The Stray

2-13: The Nightmare Scar

Witch Job: MLL and Fresa

Know: Stuff Rue told me (turn back one page)

Need to know:

Problems with bugs in town?

Bug/People rituals/ appeasements?

Nesting rights?

It looked ugly and angular, all but scratched into the paper. But hey, he remembered how to write, and that was something when he hadn't held a pencil since he was an apprentice. The witch nodded and with a tap, the notebook shrunk to fit in his pocket. He'd asked the shop girl if she knew where the "nightmare scar" was, and she'd pointed him towards the northeast of town. Way he saw it, there were two sources of info to exploit here; the people, and the critters. And, well, he'd stepped out his comfort zone enough today, so critters it was. He figured he'd know the Scar when he saw it, and yeah, he did, sort of.

It was less sight and more a feeling, though. A wet sort of chill, like a thick fog, slowly seeped into him. The sky seemed to grow dim; the power of Light faded. It felt a lot like walking into the Nightmare Mists, though nowhere near as strong. There was a smell, too; dankness, humidity, and fear.

He turned one last corner and walked into the first non-nice part of Fresa he'd seen. It wasn't a huge part, just about a few houses and a road between'em. The buildings looked older than the rest of town, and they were seriously bashed up— windows spiderwebbed with cracks, walls bashed in, the works. And it just reeked of nightmare.

The Nightmare Lord must have been slain around here. The Awn say that 'power dies not with its master.' Killing the truly powerful leaves a mark on the world, as their essence spills forth. Lusundra's fallout had warped the fertile heartlands of Lutroa into the Devil's Wasteland, a hellscape of miasma and death. A nightmare lord wasn't as strong, thankfully, but it was still strong enough to taint the land and buildings even years later.

Y'really didn't need magic to feel it. The ground squished soft and slick beneath his shoes, like it was turning to mud. The natural grasses that once grew wild here were sickly, small, and a cold grey color. Yuck.

Magic always leaves a trace. Even nice magic—healing, blessings, that sorta thing—left its mark over time, and enough power and arcana all in one place had a nasty habit of starting to spill past the neat lines one tried to put it in. And this wasn't even a purposeful spell, this was just raw nightmare essence dumped everywhere. Just like it'd soaked into the ground and rock, it would seep into living things if they stuck around too long, drank tainted water, ate tainted food. Luckily, this stuff didn't seem to be spreading, and indeed, leaving it open to the wind and sky might be helping evaporate and balance the miasma.

"Glad nobody on two legs was dumb 'nuff to live here." The wolf shuddered.

Mandible had sheathed herself earlier before entering the shop, but the moment she felt the chill she flew out, floating at the right height for a quick throat slash. She rasped softly, like a sword dragging on stone. Timothy grimaced. "Yeah, this is nasty. 'M half expectin' company."

Slowly, the wolf advanced, casting hand drifting up. "What's that sign says...? 'Nightmare Scar hazard zone... cleanup expected to finish Soon.'" He glanced around. "How old is this thing...? anyway. 'Avoid area unless you're with the cleanup team.'"

Mandy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that'll happen," Timothy agreed.

Just in case, though, he opened his spirit's senses. A dark mist hung over the entire area. Dark, but strange—like a winter night and the strange colors behind one's eyes mixed in ugly harmony. The same essence soaked into the ground, leaving something like hoarfrost on its surface... or maybe like a rash.