Cowpocolypse
Fairs are usually fair-weather things, but the winter brings a sense of togetherness too, and in that spirit the Winter Country Fair was born. Only a few years running so far, but with prizes at various booths that would entice many out into the chill to try and win.
Today in particular there is a cold wind blowing, bringing a promise of ice and snow that suggests that true winter is well on its way. Still, there's no snow on the ground yet, and the fair marches on with offerings of warm foods and drinks to keep those that have decided to brave the fair from freezing.
Lying low. He's supposed to be lying low. That's what Harshad keeps reminding himself, as he walks through the fair -- his patched cloak wrapped around him close. But... for a place that had been attacked by wights, hell was -still- being attacked by werewolves and who knows what else, the people here were certainly in a celebratory mood. He'd had a drink pressed on him already, and he hadn't even had to pick any pockets.
"Damn, people, keep your hands on your coinpurses," Harshad mumbles, watching people move to and fro. The half-orc heaves a sigh. At least here, it's doubtful anyone will be looking for him.
Fairs are curious things. They bring people together in a strange, sometimes almost fey mood of gaiety and community. There's people from all walks of life; merchants hawking their wares, carnies with colorful booths promising prizes for games of chance and skill -- and Mara. The white-haired elf seems to be wandering aimlessly about, a still-steaming candied-apple-on-a-stick in one hand, apparently forgotten, as her head makes a passable impression of a weathervane in a particularly treacherous crosswind trying to take in all the sights. A merchant calls out to her, offering mulled wine, but as soon as those luminescent blue eyes alight on him he falters in the face of the Expression. Completely deadpan, bright eyes boring into her target, an apparent mask carved out of wood for all that it gives away nothing. It's one she must have practiced for *decades* -- or maybe she's just got Resting Inscrutable Face. She wanders on.
As everyone enjoys the fair, there's a subtle change in the crowd. A quickening of movement to the north, and people seem to be agitated in that direction. This change in the nature of the fair is obvious immediately, and it doesn't seem to abate after a few seconds. In fact it seems to be getting worse. A low murmur is taken up, the people as yet unaffected by the movement wondering what's going on to the north end of the fair.
Harshad's head comes up. The sense that something's wrong, the same sense that got him out of Myrddion when things went completely upside-down. His instinct is to start drifting away, but... his own purse is light, and if there's enough distractions... or even better, something to be bagged and sold to the wizards... well, gold does keep the belly full and the winter at bay. Unobtrusively loosening his rapier and dagger in their sheaths under his cloak, he begins to drift northward, trying to draw minimal attention.
For all that she seems oblivious, Mara actually isn't, not entirely. The change in the atmosphere is something even she can pick up; she pauses, head turning to each side to observe the general movement of people, and then picks up the pace, striding towards the disturbance. There's no bold exhortation for the crowd to remain calm or an assertion of her presence, that's not her style. Still, the purpose of her stride and the loosening of her shoulders, hand coming to rest briefly at the leather holder strapping her still-unstrung bow to her back, does the trick; a wide-eyed fair goer stumbles out of the way of the small, slender elven woman as though she were a larger animal purposefully stalking a scent-trail.
The closer that you get to the source of the - whatever is going on - the more people seem to be trying to get _away_. People aren't really paying attention to one another anymore, instead they're focused on getting away from the source of agitation.
Eventually you reach the area where the livestock is being held in various pens. Pigs lined up to the left, some sheep on the right. And ahead of you... There's suddenly no sign of people, a dead zone where people have already moved away envelops you, and you see the source of the commotion.
One of the cows has escaped and is calmly chewing something on the ground. You notice as you advance on the cow, that it's not grass that the cow is munching on. It's a dead body.
GAME: Mara rolls Knowledge/Nature: (8)+11: 19
Harshad comes to a stop, staring. His brain simply refuses to process what he's seeing at first. Then all he can think of is, 'This seems like a bit of an overreaction to the whole beefsteak thing...' Finally, his backbrain decides enough of this crap and kind of takes over, his hand diving under his cloak and coming out with a finely crafted rapier with a soft whistling sound. "Uh... sit?" he tries experimentally.
Look, Harshad's a city boy. Animals are just not his forte.
A small fair with a chance to win free stuff was an incredibly enticing offer for people with tight coin purses, which meant that it was no surprise to find Schara their, a figure completely of bronze armor with a large cloak wrapped around them for warmth or just looks. And as much as they wanted to go back to their games, some commotion was not easily ignored.
