Drosil watches as the guards leave, then readies himself for the encounter with the warden. Why would the warden only act strangely since our arrival? If he was being threatened by the Way somehow, then he would likely have been acting strangely well before our arrival. Also, how does Belik's death figure into this? Surely the Warden would not have wished his own spy's death and would have sent him on some errand or another to keep him out of harm's way? Perhaps this is something that has been set up to implicate the Warden, after all. I do hope we can get some answers out of this man...
Janos leads the way in after Anton opens the door. He doesn't draw his weapon just yet for fear of scaring the Warden, but he knows it's likely to come to that. "Warden, we need to speak to you."
The office is vacant, exactly as Ashan left it before. Except...not exactly. There appear to be the burnt remnants of something on the floor.
If she is put out by the guards rejecting her friendly and resisting her less-friendly overtures B'yelka does not let on. Now that the thugs are out of the way, we can make this warden answer about what is happening in the lodge!" She follows Janos up the stairs and enters the room. "Well, that's a surprise." The diva is surprised to find the Warden absent, but in a way relieved.
Searching the room is easy, but puzzling out the remains of the ritual and then, more interestingly, the journal...
"Well, if Estovian was not an agent of the mumblers, he was at least their pawn. Oh, this part is interesting: it seems we are going to have to go to the Stairs." She hands the book off and then asks another obvious question. "But where is the dear warden now?"
Janos works with B'yelka to find the journal. He reads it over. "So the Warden was involved with both the Way and Mathus. And it appears that the Way had some hand in the pack dispute and killed the previous packlord for her heart."
He points the first entry. "Look here. Estovan had some debt to the Way for a spirit he found at the stairs years ago. I wonder what that was." He looks at the remnants of the ritual. "And he conjured something here."
"It sounds like even though the Warden helped connect Mathus and the Way, he may not know what their plans are. In fact, he's concerned for the well-being of the Lodge if this pack dispute gets out of hand. Frankly, so am I. If we confront him with this, I wonder if he would be willing help us put an end to it all."
"He might be, but like I asked, where is he now? Did he conjure an escape route here," B'yelka points to the burns on the floor, "or, did he bring something here conjured from thin air rather than his own cages outside?"
"If the warden does not reveal himself tonight, I do not think we should trouble ourselves with him further. We should still set out for the stairs in the morning, though it once again seems we are weeks behind our quarry. There is some good news in this though. These journal entries suggest that the Way were not interested in the Dusk Moth nor Desna at all, but rather this 'Sain' and her heart."
"But why?" B'yelka begins the trek downstairs, "We will need to posts guards tonight."
Anton is at once relieved to find that the Way are not interested in Desna and infuriated that he shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with one of their minions.
Agreed. Perhaps we should all sleep together tonight. If Estovian knows we are on to him he might try to make trouble for us and it's better to be prepared for that.
All the guests have retired to their rooms. The Lodge staff go about satisfying their minimum duty with a furtive nervousness. Without Belik and the Warden present to oversee them most end up back in their chambers as well, doors locked tight. The remaining guards don't yet seem to be aware of the Warden's absence and still man their posts at the gate towers and the shack where Pauncy is being kept. Otherwise the Lodge is eerily quiet.
Drosil nods at Anton, then turns to Dantrian. "Dantrian, do you suppose Mosswick could do a bit of a patrol during the night?"
"A wise precaution, Drosil." Dantrian looks off to the side briefly, his eyes taking on what is becoming a telltale distance about them as his gaze loses focus. After a breath, the sharpness returns to his eyes as he turns back to the others and nods.
If the PCs discover Estovion’s connections with both the Whispering Way and the werewolves of the Shudderwood, award them 3,200 XP.
Before they retire for the night Anton calls in on Drosil one last time.
Hey buddy. Rough day. Let me see what I can do for your wounds and then you can rest easy.
The night passes cramped and uneventful. The morning brings with it another series of screams, this time sounding like they are coming from the room next door, where the Margrave was staying.
Drosil immediately stands and, still dressed in his armor, moves to the door, flings it open wide, and rushes down the hall to investigate.
B'yelka snaps awake at the sound of screams, Does this never end? She starts to lay back down but Drosil's thudding steps leaving the room bring her back to the waking world. Apparently it does not ever end... She rolls off the bed and reaches for her hairbrush. No, I don't need that! Instead she picks up the scourge coiled on top of her gear.
