Graven Hollow, pt. 1 (By Hain)

(has a ghoul. this was posted in early 2012 so it will likely never have a part 2.)

The surrounding swamplands of Willow Marsh were noisy with life. The buzzing of mosquitoes and dragonflies filled the air, chirping of crickets and the croaking of toads forming a sort of symphony in the warm, humid air. Even with the sun setting, splashing the bleak, gray sky with generous portions of red and orange, the stale waters forming in condensed, murky puddles stayed the same, foggy green color, the opaqueness making it impossible to tell exactly how deep the water was.

Allen Redland carefully set his pack on the rotted remains of a fallen log, sighing in relief as the weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He was a large, stocky man, wearing the traditional white-painted chain-mail of an Order Ranger. While he was used to long treks through the wilderness, having been sent on frequent scouting and message delivery assignments, he wasn't quite used to the heat and humidity Willow Marsh had to offer. Caked-on mud and pond scum covered his leather leggings, from when Allen had been forced to wade through a wide but shallow bog. Slipping off his leather gloves, Allen sat down on the rotten log, wiping his face off with a small cloth he'd kept safe from the moisture in his pack. While a few scars marred the soldier's face, not the least of which being a large, white line spanning from the left corner of his mouth, to the center of his chin, he was still a fairly handsome man. A squared, well-defined jaw framed the bottom of his face, higher cheekbones, bushy, rugged eyebrows, and walnut-brown eyes that shone with determination and duty decorated his face, now relieved from the glistening dirt and sweat that had coated him earlier. He was taller then the average man, and his duties as a Ranger ensured he kept in peak physical condition. An oaken shortbow sat , unstrung, in a protective cover atop his travel pack, and a small iron dagger, bearing the Order's Signet of Blessing on it's pommel, rested in it's sheath on his hip.

Shortly after Allen had slipped his gloves back on, the sound of another pack dropping carelessly onto the ground resounded through the woods, clattering pots and pans scaring several of the nearby toads and crickets to silence. Standing in front of the Ranger, dressed in the same white chain and leather outfit, sporting a similar pack, a big, cheesy grin plastered on his face, stood Aust Meliamne, the newest member of the Rangers, as well as the firstborn son of one of the Order's most famous generals, Aiden Meliamne. Though Aust's father was a hardened war veteran, known primarily for his faith in the Order's hierarchical leaders and ruthless tactics on the battlefield, his son was known mostly for skipping out during basic training, philandering with barmaids, and a nasty streak of drunken outbursts back at the Ranger's main barracks. He was a short, pudgy fellow, the uniform chain-mail clinging tightly to the flesh of his belly, the straps on his leggings ready to burst. Despite his girth, Allen noticed, Aust had an almost inhuman stamina, barely even breathing hard despite their day-long travel through the hot, humid marsh.

Throwing himself carelessly onto the ground, sitting upright against another rotten tree, Aust looked up at Allen, the grin never once leaving his face. “What's wrong, Allen? I thought you were used to running scout patrols through places like this. Don't tell me age is catching up to you already.” The sheer amount of cockiness in his voice caused a bit of bile to rise in the back of Allen's throat, which he promptly swallowed, trying his best to hide the distasteful expression that was forming on his face.

“Perhaps you should think a bit more before throwing your pack on the ground so hastily, Aust,” Allen said in a calm, quiet voice. “This is a marsh. We both know that those wretched creatures love to hide in places like this, waiting to ambush unsuspecting travelers. A loud noise like that might just attract them.”

“Attract who? The monsters?” Aust chuckled, shaking his head while stretching his arms over his head, moisture from the mud from the palms of his gloves dripping down the length of his armor. “Please, even Father doesn't take them seriously. Sex starved creatures brainwashed by the Demons, he calls them.” Allen held back an unconscious sneer. The last time he'd gone through the marshlands on a scouting patrol, he was with three other men. One of those monstrocities rose from one of the bogs, filling the air with a foul smell as it enveloped one of his comrades, whose screams were quickly silenced as it forced itself into his mouth, trying to suffocate him. The other two men were able to pull the unfortunate soldier away somehow, but when Allen tried to take the torch to the wretched thing, the attacked soldier jumped in the way, enthralled by the taste of it. Quickly, the man's cloak caught on fire, the rest of his armor starting to light as well. Even as he protected the monster, it attacked him from behind, enveloping the poor man again, extinguishing the flames and dragging him into the bog before the others were able to pull him out. His body was never found.

