The Sojourner

I haven't seen you since last year, boy. Sit, sit. What brings you to the foot of Rejomensc? I see. Well, stay awhile for it is unwise to traverse the mountains come evening. Let me fix you a cuppa and something to eat; you look famished. Pray, while I'm thinking of it, lend me your ear for a story. I believe it is something that you'd like to hear.
A time long before now, travelers traversed the mountains from the other side of the world just to settle here: a place of solitude away from the oppression of their former countrymen. Like a path through the woods, great explorers let scores of families seeking respite from abuse. There was one particular guide that was simply known as the Sojourner. No one can quite recall if the Sojourner was either man or woman, but all agree that they were a mysterious figure.  Snow and ice crackle and crunch beneath the heavy footfalls of a dozen or so men as they followed the strange being about. All describe them as a robed figure with gear enough to traverse the mountains and a walking stick nearly as tall as they. Hood perched with a scarf to conceal the identity, the Sojourner led the party deeper and deeper into the mountains. "Where the hell are we going? I feel as though we should have at least seen a signal from the other party by now," "Hush! Let the man do his job. He knows well of the mountain's secrets, for he has spent his life here." In truth, they led these people to a place that is still far from understood. Silently, they shuffled into the mouth of a cave, following it deeper and deeper yet. Slick and jagged, the caverns left many travelers wounded. Weary and restless, many in the group questions the Sojourner's movements as the rocky innards of the mountains seemed to spiral unnaturally until they reached a great opening. Glinting and glistening, torchlight flickered upon the slick surfaces. Beneath the surfaces of ice that clung to the walls and ceiling, people began to see faces, limbs, tattered clothing. Not a soul knew what was happening before it was far too late. Torchlight turned to pitch. Crunching footsteps turned to muffled crunching. The few that managed to escape were deemed mad for believing in such horrid nonsense.  Not long after did the humans discover the orcish - the Rejami. Wicked creatures are they, praising this Sojourner for bringing untimely ends to the invading humans. Some say that the Rejami still feasts upon the flesh of souls lost centuries ago; the bodies left to age like wine. 
What's wrong, lad? You act as though you've lost your appetite.

Date of First Recording

100-200 PGS

Date of Setting

100-200 PGS