Against their better judgment, they end up pushing past the fleeing people, only to freeze up on the spot when they come face to face with the carnivorous cow. "That thing needs to be put down. What would even cause this?" They state with a low voice that is muffled by static from their helmet.
Head tilting to one side as she moves around the clearing made by retreating people, Mara studies the bovine, uh, man-ibal? Let's go with that. She doesn't speak, not yet, but makes sure she stays well within the cow's range of vision so as not to startle it as she takes in the scene, still with that blank-mask expression on her face. The elven woman pauses after a moment, lowering herself into a not-quite-crouch that, in contrast to what one might expect, has nothing of the predator to it. She tilts her head to the other side, still studying the cow... and makes a low noise in her throat, inquisitive. What's she trying to do, converse with it?
The cow looks up from its munching, and two more cows come up from behind it. They've blood on their hooves and mouths. Their expressions are vacant, even more so than a cow's usually is. The lead cow utters a low groaning noise and moves forward. There's a pitchfork stuck in its flank but it doesn't seem to notice.
Harshad's eyes get bigger, and he actually backs up a step. "...You've got to be kidding me. Second day here and I get man-eating cows? Which god did I offend?" He levels the point of the rapier at the advancing bloodthirsty bovines. "And why does that one have a -pitchfork- stuck in it? Shouldn't that kill it?" His growl is more than a little nervous, as the tip of his sword flicks to point at another cow, then the third.
GAME: Mara casts Barkskin. Caster Level: 5 DC: 16
Oh. *Oh*. Mara straightens up, and heaves a long-suffering sigh. Muttering under her breath - anyone in the vicinity will catch something about it always being dead things - she reaches into a pouch, pulls her hand out sticky with something green and earthy-smelling, and smears it on her forehead in a fetching display of ew, gross. "Root and branch, sap and bark," she murmurs. "Brother oak, lend me your sturdiness." She paces to the side, feet scraping at the ground as she goes, as if to deliberately make noise and draw attention. Her skin abruptly seems to break out in scales -- no, bark! For a moment, the elven woman appears like a wooden, natural-grown version of herself, before the image blurs and she looks herself again. <sylvan>
GAME: Schara rolls profession/farmer: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)
"Does it matter what caused it to eat someone? All three of them?" The artificer asks as they fiddle with their left arm a bit. "It needs to be put down, they all need to be. They could harm others, and no one should be eating any of them anyways."
"I don't know if that's the owner they're eating, but something needs to be done about them."
The three cows turn their attention on Mara, hungry intent in their dead-eyed gaze. Suddenly, and without warning - they charge!
GAME: Mara rolls Knowledge/Nature: (15)+11: 26 GAME: Harshad used a Tanglefoot Bag. GAME: Harshad rolls ranged: (4)+5: 9
The first actual emotion shows on the usually so serene-faced elf's face as she continues the movement she began, circling around the mini-herd of less-than-healthy-looking cows. She opens her mouth, snarling ferally, startlingly so for such a delicate-looking elf -- and then that pale face, along with the entire rest of her, *twists* shockingly, in a single smooth motion shifting from long-haired Sylvanori to... a white-furred wolf with startlingly bright lapis lazuli eyes, trotting in a semicircle, suddenly all claws and teeth and danger, stalking its prey.
Harshad starts slinking to the side as the weird elf girl... turns into a wolf? "Man, what the f... never mind." His free hand dives into his cloak, coming out with a small bag, which he whirls on a string around his head before launching it at the nearest cow. Sadly, his throw is just a touch off, and the tanglefoot bag pops with a wet SPLAT, covering the ground in sticky slime that rapidly hardens on the turf. "Shit!"
GAME: Schara activates her Titan Armor, gaining: +4 Dex GAME: Schara rolls 1d20+8: (2)+8: 10 GAME: Schara rolls 2d6+4: (7)+4: 11 GAME: Mara rolls Reflex: (3)+4: 7 GAME: Aftershock rolls 2d6+9: (7)+9: 16
"Wait, just, oh, they're all running off and there's three of them. Okay." The artificer sighs as they pullout various parts and plating on their left arm, exposing numerous coils of metal that feed into a barrel flipped up out of the limb. Schara braces, the coils glowing red hot, before the weapon erupts into a gout of flame, burning one of the animals badly.