“Don't take those monsters so lightly,” Allen growled, keeping his glare focused on the ground in front of Aust, “They've been known to eat soldiers alive. Single ones taking out brigades of soldiers, even turning them against one another. All thanks to that bitch, the demon lord.”

“Everyone knows that they aren't the real threat, Allen.” Aust had picked up a beetle from the rotten tree he'd been leaning on, turning it over with two fingers before idly squishing it, wiping the refuse onto his armor. “All they do is seduce others into fighting for them. They can't do anything by themselves.” The arrogant, naive tone in the boy's voice grated on Allen's nerves. He might have been General Meliamne's son, but he lacked any form of discipline, abusing his father's position to get out of trouble and gain what he wanted. Allen was just unlucky enough to be paired with the prick for scouting duty. Their mission was to check on a reported nearby town located just inside the marsh, a small village known as Graven Hollow. Though the town is fairly isolated, the Order Generals' Council was planning on a major push into this area, and any presence of the Demon Lord's agents could mean an ambush from the marsh, or worse, a portal stemming from the Demon Realm itself. These vile magical tunnels channeled straight to the Demon Lord's Castle, opening and closing at her whim, making it impossible to enter and strike at the heart of her forces. One battalion was foolish enough to attempt just that. The portal closed immediately after the first two rows of men entered. Thankfully, it seemed that these portals were few and far between, either requiring a massive amount of magic for the Demon Lord to maintain, or special materials that were very hard to come by, even for her.

Stowing the handkerchief into his pack, Allen stood up, lifting the bag and slipping the strap onto his shoulder. “Come on. We've rested long enough. Your father expects us back in three days, so we have to reach Graven Hollow by nightfall.”

Aust hopped back up onto his feet, clumsily picking his own backpack up, haphazardly throwing it over his shoulder with a smirk. “All right, I could use a bed to sleep in tonight. Sleeping on the ground leaves me sore and stiff, you know what I mean?” Turning his back to Aust, Allen rolled his eyes before continuing the long, miserable trip through the marsh, towards the presumed direction of Graven Hollow.


The two Order Rangers knelt carefully behind the stump of a long gone oak, staring intently at the small town just beyond. They had arrived on the outskirts of Graven Hollow, a large wooden barricade circling most of the small town, the ground significantly more stable compared to before. A large wooden gate, old logs bound together with what appeared to be thick green vines, sat open near the barricade, a dirt road leading somewhere else deeper into the Willow Marsh. Above the walls, Allen could make out a tower, made out of what seemed to be stone, rising higher then the walls themselves. Some form of symbol adorned the top of the tower, but he couldn't quite make it out in what little light was available. Darkness surrounded the pair, though the night air was still warm and humid. Aust opened his mouth to say something, and Allen quickly held up a glove to silence him.

There were no torches illuminating the town's wall. No guards manning the gate. Allen blinked once, his eyes fully adjusted to the dark as he continued to watch the entrance of the seemingly abandoned gate, waiting for some sign of a town guard, or a hiding mamono waiting to signal an ambush. There was nothing. No sound, no movement, just the light whispering of the night wind.

“Oh come on,” Aust whispered, his voice causing Allen to cringe slightly on the spot, “let's just go inside and figure out what's going on. I can't see anything from here, it's too dark out.”

“Shh.” Allen shrank down behind the log a bit, grabbing Aust's shoulder and lowering him as well. He'd spotted something in front of the gate. A small person, possibly a child, bundled in rags. The figure seemed to look from left to right, as if searching for something, before turning back around, facing the inside of the gates.

“See? It's just a child, Allen. You get too paranoid sometimes.” Before the grizzled soldier could stop him, Aust stood up, jogging around the large stump that they had been using as cover, waving an arm towards the small figure. Allen instinctively stood up, hesitating for a moment before quickly slipping off his pack, following his idiot partner.

