The innkeeper looked startled by the urgency of Elsa’s request, but took her money all the same. Most of the tavern’s patrons barely batted an eyelid as she hurried upstairs: stranger things happened in Savonne all the time. These days, at least.

Morrslieb

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Hopping through the muck as best as his legs could carry him, Morrslieb could hear the sound of pursuit closing in behind. It was difficult for him to tell how many his pursuers were - over the rough music of the wind and rain, it could be five or fifty, and the raven would be none the wiser.

The first figures to emerge out of the downpour were not human - though perhaps they had been, once. Bent-backed and maggot-white, the ghouls turned their long-jawed faces left and right, sniffing the air like hunting hounds. There was no way they could catch his scent in this rain - but behind them, the shadows of more upright figures were coming into view, a wide line sweeping the marsh.

Finding a clump of reeds that offered some cover, Morrslieb cowered down to hide as best he could. He flattened himself against the ground, screwing his eyes shut as a ghoul snuffled at a nearby patch of weeds. Somewhere off to his left, a man gave a cooing call, wheedling for the ‘birdie’ to come out. Morrslieb stayed exactly where he was.

At last, the sounds of the searchers began to recede, pushing further out into the marsh. He waited until he was absolutely sure they were gone - then, slowly, silently, he raised his head just an inch, and opened his eyes.

A pair of eyes stared back at him, red and smouldering in the dark. Looming above him in patient silence was the black silhouette of an enormous jackal.

OOC:
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Terror test for Morrslieb, at +20 for having met Nahorek before.


In her new room at the Duke, Elsa felt an icy pain shoot through the scar tissue of her right arm, as the image of what Morrslieb was seeing seared itself into her mind. It was him.