Dantrian, already awake and in the midst of quiet exercises, bolts up from the floor at the sound of screams from the Margrave's room. Not bothering to waste time donning his armor, he grabs a loose fitting tunic as he darts shirtless after Drosil, slipping the clothing on over his head as he emerges into the hall.
Mosswick, wake the others if they do not yet stir!
One of the housekeepers, Ruessa Webbe, is standing in the open doorway to the Margrave's room. She looks pale and terrified, with one hand over her mouth. Whatever she's staring at in the room has her full attention and she doesn't even notice when Dantrian and Drosil come charging into the hall. They move over to take a look themselves, and see what has terrified the maid.
Blood. Blood everywhere. It's splattered on the ceiling, on the walls, and especially across the bed and floor. What remains of Margrave Cilas Graydon is shredded sloppily on the mattress. There are ragged chunks of the former nobleman strewn about as if by some savage beast. Flies swarm on the rapidly congealing blood, and the stench of death permeates the guest wing. It is a brutal, messy kill - the inspiration of nightmares.
Ruessa's screams bring the remaining guests, and staff, running. Corvin stumbles out of his room, looking and smelling still drunk. Duristan comes charging out in his sleeping tunic, silver sword in hand. The remaining two housekeepers and the cook come running up from downstairs as well.
Belik is dead. Most of the guests are dead. The Warden is no where to be seen. Apparently the guards the Six paid off tipped off the Lodge's other mercenary guards that their boss is gone, because all the guards seem to have left as well. Delgros shows up a minute after the rest, looking stressed, Pauncy trailing behind him.
Janos bursts out into the hall with his sword in hand and armor on. Either the Ranger took time to don the armor, or more likely, he had slept in it after last night's events. He steps up to the room and take a look inside. Even his nerves and stomach are turned by the sight. "Oh gods!" The half-elf has to turn away to compose himself. "What the devil did that?"
After a few minutes, Janos takes a deep breath and is able to enter the room. He looks at what is left of the body strewn everywhere. Janos' eyes dart around the room, trying to take it all in.
Dantrian's step falters for a moment as the gory scene within the Margrave's room reveals itself. He purses his lips as he takes quick stock of the scene, then turns as more of the lodge's remaining guests stream toward the grisly display.
"Keep these folks at bay. Seeing this will do them no good."
Stepping into the room, the alchemist looks around briefly for anything of note that might suggest why the Margrave was so slaughtered, but his attention is drawn more to the bloody pulp than the environs themselves. Kneeling down, he begins the grim task of trying to make sense of the noble's remains.
Dantrian recognizes Janos' fumbling is an attempt to assist him, but the ranger is unfortunately proving more a hindrance than anything else. Turning to the man briefly, Dantrian coolly offers, "I recognize your desire to aid me Janos, but you are not particularly helping." His tone is void of judgement, but also lacks compassion; the statement offered more as an observation than anything else.
---
With his master busy, Mosswick tries to help by flitting around the room, looking for anything of note as Dantrian sifts through viscera and gore, but he discovers little different from Dantrian's initial cursory glance.
The Margrave died of wounds consistent with those inflicted by the teeth and claws of a large wolf or other canine.
As the picture becomes clear to Dantrian, even he is unable to fully mask his worry as some possibilities occur to him.
Mosswick, was I asleep for the whole of the night? I did not- change, did I?
The worry in Dantrian's face suddenly vanishes, the alchemist's familiar stoicism returning in earnest a moment after. Turning to Janos and any other companions who arrived during his macabre task, he shakes his head ruefully. "The Warden's fears may be realized. These wounds are consistent with lupine bites and claws."
Duristan comes in and surveys the scene as well. "I knew it! There are werewolves here. We must find out who it is...we must stop them!"
Corvin goes pale, and says, "All this started after they arrived!" pointing at the Six.
The housekeepers are absolutely terrified, but with nothing else to do, they go to prepare breakfast for everyone.
Delgros turns to Janos. "Ain't no leader here now. This shit's going down hill fast. Y'all need to step up and take charge round here. You need to keep these people alive."
As the picture becomes clear to Dantrian, even he is unable to fully mask his worry as some possibilities occur to him.
