The Outcast

...preying on local folks. Warden Gamriel of the Hearthstone had ventured far in service of the Old Faith. Rare and nearly unknown outside of the highest Druid Council, there were a handful of monasteries which served as gathering-hideouts and education centers for Wardens. Wardens of the Hearthstone were called upon, when the local populace faced old evils for which their comfortable churches found no explanation in their holy books.

Gamriel was a man of 26 winters by now. He had graduated as a Warden in his twenty-first summer. One part guardian, one part pilgrim and one part druid. That was the balance, which formed the Triskele of Wardens of the Hearthstone. In peaceful times Wardens wore amulets or had that trinity symbol stitched upon their clothes in easily spotted colors.

Murder ran afoul and beyond all prejudices against peasantry the rural folks had their own wisdom and their own senses to guide them. Few accredited, what a hard-working, productive and courageous part of the populace they were.

The Fiend from the Forest had slaughtered several locals in the last three months... Something must have unleashed this evil and as a Warden Gamriel came, to find out what he could, even when it meant risking a gruesome death. He was not supposed to work alone, as his companion Jasmine Silk-Tongue was delayed by her duty as a travelling bard down in the swamps, where charcoal burners, eel-gatherers and other alchemist-servants made their living.

Gamriel had the expertise of a ranger, he knew tracking and he could communicate with some animals, though that was not as easy, as interviewing human witnesses. He intended to start the investigation, report back to his brethren and elders and await Jasmine along the path of Duty.

Gamriel had visited the smith of the village of Ashworth, to maintain his equipment. He had spoken to the village major, to announce his presence and intent. Now he sat in the pub and listened, actually eavesdropped, whenever he had no need to answer curious locals or avoid suspicion of the innkeeper.

The locals knew only vague basics, a half-human murderer devilish for the religious, bewitched for those of older faith. Only one way to find out more then. Gamriel would patrol the forest which, by closeness to all the murders, must be hiding place to the Fiend.He kept it controlled on alcohol consumption, as he knew he would leave in the early morning hours, to have as much daylight, as possible.