Devin’s hand continued to throb, even as they approached the Southern Gates of Mossglenn Depot. A small fire of pain nestled against where his fingers had been severed and pulsing pain radiates outwards through his hand. Even behind the shield of fresh bandages he could still smell the burnt flesh and hear the sizzle of his skin cauterizing, echoing in his mind with his screams.

After the first few seconds of the process, Devin had blacked out. He did not remember anything beyond the initial contact and first screams. After that it was blank, nothing in his head until he woke up on the ground, next to the fire with Murton, Shia, and Griff hovering over him. Teryn was busy wrapping bandages on his hand.

He shook his head, trying to clear the haunting memories. Glancing down, he saw the bandage still covered his entire hand. How was he supposed to fight with this mangled thing now? How long until he could even attempt to fight? The thought of fighting brought him to another problem. What would he do with Blossom? There were plenty of blacksmiths and weapon masters in Mossglenn, but he had a sinking feeling this one was too far gone. He feared the etches cut into it would make it unworkable.

The group approached the Southern Gate long after the sun had set. One of the doors were still open and two guards stood at it, torches in hand, No other groups approached the gate with the Black Boar Band and the air seemed eerily quiet.

“State your name and business with Mossglenn Depot,” one of the guards said flatly.

“Teryn, with the Black Boar Band. We are returning from a contract and have an injured member.”

“Please state your headquarters, along with the current Guild Identification Number.”

“What? We have never had to do anything like that before,” Teryn said.

“What's goin’ on here, is this a shakedown or something?” Murton demanded, pushing past Shia to get in front of the guard stopping them.

“Sir, please refrain from getting confrontational or we will be forced to detain you,” the first guard continued speaking, his voice drawling and flat.

Murton bristled at the words, “Detain me? I’d like to see a two bit puffed up-” Devin laid his good hand on Murtons shoulder and pulled him back slightly. The dwarf resisted at first but eventually let himself be guided away. Devin leaned down to him.

“We don’t need any trouble with them at this time. I’ve got the info, let's just give it to them, get inside, then find out what in the hells is going on.”

Devin straightened up and turned back toward the disinterested guard who gazed at him with half closed eyes.

“I’m Devin Ninefingers, leader of the Black Boar Band. Our Guild Identification number is SH17 and we are headquartered in the Good Fortunes Tavern.”

The second guard, still standing at the other side of the narrowed entrance, snorted. His companion glanced over at him lazily before returning to Devin and his band. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.

“I don’t recognize the name.”

Devin’s brow furrowed. “So look it up. We are registered, I just paid the dues yesterday.”

The man let out another long sigh and waved his hand at the second guard. The second guard took his time, strolling slowly over to the small guard house and plopping down at the desk inside. They heard the scrape of metal as a file drawer was opened and shuffling of papers, one at a time, as he started searching for them.

After several long moments with nothing but the shuffle of folders being looked through one by one, the man returned with a small file. He handed it to the first guard who perused it at a leisurely pace. The throbbing in Devin’s hand continued to grow and his nerves were beginning to wear thin. He ground his teeth as he watched the guard go over the file, which contained a grand total of three sheets of paper, slowly.

He could feel Murton bristling at his side even more. The dwarf took any delay that had not been imposed before as a personal insult. At this point, Devin was starting to agree with him. Behind him, Griff’s breathing had started coming a bit harder; even he was getting frustrated.

Finally, before the dam of impatience and anger could break, the guard looked up and cleared his throat.

“Everything looks to be in order. Please state your intended business tonight.”

“What business of yours is it what we do in the town? You’re the damn gate guard.” Devin snapped.

“Please refrain from cursing, sir, or I will be forced to deny you entry,” the main guard droned. “We need to establish what you are doing tonight, then we will assign you an escort to make sure that is what you do.”

