The yellow-skinned devil haunted his dreams.

Weeks had passed since the beast had hurtled from the sky like a cannonball, wings unfurled, teeth bared, and cresting through stone, brick, and bone like a dragon through the ocean waves. Back then, Faris had wasted time prowling through back-alley streets, taking bets, and drinking away the nagging fears that had driven him mad since awakening on the beach of this strange continent. Now he hardly slept for the visions that lurked behind his eyes. Wailing screams. Roars like the bellows of hell. Viscera spread beneath the monster's great horned feet.

Faris was like a man possessed. Awakening after a few hours of restless sleep, marching across another trail, slaying a few beasts, and asking too many questions. So far, Faris had made his way through the fielded farmlands outside of Torensten. Every family he came across would marvel at his new, rune-laden cloak. The messengers from Torensten hadn't accepted his rejection of it, and now it seemed he was stuck with it. Faris wore the damned thing only at night when its heavy silks protected him from the bitter cold or when he was trying to swindle bread, gold, or booze from yet another hapless traveler.

Yet, he never lost himself to the pirate's life again. Faris had a mission -- track down the great beast called Chaos and end it for good. Avenge the lives of the innocent, and most importantly, bring the vile fiend what it had coming to it. Chaos had cheated Faris out of a proper fight the last time they met. It had fled with its horned tail between its legs, and Faris wasn't about to be beaten by a coward. Yellow -- that's what he was. Yellow, spineless, and cruel. Faris' teeth ground at the mere mention of that demon. He searched high and low for any mention of its whereabouts. He held no doubt in his mind that the beast still lived.

"So have you seen the devil or not?" Faris crossed his arms impatiently as the farmer leaned against his rusted spade. His travels had taken him to the outskirts of a town called Provo -- not exactly his kind of place with its well-lit streets and vigilant guards, but a hot-source for information. The farmer's wrinkled eyes trailed from the intricate embroidery across Faris' cloak sleeve to the ornately carved symbol at his chest. Faris shifted beneath the weight of the thing. He far preferred his own worn tunics to any legendary garments that he couldn't materialize away with the power of the crystals.

"A yellow monster, you said? So that's what attacked Torensten?"

"Aye, now tell me what you have to say or I'm moving on. I haven't got time for blabbering."

"Hm..." The old man touched his chin and looked up to consider the sky.

A muscle in Faris' jaw twitched. "Will you get on with it?"

"I'm thinking," he said, rubbing his jawline between his thumb and middle finger. "Did you hear it from Betty at the Old Mare?"

"I heard it where I heard it. You saw something, now are you going to tell me or are you high-winded louts all wasting my time?"

"Hold on, hold on. I'm telling. I'm telling." The man rubbed the spade between his calloused fingers as though trying to start a fire. "I'm just thinking, that's all. Getting my story straight." When he'd finished, he looked up at to the sky and clicked his tongue twice. "Yeah, I saw something around here. Up in the old forest north of here. Cursed, that place is. Haunted with all sorts of demons. I wouldn't tell you to go in there if you were my worst enemy."

"Demons?" Faris perked to attention. "That's where you saw it then?"

The man hummed in answer.

"Well, out with it! Where was it? What did it look like?"

"It was..." The man started, but then shuddered against it. "Terrible. Great big wings. Roaring like a dragon. I ran like I couldn't run before. Never got a good look at it though." The man clicked his tongue again. "And that's all."

Faris stifled a growl of frustration and ran a hand through his tangled violet hair. "Well, it'll have to do. That's all I'm getting out of any of you thick-headed cowards."

"You're going in then?"

"I'm going wherever the fiend flies. I've some business with it."

The man clicked his tongue again as though he was going to say something, but then thought better of it. He shook his head. "Better you than me," he said. Faris turned away, scowling.

"I'm coming, Lord of Chaos," he muttered, "You'd best savor your life while it lasts."

