Running of the Wolves
It's been a long day. You spent the bulk of it protecting a caravan traveling from a town called Portus to Alexandria. Now however it's getting late and the caravan is setting up to use a town along the path back to Alexandria as a stopping point. Trimon Tium, as this small village is named, is bordered on all sides by forest. It's as if it started out in life as a clearing and then gradually has been growing into the forest as it expands. Which... is likely the case.
The wagon is safely parked in the stables of the village's one and only inn. Horses rubbed down and munching on hay because the leader of the caravan was too cheap to spring for oats. He's also too cheap to spring for rooms for you. Which means that you get to bed down in the stables for the evening. He's also insisting that some of you guard the wagon through the night. Lest some villager decide to make off with some of his goods.
Honestly you're not sure who would be that interested in the strong, foul brew which he is carting around. You're not sure if it's an alchemical reagent or if its alcohol. Either way it smells terrible and it is STRONG whatever it is. Even the seal on the barrels can't prevent you from noticing the scent.
"Okay, now, listen. I know, righ', that if we jus' LEAVE this to be stolen it like a fancy 'breach of contract' or whatever halockey..." Carver whisper-shouts to those unlucky enough to be on late-night guard duty over the stinky cheese ale with her. "Jus', well, you can't tell me that you don' wanna know what that fart ale taste like. He won' even notice a tap on 'one' of them." The raccoon-eyed ranger keeps her hand-talking minimal to avoid drawing too much attention, but she's deadly serious. One look at those wide pupils can tell you that, though it's too dark to see them clearly.
Khepri made no complaint about the trip, or the task, or even the skinflint tendencies of the caravan leader. It doesn't eat or drink, and rest can be accomplished with a minimum of fuss. Right now, the war golem is seated with its back against one of the wagon wheels, inspecting and cleaning its heavy khopesh. The weapon is laid across its lap, as the Executor patiently checks the blade's edge, touching it up in a couple places before cleaning and oiling the shining metal. Hefting it, studying the blade with its yellow eyes, turning it one way then the other.
The wee priestess pokes and prods the prospective bed-hay with her trident, ostensibly looking for bugs, but also making sure it's clean.
There's a few spells cast and she is splashed with water. That done, Irshya simply flops onto the hay.
"No touching the ale.", she grumbles, an ear twitching. “Irshya will take her gold out of you if the grumpy merchant cancels our contract." A few moments later, her breathing gets a little heavier, her eyelids drooping.
Patch is fine with the stables, idly plucking at the keys of her hurdy-gurdy without sound as she rests in a loft. She doesn't fiddle with it's crank, but practices a tune all the same in silence. "It's the smell I think that does it for me. Nothing like that is touching my lips unless it can justify the journey. I'm not trying it. Not first at least." her words coming with a pluck of keys, and a giggle from where she rests. "I will be lucky if this night doesn't wrinkle my coat."
Daniel stares blankly at the floor moving a rock with his foot as he watches the caravan, his mind is empty at this moment he's sleepy and bored and for that he will remain silent until needed. Every few moments he lets out a yawn and dozes off into second long naps. He's just fine leaning on the nearest wall for when night blankets the sky.
"But *FART* ale," Carver rebuttals.
Dirk is no stranger to sleeping in the stable. He's plenty used to sleeping under the stars. He plants his hefty rump in a nice big pile of straw, after making certain his pony Thistle's feed bag go strapped onto his nose. The caravan master might be a cheapskate, but Dirk takes good care of his friends. So Thistle is happily munching oats, while his owl Lulu comes winging into the stables. She has a fat mouse clutched in her beak, which she proceeds to start peck-peck-pecking at. As for Dirk himself, he's seated with his back to the wall, thunderbelcher across his lap. Quietly puffing at his pipe as he gives the cart a hairy eyeball. Even his rich, sweet cherry pipe smoke does little to help curb the stench from the sealed casks. "That's no ale like -I've- ever smelt," he grunts. "A devil's arsehole smells better, I'll warrant. But at least we should be back in Alex on the morrow, an' we'll be shut o' this penny-pincher."
"Fart ale is likely not as delicious as one things.", the tired Goblin complains. "Also, is not ours to drink. The merchant is very likely to take it out of our pay."
She lets out and snort and sighs. "Irshya can see in the dark. She wishes to be awoken for second watch, when it's darkest. Or if something comes to attack or steal the wagon. Or its goods."
