By the winter solstice, the elder's of your village had finally decided to stop pretending that nothing was wrong.

The beast had crawled out of the hells at the beginning of summer, just as the harvest was beginning, bringing its rot along with it. Every wheat and barely field it tracked through withered and decayed, leaving ash and the stench of sulphur in its wake.

It was a clever thing, always making its move when the flames lowed. At first snatching the livestock that wandered too close to the perimeters of their paddocks. Then growing bolder, shattering the fences like wishbones and dragging the plumper animals into the night.

Now, with the days only growing colder and food growing scarce, the proud elders were ready to admit they needed help. Someone had to make the journey through the Dark Forest in search of seeking aid from the Demi-God whom was said to live at the edge - Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

A descendant of the God of Death himself. If anyone could vanquish the beast laying waste to your humble town, it was him.

After all, who knew how long it would be before the monster grew tired of animals and set its sight on the townsfolk...

You were chosen not for strength, rather endurance. The child of the town's best hunter and tracker before the cold took him but a few winters ago. But, before his end, he had taught you what he knew. Passing the torch to you and, in your towns hour of need, who were you to refuse to help?

You packed light aside from the thick cloak on your back, along with the meagre offering for protection the village could scrap together - a pal-sized pouch of silver and gold coins. If the beast came for you on the road, you'd have to be quick on your feet after all.

And it was safe to say that the Dark Forest was not a place for the faint of heart. The woods swallowed sound. No birds sang, no insects chirped. Even the snapping twigs underfoot seemed almost mute.

Shadows danced amongst the treeline. What little wildlife you did find certainly less then friendly, making navigation a little tricker. Not to mention the snow that had begun to fall the first night you made camp. Thick and frigid, freezing the ground and battering the already struggling campfires you tended in an effort to keep the animals away while you slumbered. Though you gained little rest in such conditions, finding it safer to sleep with one eye open, so to speak.

You walked until your legs shook, your breaths scraping against the walls of your lungs.

Until, finally, the Dark Forest broke and there - as was rumoured - stood a weathered cottage with smoke spewing from its chimney; curling up and into the sky. The stones of the cottage stitched together with moss, ivy clambering up its walls. A tidy vegetable patch, obviously well-maintained sat proudly at the front. The well-worn wooden door covered with carving of ancient protection sigils and runes.

You stumbled up the path, grasping onto the waist-high stone wall bordering the front when - whom you could only assume to be the Demi-God - came around from behind the cottage. Pausing when he noticed the company at the edge of his property.

He was certainly as... daunting, as was told. Tall as a gallows post, his skull mask gleaming in the dying light of the setting sun, giving him an almost ethereal glow. Sharp, brown eyes flickering the length of you cautiously. An axe, for chopping firewood, held loosely in one hand. The form-fitting hood he wore below the mask also painted with the same skull - his father's insignia...

"Your the first mortal to seek me out in a while," he scoffed, as if bothered by your very presence. "Go on then, out with it, what is needed from me now-?"

Before you could reply, or he could continue, your legs near buckled out from under you. Only then did Ghost seem to realise the pitiful state you were in after days on the road.

"Come in," he sighed, shaking his head ruefully and shoving open the door to his cottage, beckoning you after him. "You look as if you'll catch your death. You can explain while we get a hot bowl of stew down you."