Very well then, we'll leave it in his hands. Erastil, guide my bow... Domitian spends a moment focusing on the healthiest remaining werewolf, praying to Erastil to give him extra strength.
He then rapidly draws two arrows in a row from his quiver, and pulls them back against the quivering strength of Akiivos. They go sailing through the air toward the snarling beastie.
Domitian's two arrows glowed with holy white energy as they staggered the werewolf with each hit, piercing through it's thick skin as though it were paper. The werewolf hit by Rosa's explosive potion thrashed as it sought to extinguish it's burning fur while fending off the furious tiger.
Luckily it seemed as if Rosa's attack had damaged the creatures sight and it missed Shirak with all of it's attacks. The last werewolf looked at it's dead companion spreading blood on the ground and the one thrashing ineffectively at the tiger before turning tail and limping into the darkness, wailing with fear.
Shirak launched herself at the canine-human and battered him with her claws before locking onto his shoulder with her teeth and bringing the werewolf to the ground, both creatures roaring with berserk fury. The flaming wolverine let loose a blast of errant fire as it raked at the werewolf with lava-like claws.
Seeing that the creature was still fighting with her tiger Lyra stepped forward and brought her staff down in a two handed strike, missing completely and digging out a divot in the earth with the weapon.
Seeing Shirak and Lyra struggling with the last left werewolf, Mehaila steps up to await for the perfect chance. She then lunges in quickly with her rapier, striking the creature with everything she can, unsure if it would go down now with so much damage in it, but she would try her best
The werewolf fighting Shirak went rigid as Mehaila's rapier passed through it's eye and pierced the brain directly, ending it's life instantly and causing the muscles in the corpse to fire randomly as the creature continued to twitch. The only sound now was the desperate howling of the fleeing werewolf that cut off with a yelp in the darkness. Down the length of the arrow pointed at the werewolf's back Domitian would see the creature stumble to the ground and vanish into the tall grass, it's motions obviously that of a wounded animal.
It does not reappear.
Domitian smiled grimly as his arrows flared with holy light. Erastil responds, this beast is evil. We must not let it escape and hurt others. The paladin swiftly draws out another arrow, pulls, but before he can loose he sees the werewolf trip and fall to the ground. Before it can gather itself up, Domitian walks closer to the beast. He keeps his bow trained on where it fell, but does not loose. Calling back to his friends, he says "Everybody alright? Anybody know what the hell these things are?"
Moira stabbed her greatsword through the downed werewolf just to be sure. By the time she looked up the fight was over. One was mauled by Shirak and lot of weird summons from Lyra before Meha applied the killing blow. 'Killing' because one does not recovery from a stab to the brain. Werewolf regeneration or not. The last high-tailed it out of here with Dom on it's tail. Wings of fire flair from her back and she shoots off after Dom. "There're werewolves. People cursed with unnatural hunger and aggression. That or one of the rare few born that way. My gold is on cursed since they stupidly ambushed greater than their own number. Even wolves aren't that dumb." She hovers over him looking for the last one.
From up in the sky Moira will see a bloodied half orc prone in the grass and covered with blood, two arrows sticking out of his chest and leg. He was wearing poorly maintained chainmail armor and had numerous scars evident on his skin. Though his chest continued to rise and fall with breath, the speed of the creatures respiration showed the nearness of Pharasma's reapers.
Rose frowned as she watched the creature she struck slowly succumb to the vicious strikes of both the fiery animal summoned and Shirak bore down upon it. She watched the other one begin to flee and fall into the tall grass watching Domitian go after it. He was quickly followed by Moira once she had stuck her blade in the one that was downed to be sure that it was finished and Mehaila assisted Lyra and her pets.
Werewolves... She thought idly as she rubbed her hardened skin with roughened fingertips. She went back to where she had quickly scattered her belongings from the sudden ambush and went to carefully gather her book and pen as well as some of her more obscure herbs and poultices. Once she was satisfied with what she grabbed, she quickly moved to where Domitian and Moira were following the one that had decided to flee and collapse in the grass nearby.
She began to dig through the carefully collected herbs until she spotted the exact one she was looking for and drew nearer to her allies and their former would-be assailant.
