Witch of the Mountain
You stand in the temple of Eluna, in a small room off the main hall. There's a paladin of the goddess before you, looking tired. He has shaggy off-brown hair that's grown slightly long from a military cut. As though he needs a haircut but hasn't had a chance to get one in a month or two. He's a bit on the short side, but he makes up for it in musculature. His armor sparkles with good care, but his tabard is a bit dirty. Washed one too many times to be pure in color anymore.
"You may or may not know that we had a Seer killed before the attack here at the temple. He was able to give us some vague warnings before he died, but as he was... mostly eaten we weren't able to get enough information to prevent the attack entirely. That being said, a witch living in the mountains said that his spirit has been coming to her trying to give her his message. We need someone to go out there and collect her and bring her back safely. We're... short on manpower at the moment, so that means you."
He sighs and looks at you with tired eyes that are a strange blue so pale that they're barely darker than the whites of his eyes. "I can come with you if you want. Provide some support, but if you don't think you'll need me I should probably stay here and continue to aid the temple directly. We lost a lot of good people in the attack." His eyes briefly flicker with loss.
Randolf's expression is quiet and haunted. He's avoided the Temple of Elune since the werewolf attack recently. And his studies have been suffering as well. He's barely even touched his spellbook in the days since. Guilt gnaws at him, and it's obvious on his face. But he's come here now to try and make amends for the innocent lives he ended. He keeps his eyes firmly on the paladin's boots, simply nodding his head to each point made. "Trip tae the mountains. Aye, ye'll be wantin' a dwarf wi' ye," he says, without even a trace of his usual bravado. "Think we can handle this on our own. Nae need fer you tae be leavin' the folk here wi'out aid."
Barclaiigh looks around the room, more than happy to leave that decision to others seeing how flawed some of his choices have been of late. The Khazad-aul scratches idly where he was bit by the lycanthrope during the eclipse, the skin still a bit paler-- the hair thinner-- where it's healed. He wears his darkwood breastplate and it continues to perpetually glow with an inner flame.
The Stoutbrew dwarf drops a loose fist on Randolf's shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. He offers a determined look and nods once. "Reckon it's two dwarves," he smiles.
"Yeah." There's a lot wrapped into Dolan's single word, a weary acknowledgement that knows all about and reflects the loss in the Silver Guard's words. Not a trace of smile lights his features. "No, we've got this," he nods to Randolf in agreement. "This bullshit isn't close to done, and you're needed here. Think we'll be needing silver up there?"
GAME: Randolf rolls Sense Motive: (7)+4: 11
The paladin hesitates a moment then shrugs. "No way of rightly knowing." He hesitates again and then shakes his head. "If they know about the witch you could be in trouble, but there's no reason to think they do. I appreciate you guys handling this. I would rather stay here and help my fellows out. We're worried about subsequent attacks."
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (19)+4: 23 GAME: Dolan rolls sense motive: (16)+9: 25
Randolf looks to Bar with a wan little smile. "Aye, kin. Someone's got tae look after the tallfolk, right?" He looks back to the paladin with a firm nod. He's a long ways from it, but he's slowly regaining his steel. "Not tae fret, ser. We'll find yer witch an' get 'er back safe, Reos witness me."
His wavy auburn mane bouncing as he nods, Barclaiigh glances from Randolf to the Elunite. Then from Dolan to the Elunite. The dwarf's small eyes narrow and he frowns; something's amiss and it's plain on his expression that he's noticed. Bar has no talent for guile or subterfuge.
The wildman also isn't the greatest with people. So he just kind of quirks an eyebrow and folds his arms. Someone else surely is better suited for this!
Dolan spotted it, too, quite obviously, because he folds his arms across his chest. "Think I'd better go shopping before we leave, just in case." He directs a one-eyed stare at the paladin. "Not too many ways they'd know." _Except you,_ something in his words implies. "Whereabouts in the mountains? Mountains are a pretty big place."
