CHILDREN OF THE BLACK STAG
By Gerry Saracco
Eons ago, the Gods ruled from the four moons that floated in the heavens above us. They ruled with compassion, aided by the First Ones.
Then came the foul entities from another plane, threatening all of existence. The Gods fought against the darkness, but it was a fight they could not win.
They found a way to trap these entities, but it came at a significant cost. Having no other choice, the Gods sacrificed themselves, trapping the entities behind what is now called The Veil. In doing so, the four moons sundered, and their remains still float in the heavens above.
Every so often, something pierces The Veil. Things come through, or make contact with those foolish enough to make treaty with them. Those who dared bargain with these entities, founded cults, and helped to spread darkness across the land.
- From the Chronicles of the Sundered Moons
ORLOCK MOVES THROUGH the forest, San and Ren a few paces behind. He sees the symbols etched into a tree. This is the territory claimed by the so-called Children of the Black Stag. The Kingsman confirmed this when they found the leather mask with antlers at the remains of Hammock’s farmstead.
He shudders at the memory of the bodies. Hammock had fought hard, only to be butchered like some animal. His wife and son fared no better. Mena’s abduction was the reason they were out here. Ren takes a swig from his waterskin before passing it to Orlock. As he takes a gulp, he thinks back to how this all started...
A Kingsman arrived at his father’s holding yesterday. Orlock’s father, who was the High Constable for their village, went to the capital to discuss the farm raids with the Sheriff. He had told the Sheriff it wasn’t the forest tribes of the Murkwood. He had made a treaty with them, and they wouldn’t break it. They were honourable people, so it had to be something else. If only Orlock’s father had left the next day, he would have the knowledge the Kingsman had brought.
The kingdom banished the Children of the Black Stag twenty years ago, leading them to become an outlawed cult. Orlock’s father had been a Kingsman then, and was part of the group that drove them out. His valour earned him the homestead they lived in, and they appointed him High Constable. It was the most minor of noble titles, but having been born a commoner, it had elevated his family.
As reported by the Kingsman, the Cult of the Black Stag had attacked the retinue of the King’s youngest brother. After the villains wounded Prince Argonnes and took his daughter, they retreated into the forest. The Royal Rangers had tracked them, which led to the Murkwood. The King had wanted his father to lead a force into the Murkwood, and rescue his niece. Given his friendship with the forest tribes, the King hoped his father could get them to cooperate, in return for concessions in their favour. Instead, the Kingsman found his father gone, and Orlock acting in his stead as Head Constable. Orlock had riders bring in San and Ren, the two constables under his father’s command, and offered to lead the search. The Kingsman politely refused and stated he would lead the expedition with Orlock as his second.
Once San and Ren arrived, they headed to the village to rally the local militia. They arrived at nightfall and found the village in chaos. A group of armed men had attacked Hammock’s farmstead, and killed all but his daughter and a farmhand who escaped to bring word to the village. An hour before they arrived, the militia had assembled and headed out to Hammock’s farm. His wife valiantly tried to hold them off with a torch, but she too fell before the raiders swarmed inside the house. They took Mena with them and fled into the forest.
When questioned by the Kingsman, the farmhand was clear that it wasn’t the forest tribes who attacked. The raiders wore dark clothes and black leather masks with antler horns. The Kingsman gave the lad a hard stare for a moment upon hearing that. After he was done with the farmhand, the Kingsman and Orlock conferred in private. The Kingsman confirmed that the group that raided Hammock’s farm were likely the Black Stag cult. He felt something connected the two raids, and that they should hasten to catch up with the militia.
Since the militia was on foot, they caught up with them before they arrived at the remains of Hammock’s farm. They travelled the rest of the way together and arrived before the sun rose in the sky. There wasn’t much left. The Kingsman sent a man back to the village with instructions to get a horse and ride to the local fort. He was told to request they send a troop of soldiers. He then told the militia to form up, so they could follow the tracks that led away from the ruins.
As the militia did so, Ren showed Orlock a second set of tracks leading towards the forest. The tracks looked like the footprints of two men and a woman. They followed the trail to the edge of the forest and found a locket they all knew belonged to Mena. They returned to report back to the Kingsman. After showing him the tracks, he gave them leave to follow them, while he took the militia in pursuit of the main party of raiders.
As soon as they entered the Murkwood, Orlock saw that San was nervous. He’d never been in the forest before. Ren softly chuckled, but a look from Orlock made him stop. No sense in taunting the lad; he had good reason to be fearful. These woods were dangerous if one wasn’t careful. They followed the trail until nightfall, before deciding to make camp for the evening. As much as they wanted to rescue Mena, they knew doing so while exhausted would just lead them all to their doom.
A few hours later, Orlock stood watch while his companions slept. He looked up at the sky, seeing the remains of this world’s four moons in the heavens. He couldn’t understand how people could join a cult like those who worshipped The Black Stag. How could they truly worship something that their minds couldn’t fully comprehend?