Mehaila notes the others walking in a direction, and after making sure Lyra was not missing any limbs nor bits she would want, like her hair, she would go see what the others where looking at.
Dom seemed to have an arrow on something. And was it something. Instead of a monster, they held an arrow on a scraggy looking half orc, who was still breathing, but from what she could tell would not last much longer. She would take the time to close the wounds enough that while he may not die now, he would need better care and perhaps a spell or two to properly be able to survive on his own.
Mehaila's quick actions had the wounds around the arrows packed with bandages and poultices from Rosa to reduce the risk of infection. The blood slowed to a bare trickle and for the moment the ragged half-orc hung on the precipice. Anyone who was standing close to him could hear that his breathing had gained a wet quality.
Moira sweeps the perimeter one more time for any other threats before alighting next to the fallen Orc, half-orc?, that Mehaila was treating.
The half-orc sounded bad but she couldn't identify why. Only that if Mehaila wished save him she'd have to go a lot farther than that. "I wouldn't bother," she says in a subdued tone. "He's likely been this way for a while. After a few days the curse takes hold and only an extremely powerful cleric can remove it. He's a danger to everyone in the area now." Moira clenches her greatsword tightly in her hand. Uncomfortable but determined to do what needed to be done.
Domitian releases the strain on Akiivos, replacing his arrow in his quiver. He shakes his head softly and says "The arrow pierced his lung. He's drowning in his own blood." He sets Akiivos down, and draws out his falchion. Kneeling beside the half-orc, he says "If you can hear me, I'm going to try to stop you from dying. Stay down. If you try to flee or attack us, I will finish this." Holding his falchion at the ready, and with brief nods to the others to stand ready as well, he reaches down his hand.
Erastil, if you would have it so, heal this man. We must talk to him, to find out if there are more of them. And to see if we can help him.
If the healing works, he will repeat his warning to the half-orc if he wakes up.
As her work and Dom's lead to at least staving death off, she also makes ready to strike if he becomes violent, but it was clear she was looking for a peaceful solution. She had her rapier pointed downward on the skull, her aim going for a similar spot as the previous one she had killed.
" Just stay peaceful and we will try our best to help you. And any others like you. Just give us a chance." Her hand was steady, as was her voice, the resolve to help him clear, but she also stood ready to end this evil if needed. One could not stand by and let someone suffer.
A wave of energy shot through the half-orc and the wounds around the arrows closed, the flow of blood trickling down until it was non-existent. He woke up with a cough and gasped in agony, his body hunching around the arrow still in his chest. "Wha- aaa!!!"
Ignoring the blades pointed at him the half-orc looked around at the group with fury and pain in his eyes. "Why? Is letting me die not punishment enough? Now ye seek to torture me!?"
Lyra came over to where the wounded half-orc was, Shirak and the fire elemental following her. The two creatures flanked the druid and stared balefully down at the wounded man. "That's an interesting method of interrogation." she said tartly.
"You're absolutely right, you should be dead. I don't care whatever your instincts or teachings are telling you, attacking a larger pack without superior power or evaluating the potential for danger is idiotic. Tell us your story wolfman and maybe we can come to an agreement." Stepping forward she grabbed the end of the arrow in his chest and ripped it out without warning, tossing the shaft away.
Before he could pull away Lyra touched his chest with her finger and murmured. Anyone close to her would smell the scent of a rain drenched meadow become suddenly intent as healing energy emanated from the point of contact.
"Now talk."
The half-orc hadn't expected the druid's actions and could only jerk in pain when she yanked the arrow out, causing more damage to his already wounded lungs. He began to cough up blood when she suddenly healed him even more and the pain in his lungs vanished. He spent a few seconds coughing up the blood and clearing his breathing before glaring at everyone. "Attack you? I wake up and find you bastar-" he looked around and his eyes widened in shock. "Where the hell am I? Where are my teammates!?"
Rose smiled bemused as Domitian set to healing the half-orc and he sat up wild and in pain. She watched Lyra pull an arrow and then touch him, relieving his agony as quickly as she caused it.