“What?!” the same three shouts came in unison from Devin, Murton, and surprisingly Griff. Teryn turned to them with a fire in her eyes and shook her head slightly. She motioned for Shia to come forward and pushed the men back slightly. Turning back to the guards with Shia at her side she put her hands forward in apology.

“Sorry for the actions of my more brutish friends back there,” she said. Murton grumbled, growing louder before Devin gave him a sharp elbow to the shoulder.

“We have had an incredibly difficult day and just want to get some rest,” Teryn continued. “These three have no business except finding their way to the Good Fortunes Tavern. Shia and I will be stopping at an apothecary for some medical supplies for our injured friend.” She gestured back toward Devin who waved his bandaged hand, the wound now starting to seep through and stain the white linen an ugly burnt umber color.

“Sorry, no split trips. You all go or none of you go,” the second guard piped in before the first could talk. The first one closed his mouth and flashed an angry look at the second, the first hint of emotion Devin had seen from him all night.

“Oh, I did not know that was the case. Thank you for your knowledge and quickness in supplying that knowledge to us,” Teryn’s voice dripped, directed to the second guard. Devin rolled his eyes as the younger man beamed and the older one scowled.

“I’m surprised someone as… experienced as yourself did not know that before this young one did,” she said to the older guard now, her brows knitted in mock worry and scorn.

“The lad doesn’t know anything. That’s not a hard and fast rule, it's merely a suggestion to be taken at our whim. I give the orders around here and I rule that you can split groups,” he said smugly, the pace of his voice picking up.

Teryn’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Oh, thank you sir. You must have some clout to be able to make a decision like that.” She gave a small bow towards him and swept her trailing eyebrows back behind her ears as she straightened, “We are in your debt, good sir.”

Devin shook his head slightly as Murton continued to glare. He had seen Teryn sweet talk her way into places before, but he never thought he would have to do it to get into his own town. The first guard flicked his hand with considerably more alertness to the second, who disappeared behind the gate. A small bell rang twice and the younger man reappeared, pouting slightly.

A few moments later two men who could've been twins came puffing up from inside the town wearing studded leather armor, wooden clubs wrapped in metal bands strapped to their side, and carrying torches. These were the standard town guard.

“You will escort the three men to the Good Fortunes Tavern and you will take the two women to the apothecary of their choice, then to the Good Fortune's Tavern,” the older guard ordered. The two towns guards snapped a quick salute, though Devin noticed it was half-assed and a bit shoddy, then beckoned for the group to follow.

“Thank you again,” Teryn called back sweetly to the older guard. The younger man's face fell further into his pout, chin jutting and cheeks tinged red.

The group strolled into town with their escort. As they walked through the gate, they saw groups of men and women in leather armor with bits of blue plate highlighting their chests and arms. As they neared one group Devin spied two swords crossed over each other with BBB initialed underneath the swords on every person wearing the armor, the sigil stamped across their chests. His breath caught in his throat and his head swam a little bit. He stumbled and the two guards paused to glance back at him.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “What's going on here?” He nodded toward one of the groups of three, decked out on their blue armor. The guards looked over at the group and scowled nearly simultaneously. They beckoned the Black Boar Band to follow and turned down a main avenue of the Guerra district.

The street was strangely empty, when it was usually bustling and flowing well into the early morning hours. The air hung thick with tension, like a heavy blanket trapping you in its hold on a cold winter morning. As they neared the middle of the streets, the guard on the right flicked a look both ways, and satisfied they were far enough away, turned towards Devin.

“New mandate from the Queen. There has been an increase in the number of bands being mauled and killed on contracts, even here in town. So, she contracted out to Bronn's Buyable Blades to protect the town.”

“Supplementing the guards, she called it,” the left guard spoke up, his voice tinged with anger. “As if we aren’t good enough, she's gotta hire these clowns.” He waved his hand at a group of three, two women and a man, leaning against a darkened store front. The Blades watched them pass, faint smirks on each of their faces.

