Visions of the Hunter
Visions received by followers of the Hunter thoughout 1110:
You find yourself in the woods. Before you stands the largest man you have ever seen, his armour and weapons of Ancient Empire make, wearing the Tabard of a Lion Knight over green and brown leathers, hunting garb. “You who stand at the Gates of My Chapel of Perils. I call you to come to me. I have need of you, I shall send a messenger to you.” As he speaks he shifts, his face becoming that of a giant wolf, his voice sending fear down your spine. “I, Gawain Night Stalker, the Heart of the Chapel of Perils, I call you follower of the Hunter, Servant of the Wild Places, gather your allies and come to my side. Fight for my Pack. Ignore my messenger at your Peril when I send him.”
You feel the Wild Hunt flow around you and suddenly it is gone. You hear Horns, they are south of you and calling – the pack needs you, the Chapel needs you. The Hunter calls. Gawain calls you.
A Werewolf stands before you, he wears ancient metal armour, his surcoat is black and upon it stands a blue Lion. The time comes close my Pack I call to you. You must bring them to me not just my pack but our brothers and sisters, allies and friends, we will need them all, any weapon at all. In six weeks bring them to me.
A husband and wife stand back to back over the fallen body of their child, bodies of their enemies strewn about them. The shadows lengthen, dark figures leap forward. Steel flashes and another body falls at their feet. The child’s body changes slowly, grey colours his face. As you watch a dark figure stoops over the child and he rises up again, green moss trailing from his lips.
A scout moves through the woods from within his cloak of tatters he takes small items, hiding them he moves on. He stops carefully hiding another strange trinket. A figure moves in the darkness and then another. The scout seems to sense them. Letting loose a blood curdling cry, the scout flees into the woods, leading the figures away from where he has concealed the trinkets. A second dark figure enters the woods seeking something, not the trinkets hidden but some terrible knowledge or power it should not be allowed to possess.
The forest twists and grows, the trees growing at speeds that defy reason. The trees drip with blood, men women and children are impaled upon them. Time passes, the forest grows no more. Bones of men women and children moulder and lay lost. Amongst them all the Woodsman walks, tears adorn his face, his care used to kill. The woodsman stops, his face twisting from pain to anger and rage. There is something in the woods that should not be, one who twists nature to their own dark purpose. They must be found and slain.
Reports say the messenger did not arrive or was not recognised.