GAME: Carver rolls fortitude: (11)+4: 15 GAME: Dirk rolls Fortitude: (5)+8: 1 GAME: Daniel rolls Fortitude: (15)+1: 16 GAME: Daniel rolls Perception: (11)+5: 16 GAME: Carver rolls perception: (4)+9: 13
Patch snorts at something said from below as she nestles in, turning away from the group. "Drink 'fart' beer? Hells no." her smirk at the conversations that die off in the night keeping her company until her mind and thoughts roam another realm. Rest, rest is needed after a march.
Khepri pauses, staring at the blade in its hand, cocking its head quizzically before turning to its left and right to look around. After a moment, it returns the khopesh to its sheath, and rests its hands on its knees. "I am suspending activity," it informs the others, before the beak-faced head lowers down. The yellow light of its eyes wink out, and it stops moving. No breathing, no snoring -- just a cross-legged metal statue in repose, seated against the wagon wheel.
"So..." Carver says, in the quiet of night watch with Daniel, "Who is the cutest of those sleepers to you?"
There's not much to do, and she didn't bring her cards. She brings up her fingers, "There is th' elf, the goblin, the... war machine, an' the Longbeard. Like, thassa wide spread. Somethin' for everyone. A picky-a-nick of taste. I'm goin' for the sharp-mouth. She's got spunk and blue is my favorite color."
She pauses as she hears a disturbance, the horse's nervous nickerings, rising to her feet to calm them. "Whoa, easy. Probs jus' a fox."
Dirk spends a little while finishing his pipe. Towards the end, his baggy eyes start to droop, and he muffles a jaw-cracking yawn behind his fist. He upends his pipe and knocks the cold ashes from the bowl, before tucking it into his hip satchel. "Lulu, give us a hoot if anything happens," he says. He pulls his tricorne down over his eyes and settles back, crossing his arms. In moments, he's mightily sawing logs. Blame that oversized dwarven schnozz of his. "SnnnnOOOORRF... sknnnnnnNNXXXX... mhm mnuh hrm... hnnnNNNNNNRAAF..." Lulu headtilts down at her master, having finished bolting down her mousey dinner. Twisting her head around, she hop-hop-hops along the windowsill, ruffling her feathers as she stands guard. What a good little owl she is!
Daniel stopped moving the rock and let out an exhausted yawn and stretched his arms. After he rests his head on his shoulder, eyes peeking through to keep an eye out however he is still very much still awake just? Saving energy rather than whatever they are doing. He rubbed the inner of his eyes in stress of his waking migraine in hopes it will help, no luck so far it doesn't help what he's hearing. Definitely not the noise of a thief. Daniel shifts his position the face outwards, offering him a better view. He stood still and watched the shadows with his eyes no longer hidden peering through to see what he needed, though he remained blind he held his guard. He leaves Carver with a single word, not up for chatting "No."
The Gobbo doesn't snore, but somewhere, in her nose or throat, something... whistles and wheeezes as she slumbers. Several strands of hay threaten to be pulled into her nostrils and partially opened mouth, but manage to simply serve to poke and tickle.
Eventually, Irshya sneezes loudly, before going still and silent once more.
GAME: Carver rolls Handle Animal: (12)+6: 18
Daniel's attention spins to the door in surprise. He realizes it's only the man from before, he had thought to believe it was danger, He still stands with his guard up anyways.
"Alrigh' Smiley," Carver grumbles at Daniel's emphatic response to her gamesmanship. "Maybe *you* should have taken the nap, and the bitsize stayed up, it'd at leas' be entertainin'." She brings the horses to a-still, petting one's neck and then feeding them a treat for the purpose of distraction. "Still, ya hear' it too, right? Somethin' wrigglin' about outside. Think one of us should take a peeks?"
She doesn't really sound like she wants to be the volunteer for that one. "I mean, one of *us* probabl' should, no need to wake up th' rest, like." One of the two of us that isn't me. That's the implication. "So, uh, you gonna go lo-" Then the door bangs open and the shriek of primal terror is like a lance through the heart of every sleeper in the enclosed barn.
It is only your employer however, hushing Carver immediately and glancing to the door. "HUSH girl! You'll get us all killed!" He looks around and notes how many are sleeping and gives Khepri a quick kick to the shin. "Wake up!" This is a hurried hissing whisper.