“We’ve seen our fair share of shit happen to guilds before, what's so different this time?” Devin asked.

“You’re really out of it ain't you? Been gone long or something?” Lefty asked.

Devin shook his head, “Just today really. Been in and out on contracts, haven't had much time to pay attention to other guilds.”

Lefty tutted softly and Right spoke up, “Oh it's much worse than normal. During our worst periods we’d get what, ten, maybe fifteen deaths reported a week?”

Lefty nodded, “Yup, at its worst. How many are they up to now?”

“Last count I heard was eight just in the past couple days,” Right said, nodding along with Lefty as they strolled down the avenue.

“Hold up now. Eight and the weeks just started is bad but that's only on pace to get slightly worse. How’s that call for this marital law?” Murton demanded, pushing past Devin to confront the two guards. They slipped a sly smile at each other.

“Would you like to?”

“You can.”

“Together then?”

They turned back toward Murton and said in unison, “Eight guilds.”

The silence that followed could have smothered a fish and killed it. The only sound was the echo of their footsteps as they walked under the night sky. After a few moments of silence Shia spoke up.

“How is that possible? How did eight different guilds go missing in a couple of days?”

“Oh they aren't missing, young one,” Lefty said. “They’re dead.”

“But how?” She asked again.

Righty shrugged, “They pick up a contract, go out of town with it, and only parts of them come back.”

“Parts?” Devin dared to ask.

“Usually a head of a guild member, or some insignia or other identifying objects. It's pretty gruesome,” Lefty nodded toward Righty, “Jeff received one of those boxes this morning.

“I did,” Jeff agreed. “Some poor little orc boy came up, shaking in his boots. He told me they told him to deliver this. I asked who they was and he took off, near tears. Poor thing was scared out of his mind. Inside the box was the head of the leader of Angela's Angels.”

“No,” the soft word came from Teryn. She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide. Devin’s stomach twisted in a knot. Teryn had been a founder of the Angels, before her split with Angela and the subsequent renaming. Though they split, they had never been enemies. The Black Boar Band had even run a few bigger assignments with them.

“Who else?” Devin asked softly.

“I’m not sure, I only know about Angela’s Angels and The Green Group. Those are the only ones I’ve seen directly,” Jeff said.

They walked in silence for the rest of their trip to the Apothecary, which was mercifully short. As they approached the darkened building, a sign emblazoned with a cackling witch swung slowly, its metal hinges creaking with each rock. Teryn and Shia stepped up to the door.Teryn gave it three sharp raps, followed by a kick. She looked back at the puzzled faces of the group and gave a small shrug.

“Eccentric fellow,” she stated simply. A chorus of locks and bolts sounded from the other side of the door and it creaked open, just slightly.

“It's me, Teryn,” She said. Devin saw a single eye peeking out, milk white. As the door opened Devin spotted a gnarled and ancient face around the eye. A wizened hand came out, beckoning her in. Teryn held on to Shia and strode into the door, squeezing to get in. As soon as Shia had followed her in, it closed with a snap.

Both of the guards, Jeff and Lefty, turned toward the group, their faces clearly confused. Devin just shrugged at them. “She has friends in the strangest places. It’s not my place to question it.”

They sat for a few seconds in silence, the questioning looks never falling from the guards. Before they could think anymore on it and ask anymore questions Devin asked, “What do you think of these guards around town? And isn’t it strange Bronn's Buyable Blades was chosen?”

Jeff shook his head, “I don't have any issue with that. Just makes sense doesn't it?”

“They are the biggest guild,” Lefty agreed. “Come on, let's get you to the Good Fortunes tavern.”

“But how do you feel about this? Doesn’t it all reek of something terrible? Some conspiracy or other?” Devin pressed them.

Before he could answer a large hand landed on his shoulder.

“I think that's quite enough of that line of questioning, wouldn't you Devin?,” a hated and oh so familiar voice said from behind him.