"Well. P-p-piss!" Gar stutters through blueish-white lips as he clutches his arms around himself. "I don't s'pose anyone brought a woodstove in their purse?"
Amelia sighs. "No, but I can help, but we should wait until we're much colder, I have limited castings."
"I have things we can use to start a fire, if we have to stop and seek shelter for the night," Elliomander offers as Gar shivers. "For now, we need to figure out what our next step is... we came chasing Muncy and that's a dead end now. We could look for what killed him, we could explore and try to learn more about what's crossing over from here and why, or we could try to find our way back before we're completely, hopelessly lost and then come back with some warmer clothes and whatnot."
As the adrenaline that had been keeping her warm starts to fade away, Vera starts shivering uncontrollably.
"P-P-Perhaps r-r-running off into The B-B-Between without p-p-proper provisioning was a b-b-bit of a r-r-rash decision on my p-p-part..."
And I have a formula for an elixir that would have made the weather moot, had I thought to mix it up this morning! she thinks to herself.
Nodding at Eliomander's suggestion, Vera says, "I think we n-n-need to f-f-find our w-w-way out of here! I d-d-don't think we'd s-s-surv-v-vive the n-n-night."
Fort save
"Children, this cold will be the death of us all. Mama's not used to that chill in the city proper! It might be worth while to try to find a sheltered spot and start a fire."
The forest breaks here into a huge snow-covered clearing nearly a mile across and several miles long - a lonely howl rises on the wind and is carried down the valley. Far to the left as the snow clears, a single figure comes striding over the hill - at nearly half a mile away, it is difficult to make out details, but as Amelia and the rest watch, several stiff-legged hounds come loping over the hill after him. One lets out a soul-shattering howl as they all veer towards the group...
"I think we n-n-need to g-g-get out of here!"
"We can try, but if it has hounds, we won't be able to lose it, and the hounds won't tire for hours. We use them to hunt down people who leave the city. They never escape the hounds." Amelia says, cocking her head at the baying. "We can try to flee, but finding a defensible position would be best, or at least combining the two. Anyone remember a defensible position we passed? Maybe one where we could build a fire while we defend?"
"Sorry Ace, I don't remember anything..."
"But we've got no idea where t'run," says Gar, backup up slowly. "Behind us, ice and darkness. Ahead, a strangling with hounds. We can run, but we must stay together. There's five of us. Six," he adds, remembering the ghost. "Let's keep it that way."
this is exactly why I should have built myself some kind of musket or hackbutt by now...
"Anyone have a bow?" Elliomander asks looking at his companions, "at this range we could get off quite a few shots before they reach us..."
As the group watch, debating whether to stand and fight... or flee back into the woods to find a more defendable position, more of the stiff gaited hounds break past the tree line and start to gather pace as they run across the virgin snow of the valley. Howls echo ominously into the wide open spaces between the forest... and, are added to by muffled sounds from somewhere within the trees; quickly the first handful of hounds into the valley is turning into a large pack.
Even were the group able to defend themselves from what they can see, the sound of the gathering pack needs a quick decision - the decision to run, and to find somewhere that they can prevent themselves from being surrounded... or better still, high ground. Turning back into the forest, the group run... as fast as they can with Mama Frill, her small legs moving as quickly as they can, bringing up the rear. Gar shouts, his voice muffled by the snow falling with greater intensity in the forest, for everyone to stick together... the pack of hounds will surely take anyone who is left to fend for themselves...
Onwards they run, the trees looming around them with their branches seeming to intentionally reach out into the trail... to grab and slow the group, to deliver them into the clutches of the approaching pack. Even the snow, drifting into the spaces between the trees rather than drifting against the trunks of the sinister shapes, seems to work against the efforts of the group... and, after fifteen minutes of running - or maybe it is more, the baying of the hounds builds to a crescendo and five of the creatures - as emaciated and dead-eyed as the dogs the group fought in the Castorhage alley only one day previous - bound into view...
"Sh!t," Elliomander mumbles between labored gulps of air. Without pausing to think he draws a vial of alchemists fire with his tail , infuses it into a cartridge , charges it, and fires at whichever dog will allow the wide splash to hit two or three other dogs...