The mousey-brown haired paladin looks from one member of the little band to the other and finally pulls a wrinkled piece of paper out from under his gauntlet. "All you need do is follow these directions. They'll lead you right where you need to go. As for shopping..." He shrugs. "It's up to you."
"Dang ol' Garm's been in m'head'n sendin' his critter t'gnaw on me fer weeks now, mister," Barclaiigh finally grunts. The dwarf reaches up and pushes his sausage fingers beneath his beard to scratch at his neck. "Y'got anythin' else worth mentionin' afore we skedaddle now's th'time..." He takes his other hand and points up, "Moon done disappeared once already this month. Ain't gonna be great if it goes again."
Randolf tugs at his beard, looking curiously between Dolan and Bar. "There summat else goin' on here I'm nae spottin'?" he asks. "If this is more'n a simple step-n'-fetch, then now's the time tae be tellin' all, lads." He remains oblivious to any duplicity on the paladin's part. His head just hasn't been in the game these last few days.
"Think he knows that." Dolan's stare doesn't abate. "You're not telling us all you know, though. Out with it, Ser."
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (19)+4: 23 GAME: Dolan rolls sense motive+1: (8)+9+1: 18 The man sighs and pulls a trio of bottles from a pack on his belt. They glimmer with a silvery shine and he offers them out to the group of you. "In truth I was hoping you didn't need these. They're expensive and the church is... Well anyways. If you don't need them, don't use them? We'd appreciate them back if you don't." His face is stony and his eyes narrow.
"I'm plumb tuckered, mister, 'n the union ain't any kind'a happy with me right now," Barclaiigh sighs, tired and frustrated. "This fella has a really big lady friend who could hold y'all by the ankles out a high winda'n shake whatever yer holdin' onto outta ya? We're tryin' t'get'r done, here."
GAME: Randolf rolls sense motive: (7)+4: 11 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20: (19): 19 GAME: Randolf rolls diplomacy: (2)+0: 2 GAME: Dolan rolls diplomacy: (3)+8: 11
Randolf takes the bottle of silversheen with narrowed eyes. "So they -do- know," he growls. "Hammer an' anvil, laddie, we're on -your- side here! What the hell is wrong wi' ye?! Haven't enough folk died tae these filthy beasts?" He's projecting his own guilt, and probably isn't most helpful in the group's diplomatic overtures.
"Hey. We're all tired," Dolan counters, a little more gently. "Andie will be the first to tell you that. He's had a rough go, but we're all working together. We'll go get her and bring her back, but we need your honesty here. If we don't make it back because there's something we didn't know, I don't envy you trying to explain that one to your goddess." A half a smile, the other half of his face being frozen by scar tissue or nearly so.
The words that Randolf speaks makes the paladin's eyes flash with color. They turn pure gold and the odd discoloration of his eyes spreads to a snarl. "Filthy beasts? You're weak. All of you _so weak_. His voice is a growl now and there's... There's hair spreading down his features. Fur.
It seems wrong that a paladin of Eluna should be changing before your eyes into a werewolf.
"Eluna knows nothing of what the Nightmare offers. By the time you reach the witch she'll be dead." He laughs a growling noise and peers down his nose at you. "But you'll die first!"
GAME: Randolf casts Hold Person. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+5: (10)+5: 15
Randolf's eyes get wide as teacups as the paladin, of all people, transforms into one of those horrible beasts from his most recent nightmares. "Beards o' me fathers!" he yelps, skipping back and ripping his wand off his belt. He moves on pure instinct, sketching a quick pattern. "RE EX RAYA RESES PLACATARO!" He snaps his wand out, and a trio of glowing silver-blue bands snap around the were-paladin's body, holding him firmly in place. Randolf trembles from head to foot, his face white as milk, but he stands his ground. "By Reos... are any o' the -others- turned?!"
