Quassek reveled in the thought of returning to his Goddess with the prize he knew she craved more than anything else. The praise from her would be great, he knew, and he’d be willing to sacrifice anything in order to grant her that joy. He had traveled the forest for hours, following the trail that the thief had left, broken twigs snapped underfoot, footprints in soft mud, scraps of cloth snagged by branches. Clearly the thief had been running in a blind panic, knowing that some dark force was hunting him.

Quassek loved the sense of dominance hunting a wary target gave him, knowing that no matter how far they fled, how hard they fought, he’d be able to overtake them. The Spider Queen had blessed Quassek with a number of abilities, granting him increased strength and endurance, enhanced senses and an increased life span, allowing him the honor of serving Her for many more lifetimes than a normal man. He endeavored to serve her fully, completely committed to the dogma of her divinity.

The trail began to become increasingly fresh, meaning his target had begun to slow in his flight. As he began to close in on his target, he produced a crossbow from his back, the perfect tool to dispatch an unknown foe. He began to knock a bolt into the action, carefully pulling the string tight. The ground under him had grown rocky, the terrain turning into rolling hills creating rises and dips.

Eventually, the figure he’d been tracking came into view, his senses telling him that target was a youth with a pale complexion and middling build. He paused when he didn’t see a pack or a bag, the body of the Corpse God didn’t appear to be with him. The assassin began to wonder if the body had in fact been left in the town, figuring the only way to know would be to ask the boy directly. He lifted his crossbow and took careful aim of the boy’s leg.

Pain wracked through Kurtz leg as the tip of a large steal arrow protruded from his thigh. Screaming despite himself, he fell to the ground unable to keep himself steady. The shock had been great, as no sound had come from any of the surrounding woods. Panic set in as he tried to scramble away from his current position, in case another bolt would be shot.

A large man walked towards Kurtz, His face hidden by a cowl. The look of the figure in the shadow of the full moon reminded Kurtz of the large, broad man named Carter, who kidnapped him and used him to trigger the booby traps of the tomb. Fear set in as the memory of the cruel encounter flashed through his mind, causing him to stop in place.


“We must have words, little thief, for you have offended God, and must be punished. Let us palaver, and surely even one such as you can find redemption.” His words sounding the confident sermon of a preacher.