Waiting until they are close enough that his shot is near guaranteed to hit, Elliomander centres one of the hounds along the barrel of his gun... and in a flash of burning powder and flame, he fires. The hound that he targeted falls where it was hit, its momentum carrying it little more than an extra foot or so before it ploughs into the snow... whilst two of the other creatures, mindlessly charging into the fray, are momentarily slowed by the blast...
...and then, barking and growling as they come, the hounds fall upon the group. Bounding across the snow, they bite and wrestle at the group... their predatory nature, a vaguely remembered instinct from a previous life, provoking them to attempt to wrestle their prey to the floor...
"Shoulda known...b-bbetter'n...climbin' through bewitched c-cabinets...d-d-demon children..." Gar hisses reprimands to himself as they struggle through the snow drifts, the smoldering light from his sword doing little to illuminate a clear plan to safety.
"Stay c-close now, don't l-let'em get b-behind you," he barks, watching as Elliomander's gunshot crackles in the darkness.
Seeing themselves surrounded by the hounds, Gar resumes cursing under his breath. Through it all, some kind of prayer for aid must be heard by someone. For a brief moment, Gar is sheathed in a pair of phantom, flaming wings that unfurl from about his body and flourish before fading into nothingness.
He cracks his neck, eyeing the dark stranger in the distance. "Fine, have it your way."
Elliomander steps back from the singed dog attacking him, charges another cartridge and fires at it.
damm... I'm running low on bombs... we need to find somewhere to hide soon...
Amelia brings her scythe around in an arc as Lilly's form solidifies next to the creature that attacked Amelia, flanking it...
Lilly screeches and slams her mis-formed fists into the creature!
+
Vera draws her rapier and attempts to get behind the ghoul houd that's snapping at Mama Frill.
They may have had the element of surprise as they charged from the darkness beyond the trees but it doesn't take long before the advantage has turned very quickly in favour of the group... Elliomander's gun finishing off the two hounds that were caught in the blast of his first cartridge before Amelia, Lilly and Vera all land blows on the partially-dessicated creatures...
...and from somewhere in the forest comes more howling, and this time it is accompanied by the baleful tones of what is unmistakably a hunting horn...
Fort
Frill freezes up just as the words to a spell were beginning to cross her lips.
As the ghoul chills take a hold of Mama Frill, the last two hounds continue to snap at the group...
Gar's sword cuts through the preternatural night, leaving a comet-like trail in its wake. He stabs the wounded hound clean through, marveling at how something so dead and empty could bite with such vigor.
Amelia swings her scythe back around, completing the original arc..
..the blade catches the dog under the neck and snicker snack, removes it's head, which hits the ground with a 'thwack'.
"There's more coming..." Elliomander states, knowing that everyone else can hear it as well, "we need to keep moving. We have to decide now, quickly, do we flee and look for a place to hide or make a stand, or do we head for the whoever blows the horn? That seems more dangerous, but it may also be the only way to stop it from calling more hounds..."
“I`ve never thought running from undead hounds to be of any use. Living hounds hunt down prey by tiring it out. We need to either find a redoubt or attack. Running while lost is futile.”
Vera nods at Ameila's words. "Unless we can find another way out of here, of course. But I think you're right: We should stand and fight... and this time, be ready for them!"
Vera looks around, trying to find some kind of defensive position where she and her friends could make a stand.
Gar presses his thumb into his gauntlet and his spring-loaded wrist sheath releases a tiny elm-wood wand. He steps closer to Vera, examining the wound on her leg. "That's liable to get infected, Ma'am. Best we close the wound now, 'afore them hounds make it here." The wand's tip flares to life, reflecting like a candle in Gar's tired eyes.
-13
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full
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full
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full
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full
Vera seems somewhat taken aback by the gesture. "Thanks, Gar!"
Amelia gives a small curtsy. "Thank you Gar."
Vera looks for a nearby defensive position where she and her friends can make a stand.
Looking around the clearing and along the trail a little, there are few places where the friends would be at any advantage from the rapidly approaching pack... echoing around the trees, it seems that more hounds are drawing close... and worse, over the sound of the howling, there comes the distinct sound of hooves pounding the ground through the snow.
