Entrance to Duramar (witch hunter, part 1)

"Oy dragon! Over here!"
One of the guards at the gate raised his halberd in greeting to Noodok, and he walked up to them.
"Hello."
Noodok hated guards, perhaps from his time operating as a thief, but he couldn't deny that they were valuable sources for information.
"What's a lizard like you doing out here?"
The other guard laughed at the insult, clearly they were enjoying the opportunity to mock a dragon corp member without a retinue. The corps was not well liked in this area, the peasants feared them, and the noble feared their strength.
Ignoring the slight, Noodok dropped a heshan sack at their feet.
One of the witches heads rolled out as the bloodied sack thumped the ground.
"Are those..?"
"Yes. I'm here for information."
The guard had lost much of his bravado, and now looked with new found eyes. Noodok saw a flicker of emotion. Was that.... Fear?
The guard realised Noodok was watching him, and he bent down to pick up the sack, perhaps as an excuse to avert his gaze.
"Be careful. They say even dead witches have power..."
The second guard stepped back nervously.
"Look. I'm just here for a place to sleep. I also want to know where the rest of the coven is operating from. Let me pass."
Silently the guards fell away. As they did so he noticed the armour they wore was light, and cheap, their weapons brittle. They looked the part, but wouldn't stand strong in a fight.

Duramar was a small sized farming town, placed relativity isolated from the rest of the world. It was short and squat, most houses built as single stories. The town was abuzz with life, as the peasants went about their daily business. However as Noodok drew closer the groups dispersed, fear obvious in their eyes.
Soldiers were never welcome in these parts, as the people had tried their best to avoid the war that troubled the rest of the world.
They were fools. It would come to them soon enough, it didn't matter that they buried their heads in the sands. Pride rushed through Noodok for a moment, pride for being willing to face the dangers of the world with the corps, when some sort of rotten vegetable hit him in the chest. Laughter echoed around him.
He felt his temper rising, but quelled it. It would do poorly to create a scene here, and the crowds attitude was already hostile.
Despite superior armour and weapons, he doubted he could fight all of them if they chose to.
Instead he decided to take the approach of appeasing them, shouting to the crowd that had now gathered.
"The witches killed my father. I'm here to hunt them."

