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((Seeing as I was gone long enough that my forum account is gone, figured it was time to reintroduce Kummer as she's my new main.))

Inquisitor Kalna,

I have completed my investigation of the site.

The following excerpts were recovered from a journal found in the central building of a nameless village in the hills of Westfall. The author is unknown, but appears to have been an individual of authority- perhaps a magistrate or other village leader.

The winter will be harsh if the crops do not turn around. Jensen lost half his flock to a sudden thunderstorm last week and the mutton will be missed dearly. The miller’s girl is still missing- there are mutterings that the Defias Brotherhood may have taken her, but I find that unlikely. I have asked the hunting parties to watch for signs of her.

The trader from Moonbrook is behind schedule. If he does not arrive soon the Winter Veil celebrations will have to be cancelled. It has been three weeks since the girl went missing, the family plans to hold a ceremony with the new moon.

Old Man McKray was drunk in the square today. We locked him in the tavern cellar till he sobers up and stops ranting about the end times. One of the hunting parties came in early and empty handed. I’ve asked them to speak to noone until I assess our food stores. They say even the wolves are absent from the woods.

The hunters found the girl. They dragged her into town limp and glassy eyed, but apparently unharmed. I don’t have the details yet, but I sent the Brek boy to Moonbrook to fetch a doctor.

Two of the hunters who found the girl are dead and the third has gone missing. Tamor hung himself in his barn. I don’t know what happened to Kevin. It looked like he did it to himself, but there was so much blood. And those words on the wall- spirits protect us. I served with both of them in the Second War. They were good soldiers, solid men. What is happening to my town? And where did Bram vanish to?

We found the Brek boy on the road south of the village. His throat was slit and the doctor he fetched was nailed to a tree. Bram is still missing. I think he did it. Just like the orcs in the war, the doctor was alive when he was mounted to that tree. I have been having dreams. Of the war. Of- other things.

Bram tried to kill the girl. Three are dead, including the girl’s mother and Bram. Bram- his eyes. His eyes were gone. How could he see to fight? I saw my wife last night. My dear Miriam. She looked so healthy. So alive. I think she died. Didn’t she? I haven’t slept in two days. I can’t. The dreams.

We burned her. We burned the house. We burned it all. I can still hear her voice. Her voices. Singing. Screaming. A chorus. I can still hear it. Miriam heard it too. But she told me what to do. She told me how to make it stop. I can make it stop. I have to.

That was the last entry in the journal and likely the end of the man who wrote it. We were too late arriving- Westfall is too wild and the village was not missed for many months. We found no bodies and no evidence there had ever been any. Just an abandoned village and one structure gutted by fire. Wherever they went, they left all their belongings. With the discovery of the journal, I am declaring this a demonic incident and referring the matter for review.

Faith and Duty,
Inquisitor Varaoth


Kummer didn’t remember her life, her living life, or the death that began her new life. All she remembered was fire, and darkness, and the whispers. She has never known solitude. She awoke, summoned into undeath, and her friends were there. Like they always have been. Speaking for her, keeping her safe, showing her the way. Behind her eyes, she listens to them, smiling with a face that isn’t hers as they tell her such beautiful stories. A brisk knock at the door ruins the moment and the face she wears so well settles into a stern authoritarian line.

“Enter.” The heavy wooden door creaks on brass hinges and her lieutenant enters with a curt nod. With the door open, she can hear murmurs from the war room.

“My apologies for the interruption Ma’am. You wished to be notified when the patrols returned.” He keeps his eyes level as he speaks, very carefully not looking at her. He was an efficient Second, clean and crisp, his elven features at odds with the ugly scar down his face. But even he, after all this time, avoided her gaze.

“Very good. We will be at the debrief shortly. Dismissed.” He snaps a salute that was maybe a bit more hasty than it needed to be and departed. As the door swings shut Kummer stands and approaches the cabinet where her pretties are kept. Perfect, beautiful, shimmering gems- the light disappearing into the swirling shadows inside. Reaching out, she drags her finger down the length of one gem and the chorus swells in appreciation. She can feel it resist, snarling like a caged beast, but it is a weak thing- drawing it forth from the stone is a simple matter. Holding it, grasping it, feeling it twist and squirm, she can see the man. He is old, like he always is, a worn suit of armor flickers on and off of his form. And he is so angry with her, so afraid, but the fear is masked by the fury he feels. She giggles involuntarily.

“Yes our pretty. We know. But if we released you, where would you go? There is nothing beyond death, nothing but the void. No, you would be much happier to stay here. What would your friends say if you left?” He screams silently against her will as she forces the weak thing back into its cage. With a wistful sigh, she strokes her hand along the soulstones and shuts the cabinet on their wailing. The chorus sings merrily and she settles in for the ride as her friends take her out to perform her duties. It’s so nice having friends.

((This is not IC public information, but simply a bit of OOC knowledge to give a point of reference for her.))

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