Dalp was asleep when I handed off the core, but his wife Lara was thankful for it. Returning to my abode the sun has already set. Yet the boar is still being worked on under candle light. I opt instead to start patrolling the village outskirts to pass the time. I’ve yet to see anything creep past the Wards, but I’m not one to put my full trust into an artifact. They have led many to their ruination.

   SNAP. I stepped on something, but I had been watching where I was walking, even having night vision on. Looking beneath my foot there’s nothing, but grass. Experience with fighting the adumbrations¹To give a faint shadow or slight representation of; to outline; to shadow forth. of death lead me to know better than to just believe my eyes. Running my hand through the crushed grass, something hard pricks my fingers. It’s small, flat and cold.  The surface of it is smooth and glossy. Lifting it up reveals, a piece of grass.

   It's just a piece of grass? But it feels completely wrong.

   While I can tell its not right, until I can view it under actual light it remains a mystery. My night vision makes everything green which hinders my examination of the already green grass, Storing it in my pouch I finish my patrol.

   The lights have vanished from my house. The workers have completed their harvest. The racket of their work will not be a hinder to my sleep. Getting closer however I’m hit with the aroma of blood that's been stained into my backyard. I feel that hanging the boar here was a bad idea, and can only hope it rains before I get used to the smell.

   The next morning I am awoken by the milling of footsteps. Starting the morning with a routine brushing of the teeth. Many people think that hygiene in the middle ages was akin to cavemen. This idea is quite far from reality. They actual had a culture of teeth brushing, although without the fancy toothbrushes of the modern day. The villagers here use a species of herbal plant native to the area. The inside of the stems are filled with bristles. They cut it from the plant and chop of the end to expose them. When the bristles start wearing down more they merely cut the end. Which shortens the stem and exposes fresh bristles. It could have been an export for the village if not for the sour taste of the breed. The popular ones are of a spicy variety.

   Thus I join in with today's activities, those being the creation of soap. Most bring their wood ash and leave. Which is seen as fine for once the materials have been gathered, only a handful of people are needed. Those required materials being, clean water that has been provided by me, lard the majority being attained by yesterdays hunt, and the ashes that have been collected by the villagers from their day to day activities. The process begins with the water leaching lye from the ashes, and becoming lye water. Its then combined with the melted lard, and cooked. After which it is poured into a wood mold and left to cool. In several hours it will harden and be cut into bars of soap.

   Other than providing the resources I am left watching this process. Passing the time I look for a conversational partner. Mari one of the few people who’ve stayed, catches me looking around.

   She waves and makes her way over to me, “Not interesting enough for you?”

   I've only been sticking around to seen how similar the method is to the way I saw it done once during my travels, “No, can't say watching people do menial labor is very exciting. Other things have my interest as well.”

   She gestures at herself, “Well talk to me then, I’m used to answering questions.”

   She was very enthusiastic when answering the children she taught, “Yes, the little ones are often curious. I had gone into your little teaching alcove to see what goes on. I also read some of the books you keep on that shelf, but I find them lacking.”

   With a light chuckle she responds, “Well, many of them are for practicing reading.”

   Explains why I still find myself lacking knowledge. The books I’m reading aren’t meant to be informative. As strange as that is. This may be an opportunity though to amend that however, “What do you know of Hellion?”

   She gives me a thoughtful look, “Unusual way to take our conversation, but I can understand Dalp’s injury from the Hellion Boar weighs on your mind.”

Can't say it does, “Regardless, what do you know?”

   Her posture becomes straighter as she switches into teaching mode, “It begins Long ago before Elman left our realm. Within his palace and out of nothingness arose an immense beast of bone and rancor that could not be killed. From its death it would arise again with greater ferocity. Like it was tossed back out from the underworld. This beast would later come to be called Hellion. With it's appearance, Elman was alerted and within moments they met with the beast seeking death, for it clashed against Elman. They fought for a great span and the blood they spilt with their strikes against each other collected beneath them. In that pooled blood yet another battle was fought, one between defilement and sanctification. It was from within this that Elman gained insight for how to win. He tore the skin from his body, constructing a bag with it. For which he used to trap Hellion within.”

   Sounds like embellishment, but it does remind me of some of the old wise tales I once heard. Like the one of a spartan child who wouldn't admit to the lie of hiding a fox even when it was hidden beneath his clothes and eating at his intestines. That is unrelated thought, She said the beast is trapped? “If its trapped why’s it still causing problems?”

   “He did more than trap it. He built a grand tower on top to keep it sealed beneath forever." She says while spreading out her arms to emphasize its size, "The beast itself isn’t the source of our problems, The blood that mixed with that of a divine being is. The dark blood of course couldn’t overtake the divine, but it did pass it’s nature into this new concoction of essences from which now all living things can fall victim to. Only those under the protection of a higher power can truly keep their souls pure from its influence.“

   Ignoring the superstitious part. That does sound concerning, “Dalp said something similar. Also what about the Hellion Cores, shouldn’t they also be dangerous?”

   Returning her arms to her side,  “Hellion Cores carry the full weight of that twisted nature. However, they are refined from being given purpose by the flesh they had resided in.”

   If they carry that evil nature should they not be treated with scorn instead of being treasured? “What makes them valuable?”

   “Its from what they can be used to create, Hellion Gear. There are many types. However, I only know the details of the most common one. Made from a core that when fed energy creates faux bone and when not being fed the bone dissipates into mist. In the hands of a magic craftsman the shape of the produced bone can be altered to a blade." She makes a few movements like she is using a sword while continuing, "Which is then put on a hilt to create a sword. One that is easily concealed and never needs to be sharpened. As the blade can be dismissed and reissued.”

   A highly useful weapon indeed, but it's made of bone so how strong could it really be? And who are the people that make them, “What are magic craftsman?”

    Now pretending to wield a hammer she responds, “Craftsmen refers to a multitude of different professions that are capable using magic to let them create artifacts, Hellion gear, and magic items.”

   More insistence upon magic. I can’t deny what I’ve seen with the Hellion Core, but there must be some logic to it. I also can't take their words on this matter at face value. Especially considering they so easily believed that I’m a mythological plant man, “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

   Looking prideful of herself she states, “I’m just glad to be able to do something to repay you.”

   Repay me? “For what?”

   She gives a wave of her arms to the surroundings, “Thanks to you we have drinkable water, and will have plenty of soap. The others may not be as forthcoming, but they to are grateful for what you’ve done for us.”

   I did provide help but it wasn't out of generosity, “I didn’t do it for free.”

   Leaning forward she says, “And most wouldn’t do it at all. Mister Trijen sent a letter requesting aid over a month ago, and it has yet to show.”

   The hard workers who provide the necessities for a society go underappreciated no matter where you are, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

   All the talking has led me to miss lunch. Reaching into my pouch for some cracklings i touch the hard grass.