GAME: Jinks rolls 2d6+10+6: (6)+10+6: 22 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+9: (16)+9: 25 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13
Barclaiigh's eyes go wide in shock. He knew the Elunite was being cagey but he didn't expect this! The druid narrows his eyes when Randolf executes the spell, tossing his spear up and grabbing it in a two-handed grip near the metal point before swinging it across and cracking the man against the back of the head. "How'n tarnation do they keep gettin' in here!?"
"Turned in the attack, probably!" Dolan's slow to react as the creature changes, but lunges for the vial of silversheen with one hand and drops the harness holding his blade with the other. "Hold yours, I don't want to kill him, but I want him to know that I can and I will if I have to!" So saying, he pours the contents of the vial out in a thin stream down the blade. He hasn't used this stuff before, but he's used other oils, and the viscous shimmer fascinates him as he smoothes it out across the metal with his sleeve.
The werewolf can't move. Can't speak. Can't do anything but stand there and take the damage being dealt to him. So Randolf and Barclaiigh's questions go unanswered.
Randolf holds his wand on the werewolf, his brows furrowed in a dour scowl. "We need tae tie 'im up," he growls. "That spell won't hold fer long, an' he's already fightin' it hard! You lads got any rope on ye, might want tae truss 'im up real good!"
"Done!" Barclaiigh agrees, the spear clattering to the floor of the temple as he pulls the looped rope from his belt. With all the skills of a dwarf who grew up on a farm he sets to wrapping the length of the silvery-shining rope around the feral man. When the light catches the treated fibers right they seem to almost be a faint violet in color. After a quick pair of loops the druid braces his foot against the fallen Elunite's rump and ties a double-knot into the length of rope.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+5: (14)+5: 19 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11
While the creature is still bound, and while Barclaiigh is finishing up the truss-for-the-spit job, Dolan finishes up his own preparation and gently sets aside the vial, then levels the tip of the greatsword just under the bound werewolf's chin, next to his voice box. One wrong move and a silver-laced blade will be through his throat. "Hold your ears," he warns the other two, quickly and quietly, then raises his voice to a commanding bellow. "GUARDS!"
It seems that the moment that the werewolf is bound the spell holding him still is broken and he growls at Dolan. The motion cuts his flesh, but only a small wounding thing. "I hope I've wasted your time enough that she's already dead." He laughs and the fur melts away from his face until he's a normal man sitting there, covered in sweat and looking more exhausted than ever.
Which is how the temple priests find you, with a paladin tied up and held at sword point.
GAME: Dolan rolls diplomacy: (19)+8: 27
The druid pulls back and down on the ropes, depositing the captured man on his backside. Barclaiigh steadies one hand on Elunite's collar as he crouches down and holds his empty hand in plain view. Best not to allow for any confusion when said guards arrive!
When the door bursts open, Dolan lowers the blade at once, although the evidence of the blade's touch remains, and he sighs heavily. The ropes that bound a monster are too loose to fully hold a normal man, and he turns to the priests. "He needs your help," he jerks his chin at the bound paladin. "They got him in the attack." Open honesty and heavy sadness don't need to be faked, or pretended to. He just sounds tired. "I hope it's not too late."
Randolf's eyes get wide. "Reos' flamin' beard... he was -serious- 'bout that witch needin' our help?" He looks to the others, tugging worriedly at his beard. "We got tae move fast, lads. If he's bein' truthful, we've got nae time to waste."
GAME: Randolf rolls Survival: (14)+3: 17 GAME: Dolan rolls survival: (17)+7: 24 GAME: Jinks rolls Survival: (12)+13: 25
Thanks to a few words from Dolan, and a promise to return quickly, you are granted leave from the temple, and an extra bottle of silversheen to be applied at need since it only lasts a short time. You've little time to waste in any case. The witch in question is in grave danger, and the directions you were given were at least the correct ones. You know it's a trap, but you don't have much choice but to go.