Laughter again echoed from the crowd.
"You and who's army, lizard?"
Taunts flowed freely. More rotten food was thrown.
Fortunately the guard who he had handed the bag to had followed him. He took the bag from the mans hands, and raised one of the heads so the crowd could see.
Immediately hushed whispers flowed through the mass of bodies, and the incoming missiles ceased. As he gazed across their faces they shied away. He noticed that there were few young among them. Typical, the rumours were that witches always ate the children first. Perhaps not all of the fairy tales were complete rubbish. These people had suffered.
"Does anyone here own an inn?" He passed the sack back to the guard, all traces of anger having left him. He now only felt a deep sadness for his old home towns state.
There was silence, until a old man stepped forward.
"I do not have an inn sir... But I have a home where you may stay."
"Excellent. Would 10 copper suffice?"
Noodok knew that the offer was exorbitant, a single copper would have been fine, but he needed the perception of power and wealth. It would serve him to be seen as a lord who chose his path amongst the dragons, and would make people talk more freely, perhaps breaking their preconceptions of a broke soldier who was forced to fight. He needed to show strength.
It was of course a ruse, the money having been obtained from the witches bodies, that they in turn had probably taken from victims, and him having joined the dragons due to his own lack of options, but he did not care to share that.
The man nodded quickly, clearly pleased with his luck.
"Good. Show me the way please."
The man scurried off ahead of him, the crowd parting for him. He followed, padding unhindered down the road, patting a small dog as it sniffed at him.
At least he had somewhere to stay now.
As they walked the man began to talk softly, still averting his gaze. The crowd dispersed now, no longer interested in the outsider, clearly expecting him to disappear before long.
"I'm sorry for your reception friend. The people here have been subject to the beasts curse for a long time. It has made them hostile. What is your name?"
"That doesn't matter. They will come around when they realise I may be able to solve some issues here. You can call me Noodok."
"Noodok?" The mans face showed surprise.
"But that means..." He trailed off, not daring to finish.
"Aye. Unknown. You may have known my father. I was from around here."
Recognition flashed across his face, and then was quickly replaced with wonder.
"You have come back! It is incredible to see who you are now -"
He was cut off just before saying it, Noodok having clamped a gloved hand over his mouth.
"Be careful! Remember the curse!"
The man nodded softly, chastened.
"Of course... Your true name means death to you. I am sorry. Perhaps it is best we don't mention your origins here again.... Rumours spread quickly here, I fear it would not take long before you were to overhear it."
Noodok nodded himself. True. He should have really thought of that beforehand. That said, it would be easier with allies here, and it was hard to gain trust without a name. It was going to be a dangerous balancing act of the two. Hopefully if he got the information needed fast enough, he may avoid the issue.
"You are Simon, yes?"
The man looked up, clearly glad Noodok had remembered him.
He beamed happily, and began to chat more amicably. Quickly, Noodok began to like the man.
"I'm Simon. I live alone since the witches took my son. It's good to know you are here, hopefully we have a chance of fighting this now."
"Aye."
The had arrived at a small slate house, and the man gestured, clearly proud of it, despite it looking like a ruined hovel.
Noodok didn't turn up his nose however, in Duramar the people built their own houses, and the craftsmanship was a sign of their coming of age.
Instead he smiled.
"Your hammer must be blessed. This will do perfectly."
The man beamed again, and motioned for him to go inside.
The door swung open softly, and Noodok bent his head to fit through the low doorway. The walls were misshapen, as if cobbled together by simply throwing the stones on top of each other and hoping it would stand up ok. The uneven floor was difficult to walk on, but the rug in the centre was plush, and the fire blazed merrily in the oddly shaped fireplace.
Meat hung on a hook above it.
"Beautiful. How I missed these houses."
It was a lie, he much preferred open land and dragon corps campsites, but it would please Simon.
"You are a long way from your brethren dragon. Have you actually returned to slay them?"
He heard hope in the voice.
"Yes... However I am not sure I will be enough."
The man smiled sadly.
"Aye. I do not think you are. But if you are willing to try, I shall not hold you back."
At this Noodok smiled. Duramar was a town of honesty, and it was pleasant to hear the truth so bluntly. Despite the awful squat buildings, he did miss the town for that, and it was a sign of mutual respect for people to maintain honest communication. He felt slightly guilty about the lies he had told to flatter the man, but they had been necessary.
"I'm willing. But first I must rest. May I?" The man nodded and gestured to the sleeping roll on the floor. It was Noodok's turn to be shocked, he had expected the man to point at the floor. It was considered an honour to be offered bedding here, when resources were so scarce.
He was not going to offend the man by refusing, so he nodded, and lay down. "Simon, Tomorrow.... Would you care to direct me to where they are?"
"Of course dragon. But for now, sleep."
It was mere seconds later that exhaustion and aches from his battles overtook him, and he closed his eyes.