He motions for Daniel and Carver to wake up everyone else quietly. "Wake 'em up you fools!" He moves away from the door further, huddling against his wagon. Once everyone is awake - or as awake as they're going to be he looks at the group seriously. "There's wolves attacking the village. I want you right and alert if they come and try and take my goods! Stand ready!"
GAME: Daniel rolls perception: (17)+5: 22
The war golem's shin makes a dull clunk as the caravan master kicks it, but it's enough. The yellow eyes flare, and it speaks in its hollow tone, "Resuming normal activity," before it looks around. Smoothly clambering to its feet, it stares at the caravan master and his words. "I am fairly certain wolves will not attempt to steal your... quality ale." How does it squeeze -sarcasm- through that toneless voice?
That being said, though, it draws its khopesh and picks up its shield. "Arm yourselves. This may be another werewolf attack. That would be..." A pause. "Inconvenient."
Irshya snorts and growls at the scream, sitting bolt upright in a flash and looking around sleepily. She glowers at the grumpy employer. "Why are you screaming? Irshya was having a nice dream..." Her ears stand up a little. "Wolves?"
Patch sits straight up at the scream, scrambling from her little self-made nest. She fights to get to her feet, mind still in a stupor from rest. "Wait, what?!" it taking a moment for her mind to start up as she gathers up her equipment and rapier. "The construct is right, It's not ale in those casks is it? The wolves aren't looking to have a good time, and dance." making her way towards the ladder or steps. Every barn/stable is different, pausing as something else the War Golem has said suddenly strikes her. "Wait, were-wolves?"
Dirk is up like a shot at that scream, his thunderbelcher swung up into his hands. The slide racked and hammer cocked in a single fluid motion as he looks around with wide eyes. "I'm awake! Where are they!" he grunts. Lulu flutters her wings, hoo-hoo'ing softly as she stares wide-eyed at Carver. His attention snaps to the merchant, scowling dourly at the mention of wolves. He looks over to Kephri, nodding his head. "Aye, there's been plenty o' those," he grunts. "But let's nae lose our wits, now. I can go out there an' track 'em. See what we're dealin' with."
"I hate business men," Carver says, her breathing peaked, her heart rate spiked at the unintentional fright. She swings away from the doors to climb up to the hayloft, seeking a better angle from which to use her bow. "Oi, jus' gonna squeeze up 'ere with ya. 'scuse me, 'scuse me. Hi, I'm Carver."
Daniel shakes awake as many people as he can in a short amount of time, reaching the door He looks out to see that he's baffled. "Oh shit." Quickly He quips around, slamming the door to face the now awake group. "Yeah! I think you're right! Unless it's common for wolves to reach the height of 5'8 where you're from, I'd say they’re werewolves!"
The merchant glares at you guys. "It's not alcohol! It's the chemical reagents for making alchemist fire!" He shakes his head. It's surprisingly quiet outside. The horses nicker uncomfortably and with discontent, but are calmed after Carver's attention. You can hear some quiet noises though. Growling and the occasional door opening with a squeak. There's a short yell from the second story of the inn off to your side, but it's cut off abruptly and... so far nothing has approached the stables.
GAME: Dirk casts Longstrider. Caster Level: 5 DC: 13
The Goblin's ears perk right up at that. "Fire?", she says, mischief now evident in her eyes. "Will they burn, Irshya wonders? Or explode? Perhaps we can use them to scare off the wolves." The pool-shark grins. "Send them running back to their mothers."
She now has an interest being in the hayloft too, and end up wiggling under Carver's arm to peer out at whatever it was they were looking at. "Where?", she faux-whispers."
Khepri looks around, hefting its khopesh. "I should have purchased some silversheen," the construct says in mild disgust. But, then it raises its shield arm. "Gray Lady, your faithful has need of your beneficence. Please extend your favor to myself and to my comrades in this time of peril." A shimmer of light flickers outward from him, a benediction that settles over the adventurers.
Patch had paused and ceased her attempt to descend once Carver had decided to join her. With the Merchant's words, she's looks down at the merchant. "Well, fair. I should of taken a peek myself, but I was more just... doing what I was paid to do." flashing a small smile before turning a glance to Carver. "I'm Patch. Yeah, up here is looking better now, isn't it?" taking time to adjust her instrument, one hand upon the keys, the other upon the wheel. She does however give Carver a polite and playful half-bow. "Ready I reckon."