At the mention of teammates, she frowned and looked over to where the other werewolves were felled. She approached the still bodies, crouching to better examine them, thinking that if they were afflicted such as he had been then they should have changed back to their origin forms.
When Rosa goes back to check the corpses of the other two werewolves she instead finds a female elf clad in filthy fullplate and missing a leg. The burned corpse turned out to be a human female wearing a bright silver breastplate splashed with blood but unmarred by the fire as well as a plain gold band on her left ring finger. Rosa also finds two bags heavily ladened with supplies but covered with mud and filth, both of them somehow managing to stay on the backs of the two lycanthropes.
While both corpses were covered with numerous cuts and scratches they each had a single identical wound, one caused by a savage animal bite.
She calls out behind her to the now conscious half-orc, "Did your companions happen to be two women?" She examines the bodies more closely, gently taking the golden ring from the human's finger. She frowned more when she read the inscription on the inside. "An elf in plate and a human wearing a ring addressed from Gareck?" She sighs heavily as she comes back to the others, holding the ring in her palm. "Do you perhaps know them?"
The half-orc's eyes locked on the ring in Rosa's hand and the expression on his face shifted from pain to pure rage. He lurched out and pushed the blades away from his face with his hands, ignoring the cuts that gave him as he got into Domitian's face. "WHY!?"
He grabbed Domitian's collar and dragged their faces close until they were almost touching nose to nose. "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KILL HER? IF YOU ARE GOING TO ROB US, JUST TAKE THE GEAR AND LEAVE US! WHY!?!?!?"
His face was twisted with rage and grief and he seemed completely beyond care of any blades pointed at his back or heart.
"Why? Is letting me die not punishment enough? Now ye seek to torture me!?"
"Don't look at me, I voted to kill you," Moira says seriously. He was right though. She wasn't sure what Dom was thinking, healing the wound without removing the arrow first. She wasn't used to magical healing yet but it seemed obvious that would happen. Lyra had the good judgement to fix that. She grew tense as he grew angry, then saw it wash away in confusion as the situation settled in his mind. That was one answer cleared. It seems werewolves really didn't remember what happened when they transformed.
Well s*%@.
She imagined what it would be like in his shoes right now. The half-orc just woke up to two dead companions, one possibly his wife, and no memory of how he got here. Not only that but he had obviously been attacked and was being crowded around, threatened, and told a very confusing series of events. In that moment of pity she also forgot he was cursed and currently grabbing at Dom, heedless of the blades in his face.
Springing forward, she pulled Dom away and smashed her boot into the half-orc's chest, driving him back to the ground. She then rested her greatsword across his neck. If he wanted to sit up he'd have to slit his own throat on it. "BECAUSE YOU AND YOUR COMPANIONS ARE WEREWOLVES!" she roars back. "Do remember being attacked recently by an overly aggressive wolf or humanoid wolf?" Maybe she could override his anger with confusion again.
Moira's words and actions didn't have the intended effect, the half-orc tumbling back from her kick with unusual dexterity and rolling backwards until he was once again on his feet. He ripped the arrow out of his leg and tossed it to the side, his eyes growing yellow and baring his teeth at the fighter. Being attacked while on the brink of homicidal rage seemed to push the half-orc beyond reason and he yanked a dagger the group had missed from his belt, his yellow eyes gaining a feline cast as his ears sharpened and became topped with a tuft of orange hair. His teeth lengthened slightly and his skin became patterned with faint stripes of black.
With a roar the half-orc launched himself at Moira with the dagger sweeping for her neck.
Moira sways back before the dagger could open her throat. She takes one look at the elongated teeth and stilted eyes and decides mercy is not an option. Dangerous animals were put down, not talked to. With a growl she sweeps her blade in a close arch to make some space and prepares for round two.
Dom winced as Lyra pulled the arrow out of the fallen half-orc. He felt bad for the man, but he really didn't think he could pull the arrow out without healing him first, not with how wounded he was. His eyes danced as he tried to sort through the confusing rush of information before him. The half-orc didn't know about attacking them? Why did he assume they were going to torture him?
