It was near dusk and full Morrslieb was about to rise when Avram strode into the already empty streets of Vercuso.
He intended to spend that dreadful night in Vercuso's graveyard, making sure nothing will leave it. And possibly finding his long awaited death.
The raucous chanting of a band of Grobi resounded in the gathering darkness.
The thrice-damned Nachtjägers, making a mockery of the witch hunting trade. And possibly let some twisted evil loose with their ineptitude. Avram could not allow that.
He advanced, taking cover behind a ruined house.
A couple of arrows whistled by, harmlessly, as the Nachtjägers advanced.
Keeping in cover, Avram balanced his runic axe and flung it at the closest orc.
The axe landed with a resounding crash, felling a hulking black orc. Two of his followers showed some sense and made it for the safety of the Pie Shop.
The other two orcs charged headlong. Avram blessed hammer was ready, and one orc could not even land a single blow.
Kaptain Fängmorder rushed forward, but was halted on his track as a host of misty tentacles erupted from the abandoned chapel and enveloped him.
The rest of the Nachtjägers piled in onto Avram.
The melee was brutal, but Avram managed to get through. Battered he might have been, but he still had strength to cross hammers with Fängmorder.
To Avram great pleasure, the tough orc stood his ground, buying time for the lower orcs to catch up with the crazed Slayer.
Avram ignored the rabble and pummeled Fängmorder, knowing the other Grobi will have fled as soon as their leader went down.
It was then that a nonsense-shouting orc charged forth, his bell tolling on Avram's neck.
By blind luck, or maybe the stern gaze of Morr on one of his favourite champions, Avram didn't go down and managed to drove his stake through the orc.
The Nachtjägers now fleeing or limping away badly wounded, Avram entered the graveyard.
Wiping the blood from his neck, he paid his respects to Morr and prepared for his vigil.