Library:Through the Lunar Rift IV

Lady FireLotus pens this Journal filled with dark thoughts about the state of Braemar and the rising undead problem. The story was first published on the Shroud of the Avatar Forum, and the first five paragraphs were excerpted in Update of the Avatar #78.

The Body Count in Braemar
by FireLotus

Of all the nearby settlements, Braemar has certainly had the lion’s share of loss and devastation since the darkness started spreading over The Vale. Flynn Gilson is the innkeeper over there, and I miss both our chats and his family recipe of brews. Saying that man has ale pumping through his veins isn’t far from the truth; his family has been brewing here in the Vale since the first pint was poured. And he used to export kegs of it all over the Vale back when the trade routes were open.

I still have a keg of one of his best that I only tap when something is weighing particularly heavy on me. It’s dark as pitch, with hints of cocoa; a classic dopplebock even if that’s not what they call them here. It’s smooth and strong and bold, even when I’m not. And it certainly helps soothe a troubled mind.

The last merchants to make it out of Braemar brought a lot more than kegs of ale with them, however. They brought monstrous tales of the long dead rising up and snatching the living from their beds. There had been rumors up until that point. Hunters going missing, travelers and bandits being taken if they strayed too far South, But if the stories are true, then this was the first full-on, organized siege these things had attempted. And it was all too successful, at least from their point of view.

They decimated the outer farmlands, snatching every man, woman and child from their beds while they slept. The only person left behind was a farmer named John… or maybe it was Thom. I’m not certain. But rumor has it that when he heard the screams of his children, he ran for cover. Now, I’m not one to judge, but it would take something unimaginably horrendous for a father to turn his back on his family, especially his children. I don’t know exactly what happened in that farmhouse, but whatever it was, it was the stuff of nightmares, I’m certain.

So unlike the undead around Owl's Nest (what I like to call Nestor’s menagerie), this horde was well organized. And considering those they took were reportedly taken alive, I can only assume were also trying to grow their ranks. So, it’s fair to say that someone, or something, is at the helm, calling the shots. But two questions still remain. Who and why?

Information has been hard to come by about the fate of Braemar. Before the last of the merchants fled back to their home-towns, the Hunters of the clan Koren mounted a rescue mission that just ended in even more men lost. Soon after, an outsider named Halmar showed up and declared some sort of “marshal law” on Braemar. A couple of travelers ended up trapped there, including old Albert Halverson, a sweet old man who spent his entire life peddling the fine crafts of Owl’s Head all over the Vale.

And since then, no one, living or dead, has gotten in or out of Braemar. The scouts that have reported back from the area have reported that the undead are not the only things roaming the roads outside of Braemar. They say that strange, mechanical beasts with glowing red eyes have also been spotted in the woods just outside the abandoned farmlands. Is the same person who is controlling the undead controlling these creatures as well? And who exactly is this Halmar that appointed himself guardian and protector of a once peaceful hunting village. Awfully convenient that he showed up when he did… too convenient if you ask me.