His eyes widen in shock when the man suddenly grabbed him by the collar! Dom's widen eyes found the man's pain filled orbs, and he saw all the fear and rage and loss that was present in them. It deeply confused him. My smite worked against him. He is evil, with Erastil as my witness. Why doesn't he act evil?
Unfortunately, his confusion cost him any time he may have had to calm the man, to reassure him, or to diffuse the situation in any way. Moira jumped up to rescue him, pulling Dom back and kicking the wounded man. Dom's brain struggled to react as he watched the man become more enraged and go to attack Moira. This was all wrong! He had to put a stop to this if he could.
Dom rushed forward, his legs a blur, as he hopped in between Moira and the onrushing man. "EVERYBODY STOP!" Looking at the transforming man, hoping it wasn't too late, Dom continues "We don't want to rob you, we only want to defend ourselves! We want to help!"
"YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED HER!" The half-orc ranted as he slashed at Domitian, his dagger going wide and whistling past the paladin's face. The paladin could see tears streaming down the man's twisted face.
Suddenly the half-orc dropped to his knees, the dagger clattering to the ground. His screams choked in his throat as his muscles all strained at once, his jaw breaking and reshaping as it grew in length and his teeth became pointed and long. Hair began to erupt all over his body as his form started to twist and reshape it self, lupine features overriding everything. A last gasped word was all Garek could muster before the last vestiges of intelligent emotion vanished from his eyes. "No..."
Mehaila stumbles backwards from all the movement, a dagger at the ready when the half orc drew on them. She was unable to react as fast as Moria did, however something tugged at her. She could understand the anger and confusion, the hurt and fear. What would she feel if her companions where suddenly dead around her and she was surrounded by whose she thought killed them? She would react similarly, if not exactly the same way.
Using the charm that her Goddess gave her, Meha tries to flirt with him enough to calm him down, to at least hear her words out, if no one else's
" You three attacked us! Let Calistria show you we can help you take revenge against those that cursed you! We an help you regain your honor and strike against that vile creature who cursed you."
As Mehaila opens her mouth she feels the sensation of warm, soothing honey flowing down her throat and the words just sort of tumble out, cutting through all of the yelling and the growing growls of the emerging werewolf like a hot knife through butter.
The creature pauses and goes silent as his eyes lock on Mehaila and the rage visibly drains out of him. Garek shifted back until he was sitting on his haunches, his muzzle pointed at the sky as tears somehow continued to flow down his cheeks, even in this form. He stared at the stars visible overhead, breathing deeply to settle his emotions and wash away the last of the rage.
"I remember." Garek said, his voice low and rough. His form shifted as the fur and fangs vanished and left behind a broken man. "I'm the monster. Three nights ago we were beset by bandits and I was channeling the spirit of the wolf when the moon went red and I was ...changed. I turned on my...wife and our oldest friend and cursed them both with lycanthropy. The next three days are hazy, all i remember is excitement and the smell of blood. Until tonight my mind has been beset by shadows and hunger."
Rose was shocked at how quickly the exchange happened between them. She didn't even have time to react to the escalation before it was already dealt with. She carefully and slowly approached Garek, handing him the ring she had found on his fallen wife. "I am truly sorry for your loss." She carefully closed his hand over the ring after placing it in his palm. She gave him a pained expression as she stood again, taking a few steps to one side as she looked up in the sky. The blood moon cursed just as easily as it blessed it would seem. How unfortunate... She thought bitterly, thinking to the how that night went and remembering what her and her companions had achieved.
Moira looked back and forth from Mehaila to the half-orc, Garek apparently. The elf had done something. Used some magic. She had felt the tension ease from her own body as the cleric spoke, something that wouldn't normally happen when she was about to square off against a transforming werewolf. And not just any werewolf. A natural. Changed by blood moon.
Moira sheathed the sword. She wouldn't need it now, probably. Since Mehaila and Rosa were seeing to the grieving man she calls Dom and Lyra over and lowers her voice to a whisper. "I am pretty sure the blood moon turned him into a true werewolf. A natural. They're the only ones that can turn others. Which means there is nothing that can change that. Not even a cleric. He's stuck for good. Usually they have better control than afflicted but after what happened tonight..." She turns to look at him and shakes her head. He might be more of danger now than he was before. Thankfully no one got bite or scratched.
