Chapter 7
Bartleby the knight studied the tracks in the mud, looking for signs of life. His troupe of men arrived in this land, this dark land of [Nxthzyl], and it had already claimed 7 of the 9 of them that originally came. Hearst, Hotelichy, Rolymus, Randolf, Usial, Vidae, Theun, Dyiallu, and Immanuel. All that remained were, himself, Bartleby, Randolf, and Immanuel. It seemed this land really were cursed. And this mission really were a doomed mission. But they had one last task. They were crusaders for the Temple of Rone, from the land of Agora, loyal to the Gods of The Pantheon of the Temple of Rone. And they had one final mission. If this place did not kill them first. Hearst and Usial were culled first, by the largest bear Bartleby had ever seen. Then came Hotelichy, death by eating poison fruit he found out here in the woods. Then Rolymus, Vidae, Theun, Dyiallu, by Witches. This was primarily a witchhunting expedition. Bartleby kissed his amulet to Vicare. At least if he had his horses, he thought, Then me and my remaining men would be able to travel faster. But those are dead, too. Bartleby spat stray twig from his mouth and shuttered his helmet, his onion-shaped armor tussling through the mud, his men trudging as faithfully as they could behind him. "Kn-knight Bartleby?", Immanuel spoke up. "How much l-longer to h-her domain?", Immanuel shivered. Bartleby sighed and stopped again and checked the map. "We're close. Closer than we were before. Much closer." And then it started to rain. And they trudged through that. Bartleby sometimes wondered how loyal Immanuel was to the Temple, but he acted loyal and tough as any knight. Well, as loyal and tough as any squire, anyway. Randolf was the classic stoic. Bartleby liked that.
They made their way through the mud until they spotted something in the distance. A hut made of sticks and mud and stones and all manner of archaic materials. *Her domain.* They all knew it. Bartleby preemptively drew his sword. Now was not the time to take chances. The others saw this and drew theirs as well. And out stepped the Witch. Into the pouring rain. She cackled, first. "*Hee-heeheehee, the others told me about you. You should be short work.*" They all three charged fearlessy, short on rations exhausted and running on fumes all. The Witch cast a direwolf at Randolf, "shit! Shit!", he shouted over the now-almost torrential downfall, and fought with the direwolf. The witch then cast a column of flame at Immanuel, "Aah! Aah!", he batted at it through his armor. Bartleby charged at the the Witch. She drew her staff. Locking sword and staff and eyes, he knew the Witch could see how beleaguered he was. He factored this into his fighting style. Sword hit staff hit sword and staff endlessly, she was quick, possibly due to her magic, and her staff should have broken by now. This was not good. Bartleby leaped into a fury, "Aaaagh!", he could feel phlegm expel from his throat. And the Witch cast an illusion on him. Spiders crawling on his skin. This distracted him for a moment, but not long enough to lose his grip on the tide of the fight, but he feigned distraction for a moment, enough for her to lose hers. (It would have been worth mentioning at this moment, that Bartleby was a deeply pious man and had a deep sense of psychic control over his own senses.) And he slashed her across the leg with an underhand sweep. "Gah!", and an "Aaah-ahahaha", a mix of pain and some kind of sadomasochistic laughter at her own pain. Now he had her. It was enough to break her spell on Immanuel and Randolf, too, who surrounded her with their swords, she was now on the ground. However, it was at this moment, that Bartleby could hear her muttering something under her breath. "No!", he cried, and it was too late, and the Witch created a vortex around her body, Bartleby dodging out of the way just by the skin of his teeth, Randolf and Immanuel not, and the Witch dissolving into ashes. And with that, Bartleby was now bloodied, and alone in these woods. It would be days before he would find the next traces of civilization. And he would not stop. He would not die.
