Dare Beware the Haunting Nights in the Acorn Forest

[Saskia Kerraelas]

"I have never, and I mean never, met a horse so..." Saskia scowled at the stubborn steed that peered at her as if she were acting like a child. Words, clever ones, witty ones, fought to be spoken upon her tongue, and yet frustration bubbled it over into a mess of exasperated nonsense. Throwing up her hands, she turned with a shallow furrowed brow, lips twisting this way and that, and she was back to thinking.

Best not to insult her means of making it back home. The shadows answered her in tendrils of curiosity as they rippled in the places moonslight could not reach. There was more moons out this night than Saskia cared to register before, and their presence only added to her belief that this was just her luck.

"Suppose we leave our horses back there, at the inn at the crossroads?" Storms could never settle long over the winning smile Syr Kerraelas possessed. The beam, both smile and idea forming, was directed to her traveling companion. "And then we go on foot into the Acorn Forest."

"But miss, surely this could be left until tomorrow?" The merchant, a nervous creature with hands fretting before his being, gave her a nervous smiling grimace that was unsure if his word could sway the confidence of the young knight. "My trinkets, if they have survived the fall, could be lost at this hour!" But his face became more crestfallen than one of the moons lording in the nightsky at the sight of the blonde knight's smile.

"Good sir," Saskia assured, "you have at your service two willing adventurer's to retrieve your things, at no cost!"

That was a measure of truth, of course. For Saskia had told her companion there would be compensation for this task, but merely, it was the accomplishment of venturing into the part of the forest the moonslight barely reached for it's thick coverage above now gleaming midnight green of leaves. It was there that the merchant's caravan had turned over, his horses spooked by something, and his story told at the inn that Saskia had been dining for a meal to overhear. She had two drinks of mead in her before then, a third well progressed as she stood up to declare she would go retrieve his lost items, and promptly pointed out another to accompany her when the merchant mentioned the trunk was awfully too heavily for one to lift.

Saskia turned, delighted and emboldened, to the person she had dragged out here to the outskirts. "Some encouraging words, perhaps?"

 

[Dejan Damir]

"Encouragement is best saved when needed, Syr Kerraelas. And by my reckoning you've three bouts of encouragement as it stands." Tone stern but not altogether harsh. Dejan wasn't one to fault a knight for a bit of drink but a promise was made. They were of Anathaeum, words spoken could not simply be taken back with the next morn's clarity. He didn't wish to chastise the younger knight either. Seeking to help others was not to be discouraged even if the dusker's motive appeared questionable on the surface.

The tall knight turned to the merchant."Syr Kerraelas' enthusiasm is rooted in logic" Whether intentionally or not. "Tomorrow tends to lack the prescience of the present." He motioned for the other knight to press onward to the site of the attack.

Dejan's presence itself was a matter of sheer coincidence. He'd stopped by the inn on his way back from visiting Baron Bagh, longtime patron of the Order. The two were close in years yet the noble had finally ceded his title. A circumstance which was seemingly ever out of the Pursuant's grasp, singular arm or otherwise.

All this to say he was returning from the Baron's territory to find himself boarding at the Cracked Shell for the eve. The aging knight couldn't say whether Syr Kerraelas sought him out through poise or being too deep in the cups. What Dejan did know was that he'd sensed an eerieness upon hedging the forest's border. A matter of fancy evolved into quiet concern.

"Lead on, young Dusker. Eyes to shadows and roots to ground." Ancient sayings for old enemies.

 

[Saskia Kerraelas]

"It would be best that I do go first." She agreed with a wide grin. "Cannot have you slowing us down and tripping on your own boots!" Saskia did not wait to see if Syr Damir had time to respond to her cheeky quip, like so many of her fellow knights had done so since she was a little squire. She surely had seen every reaction and heard several different exhalations that prayed for patience when it came to the Shadow Knight. Syr Cathmore once confessed to Saskia that she had sent her on a fool's errand just for a night of peace.

The Acorn Forest was a name that evoked a whimsy within her, and yet the stories that were then shared at the inn were shared as cautionary tales, to warn the Knights not to go forth.

Caution was not a dance Saskia liked to dance all too often, not when the night had never offered her any one thing to fear when her shadows were strongest at this hour. She was made for night, made to become an omen despite the beacon of light Saskia was as herself.

Movement jooined the two like a phantom presence, and before Syr Damir could grow wary of the two hounds flanking their shadowed knight, Saskia let a hand move to her side and ruffled the rippling darkness that was the hound's head. "Hello Butter." Voice cheery, delighted as if it were a true dog that loyally followed her. "And Bread. I am pleased you two could join us!"

Saskia glanced back at her companion knight. "They are my familiars, Syr Damir." Calling them friends often made for questioning looks. "When the shadows first spoke to me, I cried all night as a young squire. Bread and Butter's presence made me learn to never fear the dark."

 

[Dejan Damir]

"No, we certainly cannot have that," replied Dejan with a small grin. There weren't many in the Order who would speak to him so casually even among Anathaeum's most noted. Oddly enough this reminded him of an entirely different sort of youth, Squire-now-Sworn Innis. Ever respectful but never overly deferential; a balance not easily achieved. So he found Syr Kerraelas' demeanor to be a rather welcome change of pace, especially after just dealing with the rigid formality of nobles.