Garek took the ring and raised Rosa's hand to his forehead, thanking her silently for a moment. When he released her hand he stared at the ring in his hand for several long moments. When it seemed as if he was becoming lost in his memories he stood up slowly and brushed the dirt and grass from his legs. He took a minute to string the wedding ring onto a leather strand he had around his neck, kissing the ring once before tucking it under his tunic.
"Thank you for my life. I do not blame you for the deaths of...it wasn't your fault. They were already dead when they became lost to the curse that I inflicted on them. Excuse me." He stepped around Rosa and walked back to the combat area, visibly steeling himself for the carnage. Garek dropped to his knees next to the human woman and drew her head to his chest, holding his wife close as he closed his eyes and shook with grief.
Lyra was silent during Moira's explanation as she watched the lycanthrope walk back to camp and cradle his wife's body. He had been overcome by the ferocity of the wolf without the experience and will to temper such aggression. How much of her own change was affecting Lyra on a subconscious level?
"Do not equate the aftereffects of a night like that to a normal experience. He was not born a werewolf so it will take him time to balance the animal and man within him. Besides look at how he was able to gain control with some help from Mehaila and even now does not change despite his emotional turmoil." the woman explained analytically, her voice calm and dry.
"Now excuse me, my dinner was interrupted and I'm still hungry." she said tartly before moving back to the campfire and refilling her bowl with stew and sitting on a root of the lightning blasted tree.
Mehaila looks at Lyra, then at Rosa, then everyone else. She held back her comment, the distrust of what Lyra was doing was clear. Even though she was not the perfect person, she still felt Lyra was being unusually cruel recently, since they gained their new powers and changed. She was unaware of any other changes made to them, and she could be over- reacting, but having killed a man's wife she was awfully callous.
" Sir, I do not understand your pain, but if you wish we can try to help you out. Maybe try some potion? OR even help you come to understand how to better control your otherside? Most of us are not going to leave you to the wilds." She adds, with a glance towards Lyra. However, she will try to help Garek out as best she is able.
"There is no potion that can help him." Lyra said to Mehaila as she finished the last of her stew. She flicked her hand at her bag and a thick tome flew out and hovered in front her, pages fluttering until arriving on the desired page. "The events of the Blood Moon have changed his basic nature and nothing short of Divine intervention can return him to what he was born as."
She locked eyes with the cleric and something dangerous and primal swam just below the surface. "And of all people to help guide him through what he's facing, you are about the worst example. The wilds are the perfect home for him now."
Rose could only sigh as she listened to the words exchanged. She didn't necessarily agree or disagree with either of them, but she knew better than to argue with either of them. She held her tongue and smiled softly as she went back to where she sat at their camp, returning back to her studies with book and pen in hand and her staff once more propped up against her.
Moira rolled her eyes at Mehaila. But she couldn't blame her for going to the wrong direction either. She really had no idea what he was and making impossible promises weren't going to help. She gently shoos the cleric away and kneels next to the half-orc. "I'd like for you to visit Oleg's Trading Post at some point before the next full moon. He's a few miles north of here on the road to Restov. I'll either buy or make a set of silvered manacles and a very strong muzzle." She holds up a hand to forestall any argument. "Use them. At least until you are positive you have things under control. None of us want this to happen again. But if it does, at least you will have adequate restraints. I can also point out what wolfsbane looks like and I am sure Rosa over there," she says pointing at the fire, "can write down instructions for how to brew a cure. Now...what's your funeral rites? The least we can do is see they are laid to rest properly," she says solemnly.
Garek ignored all of the offers from the overly helpful women and turned his face away to wipe away the tears. "No."
He looked back at Moira and there would be hints of untamed wildness haunting through his eyes. "If you are afraid of what I MIGHT do then strike me down now because I will not live in a cage and I will not be chained. I am not afraid of the Wolf."
He carefully laid his wife on the ground before moving through the campsite to loop around the lightning-struck tree. He climbed the few feet to the edge of the bluff the tree sat on and looked south over the night darkened grasslands. Everyone now and then the moon would break through the cloud cover and send down silvery rays of light that swam across the land.
