So the challenge continues, I procrastinated like normal and put this off too long today but that nap was perfect. I originally planned to continue the story from yesterday. As I started typing tonight I had an itch for fantasy/horror so I built a world, a witch cult and a conflict to scratch it.
Punctuation isn’t my friend and rough drafts are rough, so here’s day two.
Thousands of footsteps before them had worn a trail into the rough stone, their leather padded boots slipped along the smooth surface. the plume of smoke at the foot of the mountain chased them upwards, the spreading miasma of burning memories was a constant reminder. The four of them pushed on towards the hovel they knew the witch resided in. The shack Magnus called home sat atop the brooding mountain, its frame like the piqued ear of a resting dog. Bestial mountain was only the first in the shadow range that extended north farther than any man could know. It was the frontier, their people had relied on the witch to keep them safe from the perils beyond, and for years he had. Unspeakable creatures and wondering spirits were constantly encroaching, driven by madness or some omniscient evil figure. They would wreak momentary havoc in the village until Magnus would appear, casualties were common and accepted this far from the courts. But what they had just witnessed was a massacre and there was only one man to answer for it.
The alliance with the with cult of Daker was an uneasy one at best. Daker’s witches functioned as rouge security elements, offering their services to the highest bidder. Many superstitious city-states had already banned their kind. But those bordering the shadow mountains had no choice they were constantly affronted by nature and wouldn’t have survived this long without the cult. The trio neared the top and exchanged knowing glances with one another, their faces grim and bloodstained. They drew great swords and knelt briefly, in solemn voices each recited the witch hunters oath. Their heavy armor creaked as they stood and they unanimously pulled heavy hoods over their heads. in training for the service, each hunter had heard stories of witches going mad from the powers they dealt with on a daily basis, mostly leading to some catastrophe. The monsters of the stories were fresh in their memories, each had battled and lost friends and family to the tentacled monstrosities down below. The hooded men strode confidently towards the eroded building the witch called home.
As they neared it the hairs along their arms and necks rose causing an involuntary shudder. An acrid stench came from the strewn open door. There were no windows in the building and no one had been inside. Each had met Magnus the witch, but always on his terms. This was the first time they would be calling on him. The dead smell engulfed them as they gathered around the door causing one of them to retch silently. Without hesitation Rekis pushed the ancient wooden door open and slipped inside, Jarl and Kraven followed suit. Of course Magnus knew they were coming with the atmospheric disturbances caused by the spawn down below everyone for miles knew something horrible was afoot. The Interior was lit only by sconces that burned low and flickered unnaturally. In the center of the room Magnus stood with his back towards them. His hands rested flat on an alter his head down in contemplation. He didn’t move as the trio edged closer.