Eldon, despite not particularly knowing how to play the saxaphone, manages to show musical chops nobody in the group was aware of, and some competent dancing as well. The beautiful, dulcet tones of an alto sax in the hands of a halfling who knows what he's doing cuts right through Arval's stupor and the strange, haunting songs.
You charge forwards to the top of the hill, where the song has since stopped. The ettercaps dance hysterically around the tower, the interior of which is open to you.
Long, taut strands of shimmering silk fills the ruined tower’s interior, forming an intricate pattern running from floor to ceiling. Half a dozen large cocoonlike shapes hang from the ceiling, suspended above the tower’s hard-packed dirt floor. In the far corner, between two larger chunks of rubble, a wide burrow opens into the ground.
With the middle of the tower, Kawrock stares ahead blankly. Although not caught in the silk webs, he's certainly disturbed them.
As the group approaches, a horrific thing suddenly emerges from within the tower, and the ettercaps cheer before falling to their knees to worship. The creature moves with lightning speed, and is enormous, with most of her body hidden beneath the tower.
The bloated white segments of a maggot’s body erupt in a torso of mixed feminine and insectile features. Pale humanoid skin and carapace meld together beneath a face with segmented eyes and mandibles chittering a song of discordant alien clicks and hisses, as overlong carapace claws weave cords of thick webbing between them.
This is a weaverworm. These are foul aberrations, worshippers of goddesses of disease and gluttony. Weaverworms, or 'weavers'. They cast webs like spiders, and are famous for the songs played on their webs to lure in prey.
Turning, the strange weaver squeezes out of the tower, rushing past Kawrock. She considers the phoenix for a moment before realizing there are five new arrivals. Her enormous bloat flops out before points a finger, firing out a line of webbing at Arval! The attack is poor, however, and the surprised warrior slashes it out of the air with his sword.
Weaver
----
Arval
Kawrock
Eldon
Whiskeyjack
Lena
Wren
Round 1, Init 24
"What the Piddlespot?!" Wren curses as the monstrosity shows itself. "Oh dearie, our little firebug deserves a better death than this one. We'll not let it extinguish his little, tiny, weak flame just yet."
Wren draws a fiery red feather from her 'armor' and sprinkles it with guano, then tosses it at the 'worm.
fire damage & DC19 reflex for half
Kawrock stands there and watches as if nothing was wrong.
Eldon moves straight forward, stopping next to the nearest enemy. He changes his epic tune to another epic tune, and adds a slightly different move to his dance while looking at the ettercap.
Wren's perfectly-placed fireball blows up, scorching the tower and the weaverworm, and completely annihilating the dancing ettercaps! They die exhalting with praise and on fire - just the way religious fanatics who dig a giant musical worm would want to go. The weaverworm once more shows astonishing agility as she flicks her bulk out of the way of the worst of the fireball.
Kawrock remains like so, despite Eldon's shockingly competent sax work.
Weaver (12 dmg)
----
Arval
Kawrock (all glory to the hypno-worm)
Eldon
Whiskeyjack
Lena
Wren
Arval looks stunned as he manages to deflect the attack. Shaking his head he charges forward and attacks the giant filthy creature.
"I shall slay you!"
Whiskeyjack hefted his shield before him and charged straight for the giant maggot. The heavily reinforced shield was aimed right at the grub's abdomen, and he screamed as he closed. "Annngggrrraadddddddd!"
"Oooh pretty fire!" Kawrock says as he watches the ettercaps burn.
The weaverworm snaps down at Arval as he rushes in up to her, but is blocked by the doughty warrior's shield. The group begins to lay in to the horrific creature with Arval slamming his weapon home and Lena following up with a vicious scorching ray. Whiskeyjack's weapon bounces off of her hide. Arval's mighty blow fails to intimidate the creature.
She retaliates, focusing on Arval and the source of such great pain to her. Reaching down, her mighty jaws clamp around the warrior before she slams one of her nails into him! Arval feels a horrible numbing sensation spread through his body. As he drops, he sees her spike-like nail has broken off and is sticking out of him.
Weaver (75 dmg)
----
Arval
Kawrock (all glory to the hypno-worm)
Eldon
Whiskeyjack
Lena
Wren
Arval shakes off the stun and retaliates.
That battlecry... I might also need one in the future!
Whiskeyjack bounced from the weaverworm on his initial charge, but rebounded. He charged back in with his shield, raising its edge to catch the attacking worm in the head as it snapped at Arval.
