Closed [The Well of Filth] The Crusade

[Caesarion]

1st of Spring, 514 AV

The sun was setting. It was far from the darker half of the evening, but he supposed he should probably get back home soon. He'd just gotten done with some hunting -- a few deer lost, some venison gained. He and his dogs went home to stash the meat, but then he went back out again. He wanted money, more than usual at least. He had some ideas of what he wanted to buy; things to make his life better, things to make his home more luxurious, and to please his friends, both man and canine. All good things in life required an equivalent amount of skill and effort, mixed with the unknown factors of luck and divine resolution. Fall, you could say he went far from the path of diligence, and only made half of the average quota for hunters. In Winter, he broke even, which was especially difficult considering how absolutely freezing it'd become.

He'd been drawn to a particular smell that he remembered as familiar. He remembered once, while his dogs chased after a stag, that he smelled the same foul scent. He came across this spring, and saw another deer drinking from the waters. It was strange, but also sort of touching in a way. Maybe it was so desperate that it had no choice, or maybe it was beyond the critical mind of a human. Either way, there was water, so it drank. His dogs actually seemed to enjoy the area, though Caesarion imagined they would detest it. The strong smell would have to bear extra strongly on their snouts, and it'd probably be something similar to having the contents of a sewage pumped into their nostrils. But they didn't care. Their mouths opened and revealed their teeth, though the happy panting of an excitable dog followed. They ran for the spring, and began to drink.

"Hey!" He yelled, which caused them to jerk back and return to his side. Max ate Argos' poop. Argos ate pretty much everything from everyone; garbage, the defecation of other dogs, and worse sometimes. He wouldn't even want to think about the 'even worse' scenarios. Not right now, not when he wanted an appetite for later this evening.

The man, like all humans, could grow used to the smell. It seemed to do well enough to ward other creatures away, and he wanted to investigate just how it managed to grow so virulent. There seemed to be no source for the smell, and when looking into the pond, it seemed clear enough to dip into. Still, there was a source, and it was probably just hidden. Maybe there were some dead bodies here -- deers come to rot? Men buried? If that was the case, they'd probably be nearby. If he could discover what handed them their fates, then he could learn a little more about the dark creatures that would come to lurk in these bronze woods.

[Oliver Burke]

Oliver had been issued a bet by his patron, and while some people would think him meek, he was far from it. The quiet squire was resolute, strong, and sharp. He would find this ‘well of filth’ and drink its waters, that was the bet. It would take courage, and an iron stomach to brave the rumored smells, and foreboding vista. He had left early in the morning, wearing only his normal clothes, and his faded blue cloak. But he was well armed, no one ventured into the forest without some form of protection. He had his borrowed sword, and short bow, both of which were probably older than he was. Weapons that could have been held by any number of squires before him, weapons that would probably see many more squires.

Armed as he was, he was not fully prepared for the trek through the woods. He had no skills navigating the land, and as the sun had slowly climbed through the sky, it was clear that he was slowly getting himself more and more lost. And the harder he tried to find his way out of the woods, the more he seemed to get lost. What was the point of the test, if he was wasn’t able to get back and report his success? He turned his thoughts inward, trying to think about the meaning of the test, but he kept moving aimlessly, and without thought.

He didn’t notice that the sun had started its decent, or that he was starting to get hungry, and thirsty. He was too busy to notice these things, even as he tore his way through the bramble and underbrush. He couldn’t even begin to guess what direction he was heading. Perhaps this was a test of faith? Or something to build confidence and self reliance in the squire? No, none of that seemed likely. Maybe his patron was just bored, and wanted to see if his squire was dull enough to venture off alone to find this spring. He laughed to himself, as he tried to head in a straight line.

[Caesarion]

Things were quiet for a while, tranquil for a while. His investigation went without findings, not a single body nearby or anything to indicate the source of the smell. It was, perhaps, just there -- it was part of this spot of the woods, just like air filled the world. It was intriguing, though. His dogs seemed to be interested in following with him, and they too tried to track the source. Some areas were stronger in smell, and the dogs reacted more obviously to those sweet spots. They started digging, even, only to find that there was never anything there. It was marked by the Gods, must've been. There was no corpse or weed, just a curse that they laid here. It was meant to be poetic, probably. When you looked into the wellspring, that was clear as day despite all implications otherwise, you couldn't imagine that there was actually a putrid bile in the air. He looked deeper into the water, and as if a test of faith, he brought himself closer to take a sip.

And, nothing. It was just water, just that. If anything, it was a little nicer than the sort of hosey shit he got from the fountain. There were still hints of its impure state, however, like the taste of some small fragment of dirt in his mouth. Not really a bother.

Of course, the dogs were free to drink as they pleased, so they did. They'd gotten tired and thirsty from all the running, the hunting, the scavenging. Caesarion worked them hard, and although they enjoyed it, it was hard nonetheless. Sadly, this wasn't really the ideal location for a break, considering their noses were probably picking up some terror from beyond every second of their being here. Even so, they stood by Caesarion calmly, and eventually lowered to rest when it seemed appropriate. It would be a short and fulfilling moment, which would be halted soon by the falling sun, and rising moon. Darkness propagated violence. It brought out the dark and insidious creatures, as well as the witches and warlocks who wanted to rule the woods as their dominion. It was not just a story that there were ravenous mages living out in the woods. It was true, he'd met one.

After a little while, his dogs rose quickly. They assumed a territorial stance, a fighter's stance. They began to walk forward like wolves, and grow viciously at whatever was approaching. They were fearing this moment, but ready for it; Caesarion had gone too long without some wicked creature approaching him in the woods. However, what he found was not insidious at all, it was just some guy, coming out of the brush. He didn't seem old, in fact he was probably younger than Caesar. Eighteen, nineteen maybe. He had some weapons on him, kinda looked like a fighter. Merc, hunter, squire. Caesarion wasn't sure what he was, but he seemed to be anxious to find something, and probably would've taken absolutely no notice in Caesar were he not sitting right by him. In front of him. This would definitely lead to something, and whether it was violent or friendly, it would keep him here longer. He wasn't the type to turn down conversation, even if imminent death sat waiting from not far beyond, simply allowing the time to pass and the moon to light the sky.

"Looking for something?" His voice was very relaxed, though his heart was pounding. You couldn't trust anyone, especially not at this hour. He was here for a reason, running about the forest like a vagabond. He could've been anything, and most of the possibilities were undesirable. Caesarion would ultimately be on alert.