Luckily, with your abilities combined you manage to scent out the trap laid for you and avoid it. A group of five werewolves in a pass that would have taken up more of your time and possibly have ended your trip short. You continue on to the witches house and find a battle in progress.
There are five werewolves currently trying to tear down the front door of the house, and a little old woman is casting spells through her window at them. Some of them hit, and at least five more bodies prove that she's been a formidable opponent for them, but they've sent enough forces that it's doubtful that she can hold out much longer.
GAME: Randolf casts Haste. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17
The trek through the mountains has taken them high above the city, but Dolan's no dummy, and he's expecting a trap. They manage to suss it out and avoid it, only to find a much more pitched battle in progress. Fortunately, the witch is keeping them busy, and he's quick to drop the harness again, leaving the oiled leather to lie among the rocks, and apply a second coat of the silvery oil. "We haven't got a minute to lose!" he shouts as he does so, just as carefully as the first time.
Randolf hurries along with his comrades, eyes flicking back and forth on the lookout for trouble. He's seeing werewolves around every corner, now. Thanks to his friends, they're able to avoid the trap the lycans set for them, and make their way quickly to the witch's house. Seeing the battle in progress, he narrows his eyes. He turns to his friends, passing his wand in an arc across them. "Re ex raya zos allegros!" he incants, enhancing them all with increased speed. He turns his gaze back to the werewolves. "I hope these are actually evil werewolves an' not just innocent folk turned against their will," he says, his grip white-knuckled around his wand. "I've had about a gutful o' -that-."
Once beyond the gates is doing take long for Barclaiigh to collect his bearier half. A particular whistle and a bellowed call in Khazdul has the overlarge black bear crashing through the underbrush and loping into view. The pass is passed and the Khazad-aul can't help but shake his head, "How're there so danged many of'm all'a sudden?"
Shortly after, they're approaching a house under siege. The druid growls something under his breath and coats his enchanted spear. The shaft of the weapon already glows a soft green with druidic runes but the ripe now takes on its own eye-catching sheen.
The empty vial goes into a pouch (no littering!) and Bar pats the bristling Porter on his flank. His tone drops and he issues a stern 'Quench' in his native Khazdul.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7-1+1: (17)+7+-1+1: 24 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+5+3: (6)+5+3: 14 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8+1: (20)+8+1: 29 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8+1: (20)+8+1: 29
Another run into the mountains with a few familiar faces and a spell making the world seem to move in slow-motion around him. Barclaiigh takes just a second to blink and dismiss the deja vu. Those were horrible, abominable bugs and not horrible, abominable lycanthropes! Both were Garmite thralls, however, so the confusion isn't without justification.
The wildman zooms ahead, his wavy auburn mane and beard bouncing around and behind his face as he speeds across the distance and spears one of the monsters through the flank.
"Word'd like a word, y'danged varmints!" He calls.
And then explodes through the wilderness to arrive next to his druid friend. One of the frenzied werewolves managed to turn just in time for his head and neck to disappear entirely inside the black bear's maw. There's a popping tear and a geyser of gore before the ursine combatant spits the crushed melon that used to be a lupine head across the grass.
GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1-1+1+2: (5)+5+-1+1+2: 12 GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1-1+1+2: (12)+5+-1+1+2: 19 GAME: Dolan rolls 2d6+4+2: (5)+4+2: 11 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (8)+6: 14 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (14)+6: 20 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d6+1: (5)+1: 6 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+5: (12)+5: 17 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+5: (14)+5: 19 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+2: (20)+2: 22 GAME: Dolan rolls fortitude: (7)+6: 13 GAME: Dolan rolls fortitude: (20)+6: 26 (CRITICAL SUCCESS)
The werewolves retaliate, and one of them manages to bite Dolan quite nastily. There's enough of them to multitask however and while the one at the door doesn't manage to break it down, one of the werewolves manages to get clever and breaks the window in. The woman retaliates with some magic, but it doesn't seem to affect the werewolf who starts climbing in the broken window.