Faris heard plenty more stories about this "Headstone Forest" along his way up the northern side of Provo. Legend had it the place was a graveyard of lost souls and ill-intention. 'Haunted.' He heard that word more than once. When Faris asked about the old farmer's stories, the townspeople called the man a chronic drunkard and more than a little unhinged. Still, Faris had a mission, and if all he had for guidance were the mad ravings of an unstable drunk, well, there wasn't much he could do about that.

Faris set off into the forest just after noon with nothing more to his name than the legendary cloak and the power of the crystals. He thought to stay on the path (if there was anything the people of Provo insisted, it was to stay on the path), but his journey grew boring, and before long, Faris found himself straying from it. Despite the forest's thick foliage, its quiet air, or its lurking, monster-filled shadows, Faris had seen far worse. He'd seen worse haunted forests too, actually. If this refuge for tortured spirits wanted anything on the Forest of Moore, it would have to severely step up its game.

What were a few monsters and visions compared to a world-destroying, botanical warlock, anyway? 

So Faris barely hesitated to step off the beaten, well-worn path of the forest and into the wilds beyond. The brambles caught at his boots and hair. Small, beaded eyes watched him from the cover of the trees. Yet still, he padded along, looking for something, though he wasn't entirely sure what it was. Some sign of the beast, he imagined. Or maybe just something to take his mind off of it.

It was near sunset when Faris saw it. As the air chilled and the skies darkened, it dawned on him that he couldn't have found his way back now if he'd tried. He was about to switch job classes to something capable of lighting a fire when, almost as though summoned by his thought, he spotted smoke rising above the dusky sky. Faris sniffed distastefully past the raw scented earth and caught it -- a faintly acrid trace of fire. Fire meant one of two things -- people or monsters. Either way, Faris thought it best to follow. 

It was sure to cause some amount of excitement one way or the other. 

The orange-red light flickered across the shadowed foliage as Faris crept closer. Wood crackled beneath its heat, but the flames did not roar above the trees or lick hungrily at the outer forest clearings. A campfire then. Faris stepped around the rotting twigs and logs with light feet. He caught a glimpse of movement past the leafy cover. A dark figure fed the flames. Faris crept closer and peered around the side of a tree trunk.

CRACK.

Faris' boot caught on a thorny vine and he lurched forward, cursing and spitting as the bushes and dead wood caught his fall. He scraped his hands against an old tree and winced as the brambles caught at his arms. For a moment, Faris just laid there, muttering angrily and waiting for the consequences of his failed stealth. There was movement in the clearing, and then a woman's voice.

"Hello?! I said hello!"

Faris groaned in frustration. "I'm not here to hurt you, lass!" he called back, "I just saw the fire."

Slowly, Faris pulled himself from the tangled embrace of the forest. He brushed off dead leaves and mud, straightened his scarf, and pushed his loose hair back over his ear. Then he strode straight into the clearing without bothering to check what waited inside. He'd already ruined the element of surprise, after all. There was no point in secrecy anymore.

The woman was a put-together type with pressed cuffs and an unruffled cloak. She wore a yellow band in her hair to keep it from her eyes, and in the late-evening light, she looked almost like a shadow with her black hair and dark eyes. Faris glanced between her and the fire before crossing his arms.

"Alone out here at this time of night, are you? Brave of you. The thick-pated louts back in town said this place was haunted. Spineless, I'd call them. There's nothing out here but trees and wolves."

Faris threw back his head in laughter. His free-lancer blade had been enough for those beasts. It still shone slick with their blood. "So what's a lass like you doing in a place like this? I didn't think I'd run into anyone for another ten miles, the way they talk about it."

Faris scowled again before quickly shoving his distaste aside and offering the woman a rough hand. "I'm Faris, by the way. Captain Faris Scherwiz of Tycoon." He gave her a lop-sided grin. "And it seems you're the only other person daft enough to go wandering into a haunted forest alone."

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