HP 52/52. Current AC: 24/10/24
Active conditions:
Active spell effects:
Fervors remaining: 6/6
Blessings remaining: 7/7
Spells remaining: 1st 5/5, 2nd 4/4, 3rd 2/2
Channels remaining: 3/3
Round 2, Init 24
Wren dithers and waits to see if more of her magics will be necessary. She grips her new wand of magic missile as if not wanting to ruin its pristine condition.
Arval swings out twice but his sword bounces off of the weaver worm's hide while Whiskeyjack leaps from his feet as the weaver goes to bite him, slamming his shield into her face with incredible force! The worm's head snaps back from the force of the blow.
Weaver (84 dmg)
----
Arval (28 dmg)
Kawrock
Eldon
Whiskeyjack
Lena
Wren
Round 3, Init 24
With a sigh, Wren unleashes as blast from her new wand. She sends 5 forceful eagle's talons into the Weaver, each ripping flesh.
Kawrock suddenly snaps out of his enchantment and sees the large maggot thing for the first time. "That's some big eats." He says as he steps back and engulfs the creature in a pillar of holy flame.
Eldon drops his performance along with the saxophone. He moves up to the large creature while drawing his rapier and attacks it. "Take this, you fiend!"
Arval launches another attack on the weaver. He stifles a curse as he again is unable to hit his target.
An explosion of fire, beatings, and violence descends upon the weaverworm whose sceram is horrible to behold. The sheer power of the magical force directed against her is enough - with Kawrock's flame strike and Lena's scorching ray she is burned to a near-cinder that is then blasted into pieces with Wren's magic missile.
End of Combat
As the group take in the scene, Arval feels the pain and numbeness spreading through him once more! The weaverworm's nail continues to stick out of his chest.
Wren crows and squawks, creeping up slowly to the tower for fear of more weavers, more ettercaps, more danger.
"Is it safe? Are they all dead? We birds do not like big spiders. Spiders should focus on insects, not my feathered kin," Wren chirps, looking around.
Perception (w/Detect Magic)
"Surely, some these things previous victims had magics of interest, right? Help me look."
"Poison" Kawrock says as he moves to assist Avral.
Eldon checks Arval, to see what could be wrong with him.
He then checks the tower with Wren and Lena, also casting detect magic.
Arval goes stiff as a board and falls over. The group rush to look over him, and it becomes immediately apparent that the weaver's nail appears to be causing the paralysis. A good yank or two and it finally come sout, and Arval recovers quickly thereafter.
Exploring the tower reveals the weaver's grisly trophies as several sacks hanging from the ceiling are cut open to reveal human corpses.
The most recent of the corpses carries a sealed envelope half-soaked in blood. It is damaged and barely legible.
This is a reservation for a room at Ascanor Lodge for a minor noble named Echtmoor Dravin for last week.
Mostly burned away, the lumps of webbing reveal the weaverworm's treasure.
- a potion of heroism
- a ring of feather falling
- 1021 in assorted coins
- a bag of holding type I
Wren takes a look at the blood soaked envelope after handing off the magics and coins to others.
Linguistics
"Oh this is interesting," Wren chirps in her usual screechy voice. "This is a reservation for a room at Ascanor Lodge for a minor noble named Echtmoor Dravin for last week. No doubt he did not make it."
She passes the note around to others who might want to read it.
One moment he feels fine, except for the nail protruding from his side, and the next he lies on the floor completely numbed.
"Can we use the nail later on? That thing packs a punch!"
Why didn't I buy the cloak instead of the ring?!
Whiskeyjack held the talon in his hand as he tried to determine the source of the poison. If it was intrinsic to the talon itself, perhaps they could use the thing as a weapon of sorts. If the nail simply channeled venom from sacs internal to the weaverworm, it wouldn't likely be of much use. None of them were alchemists after all.
"Arval, lad. How ye be? Ye be needin' any healin'? Or mebbe jest some rest?"
Arval stretches and immediately looks pained.
"I think some of my ribs might have been broken. Some healing would be nice."
He lowers his arms and lets the healing wash over him, after which he stretches again before breaking a smile.
"A lot better!"
Whiskeyjack pulled his wand from his pack, and tapped Arval with it a short handful of times. He watched carefully as Arval's breathing eased, and stopped his healing only when Arval could breath without wincing.
Kawrock looks at the dead burnt creature, considering which part might taste the best. "Snacks." He says as he nibbles on different parts.
Having dealt with the weaverworm, you return to the trail and continue on your journey, striking further into the Shudderwood. The canopy of the trees makes for gloomy travel, and two more nights pass as you continue along the Silent Trail, heading southeast torwards the Ascanor Lodge.