GAME: Khepri casts Bless. Caster Level: 3 DC: 14
Dirk reaches down to sweep up a pinch of dirt from the stable floor. He rubs the soil between his thick fingers, his brows furrowing in fierce concentration. "Fleet, fleet, fleet!" he mutters, before blowing the dirt from his fingers. He looks back up to Daniel with a frown. "Are they walkin' on two legs or four, laddie?" he asks. "If they're four-foots, they might be dire wolves. Just as nasty as a werewolf, I'll warrant." Kephri gets a glance as it lays its blessing on the party. "I've got silver shot," he says. "But I'm afraid that won't do yer blade much good." Speaking of, he gives his bandolier a tap, then racks his thunderbelcher, swapping out standard shot for silver, just in case.
"Uh, maybe we shoul' help the people gettin' get. Or maybe not.." Carver trails off as the scream is cut short, grimacing as Irshya's head pops out near her hip. The coward loft is gettin' cozy. "It is lookin' nice to be here, fo' now anyway. Jus' found out that some of the weres are real keen on climbin' so hope it's not one of them types." She does reach down and muck with the goblin's hair. PATPATPATPATPATPATPATs. "For good luck."
Daniel gripped his punching dagger tightly. He's been trained to fight and to win the worst that could happen? He could die, eh. He could live with that. The best he could do?get rid of the werewolves and save the rest of whomever is still living in this town. "She's right, we could use it to scare off or harm the wolves, til' fight them off, giving enough time to hurry some survivors to some safe place and bring in some help to get rid of the oversized mutts." He turned to Dirk. "Two were on four feet, and a handful on two."
The merchant stands straight up, blocking access to his goods with his arms. "No one will be blowing up my wares! You're here to protect them remember? So guard the doors and stop pulling my leg." He keeps his voice low though, trying not to draw any more attention to this location than you already have. Outside, you continue to hear the quiet noises that you've been hearing this whole time.
Those in the hay loft have a small 'window' that they can see through, which allows them to see at least two massive wolves stalking through the village center alongside several 'two legged' wolves that are going into houses through the township.
The merchant turns his glare on Daniel. "Not you too! You are not going to set fire to my wares!" He sounds pleading now.
"Irshya will bite them if they climb up here." The Gobbo says with a toothy grin. She blinks as suddenly her hair is messed with. Huffing as there's lots of petting, her maw opens and closes with a click, the teeth fitting together rather well.
Then the giant wolves come into view, as well as the two legged versions. Her eyes focus on them, and she slowly creeps closer, glancing around, looking at distances and then peering upwards towards the sky.
"Irshya will have the sky punish them." She whispers.
Khepri glances at Irshya, and then out the window as well. The war golem intones, "If you are going to do something, please do so. We do not want them to increase their numbers to the point they can overrun us easily." It fixes the merchant with a disapproving glare. "If that is what it takes to expunge the infection it will be -done-. Your losses can be recovered with having customers who are not prone to turning into wolves and trying to eat you."
"I could play a song, lure them this way to the door. Make a racket, grease the floor before they enter? We can then ambush them with numbers?" Patch calculating quickly as she doesn't like what she sees out the window. "I thought I wouldn't mind it, but I do. I can't let those things just run crazy as we hide." Turning to look further out the window. "If we don't act they will just go house by house it looks like." Only peeking back as she hears the others talk and argue.
Dirk scowls dourly. "Over my rottin' -corpse- they will be," he growls angrily. "I can make the grass entangle their feet. Hold 'em in place. Might not last long but it'll give us a chance tae spring a trap on 'em." He shoots a glare at the merchant. "Shut yer cake-hole, tallfolk," he growls. "If yer goods ain't insured then that's -your- damn fault fer bein' such a skinflint. Now be -still- an' keep out the way, an' we'll all get tae go home." He tiptoes over to the stable door, hiding himself out of sight behind the wall. "Right. When I fling the magic, you lot unleash hell," he growls.
"Wha?" Carver responds to Irshya's dramatic phrasing. All the same... "Do you, uh, need a boost to see better ou' th' window?"
'cause you're short. Patch's suggestion makes sense, so she just nods thoughtfully as she bends down to try to pick up Irshya up, and present her to the window like she's the firstborn son of a proud lion king. Get 'em, Rockstar.
Daniel’s eyes move from one person to the next as they talk paying attention, However it's very difficult when all you want is at the very least a five minute nap. He nods to Dirk, and readys his punching dagger.