Orlock suddenly realized that he could no longer hear anything save the sound of their campfire and his own breath. The silence was a little unnerving. He was used to the sounds of the forest at night. He didn’t even feel any breeze. It felt... unnatural.
That lack of noise alerted him to someone approaching their camp. He heard a noise to his right; it sounded like someone stepping on a fallen branch. He turned and saw a half-dozen men charging towards him. Orlock drew the blade sheathed across his back, while simultaneously yelling a warning to awaken San and Ren before their foes could strike. He gripped his sword with both hands, waiting for their foes to close in. He glanced behind him for a moment and saw that Ren and San were up with blades drawn as well.
He noticed the attackers wore leather masks with antlers on them. Their clothes were also black, but he saw none wearing armour. Each of them carried short blades with jagged edges. They resembled skinning knives, but longer. As San and Ren positioned themselves, he heard San turn around, and curse under his breath. Orlock knew that meant more of them were behind. The three positioned themselves into a triangle formation, with their backs all facing each other.
Once their attackers were close enough, the three men made them bleed. It was a nasty exchange, but fairly one-sided. Orlock easily blocked the cultist trying to stab him and smacked the side of his head with the flat of his blade. The cultist staggered back, and Orlock sliced the man’s throat open. From the corner of his eyes, he saw another one fall back to his left, and then they pulled back. San had a small gash on his face, but the trio was otherwise uninjured. He saw another cultist leaning against a tree. The man’s injuries were obvious, and he knew he could not keep fighting... Three less to deal with. The circle of cultists closed in on the trio again.
The second time they attacked, they did so warily. They realized their numbers didn’t give them an advantage, so they tried more feints. It still didn’t help, and two more fell before their blades. Not counting the injured cultist, it looked like there were seven left. He felt something fly past his right cheek; Ren had thrown his dagger at another cultist, catching him in the throat. Six left, two for each of them. The odds were still in their favour.
A horn sounded in the distance. The cultists pulled back, then retreated. San wanted to follow, but Ren held him back. Orlock took a deep breath and looked around at the carnage they had wrought. The injured cultist had bled out, so half their attackers had fallen. Given the odds, they had done well for themselves. Father would be proud. Ren checked the gash on San’s face, then took out a rag. He poured some water on it and cleaned it, lest it get infected. Orlock stood guard, in case the cultists regained their courage and came back.
When enough time had passed, Orlock relaxed. Each of them took turns cleaning off their blades. They all drank water from their skins and ate some hardtack. They waited awhile before Ren took watch, while Orlock and San tried to get some sleep. Once they had rested enough, Orlock again led the way. He headed in the direction the horn had sounded, as the surviving attackers had retreated in the same direction. They moved slowly, not knowing if more attackers were waiting for them. The light from his torch seemed to diminish the further they walked; soon they could barely see a few feet in front of them. Orlock was worried; if the cult sent a dozen against the three of them, what had the Kingsman and militia encountered?He was also worried about Mena. Who knows what foul things the cultists have planned for the girl?
What felt like a short while later, San tapped his shoulder. Orlock looked back at him, and he pointed to his right. In the distance, they could see a fire. Orlock rolled his torch on the ground, extinguishing it. Best not to give themselves away. The three waited for their eyes to adjust to the dark, then headed toward the fire. They moved as slowly as possible. It was impossible not to make any noise, but they hoped to make less by not rushing through the trees.
When they got close enough, they could see the cultists standing in a circle around a stone altar. They had Mena tied to it, naked. She was screaming, but the gag in her mouth stifled it. Orlock could see she was staring at something on the other side of the clearing the cultists were using. He looked and saw red coloured eyes staring at the girl. A feeling of dread came over him.
The eyes moved, and a dark figure entered the clearing. It was a giant stag, but none like Orlock had seen before. The thing’s hide was a deep black, like obsidian, and its eyes were the colour of blood. He could feel an aura of malevolence around it as it gazed at them. Orlock gripped his spear tighter, while San mumbled something under his breath.
The cultists made way for the creature, and it walked towards the altar. Mena struggled against her bonds, still screaming. Hot air came out of the stag’s nostrils, and its tongue flicked out, caressing her ankle. A man who looked like some kind of priest put some kind of crown on the stag’s head, then stepped back.
The stag reared up, and snake-like appendages came out of its sides. They moved to the altar, touching Mena. Orlock felt nausea in his stomach; the obscenity of what he was seeing almost made him vomit. Forcing back the bile in the back of his throat, he stood up, gripping the spear. He heard San and Ren draw their swords behind him.
Orlock charged, a primal scream erupting from his throat.