GAME: Randolf casts Lightning Bolt. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7 GAME: Randolf rolls 8d6: (19): 19 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7-1+1: (14)+7+-1+1: 21 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7-1+1: (13)+7+-1+1: 20 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+5+3: (2)+5+3: 10 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+5+3: (2)+5+3: 10 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8+1: (14)+8+1: 23 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8+1: (4)+8+1: 13 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8+1: (15)+8+1: 24
Randolf ducks his head and hauls his tubby ass as fast as he can. Fortunately, his magic aids him in that endeavor, sending him flying across the field. He clambers up the stairs onto the porch, throwing himself against the wall as he snaps out his wand. "RE EX RE INDCARDO LEVINTAS!" he thunders. A bolt of lightning explodes from his wand with a mighty BRAK-KOOOOOM! It arcs between the window-wolf and the door-wolf making their fur poof up quite nicely. But they're still up. "Gah, piss up my -arse-!"
GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1-1+1: (5)+5+-1+1: 10 GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1-1+1: (13)+5+-1+1: 18 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (4)+6: 10 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (6)+6: 12 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (6)+6: 12
The half-wolves continue their furious assault, but to far less effect, their numbers are dwindling, and yet... One manages to crawl into the window of the woman's house and there's the sound of screams from inside. Not just the womans.
GAME: Randolf rolls Acrobatics: (6)+1: 7 GAME: Randolf rolls Perception: (7)+9: 16 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7-1+1: (2)+7+-1+1: 9 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7-1+1: (18)+7+-1+1: 25 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+5+3: (3)+5+3: 11 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8+1: (8)+8+1: 17
Randolf gapes as the window-wolf just brushes him off to jump through the window. "No! DAMN IT, NO!" he roars. He trundles forward and leaps, gripping the windowsill. His stumpy legs kick wildly as he strains to haul himself over the edge, but he can't quite make it. His eyes get wide as he spies something within the cottage, though, making him gasp. "OY! OY, FIDO! C'MERE, BOY, COME GET YE A PIECE O' ME!" he bellows, fighting furiously once more to get himself through the window.
There's a two-step lunge followed by a second stab that pokes the life out of Dolan's dance partner. Barclaiigh cants his chin up at the last beast attacking the house from the outside and issues a low-toned 'Kill' command in Khazdul. Porter bounces forward, snatching his teeth at the werewolf but failing to grab hold.
GAME: Dolan rolls athletics: (16)+4: 20 GAME: Dolan rolls perception: (9)+7: 16 GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+1: (1)+5+1: 7 (EPIC FAIL)
"Thanks!" That's a nasty-looking bite that Dolan is sporting across one of his forearms, and it's bleeding pretty good, but he's clearly not feeling yet, because he tosses the appreciation quickly to B'arclaiigh and bolts for the open window. "Scuse me!" he shouts ar Randolf, nearly running the wizard over. He'll apologize later.
Adrenaline-fueled muscles let him fairly vault through the shattered window, greatsword trailing behind him and in an instant brought to bear on the old lady's attacker. He's landed off-balance, though, and trying to strike so fast only allows him to scrape the blade along a rough wooden beam. "Leave her ALONE!" he snarls.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (13)+6: 19 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (20)+6: 26 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (2)+6: 8 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d6+1: (6)+1: 7 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d6+1: (1)+1: 2
The werewolf at the door finally manages to sink fang into Porter, but barely hurts the bear. The one in the house rises at Dolan's commanding tone, rising off the woman it'd bitten and rushing him. It's fangs sink into his shoulder and blood spills down his armor.
