Deep in the boggy fen country, a village where cremation is customary is haunted by specters of the burned dead. These ghosts encroach closer and closer to the realm of the living with each passing night. The Elders send a letter, pleading with Wraithvine for aid against their supernatural tormentors.
Wraithvine sets out sure that this is caused by some readily explainable phenomenon, either by man-made hoax or mundane magic or perhaps a scorned local God. The Truth is far stranger than even this venerable hero could have imagined… -- Deathshead419
It was odd to find a swamp village where most of the structures were fortification, where sturdy -if wooden- walls were patrolled day and night by clerics working in shifts Where every possible surface of every possible structure was carved and hung about with every possible protection charm.
Well. Ze had needed a haircut for the last millennium. Might as well put it all to good use instead of bunging it in a dimensionally transcendent hairnet.
Ze listened to the mayor's story as the goodwives and children capable of braiding turned Wraithvine's hair into length after length of thin cord. Because of the great need of the village, Wraithvine insisted that they crop hir hair close. Enough to guard each creature, each house, and each foot of the walls around them all.
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