The stag stopped its molestation of the girl and turned its head in their direction. Hot air snorted from its nostrils again. The cultists were drawing their saw-edged blades as Orlock gutted one on his spear, the tip piercing into the ground. Sen and Ran were beside him in an instant, their blades forcing the cultists back.
Orlock pulled his spear out of the dead cultist and watched his body fall to the ground. The priest stood in front of him, a longer saw-edged blade in his hand. Orlock dropped the spear and unsheathed his sword. He saw the stag turn to face them as he blocked the priest’s blade. Some of the beast’s appendages darted towards them; he saw San and Ran cut some off at the tips. A pair swerved around the priest, and he barely sliced them. The priest used the distraction to lunge forward. Orlock sidestepped the blow, but it still cut through his armour, leaving a cut across his right side.
Ignoring the pain, he caught the priest with a left hook while he was still off balance. He staggered back drunkenly, and Orlock moved forward, gutting him with his blade. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ren pull a throwing blade from his belt, and throw it towards the stag. A satisfying noise of the blade sinking into flesh followed. Orlock took a few steps back to where his spear was.
The stag cried out in both pain and rage, causing Orlock to drop his sword and sink to one knee. He grabbed the spear as it charged him. He braced the end of the spear on the ground, and it drove through the stag’s chest and out the back. No blood flowed from the wound; a viscous fluid seeped where he had pierced the beast.
One of the stag’s forelegs batted him in the head, and he landed on his duff. Stars filled his vision, and he felt like he’d just woken up from a night of too much ale. He saw San charge, and ducking under some appendages, sliced its right foreleg. The stag swung its head at Ren, and twisted antlers connected with a loud crack. Ren staggered back, slightly dazed. San dodged other appendages, and attempted to slice one of the rear legs. Before he could, the stag kicked backward with its hind legs, catching San squarely on the chest. He also staggered back, spitting up some blood.
Orlock moved in, grabbing his spear. He pulled it out quickly and attempted to pierce the creature once more. Some appendages grasped the spear and wrenched it from his hands. Other appendages attempted to grab him, but Orlock darted out of their reach. Ren charged the beast and sliced its side. That distraction gave Orlock time to draw the blade sheathed on his back.
As it turned towards San, Ren moved in, slicing one of the hind legs. It tried kicked Ren with the other hind leg, but it stumbled. Gripping his blade in both hands, Orlock swung it back over his right shoulder as he charged. The Stag tried to turn its head to catch the blade on its antlers, but Orlock was too fast. The blade sliced deeply into its throat, causing more viscous fluid to spurt out from that wound, almost drenching him. Ren and San began hacking at the beast, and Orlock soon joined his companions. They continued hacking the creature until it stopped moving.
Covered in the creature’s viscous fluid, Orlock and his companions stood over the remains of the beast; the only sound was their heavy breathing. Their blades were covered with the beast’s foul blood. He looked around to see the cultists staring at them in shock. Ren made a move at them, but they dropped their blades and ran. Silence fell over the clearing before San started laughing. Ren chuckled while Orlock untied Mena. Ren pulled the robes off one of the dead cultists and wrapped it around the girl. Tears flowing, she thanked them for saving her. A glint of terror was still in her eyes as she did so.
San found a stream near the clearing, so each man took turns washing off the foul blood of the creature. They then took rags from their packs and started cleaning off their blades. After cleaning their blades, they all drank water from their water skins, and ate some hardtack. Ren offered Mena some wine, and she gulped down half the skin before stopping.
Orlock was worried; what if there were more of those corrupted stags out there? They had gotten lucky with that one, but he wasn’t sure they’d be so fortunate a second time. He also worried about the Kingsman and the militia unit. What had they encountered in their pursuit of the other raiders? At least for the moment, Mena was safe.
When she had more wits about her, they started heading back towards the ruins of Hammocks farm. The eerie silence of the forest was unnerving, but they made it back to the village without encountering any cultists or beasts.
When they arrived, the soldiers from the fort were waiting. Orlock approached their captain to report what had happened when they entered the forest. Once he finished, he asked ‘any word from the Kingsman?’
The captain replied ‘Yes, we got word from him an hour ago. They are on their way back. They had caught up to the raiders, and killed or captured them all. They freed the princess, who was distraught from her ordeal, but was otherwise unharmed. Orlock nodded before heading back to his companions.
Ren took Mena to the village doctor for him to examine her before heading to the tavern. Orlock and San were waiting, a cold mug of ale ready for him to drink. The three raised their mugs, and Orlock made a toast ‘To a job well done, lads!’ The three changed their mugs together, before drinking deeply.
A serving wench approached, bringing them some bread and cheese before asking ‘Would you like some dinner?’
San looked up from his mugs and asked ‘What are you serving tonight?’
She replied ‘Tonight we have roasted stag.’ The three of them stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. The serving girl shook her head and walked away, muttering to herself, ‘What a daft lot those three are!’
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