The Raven Hill Cemetery is just north of the town, a path covered in overgrown grass leading straight to the tightly closed iron gates of the graveyard. The iron gates and railings' intricate metal designs were elaborate and beautiful, suggesting the place might have once been bustling with activity. Jess could even imagine what it was like here before the Karazhan explosion.

A large graveyard that buried countless veterans and nobles who perished in previous wars, it was often visited by family members of the deceased heroes or nobility who came in lavish carriages for memorials. The residents of Raven Hill also thrived on these visitors and the diligent care for the dead, turning the large graveyard into their gold mine.

However, all that was obliterated with the explosion, the spread of darkness, and the emergence of various eerie legends that seemed to materialize out of thin air.

Jess approached the iron railing and peeked inside, observing rows of gravestones of different sizes and specifications grouped together, with one or two family mausoleums standing among the gravestones.

On the farthest hill, there was a small house, possibly the so-called gravedigger or the mortician's residence. Judging by the level of disrepair, it seemed no one had entered it for quite some time.

In the game, this location also is the final target of a series of quests, named Morladim, a skeletal warrior capable of casting Holy Light spells, incredibly powerful. In the early versions here, players training their levels, usually in their twenties but below thirty, would accidentally lure him while questing. As a 35-level elite monster patrolling the area, he could easily decimate players with a few swipes of his sword.

Morladim also had a tragically heroic past. Initially, he was a valiant Paladin who took part in resisting the Scourge invasion wars that occurred over a decade later. After the war, he returned home only to find his wife and two children dead, and his last daughter missing. Failing to find her, he went mad with grief at his wife's tombstone, mistakenly killing several Night Watchmen who tried to console him. Realizing his madness, he ended his despair in suicide, becoming a vengeful wraith wandering aimlessly, making the already feared Raven Hill even more terrifying.

He didn't know that his daughter, Sarah Ladimore, had left Raven Hill to go to Grand Hamlet, which later became known as Darkshire, and joined the Night’s Watch of Duskwood, though they never managed to reunite.

Thinking about this story, Jess suddenly felt something was odd.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Grit."

"Hmm?" The dwarf, busily examining the ground's soil and weeds, looked up and asked, "Find any herbs?"

"Not that," Jess replied. "Do you remember the name of that guard from last night?"

"Morgan, something... Mor... Who remembers those weird human names."

"Morgan Ladimore." Jess said.

"Close enough." Grit, uninterested in the topic, followed a puddle of water towards the distance, leaving Jess alone gazing at that solitary old house in the graveyard.

Yes, the boy of a similar age was Morladim later on. Jess remembered this fearsome undead warrior as a man who had already had three children and died a long ago, his wife early turned into a tombstone, and his only daughter had grown into an elegant young woman. Logically, he should be pictured as a middle-aged uncle, never associating him with an 18 or 19-year-old young man.

"Over here!" Grit suddenly shouted.

Awakened from his thoughts by the call, Jess hurried to the dwarf's side, arriving at a pit entwined with tree roots.

"Do not go down," Grit halted Jess, standing on a thick tree root extending over the pit and said, "See? This could be a resting place for wolves or bears."

"Resting place?" Jess asked, puzzled, "Isn’t that just a den?"

"Different," Grit explained. "Wolves and bears usually live in dens, caves for wolves and some bears dig their own... Anyway, these animals live in dens. But when they go out hunting, sometimes they travel far, so they find some secluded or comfortable spots away from their lairs to rest, kind of like checkpoints."

Pointing to the pit, he said, "Look at that wolf fur; I can even smell the wolf scent here, and there should be droppings nearby. In short, we’ll set traps here, saving us the need for bait."

"Do wolves find resting spots so close to the cemetery?" Jess asked.

"It suggests those rumors you've heard are likely true," Grit replied. "Meaning, these wolves do indeed consume human flesh, thus considering the graveyard their hunting ground. If our traps work... it would significantly increase the chances of finding the so-called evil claws."

"Let's set up traps then," Jess said.

With a nod, the dwarf swung the iron bear trap off his back, slid into the pit, and set it up before covering it with dirt, grass, and fur.

"Wouldn’t the wolves smell you and abandon the resting spot?" Jess inquired.

"You have the makings of a hunter, lad," Grit praised. "In the Hinterlands, I would cover myself in bear dung for such tasks, but it should be fine here. These wolves probably haven't smelled dwarves before. If they catch a whiff of an unfamiliar scent, they might be suspicious for a short time. Observing no danger, they’ll lower their guard. However, encountering the scent of hunters who often prey on them, like humans, might make them abandon the resting spot, as you said."

Climbing out of the pit, Grit dusted himself off and said, "We don't need to bother here anymore; let's go look for herbs elsewhere. We can come back tomorrow to check. Did you find anything?"

"Nothing," Jess replied, leaning on the handle of his axe, resting against a protruding slate, and took a breath, "This place is too close to Raven Hill; just the town residents or passing travelers could have picked these herbs clean. Plus, most amateurs don’t know to leave the roots; they just pluck them outright. Over years, even originally abundant herbs would vanish. In short, the chances of finding herbs here are slim; we should look in more remote areas."

Casting a glance at the dimly shadowed cemetery railing in the distance, Grit queried, "What about Grave Moss then?"

Jess also looked in that direction, realizing he was subconsciously reluctant to enter the graveyard, especially after finding wolf tracks nearby, making the graveyard seem even more eerie. After all, even if wolves were to gnaw on bones, they'd prefer fresh bones with meat, not the rotted ones buried in the cemetery for ages. This meant the graveyard contained a considerable amount of decaying flesh.