The Heartwood Fear's got a hold on me

so.. uh... hi...

after caiaphas had departed vlad and rat's company, she had been struck by the urge to stretch her legs on damp soil and treeline, rather than sand and cavern.  night had been quick descend and morning a long time coming -- as thick rifts of mist rose off the dark earth the sea-witch flitted between the fog in the subtle manner of a ghoul.

it had been a while since caiaphas had last visited the heartwood, though she couldn't say many good things had come to her in this territory range. and true to form, it seemed her spectacular lack of luck was to continue, for there was a distinct scent in the air that caiaphas could not shake.

the sylph froze in frame, though every hair on her body rose. red -- her nemesis -- caiaphas crawled through the bramble until the scent gave way to a corporeal form. but there was something on the wolf's neck that caused caiaphas to pause and reconsider a blitzkrieg style rendezvous. rather than offer an introduction, the wraith stood there, her hateful eyes burning deep within her black skull like some primeval and unconstrained forge fire.