Lae'zel moved with an unwavering confidence, a confidence that only comes from years of dedicated training and experience as a warrior. She was followed at a respectable distance by Shadowheart, who herself was flanked by Gale on her right and Wyll on her left.
They moved silently, their eyes scanning the shadows within the tree line for any possible threats before they came across the same bridge that the previous group had arrived at. However, as they made their way halfway across, they could make out the metallic scent of recently spilled blood and the beginning stages of rot.
Lae'zel shot forth while drawing her blade, her sudden action causing the others to react with differing levels of confusion as they followed.
With the night's darkness gradually deepening, they finally managed to make out a truly grim sight: blackened blood spattered across the gates, and a goblin, its body lying sprawled on the cold ground. The goblin's face was turned downwards, and an arrow could be seen sticking out of the back of its neck.
Lae'zel fixed the goblin with her gaze for a very short period, then proceeded to step inside the goblin's dwelling.
After she had passed through the gate, her eyes narrowed into fine, almost imperceptible slits, as she took in the sheer carnage that surrounded her.
A scattering of nearly two dozen goblins lay sprawled on the ground, their bodies riddled with wounds inflicted by blades, spells, and arrows. A number of warg corpses were also present, each one having suffered severe damage from the same sources.
Shadowheart emerged from behind the gate, accompanied by Wyll and Gale, the three of them stopping right behind Lae'zel, the view before them failing to quite match the intensely unpleasant smell that was already assaulting their noses.
Gale nearly threw up on the spot, only holding on to his lunch out of sheer willpower. "What in Mistra's name happened here? It looks like... It looks like something came after and moved the bodies, but why?"
Some were sparringly placed in a loose circle while the majority were piled in the middle of the town.
Wyll approached the body and began to rummage through it, searching for anything that might be useful. To his surprise, he found only a few goblin bows and scimitars. He exclaimed, "Someone has already looted the dead!" Then, he discovered an empty satchel containing a considerable amount of gold. He wondered, "Do you think it was William and the others who took it?"
Shadowheart scoffed, "Of course it's them, who else could it be?" She then proceeded to open a door, which she immediately assumed must lead to some kind of apothecary shop based on its appearance. Upon entering, she found that even the ingredients that were usually displayed there seemed to have been ransacked. "Yeah, it was definitely them. You don't see many goblins actually searching for alchemical ingredients!"
Gale noticed a distinct set of footprints heading away from the town's central area and towards the dense swamp. These tracks were particularly large and heavy, suggesting they wouldn't belong to any known human, elf, or dwarf species.
"We shouldn't go this way!" He muttered to himself, feeling like the footsteps belonged to beings he didn't want to let near.
Wyll found another group of footsteps much smaller than the ones Gale discovered leading in the direction of the river and gestures for the group to follow.
Shadowheart huffed but followed, her eyes never leaving the corpses.
Lae'zel's hand instinctively tightened on the hilt of her sword as she began her movement. Her instincts as a warrior screamed at her that something was decidedly off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.
Gale let out a sigh before following.
He muttered, feeling like there was nothing left to do there, "Let's leave this place for nature to reclaim."
They left the village through the gate leading towards the river when they heard whimpering from a nearby barn.
Lae'zel and Shadowheart took position on either side of the barn door without a word exchanged; she pressed her back to the warped wooden planks, sword angled low, every muscle coiled tight as a drawn bowstring.
Shadowheart mirrored her movements on the opposite side of the room, her mace held close to her chest, her jaw clenched tight, and her eyes gleaming with a grim anticipation that was almost palpable.
Behind them, Gale and Wyll were crouched down beside the overturned wagon, partially hidden by the splintered remains of its frame.
Gale's fingers crackled faintly with a low, restrained lightning, and a palpable hum of static filled the air around his hand.
Wyll's palm radiated with a contained swirl of eldritch energy, a violet and impatient aura that seemed poised to erupt at any moment, waiting only for the slightest provocation.
The whimpering came again.
Soft.
Broken.
Animal.
Lae'zel raised one hand.
Three fingers extended.
The sound seemed to shrink back, as if it sensed what was coming.
Two.
Shadowheart adjusted her stance, boots grinding quietly against packed dirt.
One.
Lae'zel's fingers curled into a fist.
Zero.
Both women moved at once.
The doors burst open with a loud, sharp bang, sending a shower of wood splinters flying back against the sturdy barn walls. The moonlight streamed in, illuminating the scene.
For half a heartbeat, no one spoke.
A naked bugbear, its skin taut and stretched taut over its bone-like body, crouched down in the center of the barn. Its limbs were pressed tightly against its own torso, forming a grotesque parody of safety, a posture that seemed to offer little but much needed comfort in its current state.
Its massive frame trembled, its shoulders shuddering as low, pitiful sounds leaked from its throat.
Its eyes were wide and completely unfocused, darting erratically from side to side as if it were expecting death to appear from every dark corner.
But none of them were looking at the bugbear for long.
Behind it.
In the center of the barn.
Bound upright against a thick wooden post was the body of a female ogre.
Her arms and legs were cinched tight with heavy ropes, the fibers slick with black blood.where she had clearly struggled.
The skin beneath was burned raw and darkened, layered with old wounds that spoke of repeated attempts to break free.
Whatever method of torture had been used had not been kind, nor quick, the only relief being the moment death had eventually claimed her.
Not mercifully.
The ogre's head lolled forward, tusked jaw slack, empty eyes staring sightlessly at the dirt floor.