GAME: Dolan rolls fortitude: (18)+6: 24 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+6: (13)+6: 19 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d6+1: (2)+1: 3 GAME: Randolf rolls Fortitude: (6)+6: 12 GAME: Randolf rolls Fortitude: (4)+6: 10 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7-1+1: (2)+7+-1+1: 9 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7-1+1: (18)+7+-1+1: 25 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+5+3: (6)+5+3: 14 GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+1: (12)+5+1: 18 GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+1: (9)+5+1: 15
Randolf grunts as Dolan goes sailing over him. "Gwaaagh!" With a grunt and a snarl, he heaves himself over the windowsill. Moving swiftly, he trundles over to the bed, reaching underneath. "C'mon, laddie, I'll get ye out o' here!" he calls, gently pulling a child out from beneath. Turning, he reaches out to take ahold of the witch's arm. "C'mon, missus, we're gettin'--GYAAAAAH!" He roars in agony as the werewolf craunches down on his arm. In a furious rage, he slams his fist into the beast's nose, forcing it to turn loose of him. Grinding his teeth against the pain, he flicks his wand. "RE EX RAYO PRECENCO AMBULARE!" Hugging the witch and the child close, they vanish in a burst of sparkles. Several hundred feet away, on the path leading up to the cabin, there's a matching sphere that bursts into sparkles, leaving the three of them far from the combat. The wand goes clattering to the ground as Randolf clamps his hand over his bleeding arm. "Oh blessed Reos, raise up Yer hammer an' defend me!" he whispers tightly, trembling head to foot in terror. Surely this is divine payback for what he did.
GAME: Dolan rolls weapon1+1: (11)+5+1: 17 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20: (10): 10
"Reckon you can tell yer boss we ain't fond'a yer type 'round these parts," Barclaiigh spits. The dwarf takes a high grip on the spear and stabs out and down, driving it through the werewolve's gut and pinning him to the earth behind. He repeats the heel command for Porter in Khazdul, taking a step towards the window and finally pulling his weapon free.
Dolan, meanwhile, is struggling some. The deep bites in shoulder and arm are creating enough of a problem to throw off his timing, and he struggles to break down the guard of the creature he's fighting, or pin it down and keep it from chasing its quarry. Even magic-fueled speed is not enough to correct the problem, and he'll be wanting some time with a swordmaster later, judging by his swearing.
The werewolf growls, seeing himself cornered and without the prey he seeks. His threat doesn't seem to bother Dolan as he rushes by the man and a sword swings down. Narrowly missing the werewolf as it jumps for the window. A piece of its clothing gets stuck in the broken glass and it ends up dangling half out of the window.
Randolf pants for breath, looking back towards the melee. "C'mon lads... c'mon, get out o' there." He looks up at the witch and the youth. "Did either o' ye get bit?" he asks, trying -very- hard to ignore his own bite.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7-1+1: (20)+7+-1+1: 27 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7-1+1: (17)+7+-1+1: 24 GAME: Jinks rolls 2d6+10+6: (9)+10+6: 25
There's a werewolf in the window! It's mid-defenestration and stuck in a frame job. Barclaiigh turns his lip and moves around the front of the house, adjusting his grip on the spear. Claws are scrabbling for purchase as the Khazad-aul lines up his shot, stabbing through the creatures throat and pinning it to the wall. There's a quick twitch before the monstrosity goes slack and dies.
Porter lopes along close behind the dwarf, snuffling at the ground and air. The black bear snorts before issuing a bellow, falling down onto its rump.
The elderly woman takes hold of the child and holds them close. She holds the old woman in return and looks up at the group of you as you approach. The elderly woman nods. "Yesser. I was bit. But I'll be alright. Take care of the girl for me aye? She's the one yer looking for." She hands the girl off to you, and starts to make her way toward the house again. She seems surprisingly unconcerned for the child's welfare.
The child in question looks up at you, and you realize for the first time that her eyes are a remarkable pink color. Like candy. She smiles and offers her hand. Yet when she speaks a moment later her voice is not that of a child. It's the voice of someone older. Wiser. Someone ageless. "If you would take me to the temple then."
It seems there's more to this 'witch' than meets the eye.
-End