Coming to some kind of resolution Garek returned to where the bodies rested and retrieved a shovel from one of the bags. Remaining silent he climbed the bluff and began to dig at the top, marking out two graves with gouges in the ground before plunging the shovel in with powerful movements.
Lyra turned and watched the half-orc begin to dig for several minutes, her brow furrowed in thought. Her eyes drifted up to the seemingly dead tree behind them and searched over the split in the trunk that somehow had not fallen open yet and at the roots that remained strong and flexible. Her fingers drummed on the root she was sitting on and she began to hum to herself as she formulated an idea, a smile slowly growing on her face until she nodded resolutely and closed the floating book in front of her with a snap of her fingers.
"I'll take the morning watch." Lyra told no one in particular before retreating to her personal tent. Shirak mosied over from where she had been cleaning herself and plopped her large body in front of the tent's entrance and resumed cleaning. Soon anyone nearby would be able to smell the powerful scent of citrus, pine and rose as thin streams of smoke curled lazily out from between the tent flaps.
Anyone who tries to approach the tent's entrance would be met by a warning growl from Shirak.
Moira watches the half-orc walk away, anger simmering at the dismissal. She could understand his angry but he was being an idiot. This wasn't something you could ignore and not prepare for. But she held her tongue. And when he started digging she grabbed her own shovel and started digging too. In solemn silence she helped him bury the two people he probably cared most about in the whole world. She could not help but picture someone else's wife or friend in those graves if she just let this go.
"Strange things happened to us on that night too," she says quietly, grunting as she removes a rather large clump. "Something invaded my mind and gave me information I didn't ask for. I am not sure that is all that was changed either but I will be cautious and perceptive over the coming days to make sure I am still me...if that's even possible." She pauses for long moment. "You know what lycanthropy is so you know it isn't just wolves. There are lycans of all kinds. Bears, boars, rats, sharks. You may not be afraid of wolves but you'd be stupid not to be afraid of nature. Cause that's the curse that has been laid upon you." She stops and looks up at him. "The hunger and savagery of nature itself. You are not a savage animal but you MIGHT not have a choice anymore. And anyone who spends time in the wild knows to prepare for anything that MIGHT happen. So I am leaving them there whether you take them or not. Because I don't want this," she says, waving a hand at the grave she was digging, "to happen to someone else's wife or friend." She goes back to digging, tossing a few more loads of dirt on the ever growing pill. "And if you haven't been by and I hear word of a werewolf attacking innocent people in the area?" She glances over at him as the moon retreats behind the clouds. Darkness falls but from the grave next to his, two pinpricks of light appear as a bit of fire creeps into her eyes.
"I will hunt you down."
Garek didn't look up at Moira as she delivered her gentle warning or say anything, merely nodding in acceptance. "I know about lycanthropes. The magic giving them power is similar to something I use myself."
He grunted as his muscles swelled slightly and became more defined, his hands growing and thickening until they seemed caught halfway between broad paws and hands. His voice became deeper and rumbled out with his words. "Do you know the power of the bear?"
Over the next few minutes he switched from spirit to spirit, his features changing with each new animal as he continued to dig and deepen the holes to several feet. "I'm just more connected with the wolf now, that's all. So explain to me what you all are doing in the middle of nowhere."
Rose looked up from her scribbling in her book to watch Lyra move whimsically toward her tent. She raised an eyebrow but ultimately didn't pursue the matter. Doubly so when Shirak decided to place her imposing self before the entrance of the tent.
"She knows what she does, she always knows..." She mused quietly, as she finished the last of her notes. She desperately wanted to develop some of the ideas that she recently thought of, but couldn't do anything in terms of a in-depth project due to their circumstances. She carefully stowed her book away and grasped her staff once more, making her way over to the two that were digging. She leaned on her staff nearby, watching the two of them dig deeper and deeper and exchange words, threats, ideas. She listened to the two of them with mild interest.
After being ganged up on and somewhat disregarded, Mehaila gives up and awaits the time when the bodies where finally settled. After they had been properly placed, she would say a few words over the two graves, even if none thought it was needed, since the last thing anyone in the group needed was bad luck or a curse coming back on them. She does the best she can if Garek gives no signs of a preferred ceremony, as Calistria had death rites, but nothing as complex as some other religions.