The merchant opens his mouth but snaps it back closed and merely glares at the lot of you. Standing there in front of his goods with his arms crossed and an expression that says he's not going to give in on this so easily. Meanwhile outside about half the houses have been entered by the stealthy force of werewolves. Near as you can tell out the window by the opened doors.
GAME: Irshya casts Call Lightning. Caster Level: 5 DC: 17 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (12)+6: 18 GAME: Irshya rolls 3d6: (11): 11
The Gobbo immediately begins to squirm. "Irshya is just fine on her own.", she grumbles. She continues to squirm and thrash about til released or escapes. "Hmmph." There's a sound of distant thunder as she lifts up her holy symbol, a miniaturized trident. It sparks, and Irshya gestures downwards, as if pulling something. A bright flash strikes one of the massive wolves, which is followed by thunder that booms and echoes.
GAME: Patch casts Grease. Caster Level: 2 DC: 14 GAME: Carver rolls ranged-1: (7)+7+-1: 13 GAME: Carver rolls ranged-1: (14)+7+-1: 20 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+2: (3)+2: 5
Patch sees the two quickly break off, turning and glancing at the door. "Incoming!" her fingers wiggling as she channels the Hymn, her words turning from a normal tone to something almost unworldly as the reverberations of magic make her words distort as a quick flick of her wrist shows a glob of butter on her finger as she completes the spell with an incantation. "Words of wonder can send feet scurrying like a group of rats cast asunder." The butter burning off her her hand as a layer of grease appears in the barn door as the reagent is consumed.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (14)+6: 20 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+7: (3)+7: 10 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d8+6: (8)+6: 14 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+8: (18)+8: 26
The wolves burst in through the door, massive creatures with dark fur markings and sharp teeth. One jumps Khepri but can't get its teeth past his armor. The other tackles Daniel to the floor and there's a gruesome spray of blood that bespeaks the damage done to the poor young man.
GAME: Khepri rolls weapon1+1: (17)+5+1: 23 GAME: Khepri rolls 1d8+4: (5)+4: 9
Khepri casually slaps the wolf aside, the shield ringing as the four-legged beast bounces off it. But the golem sees Daniel go down, and it intones, "Defend the fallen!" Smoothly, the gangling form crosses, the heavy khopesh licking out to cut a gash into the wolf's flank. "You are an uncooperative dog. Sit. Stay." The scarab charms around its neck jingle softly, and the prayer strips on its shoulders flutter in the breeze.
Daniel stays out of everyone's way keeping any eye out in case he is needed, unfortunately that had led him to be struggling with a wolf as it made its way to tear him open, letting blood exit him profusely. In this struggle he yells out. "Goddammit!" He managed to get away and make his way hurriedly to the hayloft.
GAME: Irshya rolls 3d6: (5): 5 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (8)+6: 14 GAME: Dirk rolls Shoot: aliased to Ranged+1-2: (12)+8+1+-2: 19 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d12+1: (3)+1: 4 GAME: Dirk used a Silver Bullet.
The Gobbo pats at both Carver and Patch. "Irshya keep them downstairs. You two shoot the two-leggers." She squirms free of the close confines of the hayloft, and slides down the ladder, squeaking gleefully. Thumping to the floor on her feet, she turns to growl at the wolves, and makes another pulling downwards gesture. Which is immediately followed by a crackle of lightning and a rolling boom of thunder.
"Run, puppies, run back to mother!"
Dirk sweeps a broad arc, his boots thunking on the dirt floor as he swings out to get a good angle. He lifts his rifle, draws his bead, and fires. CHK-BOOM! The silvered shot slaps into one of the wolves, opening a most palpable hit! "HAH! How d'ye like -that-, Fido?" he growls as he racks the slide.
GAME: Patch rolls perform/string: (12)+8: 20 GAME: Carver rolls ranged+1: (12)+7+1: 20 GAME: Carver rolls ranged+1: (10)+7+1: 18 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+2: (1)+2: 3 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+2: (4)+2: 6
Patch watches the beasts bypass her spell and tear deeply into a member of her party. Carver's glance is noticed, returning it with an apologetic smile before focusing on her next task. "We needs some inspiration!" her hands suddenly again taking up her instrument and cranking the wheel as she lets out a cacophony of winding notes, and fun bars that could almost be danced too. "Listen, and hear, and let the music help guide your fight!" continuing to play, making that her focus for this moment. "Injured to the loft!"
