'When you cross the Welayta Mountains, you'll find Mandhari–the Elephant Graveyard not too far in the distance. It's a gloomy looking place, named after the massive bleached bones of the elephants who go there to die. So it's no surprise that it's a mecca for necromancers and all sorts of practitioners of the dark arts. But several miles south lies a medium-sized village of hunters and herders by the intersection of two rivers. The land here is fertile, but the riverside banks are full of crocodiles and wild animals who come to feed on the grazers. Normally we'd be across the other side and halfway to Mamjaku at this point, but the caravan was stopped by a group of armed men carrying long spears. Our caravan leader speaks their language, so maybe we'll be able to make some headway. On second thought…that might not be happening. Despite his explaining, they're not letting us go. According to what he translated, nobody is allowed past their village. If we want to leave, we need to leave behind all of our weapons and armor before turning back.'
After what everyone thought would be a successful negotiation, everybody in the wagon train was taken into the village as hostages. Belen was doing his best to not panic, complying with whatever the spearmen said and avoiding direct eye contact. While he couldn't understand their language, he had this gut feeling that they were thinking of using the travelers as bait or a sacrifice for something. Even with his hands tied, he could just make himself a portal and slip away. But he'd never forgive himself if he ran away leaving the rest of them behind. Besides, he needed to get to Mamjaku and find someone who had successfully journeyed down to the farthest tip of the Moors Peninsula. The captives from the wagon train were huddled together sitting on the ground while the village warriors were sorting through their possessions in the carts. The caravan leader was roughly shoved in, and he fell to the ground, rolling on his side. After the man managed to sit himself upright, Belen scooted over towards him after the guards were preoccupied.
"Hey–what's going on? Why are they keeping us here?!" He whispered. The man looked just as confused as he was. "How should I know? I thought I was on good terms with their previous chieftain! I've never cheated them out of anything, and there's never been problems until now." They both went quiet as the heard footsteps pass their tent, then there was talking among the guards. The caravan guide strained to hear what was being said, then three men came in and began pulling the captives to their feet. To their surprise they were being cut free from their bonds, and a strange figure wearing an antelope skull was standing outside in the open, an eerie looking staff in hand.
"Now now, I believe you all deserve an explanation. Forgive me, it seems that there has been a bit of a miscommunication on their part." The strange skull-headed man spoke, coming forward. "The people here have been very anxious lately ever since they incurred the wrath of Njoka-Yakuda, the blood-hexer." Through a translator, the witch doctor who called himself 'Kudu' told them why people traveling through the area were forced to leave. For years the village had been plagued by a witch who lived on the opposite side of the river. Njoka was a vain and powerful woman, however she was not immortal. Refusing to accept death and the natural cycle of life, she turned to using dark magic to keep herself alive and young. This was why she would target young people, particularly couples. Using curses, those who came too close to the river's banks would be attacked by crocodiles who dragged victims under. From them she would use their blood to extend her own existence.
At last, the people of the village had enough. They sent their chief to Mandhari to ask for help, and with a suitable price, Kudu agreed to lend his services. To fight a witch, you needed a witch doctor. But even so, it would be hard to kill her. That was until last night. A youth named Ntando took matters into his own hands, and had snuck out after the sun had set with a boat to cross the river to Njoka's domain. With several protective amulets, he managed to hide unnoticed until he saw the one thing that could make her vulnerable–her heart. Using dark magic, she had managed to remove her own heart from her body. Like a lich's phylactery, unless it was destroyed she would never see death. Ntando stole that heart, and managed to race across the river while the witch hounded him with her monsters in blind fury. A snake managed to bite his leg, but he shook it off and was able to make it into the village before he collapsed from the poison.
In his last breath, he told his people what he had done and the importance of the severed heart. His reckless bravery had done what others could not. Now that she knew her heart had been stolen, it would only be a matter of time before Njoka stormed the village with her possessed servants. Kudu had placed a barrier over the entire village that would prevent the witch from entering, however in order to kill her he would have to conduct a ritual that required seven days and seven nights to undo the protective enchantments she had placed on her soul's vessel. "I do not need your weapons, armor, or lives. What I ask of you is a willingness to join the village fighters to ensure that the heart is not stolen and that I am not interrupted until the ritual is complete. Although Njoka herself cannot come to take it away, there is nothing barring her from using her beasts and slaves to do it."