Sensing another presence, his hand made for hilt but rested lightly upon the other knight's assurance. The hounds' names didn't seem to fit their form but he wasn't one to question such things. Familiars were hardly a rarity among an Order so deeply attuned to nature of Khurun. The old knight had seen his fair share over the years and knew just how important the connection to their partner could be.

"A good thing then. I am sure your teachers gave you enough reason to cry as is," added the Pursuant with an amused grunt. Squire lessons could be notoriously harsh on occasion. A necessity if one was to stand their own outside the embrace of the Monastery.

Heavy tracks and a scattering of splintered wood caused Dejan to slow his stride. "Just remember Syr, Darkness has many friends and not all of them are as kind as you and I." Obvious though his words may be, he'd seen this simple truth forgotten by Dusker and Dawnling alike. Hopefully this was just the knight becoming paranoid in his old age. Dejan didn't wish to dissuade the Dusker but recent encounters begged caution.

 

[Saskia Kerraelas]

"Just remember Syr, Darkness has many friends and not all of them are as kind as you and I."

Saskia nodded, turning back to face the oncoming darkness. She did not require torchlight, not when she had spent the past hour getting her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and perhaps waiting out the courage of drink from her system. She was truthful about the dark and not fearing it, but Saskia was no fool to believe she was above the entities that traveled in these woods.

She heard the whispers and stories about the Acorn Forest.

"I remember the rules of these parts of the forest, Syr Damir." She marched forward, each step she took deliberate and thought through, as if she knew where to step without disturbing the earthen floor. "If blood is spilled, move on quickly. One also must not follow someone or something, nor stray from the path." Her shadows knew this path, helped direct her and the Syr safely through. The abandoned belongings of the merchant, thankfully, was on the path that guaranteed safety.

"I also remember that there are places in this forest a human should never enter for we are not welcome to trespass. I believe the etiquette for that, Syr Damir, is to bow and retreat. Do not stand tall until you are clear from that area." So far, their short trek past the tree line was uneventful. She believed there would be instances where nothing of fault could come to pass, but Saskia had always lied to herself when it came to staring into the shadows. Sometimes, even in the shadows belonging to the Monastery, she felt as if someone was peering back at her. "I also brought a reel of ribbon with me should we suddenly experience intense hysteria or ravenous behaviour. To bind our legs." Experience taught her that one. Saskia had to wait what felt like hours before those feelings passed and it was safe to unbind her legs. She remembered how it ached to keep upright and fight through the intensities coursing through her.

Syr Kerraelas knew the respects that must be made to such Wylds of Darkness.

 

[Dejan Damir]

"Unfortunately 'standing tall' is something of an unavoidable hazard in my case."Even in a bow he'd be taller than many who desired supplication. Depending on the entity encountered the spirit of these adherences could be open or very literal. The whimsy of said beings was not to be underestimated either. What was true in the waning moons could be false come the sun.

All this to say that many of the stories Syr Kerraelas heard were likely just that. Acorn Forest was young compared to the ancient sprawl of Silmorael but still existed beyond countless generations of humans at least. More than enough time for fact to fall into legend. Regardless, the other knight's preparation was to be commended. Over the years many skilled and accomplished fighters had called Anathaeum their home. The longest-lived, however, were the ones who understood the value of information.

Knights rarely made it to dotage but they didn't have to die young either.

The sight of his broken belongings spurred the anxious merchant into action, keen to see what remained. Dejan's lone hand grabbed the man's shoulder holding him firmly in place. "You stay here, lest you wish to become part of the forest's legend."

His eyes adjusted but were a farcry from the other knight's seeming darkvision. "I see a pair of tracks but little else from here."

 

[Saskia Kerraelas]

Saskia turned to walk backwards again, frowning at the merchant. She had seen him follow the Knights, but expected him to stay put like she thought he would. "The Syr is right. Perhaps my age worries you, that I lack experience capable of this job." Or that the Shadow Knight was always quick to smile and laugh, better suited to be a pretty maiden than knight. She heard it all before, but Saskia always liked to think, why cannot she be both? She had anecdotes and references at the tip of her tongue should the merchant voice his lack of confidence in her presence.

Instead, Saskia supplied. "The Oakfather may have one arm, Master Merchant, but do not fret!"

"No, no... it's only just... these trinkets are sentimental. I do not have much joy in life besides these... If you could only take this seriously, young lady..." Anxiety laced every word spoken with a weak tenor. "But if the Syr thinks it best I remain..." His hurried steps could be heard, retreating back to the safer radiance of the moonslight. Saskia snorted at the imagery of the older merchant rushing, arms braced high as if wading through tall grass and not his own silly decision to follow.

"Syr Kerraelas, not young lady." Muttered Sas, whipping back to face the front and her yellow braid arcing around her before coiling over one shoulder. Her eyes to shadows and roots to ground, just as Syr Damir had reminded her earlier, and now stepping in time beside the Oakfather. To him, she whispered aside. "That track there? To the right?"

Two shadows moved, the shadow-shrouded hounds sniffing the tracks ahead. To her own gaze, it looked as if it were tracks of wheels... only it did not follow the path they were told the turned over caravan was.