in his new accessory with wide eyes. A slight tremble took over his body against his will. Tremble originated not from some magical influence or coercion, but from his own body shackled by fear.

You have been cursed with the Mark of the Blood Cult! You can not hide heretic!

A notification still hung in front of him like a harbinger of death, a red raven tattooed into his skin. But he knew. Linus knew red ink ran deeper than his skin, deeper than his flesh or bone. He felt the tint of Blood cult touch his own essence and write runes right in his soul.

A hand on his shoulder snatched him back to reality. A warm and comforting touch of an iron-skinned old man allowed Linus to get back to his senses and look at the old dog standing over him and Orla still kneeling beside him. Jack was holding his shoulder and Zaun was standing right beside him.

“Calm yourself down, boy!” Jack said, “ You are shaking like an autumn leaf. What is the meaning of this tattoo?”

“It’s a curse,” the caravan master answered instead of Linus, “ And a powerful one at that. Adventurer Linus be so kind and tell us everything you see in your status, and be warned I sniff lies as good as I sniff out wealthy patrons in busy streets of Capital.”

“It is a mark of Blood cult,” Linus said.

“And what it entails, this mark of yours?” Giogio kept pushing.

“It is a tracking mark. They can see where I am. Or at least feel it.”

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Orla exchanged worried glances with Zaun, meanwhile, Jack didn’t even blink while he was still holding Linus' shoulder which was still slightly trembling under his palm.

“At least you will be breathing for a while. Foul druids!” Giogio spat under his feet,” They are children of elves, I swear it to you. Foul and vengeful folk, all of them.”

Giogio paused and look at four mad dogs in front of him with sad eyes. The fat man looked around at his men waiting in silence and then back at his newest companions. It was the time to be a leader and announce the only right decision. The roaming merchant hated this part of leadership, but it was inescapable. Hard choices must be made in favor of most. It was the same back in Delver Citadel, and it is the same right now.

“It is time for us to split our paths,” Giogio said with steel in his voice, “I must keep my men safe, I hope you will understand.”

“How dare you…” Orla started to say, but she was cut off by Jack.

“It is understandable. We each have our own skin to save,” Jack said.

“I am glad you understand where I stand, old man,” Giogio bowed his head, “ You can keep your leather and weapons given by me. They are yours now. You saved our lives so one carriage with horses and a pouch of talons will be yours. Caravan will continue going west. All I ask from you is not to follow in our footsteps. Go wherever just not right behind us.”

“We can shake on that, “Jack agreed, “ There is nothing for us in the west anyways. Will provisions will be included in our savior paycheck.”

“Of course. You can take as much as you want from our food supply. It is the least I can do for you to repay my debt,” Giogio agreed with no claims, “And Jack!”

“Yes?”

“Don’t hold a grudge. If you survive and ever going to meet me once again on the road, don’t fret to greet me and tell me your troubles. I will do my best to help you.”

“Sure, Giogio. No grudges,” Jack lied.

---

Caravan left the village of ghosts.

Mad Dogs watched it leave in silence as they stood at the wooden gates. There was no need for words, as they felt the same. They were discarded and thrown away like spoiled food. The Giogio decision was correct and yet they couldn't help but feel left back to fend for themselves. Caravan traveled together in the safety of numbers, but they were not willing to host travelers who posed a direct threat to their safety.

"Fat scumbag!" Orla said.

"Smart man!" disagreed Jack.

Linus together with Zaun stayed silent.

After the caravan was not visible anymore they attended to their own cart left behind by Giogio. There was enough food to last them a week or two and even a hefty sum of talons as a bonus. A nice start if not for the ever-looming threat over their heads. Or, to be more precise, the threat was etched into Linus' chest. It was a promise from men stronger than them. Promise that cult of blood will come and find them. And it was a threat they had no escape from right now. All that was left to do was to bite their teeth and keep moving. Move and always be one step forward.

Old roads led to all four directions from the village and after a short discussion Mad Dogs of Rosmorre decided to head south.

"What about Warren?" Orla asked, "Poor man lost everything to those monsters. We should offer him to go with us, and he should decide if he wants to stick with us despite the danger."

Zaun and Linus flinched at those words.

"You can see him for yourself," Jack said and pointed towards one building on the side, "He is right in that building. It used to be home for him and his family."

"I will!" Orla said and went towards Warren's house with a confident stride.

When she opened the front doors first thing she saw were legs hanging up in the air. It was already more than she wanted to see. The girl closed the doors and went back to her companions with tears in her eyes.

Mad Dogs of Romorre left towards the South without looking back. They had the road to travel and pursuers to be aware of.