After several seconds, Frill began moving again. "That thing had Mama all sorts of tangled up inside! We need to get away from these things quick like. From the sounds of it, there are more of these things than we can shake a stick at!"
"There's nowhere to hide, and I don't see any terrain from which we can mount a decent defense. Our pursuers are faster than we are, so we can't run, either. I say we stop running and make our stand here."
Vera cocks her hand crossbow and loads a bolt coated in greenblood oil.
"That seems like a terrible plan," Elliomander replies, "if we stay here that mysterious figure gets to send everything he's got at us with the order and pace he likes... if we have to fight we should become the hunters rather than the prey. If we pursue the man with the horn we might be able to avoid some of his beasts, and if we kill him it should end the hunt."
Shake shakes his head, growling in frustration. "Ain't no tellin', and we could end up tarred either way. But I like the kid's plan," he nods toward Elliomander. "If we're gonna freeze to death fightin', I'd rather do it with my hands wrapped around the throat of the man who put us in this spot."
"So... run toward them, and try to rush the huntsman?"
She smiles mirthlessly.
"I like it. It beats waiting to die. Who's in?"
"Or you guys can stay here as bait and I'll try to sneak behind the huntsman and take him out?"
Amelia shakes her head. "No, no splitting up. We have a better chance of surviving together, and of dying seperately."
"Oh dearies, the whole lot of you might be crazy, you know. But to be honest, Mama don't have anything better to offer! Maybe rushing that fella is not as crazy as it sounds!"
As the group debate what to do next – flee, stand and fight or to throw their hunters off-balance by actually meeting them head on – the black moon peeks out from behind the clouds and the thickness of the snowfall abates… the sound of the hounds, the calling of the horn and the beating of horses hooves becomes ever louder but now it is joined by another less distinct sound, curiously out of place and coming from the opposite direction, hurdy-gurdy music is playing as if the group were being invited into a circus, festival or fun-fayre…
Amelia cocks her head at the sounds of the music, and sighs. "Well, that's almost certainly a trap, shall we go spring it? Maybe we can tangle up the hunters in the trap with us..."
"Fine, fine. At this point, who in blazes knows what we'll find. Maybe a whole circus of demonic children. Maybe there'll be sweet treats for the kiddies. And a lion, too! C'mon.." Gar shakes his head in frustration as he heads toward the sound of the music.
its almost as though we shouldn't have rushed into an unknown world and then trecked for hours through falling, blowing snow away from the portal home...
Elliomander grits his teeth. "We don't know anything about this place..." he responds, "there's a slim chance it could actually be safe. And if it's not then the idea of luring our hunters into someone else's trap has merit..."
As Gar starts to move, he moves towards the music too.
Vera looks toward the circus sounds. "What the...?"
Glancing back toward the sound of the approaching hounds, she says, "Normally, I'd say, 'Better the devil you know than the devil you don't,' but I'm willing to make an exception in this case!"
Crossbow in hand, and still glancing over her shoulder for approaching ghoul-hounds, Vera follows her friends toward the music.
"It can't be worse than these demon thing attacking us. Mama is no fool. Let's get ourselves to what might be a help to us!". Frill had no idea if that was a good idea but she didn't know how else to handle the situation the group found themselves in.
It won’t be long before the growing pack of ghoul hounds - and the mounted hunters one must assume are following the hounds - catches up to the fleeing group. The howling has grown ever louder as more of their number join the pursuit, and now the sounds of answering howls come from ahead as well as behind. It seems that the pack has surrounded the group in large numbers and now waits, just out of view, only to close in for the kill. It appears that time is running out... and that Between will claim yet more victims from Castorhage
That is, until Amelia sees the reflected glint of moonlight coming from a tree nearby. Wedged amongst the roots of an old beech tree is a sliver of glass - and peculiarly, it is from here that the music is coming from. It is actually a piece of a mirror - some three feet in width, and in the darkness next to the mirror, the distorted scene from what appears to be the Great Fayre in Castorhage.
Amelia sighs. "Well, if it's a trap, it's certainly a well baited trap." She points to the mirror. "Anyone care for cotton candy?"