The cows lower their heads and charge in all the more ferociously at the now-wolven elvish woman. It's almost as if they take offense to her new form because she's badly trampled by the bovines.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+7: (3)+7: 10 GAME: Mara rolls melee+1: (3)+4+1: 8 GAME: Harshad rolls weapon1+2: (18)+6+2: 26 (THREAT) GAME: Harshad rolls weapon1+2: (5)+6+2: 13 GAME: Harshad rolls 2d6+4+1d6: (5)+4+(2): 11
There may have been yipe-ing involved as Mara-wolf was trampled. Disgraceful, really. On the plus side, despite her once-pristine fur looking somewhat matted from having been literally run roughshod (rough-hooved) over, she bounces back to her feet with surprising alacrity and, nimbly side-stepping a horn that goes dangerously close, proceeds to begin to, well, herd the herd, nipping at a flank here, dancing away from a trampling hoof there. It's a fascinating sight, really; if there were nature shows on the Crystal-ball News Network, she could find herself employment.
GAME: Schara rolls 1d20+8: (10)+8: 18 GAME: Schara rolls 2d6+4: (6)+4: 10
Harshad moves with surprising grace into the melee. Hell, maybe he'll get paid for this. It can't be any worse than -- well, a lot of things. Gliding forward, the half-orc whips his hood back for some peripheral vision, and when Mara nips back at one of the cows, he lunges to full extension, the finely-crafted rapier punching through a joint and tearing through its stiffening flesh.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+7: (4)+7: 11 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+7: (2)+7: 9 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d8+9: (4)+9: 13
Schara winces as the wolf is run over by a herd of cows. Something that wasn't particularly pleasant to watch by any means. The artificer flicks a switch on one side of their arm, heating up the magic infused coils again, and engulfing the beasts in another torrent of magical fire.
"They're still alive? Or, unalive? Just what are these things?" The artificer shouts, growing a bit panicked.
The cows, which are scorched, poked, and clearly not natural animals at this point, do not react like natural cows would. They do not retreat. They attack viciously, missing the nimble wolf, but seriously wounding Harshad.
GAME: Mara rolls Melee+1: (7)+4+1: 12 GAME: Mara rolls 1d6+strength+1: (4)+1+1: 6
As Harshad understandably begins to disengage after that horrible goring he received, the white wolf that is Mara leaps for its throat, sinking her fangs into it and... ripping out a huge chunk just a little bit too easily. Ever heard a wolf make gagging noises? Now you have. She spits the chunk of rotting meat out and shudders, whirling to face the other two cows, which are clearly still a threat. Warily, she maneuvers to try and keep their backs to the others.
The undead cow's horns smash into Harshad, and he yells in spite of himself. He nearly falls, and damn near drops his sword, staggering back, gravely injured. "Shit. Shit. Shit." he sputters, clutching at his side as he tries to scramble backwards. Even Mara taking down one of the cattle isn't enough to get him back into the melee just yet.
GAME: Schara rolls 1d20+8: (5)+8: 13 GAME: Schara rolls 2d6+4: (11)+4: 15 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+7: (17)+7: 24
"It is alright, just get away from them! I'll try to deal with the rest of them if I can." Schara shouts to Harshad as they are getting away from the beasts. Their arm heats up again, sending another blast of flames at the cow, this time actually managing to send one toppling to the ground. In good time as well, as some of the coils in their arm snap with a shower of sparks, causing several bits of parts to fall out of it. "Just one more, but be careful! If you need to run, do not hesitate to do so."
The cows which have been turned into undead abominations (somehow), are quickly dwindling in number now, and the last one doesn't seem to notice or care. Instead it rears its head at Mara, trying to catch up the nimble wolf on its horns to little avail.
GAME: Mara rolls Melee+1: (5)+4+1: 10 GAME: Harshad rolls weapon1+2: (11)+6+2: 19
Dancing hither and yon, Mara-wolf continues to keep the cow occupied, just barely evading a horn that seemed to have been aimed straight at her underbelly. Teeth flash and snap in a rapid lunge, but she has to pull up short to avoid another swipe. This would be a good time for expository banter, but alas, she is wolf.
GAME: Harshad rolls damage1+1d6: aliased to 1d6+2+1d6: (6)+2+(5): 13
Harshad hobbles forward, still holding his hand to one side as he shudders. As Mara-the-wolf dances out of the way of the horns, snapping, he coils again like a snake, and then lunges, letting out a hiss of pain. His blade punches into the cow's skull, scrambling its barely-functioning brain, then pops free as the creature crumples.
