The not-immortal Blacksmith

The hills of Pondge.

18th of Kusha, the month of Harvest.

2290 Years since the New gods came.

Late Afternoon.

Bri was in the middle of helping with the dishes as Max and farmer John were discussing the recent innovations in farm equipment that were coming from the province of Coxnia on the continent; when she had a revelation. “Oh, Maxie dearest, I need to go back to the village in the morning. I have an idea, but I need to do more research.”

Max sighed at the nickname, and John tried (and failed) to stifle a laugh, “Have a good time in town.”

-

In the early morning light, Brianna walked the dirt road from the remote farm to the village. Lost in thought though she was, she did notice, and waive to, the young boys hiding in the bushes, pretending to be bandits. The children boiled out of the bushes behind her, and stared.

-

Maxwell descended into the charnel house via the “Dead Well” (as the constables were now calling it). The freshest of the corpses had been put back together, named, blessed, and removed yesterday. That had gotten rid of the most unpleasant of the smells.

Max stepped into the first chamber, and looked around. There were dozens of corpses lying on tables, slowly being stitched back together by the surgeons, and being assisted by the priestess. As he watched, they finished the last stitch, and the body became whole again. The priestess slumped, took a deep breath, and looked around, “Do either of you know what time it is? I think we may have missed dinner.”

Max stared at the three, cursed under his breath, and spoke, “And you will miss breakfast if you don’t get up there now.”

-

The late morning found Bri sitting behind the desk in the mayor’s office, stacks of farm reports all around her, and a sweaty, red faced, mayor sitting across the desk from her. A red faced, mayor who was growing angrier and angrier as he read through census and political records. Eventually the mayor slammed a large, well-muscled fist, on the desk, “What in the unholy hells is going wrong in this village!?”

“That, Mayor Linden, is what we are here to find out.” Bri answered in a voice so cold, you could easily imagine frost forming in the air in front of her.

-

Grendel was bored again. The chest was off limits, and there was no way in the hells that he was going anywhere near the Dead Well any time soon, so he wandered off towards the village. He “beat back” the bandit hoard fairly easily; the children were several years his junior; and went in search of the climbing cliff.

When he found it, he looked up the thirty-foot cliff, with all of its natural cracks, and manmade climbing holds, and began his ascent. Had anyone been around to watch him, they would have seen the giant grin that was plastered across his face.

-

The evening on the farm was cold, with a feeling of tension in the air as the priestess, Max, and Bri sat in the kitchen and discussed what they had found.

“The bodies that we have been able to reconstruct had been ritually butchered, note that I do not say “sacrificed”, and small bits of each organ consumed.” Lady Chelsa stated. “Above and beyond that, the remnants of the corpses soul that were still attached to the pieces were almost too tattered to reassemble, and had huge parts missing.”

“Would that mean that whoever did this was eating parts of the soul with the ritual?” Bri asked.

“You would be correct, Lady Brianna.” Lady Chelsa replied. “The ritual used was very powerful, but aimed at the self, as opposed to one of the gods. I’ve never felt it’s like, and hope to never feel it again.”

Max cocked an eyebrow, and asked “Aimed at the self?”

“Yes.” Lady Chelsa stated. “Usually, rituals of are used to supply the gods with an offering of energy to get their attention, to ask for help or whatnot. Sometimes they are used to power great magical feats. The goddess has informed me that there are some ancient rituals that send the power into the ritual’s caster, giving the caster large amounts of power for a period of time.”

“Let me guess, the ritual used here was the latter type.” Max stated.

Lady Chelsa nodded, “Yes.”

“Do you have any idea what the ritual was intended to do?” Bri asked.

“I have asked the goddess for guidance, but she has remained silent on the topic.” Lady Chelsa said. “I am of the opinion that she wants me to figure it out on mt own, as opposed to just being told.”

Max mumbled something under his breath, then spoke up. “Maybe you could ask the Crow for assistance?”

Lady Chelsa dropped her tea cup on the floor, and with a loud crack it exploded into fragments. “I…I would Never!”

Max laughed. “Sure, She can be kinda a jerk, but I’ve seen Her around a few times…and Him too.”

“You…you have seen both incarnations?!?” Lady Chelsa all but screeched.

“There are three, actually, and I haven’t seen the Raven.” Max replied, a troubled look on his face. “But I’ve seen those two several times.”

“…” Lady Chelsa stared at Max. “Y…you have seen the face of…Them and lived…”

“Heretic, remember? I don’t die.” Max said in exasperation. “The last time I saw skull head, he just sighed and walked away, shaking his scythe at the sky!”

Lady Chelsa began to shake. “And you want me to summon…Him? Just to ask a question?”

“Sure. Why not?” Max asked.

Lady Chelsa lost her cool, “BECAUSE HE WILL TAKE MY SOUL!!!!”

Max took a long sigh. “Fine. I’ll call for the lazy bones.”

-

A raven sat on the dining room table, an irritated look upon its face. “First off, you pathetic man, I am not a “lazy bones”. Second, you don’t have a normal glass so I can’t take you…for long. Third, if you call me that way again, I will hurt you beyond your comp---”

A storm fell across Max’s face, and he reached a hand out faster than anyone could blink, grabbing the raven’s head with crushing force. “Listen. Bird. You can’t hurt Me any more than I have already been.”

“NO. NO I CAN NOT.” A voice sounded from behind Max. “BROTHER…ME, ANSWER THE HERETICS QUESTIONS.” And a cold that no one had noticed before, disappeared from the room.

Max gently removed his hand from the bird.

The raven shook itself. “I hate it when I do that.” It looked at the priestess, ignoring Max, “What do you want to know?”