Mosswick, was I asleep for the whole of the night? I did not- change, did I?
The worry in Dantrian's face suddenly vanishes, the alchemist's familiar stoicism returning in earnest a moment after. Turning to Janos and any other companions who arrived during his macabre task, he shakes his head ruefully. "The Warden's fears may be realized. These wounds are consistent with lupine bites and claws."
For once Anton's dreams are not dark and full of hidden threat.
Occasionally, but consistently, the face of Hean Ferramin - The Splatterman - rose out of the inky darkness of sleep to leer over the helpless paladin. That was the first time he had been exposed to real evil and he didn't suppose that wraith's cold touch would ever fully leave him.
This night though, he dreamt of his parents. As always, he could not see their faces, didn't remember what they looked like but the feeling of warmth and safety and home wrapped itself around him like a blanket and he slept, truly slept.
His eyes snap open and morning light floods in but the first thing he sees is a dark, almost black moth, it's wings like gossamer in the watery light. It flits about the candle that burns low in the dish beside his bed and for some reason, he holds his hand and to his great surprise the moth lands there, just on the end of his finger. It is so light he can barely feel it but it cocks it's head as if watching him, evaluating him somehow and that feeling of warmth he felt during his dreams washes over him again.
Suddenly, a scream splits the serenity. His eyes snap toward the door.
That's just down the hall! What can it be now?
When he looks back the moth is gone and as he blinks hard to clear the last of the sleep he wonders if it were ever there at all.
He rises quickly and snatches up his bow, looping a quiver of arrows over his head and ripping open the door.
Upon entering the scene of the massacre, his demeanour grows grim and though he inwardly hates himself for it, his first thought is of Dantrian.
What happened here? he asks of no one in particular.
Dantrian looks up at Anton from his kneeling position on the floor. "The lodge has no Warden, no guards, and Estovion's fears of this haven becoming the focus of the various packs' collective ire may be realized." He stands then, turning to the Desnan. "If there is any indication here as to which pack perpetrated this heinous act, it is beyond my ability to find. I would suggest we pay no further mind to this place and make at once for the Stairs, but I know such words would be wasted on all of you save perhaps for Ashan." Shaking his head, Dantrian admits, "I believe our masked ally may have been right from the start. While we were wise to not pursue the Stairs without more information, our time here has done little to help anyone, Anton. Now though, it is Delgros who is right. Those left here in the lodge, Ivanja and her consorts, all the servants and laborers, Pauncy, I fear they have little hope so abandoned."
But why kill the Margrave? Or what I mean is, why just kill the Margrave? All of us were asleep and vulnerable last night.
Unconsciously, he moves closer to B'yelka as he talks.
Janos watches Dantrian examine the body and tries to move out of the way after the man declares that he is not helping. When the Alchemist states the suspected culprits, Janos stares at him for a moment. He turns away as Delgros makes his outburst. "A werewolf, here? Anton's right. Why would one kill just the Margrave? If you could surprise someone in their sleep, why not someone who you couldn't kill otherwise? Me, or you Delgros?"
He looks back to Dantrian. "I understand the thought to go to the Stairs. But we could be signing the death warrant for everyone else." He sighs. "If someone did this, then they will have to have blood on them, yes? Let's see if we can find any evidence of a blood trail."
"If we move immediately to our goal, and Delgros takes the rest of the folks out of here towards Lepidstadt or elsewhere, then maybe we have a chance of both saving these people and of completing our task."
Corvin shudders, and then twists over and vomits on the floor. He remains hunched over and still for an abnormally long period of time. Just when its been long enough for someone to ask if he's okay, he leans back up suddenly. He stands stock upright, and then leans down in a combat stance. His features are twisted and savage. He mouth and nose are enlongated into a snout-like muzzle, and claws jut from his fingertips. He does not appear to be a werewolf, but something else entirely.
The Corvin-thing growls and then leaps at B'Yelka.
Anton:
Drosil:
B'Yelka:
Dantrian:
Janos: (+2 in forest)
Ashan:
Corvin:
Corvin 17
Party 16.3
The maids and cooks run away, as does Pauncy. Duristan gasps, and raises his longsword, while the unarmed Delgros curses and runs to grab a weapon.
Corvin tries to sink his teeth into the surprised bard. She has no time to react, and he takes a huge chunk out of her neck. The wound immediately starts bleeding everywhere .