And then Harshad drops to his knees as well, still clutching his rapier in a shaking hand.
White fur blurring and, in some places, lengthening, the wolf, which slumped into a sit pretty much immediately upon the last bovine's demise, twists back into the shape of the blue-eyed Sylvanori woman. Panting heavily, she spits into the grass beside herself, as if to try and get rid of a foul taste. "Thank you," she manages. "Well fought." She nods at Harshad first, then a little further over towards Schara. Further commentary seems a little beyond her - she has a hand pressed to her side and seems to be in some pain.
In spite of being the only one not horribly injured by undead cows, the moment they're all down, the armor the artificer was wearing shifted back into place in various parts as any steam and noises died down, leaving Schara doubled over and dry heaving.
"Just, you are both injured, please step away from them, they may still be dangerous." They attempt to warn. "I can't heal two people, but I have some healing for one of you, at the very least."
Harshad manages to stumble away from the heap of now-dead-again cow, staggering several paces back before sitting down again a bit roughly. "That's... that's messed up." He fishes out a grimy cloth, and begins wiping his sword clean with a careful touch before sheathing it. "Does that.. happen a lot here?" He looks at the elf and the armored person with a slightly dazed look.
As the combat comes to an end you can hear the soft sounds of a man crying from the pen that the cows escaped from. It's a soft, fairly subtle noise.
There's a strained noise as the white-haired elven woman struggles to her feet, waving off Schara's offer of healing and gesturing in Harshad's direction. "This fellow needs it more--" The statement is cut off as, yes, her ears actually literally perk up, unusually mobile, at the sounds from the pen. Without further ado, she simply turns and walks towards the pen with a fraction of her usual grace. "It is over now, I think," she calls out. "Do you need help?"
Schara is able to stop their heaving and catch their breath after a moment, and they look up, and around. "Not to say that you are not both medically significant, but whoever is in there may need my healing more." They note to the others, before stepping out and over to the animal pen. "The cows are dealt with, it is mostly safe to come out. Do you require aid of any sort?"
Harshad manages to pull himself to his feet again. "He better not be the one responsible or I'm going to be really pissed off," he growls. Slowly, he limps over, following after Mara and Schara, still nursing his side. "Hell on a wagon, two days and I run into man-eating cows..." he grumbles to himself. "Shoulda stayed home."
"Yes! Please help!" The man calls out to you, and you approach the pen trepidatiously. There-in you find a man with a cow pulled into his lap. He pets the cow's head repeatedly, tears streaming down his face. He looks much the worse for wear himself, and at the very least has a broken arm, but his cow... is dead.
"Can you do something for Elsie please? She's a good girl, my best girl. Please, those cows attacked and she protected me, you have to do something."
Okay, maybe he took a hoof to the head?
With a little 'whuff' of expelled air, Mara leans her back against one of the posts making up the pen's structure and gives Harshad a look. It's an extremely expressive kind of look. I am about a hundred years too old to deal with this shit, the look says. It's amazing how expressive the elven woman can be without actually moving a muscle in her face, just... subtle shifts of her eyes.
GAME: Schara rolls heal: (14)+7: 21
The artificer looks down, and audibly sighs. "I am sorry, but your livestock has died, mister. There isn't anything we can do for them other than give them a burial if that's what you want. But we need to get you somewhere safe. If those other cows weren't living, then Elsie may be a risk to you if they come back as well, and I don't think they would want that." They state. "Let's get you out of here, then."
Harshad opens his mouth to say something, but Schara beats him to it (fortunately). Once the artificer has finished, he coughs a bit, winces, and says, "At least you're alive. Means you'll be able to raise cows again tomorrow. So to speak." He wisely does not add any commentary about meat being expensive, and hopefully Elsie won't go to waste? Harshad looks at Mara and Schara, and winces. "Can we... go somewhere else? Preferably with nurses and beds?"
The farmer weeps uncontrollably, and it... takes some doing to convince him to let go of his dead cow. Thankfully Elsie doesn't rise from the grave to attack while everyone is doing the convincing. Eventually you make your way through the fair which is slowly shutting down thanks to the hour. Some people never even knew about the attack, though there are some guardsmen who are filtering through the crowd toward the cow pens now.
Who knows what they'll make of what they find there.
-End