“Hey! You there, little child!” Aust called out, his voice echoing through the marshes in the night, causing the small figure to turn and stare at the approaching man. It began to shrink back against the gate, covering it's head with small hands as he approached, slowing down to a walk once he was withing twenty paces. “Are you ok? Don't worry, we're from the Order. We're the good guys.” The smile on Aust's face caused the corners of Allen's mouth to tighten yet again, irritation rising at the sheer stupidity of this spoiled brat of a soldier. Still, he'd caught the child's attention. If the village was hostile, she would've ran back behind the gate, possibly calling for help. Instead, she just stood there, as if in a daze, staring directly at Aust who, mistaking the trauma-induced trance for a stare of admiration, puffed out his chest a little more. “It's ok, little girl. We're here to check up on your town. Is everything alright here?”

Slowly, the little girl shook her head, her large, dark blue eyes locked on Aust's figure. Allen felt a chill run up his spine as he glanced into the open gate. No lights. No guards. No sign of life. Something was very wrong.

“They came and took everyone.” The little girl's voice was barely louder then a whisper, her tone distant, eyes gazing at something beyond either of the soldiers. Allen couldn't help but notice how thin and frail her arm was, skin a pale white. Obviously, she hadn't eaten anything worth calling a meal for days. “They took mommy and daddy. And then mommy came back, and took Uncle and Auntie. They stole everyone and left....I'm the only one. I just climbed off the top of my home.”

“Who stole everyone?” Allen spoke up, stepping next to Aust, staring at the little girl with a mixture of sympathy and suspicion. He knew from experience that the Demon Lord was twisted, sending some of her agents in the form of little girls, to be used as spies and informants, but something about this girl's sparkling, deep blue eyes spoke sincerity to the soldier. She was a victim here, the only survivor of a monster attack. No doubt the fiends had corrupted her mother, causing her to attack her own family. It was a sickening thought. The little girl continued to stare into the distance, murmuring something under her breath. Allen couldn't make it out, but he felt as if pressuring her for the answer would only make her less responsive.

“Don't worry.” Aust spoke again, his voice softer then before, pride replaced with pity and sympathy. The pudgy man knelt down, offering a hand to the small girl pressed up against the gate. “We're here to save you now.” Well, Allen thought to himself as the little girl reached out with a dirt-covered hand, touching Aust's leather glove, at least the kid has some redeemable traits.

“What's your name, little girl?”
The little girl blinked once, snapping out of the trance she was in. “Agatha Isolde, sir.” Agatha's voice was almost devoid of emotion, but her eyes continued to sparkle as she looked up at the two Rangers, showing her relief, and also, her weariness.




Aust quickly ran back to the oak stump, where Allen had left his things, and retrieved a torch, flint, and steel. Allen had picked up little Agatha, the girl all but going limp in the large man's arms, and placed her on his back. The small girl had closed her eyes, clinging to him as she rested. He couldn't help but smile sadly, pity at the little girl's misfortune welling up inside of him. We'll have to bring her back to the barracks...Maybe I'll convince the quartermaster to set up a private room in one of the old storage closets. I'll adopt her. She'll grow up to be a fine soldier.

The pudgy Ranger returned with a lit torch, the flames dancing across the oiled cloth wrapped around the tip, casting shadows in the surrounding marsh. Stepping in front of Allen, who nodded his approval, Aust led the way into the ghost town of Graven Hollow, Allen and the sleeping Agatha following close behind.

Graven Hollow was mostly comprised of ramshackle huts, patched together with aged, rotten wood. The doors were all open or missing entirely, scratches and cut marks showing signs of resistance every now and then. More disturbing were the houses where the doors had been forced open from the inside. Footprints were nonexistent, the spongy earth having hidden away any signs on the ground in front of the houses. Every now and then, the group would come across a discarded spear, shield, or pile of torn clothing scattered on the crudely made cobblestone road, leading deeper into the abandoned village.

“Creepy,” Aust whispered to Allen, causing him to jump just a bit, glaring at the back of his head. “There aren't any bodies. Or blood. Just weapons an' clothes, it's like they just turned into dust.” He was right, Allen quickly realized. There were no bodies. The monsters had collected all of them during the raid, but why?

Agatha stirred slightly on Allen's back, letting out a soft murmur. He felt the tension ease slightly from his body, carefully shifting her up higher, carefully holding her up by her legs. Whatever had attacked the town was long gone by now. All they had to do was search for survivors, and then report back.