"Yes," Moira says distractedly. She stares, wide-eyed, as he goes through several transformations. Each was subtle but she recognized each animal easily. Bear, bull, monkey, snake, even frog. And tiger. She recognized that one from earlier when he rolled out of the way. With cat-like grace, she realized. "Where did you learn that and can I do it too?" she asked with undisguised excitement.
"Oh. Hired to explore the region and pacify threats, like bandits and goblins and whatnot," Moira answers his question after some time going over those neat transformations. "Need to ask Lyra about the details. She's the one with the big cat. I came here find inspiration for my craft. You?"
"Something a bit similar. My wife and I were hoping to find somewhere away from the cities, away from corrupt lords, find a place where the strength of your back and the conviction of your will is all you need. Our friend Findela was going to help with the building of our homestead and then move her family up here. Gods, her children..." Garek broke off what he was going to say and slammed the shovel into the pile of dirt next to the graves.
He moved back towards the fire and picked up the burnt corpse of the elf and carried her to the graves. Laying her gently next to the hole he carefully removed the fullplate and removed the burned clothing. He then went back and retrieved his wife and laid her next to the elf, also removing her armor and clothing. With a skin of water and cloth he began to gently wash the blood and muck from them. He would shake his head and refuse any more help from the company.
Rose watched on as she viewed the somber affair that followed the conversation as it slowly wound its way to unpleasantness. And there it is... Her smile faltered at the change of attitude as Garek's mood had changed.
She didn't blame him, how could she? It's not everyday when your gifts become perverted by freak happenstance and lead your friend and loved one to gruesome demise. She looked skyward as if contemplating before making her way close to Lyra's tent, stopping near Shirak to exchange glances with the powerful beast.
"I would ask what you are up to, but you probably won't answer me for some time yet." She says aloud as she hunkers down near the tiger, as close as she is allowed. She knew better than to push boundaries when it came to Shirak.
She sighed softly, turning back to Shirak with a sidelong glance. "There was a time I hoped for a feline to call my own, but ultimately I never had my call answered." She muses, with her chin resting upon her hand, as she waited for Lyra to once again join them.
"If it's any consolation, those two were working towards that end too," says pointing at Lyra's slightly smoking hut and Rosa sitting by the fire. "Something all inclusive as well. Not just humans, elves, and dwarves. Anyone willing to work together in peace. Maybe even a half-orc hunter cursed with lycanthropy." She shrugs and hops out of her hole to let the man take care of his companions. She returns to the fire and nods at the others. He was going to be okay, she thought.It would be a while but...yeah. She sat at the fire and turned her mind towards more productive thoughts. Revelations, processes, metals. anything other than a grieving man.
After washing the bodies and wrapping them in white linen Garek would bury them both on his own, remaining silent and stoic as he withheld his grief from the people who had killed his wife and friend, accident or not. After the last shovelful of dirt was placed he dropped to his knees and simply sat there, his chin on his chest.
Lyra would make her way out of her smoke filled interior at this time with with the black iron staff in hand, patting Rosa's shoulder as she moved past. Without saying a word to the half-orc the druid would slam the staff on the ground and whisper a single word that sent energy shooting into the ground. In response a single obelisk of rough granite emerged from the ground a few feet ahead of the graves, sending dirt flying in every direction.
Moving past the stunned Garek the druid gently placed the cloudy quartz orb at the top of the staff against the granite obelisk and once again the magic responded to her call. The face of the stone warped and oozed until it resembled clay that Lyra began to shape with her hands. After a few minutes a rough shape of two humanoids began to form when the druid stepped back and frowned.
"You...Garek was it? Come here and place your hand against the stone." Lyra said. When the half-orc was slow to respond she clicked her tongue impatiently and grabbed his hand before bodily hauling the man to his feet and dragging him over before slapping his hand on the stone. The quartz orb on the staff began to glow brightly as the magic responded to the tumultuous emotions and memories of the half-orc
Before everyone's eyes the two humanoids began to waver like water as stone flowed like loose mud and rearranged itself into a picture of two smiling women, one human and one elf. The pictures were life sized and so vivid in detail that it appeared as if they were almost ready to leap into life. Two names were inscribed at the bottom of the picture as well as a short description of the person.
