Game On

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Raven

Sean shifted on Mark's lap, asking with concern. "Vampires and werewolves? How many exactly...?" The lord took a swig from his goblet, then shrugged out. "Thousands, I'd guess. I'm quite a few generations down from the original inhabitants. Almost my entire family line can be found here on these grounds." Sean exhaled nervously, while Mark slipped in curiously. "This Hag that your relative made a deal with. Was she ever found?" The lord casually nodded, openly informing him. "Yes. She was. Her name was Mira Raven Sherwood. One of my relatives did manage to track her down. See for yourself." The lord reached out to pick up a newspaper that sat beside the dark bottle with his drink of choice. Handing it out to them, he told Mark as he accepted it. "They didn't report what happened to her, but my father filled me in with an old family journal before he was found hanging from the stairs... Upon capturing her, she was dragged into the family graveyard and buried alive in the only unmarked grave. My relatives were not very forgiving. Having their kin turned into savage beasts riled them up. They blamed her."

Shivering, Sean mumbled out. "Sure. Seems rational..." Mark held up the worn and faded old newspaper, reading aloud for Sean. "Villagers are to be warned to beware of Mira Raven Sherwood of Grim Hollow Manor. Reports of missing children and pets have circulated around her residence. While no evidence has been found to confirm this, a strict curfew has been established to avoid further disappearances." Mark briefly glanced up at the lord before reading on. "Mira Sherwood was once apart of the community until the death of her newborn twin boys during the last plague. While others weathered the plague fairly well, Mira's family wasn't so fortunate. The plague horribly disfigured her, resulting in her husband leaving her. Which resulted in her turning to the dark arts. Though some claim she was practicing it long before and was the very cause of the plague. Her children serving as sacrifices for more power and her own disfigurement the result of her corrupted soul."

Rolling his eyes, Sean said to Mark softly. "Sounds like she was nothing more than a woman who suffered tragedy and loss. Man, people are cruel." Mark nodded, reading a second newspaper behind the first with less excitement in his voice. "Mira Sherwood was confirmed to be a witch this fortnight when Priest Godric forcibly took her from her home on Tuesday. This was to purify her soul by forcing her to confess where the missing kids and pets were. Tying her to a holy blessed chair, the priest dropped her in the river and told us how if she was human she would die by drowning. If she lived, she was a witch." Sean blinked, mumbling out. "Ya, well... That seems really stupid." Mark pointed to the paper shrugging out. "Maybe not. Witnesses were left awestruck. After two hours of being held under water and presuming her dead because she didn't thrash or scream. She was pulled up and found to be still alive."

Sean leaned closer to Mark as Mark finished off. "Spitting water at the priest's face, she announced to everyone present. 'Death will come on swift wings for your daughters. And wolves will hunger for the flesh of spineless goats. Your shepherd who herds you goats will live for as long as I do! For I will be the one to kill him and set things right! His heart shall be mine and my youth restored!" Sean met Mark's eyes, his blood turning cold when he whispered softly. "Is the priest still alive?" The lord huffed, flatly telling them. "No. He's been dead a long time. Shortly after she was put to ground, in fact." Mark slipped the newspapers into his inventory and asked curiously. "Your brother. Was he acting strange before he died? Was he set to inherit anything? Any news he was going to get?" The lord took a longer sip from his glass, avoiding Mark's eyes when he told him. "No. Not that I... Actually. As a matter of fact. There is one thing. He was having these bad dreams about a raven. Said he kept seeing one at his window. Then one day, the raven turned into a beautiful woman. Far more beautiful than his wife. So, he fucked her rigorously. He didn't have anymore bad dreams... but died two days after. Is that weird?"

Mark raised an eyebrow, asking lightly. "Did he say what she looked like exactly?" Sean shot Mark a jealous glare, while the lord chuckled out. "Of course. He said she had glowing skin like starlight. Eyes as grey as ash. Hair long and as shiny black as a raven's feathers. With lips as black as coal. He went on and on about her smooth long legs and arms. How graceful she moved. The works. Why? You think she wasn't a fever dream brought on by lack of sex with his troll of a wife?" Unable to stop himself, Sean snapped back. "That's not very nice to say." The lord snorted, waving off coolly. "You'll see her at breakfast tomorrow. You tell me. If you had to pick between her and some dream girl. I'd pick the dream girl too. At least he had a good time. Cause his wife didn't do him any favors since having her face nearly bitten off by a wolf." Sean opened his mouth to say something, but Mark covered his mouth and quickly piped up. "I think we have taken up enough of your time. If we plan to help you, we'll need our rest. Thank you."