Dried blood coated the ground beneath her in thick, uneven pools, splattered and smeared in ways that suggested violence inflicted not for necessity, but for pleasure.
The barn reeked of iron, smoke, and something far worse.
Silence pressed in like a suffocating weight.
Shadowheart felt her stomach twist.
Even Lae'zel, hardened by war and cruelty, did not immediately move. Her eyes tracked the burns, the bindings, the unmistakable signs of prolonged suffering.
Gale swallowed hard behind them, the lightning in his hand dimming as revulsion took hold.
Wyll's eldritch glow flickered, his expression darkening into something cold and furious.
The bugbear whimpered again, rocking slightly, one blood-smeared hand twitching as if reaching for something that was no longer there.
This was no battlefield.
No raid.
This was something else entirely.
Ribbons of the ogre's flesh were ripped free, and the creatures' ribs were forcibly broken and pulled outward, exposing her large lungs, which were pulled free from her ribcage and spread like wings, showing a depth of depravity no normal being could compare to.
Lae'zel glared at the whimpering Bugbear and growled, "You hairy creature, what happened here? Tell me, and I will make your ending swift!"
The Bugbear began rocking in place with its trauma filled eyes locked onto the ogre corpse.
"I loved her and he came and he took her... He tied her and he cut her... The screams oh gods the screaming..." The Bugbear began crying tears of blood, having run out of actual tears and he looked at the group at the door, his desire to see the being who had done this somehow superimposed the image onto their figures.
He stood in equal parts fear and anger and roared, "What? You didn't have enough and came back?"
He lunged with claws and fangs bared towards Shadowheart who prepared to block with her shield but before he could reach her Lae'zel swung her sword in a powerful downward motion instantly beheading the bugbear and causing its body to fall limp before the barn doors.
Shadowheart took a slow, deliberate exhale, forcing the tension and stress that had been building up inside her to finally escape through clenched teeth.
She glanced down at the bugbear's still form, then back toward Lae'zel's bloodied blade.
"I could have handled it," she said with a flat, unhurried tone. Not angry, not shaken, just a simple declaration of a fact that she clearly felt she needed to believe.
Lae'zel wiped her sword clean against a strip of torn cloth, her gaze fixed intently ahead. "You hesitated," she said, her voice flat and unyielding. "Hesitation gets you killed."
Shadowheart's jaw clenched shut, but she held her tongue, refusing to say another word.
Wyll broke the silence first, turning away from the barn. "Whatever did this is still ahead of us. William too, most likely."
Gale nodded his head, his eyes immediately sweeping across the ground, already searching for anything of interest beyond the limits of the village.
Leaving the barn behind, the heavy wooden doors creaked softly as the night slowly began to reclaim its former space.
The path beyond was clear enough now.
Scuffed earth.
Broken reeds.
There were occasionally noticeable dark smears where something heavy had been dragged across or where blood had been left to seep out without being cleaned up properly.
They persisted in their pursuit until they reached a point where the trees started to thin out, and then the sound of rushing water became noticeably louder.
A stone bridge, its surface worn smooth by time and weather, emerged from the darkness, spanning the river in a single, elegant arch.
Or it would have.
A significant portion of the center was completely demolished, leaving behind a gaping hole where a substantial amount of stone had previously been.
The river churned far below, moonlight breaking across its surface like shattered glass.
Wyll peered over the edge and swallowed.
"That's… not ideal."
Lae'zel stepped forward, testing the remaining stone with her boot.
Solid.
She looked at Wyll and Gale. "You first."
Before either of them could even utter a word of protest, she grabbed Wyll firmly by the back of his armor and hurled him across the gap with brutal, precise force.
He landed hard, rolled once, then came up on one knee, eyes wide.
"I was going to suggest a rope," he muttered.
Gale barely had time to object before Lae'zel grabbed him as well.
A sharp yelp, a rush of air, then he landed beside Wyll, cloak flapping indignantly.
Lae'zel crouched low to the ground, her muscles straining as she prepared to leap. She cleared the gap effortlessly, landing with a powerful thud that echoed through the air.
Shadowheart followed immediately, her boots barely grazing the stone as she floated across, landing with practiced grace.
They regrouped on the far side.
The smell hit them first.
Not rot.
Not blood.
Something warmer.
Sweeter.
Wrong.
A low, unsettling noise carried on the night air.
Wet.
Rhythmic.
In front of me, a large group of hyenas were visible, lying sprawled out on the muddy bank and partially concealed by the tall reeds that surrounded the area.
Their bellies were grotesquely enlarged, stretched to their breaking point, and distended to such an extent that it was clear they were significantly beyond what nature ever intended.
Their limbs would occasionally twitch, and their claws made weak scraping sounds against the ground.
Shadowheart felt her stomach drop to the bottom of her chest. "No… no, I've read about this before."
They watched.
One of the hyenas convulsed violently.
Its body arched, jaws snapping open in a silent scream as its swollen abdomen split apart with a sickening rupture.
Flesh tore.
Blood sprayed.
Viscera spilled onto the mud in steaming ribbons.
From within the ruined carcass, something moved.
Bone cracked outward.
A slick, blood-soaked form forced itself free, standing upright as no mere hyena ever should.
A newborn gnoll emerged, howling triumphantly as it drew its first breath, gore dripping from its matted fur, eyes burning with feral hunger.
Then another hyena began to shake.
And another.
Lae'zel's hand tightened on her sword. "This land is cursed."
Gale stared at the gnolls in horrified fascination, his voice barely audible above a whisper. "Gnolls don't just hunt; they seem to multiply rapidly, and they must be dealt with."