"Oh by Angoron's bountiful bosom, you're bleedin' all o'er the place." Carver says, gacking at the sight of the very mangled Daniel. "Quick, m'pack, go through it! I got a potion in there, jus' take the dang thing but don't touch my delicate undies OR my tabacco!"
She takes a step so he can squeeze by, and as Patch's dance jig lifts the spirit of all 'about' with the accompaniment of Dirk's Big Gun and Irshya's Thunder, she puts two into the wolf.
Twang, twang.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+7: (16)+7: 23 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+7: (11)+7: 18 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d8+6: (8)+6: 14
The wolves are not relenting in spite of the attacks that they've taken. The one on the left of Khepri attacks the poor merchant, taking him down in yet another spray of blood. The one on his right tries its paw at eating the wargolem, but to little avail. Instead it's jaws scrape over armor and that's all.
GAME: Khepri rolls weapon1+2: (3)+5+2: 10
Huddled in the hayloft, he holds pressure to his open wound, wincing but is definitely glad most of the wolves have been taken care of. Although he's in immense pain he stays quiet to remain hidden. Once Carver gives Daniel the orders he follows, careful not to touch their undergarments or tobacco.
Khepri is unsurprised that it is now the beneficiary of so much attention. The problem is that it's more attention than it expected. "Get. Off." the golem grates out, shoving the wolf back again. "I am not tasty and do not smell like meat." The khopesh whips around at high speed, slashing just over the wolf's ears. "And if you persist I will turn you into a proper cloak for mendicants at the temple."
GAME: Daniel rolls 1d8+5: (4)+5: 9 GAME: Daniel used a Potion of Cure Light Wounds. GAME: Irshya rolls 2d8+5: (8)+5: 13
As the Goblin watches on, a wolf gets cheeky, and bites at the merchant, badly wounding him. With a squeak, Irshya reaches for her holy symbol once more, her eyes closed in momentary prayer, her request manifesting in a pale nimbus around her hands.
She leans down to press her hands against the bite wound, smiling faintly as the skin begins to knit itself back together. "Irshya not letting you pass on, it is not yet your time!"
GAME: Irshya casts Cure Moderate Wounds. Caster Level: 5 DC: 16 GAME: Dirk rolls Ranged+1: (6)+8+1: 15 GAME: Dirk rolls 1d12+1+4: (12)+1+4: 17
Dirk narrows his eyes, lifting his thunderbelcher to his shoulder again. He sights down the barrel and squeezes the trigger. CHK-BOOM! The bullet slams into his quarry's temple, and the wolf drops with a whimper. It does not get up again. "HAH! BOOM! HEADSHOT!" he thunders, racking the slide. He covers the remaining wolf. "-You- want some o' this?! EH?! BRING IT!!"
GAME: Patch casts Ear-Piercing Scream. Caster Level: 2 DC: 14 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+7: (9)+7: 16 GAME: Patch rolls 1d6: (4): 4 GAME: Carver rolls ranged-1: (8)+7+-1: 14 GAME: Carver rolls ranged-1: (12)+7+-1: 18 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+4: (5)+4: 9 GAME: Carver rolls 1d8+4: (3)+4: 7 GAME: Khepri rolls weapon1+2: (13)+5+2: 20 GAME: Khepri rolls 1d8+5: (4)+5: 9
Patch bites her lip, watching as the scene turns to chaos. Her next spell carries her to the edge of the loft, her hands making a gesture with a flare of fingers as they are used to cup her mouth. The words she utters are but a whisper to anyone else in the room, inaudible to all but the Wolf whom is her target. "Your ears should bleed, and your knees buckle!" though neither happen, as the creature seems to weather and shake off the spell. "..... shit. What are these things." she asks her self once the spell is done.
"A new cloak! Get off ma' mealticket!" Carver yells down to the remaining wolf, a pair of shots digging especially deep. She reaches back, and winces, reminded that she's running short on arrows. "No, don't let it get ou- NICE!" She cheers at Khepri chops it down. Did you applaud? She does.
Khepri brings down the last wolf as it attempts to flee, its khopesh biting into the beast's flesh. The wolf manages to run a few paces before collapsing, and the golem says flatly, "Skinning them can wait. We need to determine what has occurred outside." The golem skirts the still-greased entryway, stepping outside with bloody sword in its fist to assess the situation.
