Revelation

Bootleggers' Pier

The air inside the tent smelt of blood, incense and human waste.
The Bonecaster held out for almost two full days before he broke.

Margrave washed his hands in a nearby bucket, cleaning his flesh from the the gore.

The magik user laid on cold ground on the centre of the room. A large circle of sacred salt surrounded his probe fingers. His hands were stretched to his side, two large iron nails carved with the symbols of the evil eye, pinning him to the floor, through his both his wrists.

It had been a long stacking process. Torture always had to be. People tended to admit almost to anything under pain. One needed to me sure.

He looked at the ruined figure of the native in the centre of the room, gasping for air, as blood gurgled through is broken teeth and cracked lips.

The Purger has carved several symbols against the Maleficium on his flesh, torn the muscles in his legs, broken is knees before he had peeled the man's face from his skull.

By than there was no denying the veracity of the man's word. It was just too random a detail to mean anything else.

Could it be true? After all these years? Here in Arcadia? A man who could negate magik. Riding with Voah Sahnsuur.