As the light faded from the quartz orb Lyra would release Garek's hand and step back down the bluff, a small pleased smile on her lips as she ducked back into her tent. "Goodnight everyone." she said softly before letting the tent flaps shut.
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The next morning dawned bright and clear as only a few clouds drifted lazily and the wind made the grass dance like oceans of emerald. Garek had vanished sometime in the night after getting directions to Oleg's outpost, leaving 150 gold with Moira after discovering she had made the deadly greatsword she had used in their fight as the first half of a payment for a master crafted greataxe that he would pick up at the fort whenever it was finished.
The first half of the day would pass without incident as the hills flattened out and opened into the northern prairie that was the buffer between Brevoy and the Stolen Lands. The peace was torn asunder however as the group came out of a small bowl valley unto a battlefield strewn with dozens, if not hundreds of animals and people worth of bones. Five hundred feet away two titans wrestled and shrieked as they both sought to kill and consume the other.
The immense spider was half out of a large tunnel covered with a web secured trap door and wrestling with an equally large centipede that was attempting to wrap around the huge arachnid and sink foot long fangs that dripped with steaming black fluid into the insect. At the moment the two creatures seemed to be at a stalemate and completely ignoring the party.
Meha sighed after Lyra made the wonderful statue to commemorate the women. I suppose I can understand though, as sometimes nature is ferocious and then forgiving. Perhaps there are things I do miss being so far from the lands. She thought to herself, for despite Lyra's previous words, if she didn't feel something she would have just let it go unchanged and marked, and it did ease some of Meha's darker thoughts about Lyra, as someone completely changed to a fae would not care overly much about others feelings.
During the night shift, Meha asked Dom what else they should do about the groups religious service, as when she thought about it, she could not recall if any of them had certain rites or other holidays they needed to keep track of. Despite it being each and everyone's own religion, as their cleric it was her job to track it, and the last few events have reminded her to not slack in providing for them all.
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As they travelled, Meha still puzzled over other matters, a small notebook in her lap as they traversed the plains. This was interrupted at the sight of a horrid battle between a spider, which caused her to shiver, and some type of many legged thing, similar enough to a spider that she really didn't want to find out what it was. She would drop her voice and ask Lyra " I am guessing we should get rid of them in these lands, but what exactly are they, and could WE even get rid of them?"
Rose jolted a little at the touch before she relaxed, having been lost in thought for some time. She watched as Lyra when over and created the stone and then molded it, shaped it, and then out of frustration she grabbed Garek and tugged him over to the stone.
And what happened next made Rose's jaw drop. The stone formed lifelike replicas of the two women, a memorial that was heart-wrenching and beautiful all the same.
She stared at the statues for some time, transfixed by how stunningly well made they were and the attitude of her dear sister after they were complete only served to make her even more stunned.
She would never cease to be amazed by her.
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Watching the struggle between the horrendous creatures made her skin crawl. She knew it was a job they must do, but her opinion was with Mehaila on this one. She sighed wistfully as she watched the two creatures fight.
The fight raged back and forth for several minutes as the ground around the behemoths was splattered with poison and blood. Fangs flashed and poison sprayed as the centipede dodged the spider's lunges but could not penetrate the tough exoskeleton of the 8-legged monster. The Ogre spider on the other hand was so large that the centipede could not wrap its body around enough to grapple and had to rely on its superior flexibility and speed to stay alive.
Finally the ogre spider lunged forward and skewered the centipede with it's enormous fangs, yanking it's body back and forth to dislodge the creature from the spider's body. Releasing the creature the spider backed into its enormous burrow and waited for the poison and bleeding to do the job of killing the centipede.
After a few more tense seconds the centipede curled into a coil and went still. The spider cautiously pushed out of its burrow and prodded the centipede once with a leg before scuttling backwards into its lair and waiting for a reaction. When none came it pushed the door of its burrow open all the way and bent down to grab the centipede firmly with it's sword length fangs.