Carver already has her skinning knife out, and between her teeth, skittering halfway down the ladder at Khepri's announcement. The look she gives him is one of heartbreak and sorrow.
GAME: Dirk used a Silver Bullet. GAME: Dirk rolls Knowledge/Nature: (19)+9: 28 GAME: Carver rolls knowledge/nature: (10)+7: 17
Patch moves to clamber down the loft after Carver, and follow after the others as she sorts her instrument and adjusts her coat. It's the corpses of the wolves that get a side-long stare, her eyes going over them, and the wounds they received as she passes them by. "The other two are different, yes?"
You gather yourselves together, following Khepri out of the stables. All but the merchant determined to protect his goods even if it means he dies. The village is nearly empty. A quick search of it reveals only a few people left in it. Elderly people mostly. People with disabilities that being a lycanthrope wouldn't help with. There's blood in most of the homes. Proof that some people had fought back to the best of their abilities, or that the lycanthropes that were here had attacked some people specifically. There's no way of knowing in the aftermath.
The echoing silence in the wake of the attack, and the fact that this is now little more than a ghost town... is a haunting thing.
GAME: Khepri rolls survival+1: (19)+9+1: 29 GAME: Irshya rolls survival: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Irshya rolls Survival: (18)+6: 24
Irshya checks out the merchant, Daniel and Khepri. "Are you still hurt? Would you like Irshya to make it better?" Any left over wounds are dealt with using magic, should people be amenable.
The condition of the town saddens her, "We... should see to the dead, and help the remaining people... and plan an expedition to get the people back!"
Carver is always abound with energy, just a bounty of young adventurer's spirit. So it's strange to see her so subdued after their dire walk-about through the village, with all the young and strong gone and only the weary and old remaining. She even hugs one of the elderly, should it seem any are in need. She's so distracted that she doesn't even think to try to help track with Khepri and Irshya. Instead, she returns to the barn to skin one of the large dire wolfs to make a cloak out of its hide. She takes out her anger out on it, almost.
The towering golem goes from one house to the next, studying tracks, inspecting markings. "Many were taken from here. Prisoners, most likely." Khepri looks to the others. "Some carried off, in fact." A pause. "This is very serious. It appears they are trying to replenish their numbers. This must be stopped."
The Executor straightens up, and then turns to look at the barn. With the merchant. And his wagon full of highly volatile, flammable cargo. You can almost see the gears whirling in the golem's head. Uh oh.
Daniel thanks Carver for the potion; he is very grateful for their generosity, still holding his wound of course. "I'm still hurt but with time and attention it will heal. How do you guys feel about free first rounds at the tavern?"
Patch stands in the abandoned aftermath of this strange job. "I doubt we could of prevented this..." she blurts, looking between the broken doors and destruction. "We gave it our all just to deal with the pets." sighing as her glance roams back to the barn as she takes in Irshya's words. "Will an expedition be on time?" she asks of the small Gobbo, moving to help the others set some order to the chaos caused by this night.
GAME: Dirk rolls Survival+2: (14)+10+2: 26
"Some walked on their own, master Golem.", the Gobbo replies to his assessment. To Patch, she offers a hopeful look, and a shrug. "Irshya does not know. She is willing to give it a go, though. But, we also have a duty to the merchant. We are almost there. Let us get him safely home, alert the authorities, entreat them for some help... and return here as quickly as possible."
Dirk scans the myriad of tracks, hunkered down low to the ground as he runs his fingertips over the depressions in the soil. "Aye, the gobber has the right of it," he growls. "They must have been threatened." He looks back up, his beard bristling furiously. "The children. They must have carried off the wee little children." He rises to his feet, shaking his head. "We cannae wait fer a team from Alex. We're the only ones who can help, an' by Gilead, that's just what we'll do." He turns and bellows back to the barn. "OY! Tallfolk! How much fer yer load of alchemics?" He looks to Kephri, nodding his head in agreement with the golem's unspoken thought. Great minds really -do- think alike.
"Not all of us got bloody silver," Carver grumbles.
After some effort, you talk the merchant into selling his alchemical goods to you for the low price of six gold. Dirk buys the lot off of him and there's no longer a reason for you guys to bring the merchant to Alexandria. He will return on his own. Less the reagents.
You have werewolves to hunt!
-TBC