It was raining, and it was cold. A neverending splatter of tiny droplets on his helmet. The party of four made their way along a deserted street in the middle of nowhere.
"Cal, we should rest." One of his companions had a bad cough, and all of them were drenched to the bones. They really should rest. But the dreadful thought of the othera being in danger burned a hole into his skull. He turned around in the saddle, gazing over the miserable group.
"We should rest", he finally said, sighing. It would be no good if they arrived in town half dead. The cursed town. The town where the Seven had last been seen.
Two months ago they had split up, the Seven going north, following a call, and the Four going south to report to base. Three weeks later, the Seven were gone. The Four received a distress call from the Psychic, and that had been it. No more contact. Naturally, the Four immediately turned around, sent a crow with a message to the base and pursuited the Seven. And now, they were almost at their goal, the cursed town. Rumors had always come from north, and it was nothing unusual as the magic was the strongest up there. But now, that the Seven were gone, it was a threat. An unknown threat to be sure, but a threat nevertheless. And the Four didn't know what to expect in the cursed town.
Cal led his team to a little cave where they dismounted their horses and laid out their blankets for the night. The Pyromant created a warm, cracking and sizzling fire to heat up the chilly bones and ease the minds of the exhausted warriors, and they started planning out the next days. The clothes dried pretty quickly at the magical fire, and they fell onto their blankets soon to sleep.
The cursed town came to sight two days later. It howered on a plateau amidst some mountains and was built of crooked, misfitting wooden sheds and barracks. The aura it emitted was unlike everything else the Four had ever experienced, and the Pyromant winced as they entered the main street. He was the only magician of the Four, and he was directly affected by the mana. The others only felt its presence.
The Four made their way through town until they stood in its center, where they dismounted the horses. Civilians of all races flocked around them, curious and yet frightful.
"Can you sense anything?", Cal asked the Pyromant.
"Everything and Nothing", he answered, squeezing the words out as if they physically hurt him. Cal turned to the mob.
"We are the Eleven! Six weeks ago, seven of our companions went missing in this town. Whoever knows anything about them, we will wait at the gates of town until tomorrow when the sun reaches summit, to gather information. If you are not cooperative, we will invade the town and search it from scratch until we find our companions or a clue about their current location. Until tomorrow noon! At the gates!" He then turned around to the warriors and looked them straight into the eyes. "Keep together, groups of two at least. Do not trust nobody. In an hour we will meet at the gates. Spread the message." He then looked at Karifa, a fragile looking girl in his party. "You're coming with me." Then they spread out into the edges of town and repeated their announcement.
It was almost dawn when a shadowy figure emerged from the mist. Karifa and Pyromant were sleeping, the other two kept watch. The figure came closer, and it looked like it was wearing a large cloak, rippling behind its back. Cal reached down and silently woke up the other two. Pyromant bolted upright, Karifa needed a good shaking.
"Identify!", Cal yelled. He received no answer. Instead, the figure only seemed to pick up pace and run towards them. Karifa drew her sword, and Pyromant clicked his lighter, producing a few sparks he let sit on his fingertips, ready to burst. Cal's muscles stiffened, and Racc by his side, a huge, brute guy, picked up his mace. And then, the figure was gone. Silence followed. It reappeared right amidst the Four, tapped Cal's shoulder and held his mouth shut. Immediately, all weapons were pointed at it. Cal raised his hands, slowly. And then, the figure whispered into his ear.
"It's me. Moura. Relax."