He woke the next day to the smell of the meat he had seen previously. His stomach growled, but he hesitated slightly before asking. Meat was rare here.
"Simon, may I have some? I'm willing to pay."
Simon laughed merrily.
"You know as well as I do that the ten copper you gave me was far too much, and also of little worth here. You will pay me nothing else."
He cut a large slab off the bone with a rusty knife and tossed it to Noodok. He caught it, and bit into it. It was surprisingly good, cooked perfectly and seasoned well. Simon was a good cook. Taking the time he looked around and noticed things that were clearly not expected in the mans hut. A staff, worn, but expertly carved. A pentagram carved into the floor. Runes carved above the fire, which for some odd reason had still not burnt out. A candle, flickering on the rough wooden table, the exact same one he had seen the previous night, but the wax still intact and unmelted.
"Magic."
Noodok said it matter of factly, realising the mans importance slowly. He couldn't have had better luck.
Simon glanced up at him.
"Sharp eyes boy. I'm the soothsayer."
Noodok nodded, expecting the answer. Each town in these areas had a single soothsayer, chosen at birth when the last died. The ritual caused great suffering to them, but they were given powers that rivalled most trained healers.
He felt his jaw where the flesh had been parted previously from his last encounter with the coven, and was pleased to find the scars had gone. This particular soothsayer was powerful. Many could heal, but few could remove scars.
Noodok looked at the man with new respect.
"Thank you Simon. This meat, it is blessed too isn't it?"
Noodok had eaten but a bite, but he felt full of energy and strength. He realised that he had slept on the soothsayers bedroll and was humbled by the honour.
"Haha. A sharp stomach too."
Simon smiled and passed him a small bottle. "This is all I've got left. Try not to need more than that."
It was filled with a blue liquid that shifted slightly even when the bottle was still and without asking Noodok knew what it was.
"Witch bane."
"Yea. I've been waiting a long time for someone who might need it."
Noodok grinned. This was a gift worth more to him than anything else he owned. A powerful Mage could use this for some serious magic. He had no doubt that it the man had put it to the markets of Khara it would have fetched thousands of gold coins.
"Simon.... You know I can't repay you for this when I leave. Not to mention, how the hell did you get it?"
The man smiled in return.
"You can, by ridding my town of these things. As for how I got it... I stole it. From an Order Mage. Didn't help much though."
He shrugged.
"You know the saying, desperate times..."
"...Desperate measures." Noodok finished the sentence for him, the pale liquid entrancing his gaze. He wondered if Sanna or Magnus could use this to remove his affliction... Or perhaps Neo could enchant a weapon with it that would be deadly to the beasts...
He tucked it safely into his armour the options already swirling in his mind. To use it for revenge, or for himself?
Or to save it, for the worst case scenario?
It was said that drinking pure witch bane would kill whoever did, but the resulting release of magic could grant witnesses eternal life. He didn't know how true that was however... Few people cared to experiment with such powerful magic.
"Thank you Simon... I... have no words."
Simon passed him a map.
"Go on then. It's marked. Few miles out of town. He stood, clasping Noodok's shoulder. You've grown a lot since I last saw you here boy. Please avenge what happened here, who we were. Before that day."
Noodok stood, laying his hand on the man's shoulder.
"Thank you friend. I will." He turned and left the house, then the road, then finally passed the gates and the guards, who softly spoke of good fortune. He hesitated at the border of the town, where the stone turned abruptly to dirt. Tears in his eyes he stepped across the threshold, and felt the temperature suddenly drop. He turned and looked back at the town.

As he had expected, it was in ruins. The wall barely stood, the gate destroyed with the trellis hanging off to the side, ripped free from its hinges from a battle with the witches long since passed. The blackened bones of the corpses of the men who had greeted him when he had left were stripped bare, the flesh previously removed by birds and rats. Their weapons still lay among the corpses. The cobblestone was filled with craters and burn marks, and the huts he had just passed were caved in and moss and small bushes grew from the ruins. A fox slipped between the stones of two collapsed houses, clutching the body of a rat, and the sun setting softly in the distance, him having crossed the threshold back into the real world, and time returning back to its usual pattern.

He was glad he had had the chance to see it as it had been. He knew it was the last time he would see it like that, talk to those people who had been rotting in the ground for at least a decade.
It had taken so long for him to work out the pattern to this witch queen, the time when her power would wane and her deeds reversed, the gate back to the past open, if only for once in this century.
His father... Simon was his father, and had been the Soothsayer. He hadn't remembered that part, he was too young to have.
He wondered how the Soothsayer had died, and he remembered the terror he felt as he had fled the town on fire, the witches slaughtering everything they had seen.
He straightened his back and said a prayer for the departed, never to return, even after he had destroyed the coven. 

 (Img source, guard knight by  anjinanhut on deviantart) 

PLEASE LIKE AND FOLLOW FOR MORE!