___________________________________
Crit
Miss
Janos recoils as Corvin changes, but by the time the man has attacked B'yelka, the Ranger is already in mid-swing.
Seeing the creature up close with his attacks, Janos realizes the man is not under his own control. "It's not Corvin! He's possessed by something! It's not his doing! Can we drive it out of him?"
Not recognizing the possession himself, but trusting Janos' insight, Dantrian maneuvers around behind Corvin before throwing himself at the suddenly transformed man in an attempt to restrain him.
HP: 67/67
AC: 11 (11 T / 10 FF)
CMD: 20
F/R/W: +8/+7/+4
Spontaneous Healing used: 0/35hp
Enhanced Potions used: 0/3
Mutate used: 0/2
Hero Points used: 1/3
Prepared Mutagen: Strength (darkvision, scent) [ ]
Prepared 1st Level Extracts (3+1): cure light wounds [ ], shield [ ], open [ ] [ ] [ ]
Prepared 2nd Level Extracts (3+1): ablative barrier [ ], alchemical allocation [ ], barkskin [ ], false life [ ]
Prepared 3rd Level Extracts (1+1): displacement [ ], thorn body [ ]
-Ongoing Effects-
What th-?
Restrain him, quickly!
Anton throws himself at Corvin, adding his bulk to that of the strong alchemist beside him
B'yelka screams as the not-Corvin bounds at her, hands-turned-claws and teeth flashing. Her scream stops when his massive fangs bite hard into her and turns into a high-pitched shriek. She yanks back almost reflexively and steps clear as Janos begins some butcher's work. Dantrian and Anton slam into the contorted man as one and B'yelka's mind jump starts into a now natural groove, her voice jumps up again, this time in song. Her soaring voice is without words, channeling an elemental spirit instead. Along with helping her allies, it also soothes her bitten arm.
Drosil holds, waiting to see if the others can take care of...whatever Corvin was now.
The others had not noticed Ashan's absence immediately, the distracting din of screams roused them so fast as to make his empty bedroll inconsequential. His masked visage among the crowd only evident when the group crowded in the hall, and in the presence of Corvin's transfigured form. But there in periphery does Ashan emerge, seemingly gliding up from the stairwell with unearthly gait. He had undoubtedly heard the screams, one of his hands occupied with a scintillating bow of golden shades of light. Whispering voices dance and flit around the masked elf, and he stops his movement there at the top of the stairs, black eyes transfixed on Corvin.
"Ar'din nuvenin na'din, Corvin." Ashan intones to the transformed man, raising his golden bow-clad arm. The words are calm, with a hint of reluctance about them in Ashan's unusual inflection.
__________
I do not wish to kill you, Corvin. (Contextual implications serve as a threat. "I don't want to kill you, but I will.")
Recognizing the malevolent spirit for what it truly is, Ashan opens his clenched hand and releases his grip on his spiritual bow, causing it to dissipate into threads of ephemeral golden light. "Vilkacis!" Ashan calls out the spirit by name. "Strike the beast with silver! It is the only chance Corvin has to drive the spirit out of his body!"
Drosil, hearing Ashan's call to arms, thrusts with his mithral rapier at the beast formerly known as Corvin.
Mithral weapons count as silver for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction.
The Vilkacis does not like the mithral. As Drosil's long blade pierces Corvin's chest, the spirit howls and is ejected from his body.
The nobleman looks terrified and in extreme pain. He clutches his broken ribs from Janos, and his bleeding thrust wound from the rapier. "AHHHH! What's going on! Let me go!" he screams, stuggling in Dantrian and Anton's grip.
================================
The Vilkacis swipes both its incorporeal claws through Drosil's chest, growling savagely. His chest tears open and freezes at the same time. The wolf spirit laughs, then sinks through the floor, out of sight.
__________________________
"Our apologies Corvin, it was the only way to drive the wolf spirit from your body. You are not safe here though, the spirit is loose and may come for you again."
Turning to Ashan, Dantrian quickly asks, "Ashan! Is the spirit vulnerable to holy water as well?"
If it is, Dantrian releases Corvin and dashes back to his room, snatching a bandolier with 3 vials of holy water from the chair by his portable alchemist's table. If holy water is not effective, he instead grabs a silver dagger.