It is the winter of 1812. You’ve been seconded to a clandestine specialist detachment — a unit of the “Silver Bayonets” — drawn from the ranks of one of the great powers, tasked with hunting the darkness that stirs behind the smoke of the battlefields. For weeks you’ve been operating in the Carpathian foothills, investigating reports of villages riven by werewolves, of cavalry columns disappearing and re‐emerging changed. You’ve noticed the curfew the local military garrison demands – none may leave the stronghold after 2200 hrs, and those who do seldom return.

Wednesday 16 July, 22:34 hrs.

You, along with two comrades — Lieutenant Jessica “Jess” Rothwell (Royal Scots) and Sergeant Luke Mercier (Napoleonic French defector) — lodge in the temporary billet issued by the Austrian army. You share the quarters with four others: Desmond Koller (engineer/ordnance), Quinn Vale (occultist), Emma Schaefer (scout), Leah Petrovic (local liaison). Also present are counsellors (military overseers) Amy Kerstin and David Brunner who monitor the unit’s conduct. The eight of you sit around the low lantern light in your hut, maps and case files open, when suddenly the wind howls, and you hear it — quiet whispering and muffled laughs, goblins.

Jessica: “What was that?” She whispers, eyes darting toward the door as the lantern light flickers.

Quinn: “I… I don’t know. I’m not the only one hearing that whispering, right?” He asks, his voice low and uncertain, trying to convince himself it’s just the wind.

Luke: “No… you’re not.” He mutters, keeping his tone steady, though the tension in his jaw betrays his fear.