As soon as that thought passed through his head, Allen heard a rustling from a nearby building. His instincts as a soldier jolted back to life, leaving him alert and aware. Carefully, he knelt to the ground, setting the still-sleeping Agatha down, slowly drawing his knife from it's sheath. Aust looked at him quizzically, then followed his stare towards the building, whispering in a low voice. “Did you hear something in there, Allen? Another survivor maybe?” Allen felt a twinge in his gut as he slowly approached the open door to the rickety, dilapidated shack. He clutched the dagger in his hand tightly, motioning for Aust to follow with the torch. Reaching out, Aust held the torch closer, casting shadows onto the inside of the house, vague shadows of the scarce inside flickering along with the flames. Allen peered into the dark portal, looking for anything, any sign of movement, ready to react at the slightest sign of life.

“There isn't anything in there, Allen,” Aust said, backing away from his partner and towards the dirt path again. “Come on, let's go look elsewhe-AAGH!”

Allen immediately turned around at the sound of his partner's cry, only to see the pudgy man wrestling with another figure, this one, a woman. She had knocked the torch out of his hand, jumping on his back and attempting to force Aust onto the ground. The light caught the woman's body, revealing tanned, almost flawless skin, a beautiful face, and two crimson eyes. Looking closer, Allen could see that the woman's arms and legs were also stained red, possibly with dye, at the elbows and knees, long white hair cascading down to her waist, a pair of exposed, ample breasts bouncing and jiggling while the two strained against each other. The ravenous look in her eyes was one Allen had seen countless times. It was a Mamono.

Before he was able to react, Allen felt something grab him, pulling him into the doorway of the abandoned shack. He looked down, seeing a pair of blood red arms wrapped around his waist as another one of the creatures tried to force him to the ground, legs wrapping around his own, trying to trip him. Maintaining his balance, the seasoned Ranger thrust the dagger into one of the monster's arms, causing it to howl in pain. No blood dripped from the wound as it released it's hold on Allen, giving the Ranger enough time to turn around and face his attacker. Sure enough, it was another monster, the same as the last, though a little shorter, the face a bit more heart-shaped. Even without the torchlight, Allen could make out the figure in the darkness of the building. A flimsy rag covered this one's breasts, and it glared at him with those ravenous eyes, a bit of drool running down the side of it's mouth as it watched him, waiting for the next move. He could vaguely hear Aust calling for help behind him, words faded out as Allen locked eyes with the creature in front of him, focused entirely on the battle.

The monster let out an ear piercing howl, causing Allen to cringe a bit, before lunging at him again, trying to catch his dagger arm. A surge of adrenaline shot through the grizzled old ranger, the sound of his own blood pumping overriding the background fight between Aust and the first assailant. Taking a step forward with his right foot, Allen caught the monster in the face with his fist, sending it sprawling back further into the shack. He watched as it staggered backward, tripped over a table, and fell, laying on the floor, unmoving. Confidant that it wouldn't get back up again, Allen turned back around, walking out of the shack, ready to help his partner.

Silence. The fallen torch sat on the ground, burning where Aust and the monster were fighting. Agatha was gone, too; she'd probably ran off and hid somewhere else in the village. Allen felt a surge of guilt and regret well up inside of him as he stared at the spot his partner had been just moments before. He was an idiot, assuming that the abominations had just left the village without leaving some kind of guard behind. What was he thinking? His thoughts trailed back to Agatha, the poor girl he'd left behind while they went to check out the house. Now she was off somewhere, too, still in danger. There was no telling how many more of those things were still in the village. He might have taken out one, but there was at least one more. And it had Aust. Allen's thoughts trailed back to the soldier who'd been taken by the slime-creature in the bog. How he watched it drag him in after using him to defend itself. How he'd been the one to light him on fire.

Part of Allen Redland wanted to leave the village now. He knew that that was the wisest course of action. Leave and get more help. Aust was probably already dead. But he might not be. Even if he was, there was still Agatha...

Walking over and picking up the burning torch, Allen examined the ground carefully. Sure enough, clear as day, someone had been dragged very recently down the dirt path, towards the large building in the center. The sky was darker then before. It would be dark soon, and he'd be at the mercy of those...things. Dagger in his right hand, torch in his left, Allen made his way down the trail, deeper into the village, following the path that led him towards the largest building in the village; that towering silhouette standing taller then the walls surrounding the town itself.