In the mid-afternoon of your third day of journeying, you come upon a gruesome sight.
The pale corpse of a naked man hangs from a large yellow pine, bound to the trunk with rough cords. His mouth is stuffed with large, pale purple flowers, and his wrists and ankles are swollen and dark with bruises marking where his bindings cut into his skin, but the large silver hunting knife embedded deep in his heart seems the most likely cause of death.
Wren, disappointed that no one cared about the probably really important and vitally awesome document she managed to translate, moves along. She stows the vital clue into her haversack.
* * *
"Oh dearie. Oh dearie, dearie!" Wren says looking at the naked dead man. As usual, her first instinct is to look for feathers, when that fails, her second instinct is to cast Detect Magic and look for telltale auras.
She will let others examine the wounds and determine any religious rites, as necessary.
Whiskeyjack looked at the corpse for a moment, staring at the knife embedded in its chest. Turning to the others, he said gravely, "I be thinkin' 'e died of a hear' attack." He burst out with a grin, and slapped Arval on the arm as he chortled at his own grisly joke.
Seriously, though, 'e be hangin' here fer a good bi' before 'e were killed. See th' bruisin' on th' wrists? If'n he be killed afore he were hung up, they wouldnae be bruised like tha'."
Whiskeyjack scanned around them, looking for signs of the killers, as well as signs of what might have happened here...other than the obvious.
|
lena looks at the corpse. After whiskeyjacks bad taste joke, she goes a little pale. But she continues.
silver knife! she points out. this poor man died hard. Tortured? And killed with a silver dagger.
She looks at the rest of the party. aren't there stories of werewolves around here? Maybe someone thought he was one.
Arval shivers at the gruesome sight.
"Bound then killed. The werewolf thing sounds plausible. You kill those with silver right? A dagger to the heart should be enough then."
If within reach he will cut the corpse down and retrieve the dagger.
"This will come in handy."
"I've already done some looking around," Eldon says, then pauses to give you the opportunity to ask him if he found anything of interest.
As Whiskeyjack starts to take a long time searching, Arval approaches the corpse to retrieve the dagger... and his foot hits a trip wire.
thokthokthokthokthok
Although he tries to dodge, the bolts nonetheless hit Arval squarely and he flies backwards, blood pouring from his armour as it is punctured by the crossbow bolts.
With the group now able to view the corpse without danger, they can determine several pieces of information from the strange setup.
Whiskeyjack does not find the killer, particularly since this trap is quite old. However, when examining Arval he finds a strange paste on the tips of the crossbow bolts.
The paste is silversheen, although it's long lost its potency.
The only additional information on the corpse could come from the flowers:
The flowers stuffed into the corpse's mouth are wolfsbane. A toxic plant noted for its ability to drive off werewolves.
The knife itself is a masterwork silver dagger, and there are enough wolfsbane flowers for a good poisoner to make something nasty with them.
Eldon scrapes his throat as he decides he's waited long enough.
""What is that you have discovered, Eldon?" is what you must be thinking right now. Well, let me tell you. The flowers stuffed into the corpse's mouth are wolfsbane. A toxic plant noted for its ability to drive off werewolves. It's unclear to even me if this man was a werewolf, but combine the wolfbane and the silver dagger and it's evident someone was at least hunting for werewolves."
Eldon looks at Arval and Whiskeyjack. "Whiskey, if I pull the arrows out fast, could you quickly close his wounds before he loses too much blood?"
With Eldon's deductions, it's pretty clear either this man is a werewolf who has reverted to human form, or someone thought he was a werewolf.
Arval's eyes widen as he wees the arrows protruding from his armor, blood coating the holes.
"I... I... Could someone help?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Oh dearie, Arval, oh dearie." Wren stops momentarily to help Arval, but then gets distracted by the silvery sheen used on the bolt used to paste him.
Know Arcana
Know Nature
"...werewolf..."
Know (Local?) - Werewolves
Wren chirps and flaps her arms, clearly thinking about something.
The dwarf was still peering about when Arval strode up to the hanging body. It was too late to warn the lad, even if Whiskeyjack had seen the tripwire in time. All he could do now was pray to Angradd that he could heal the boy before he succumbed to his wounds.
Yanking out his old wand, he used the last of its charges on Arval to heal the man's wounds as the bolts were removed. He paused at one point, caught by the sight of a silvery paste on one of the bolt tips.
"Anyone know wha' this here pate be? If i' be a poison, I go' somethin' in me bag fer it."
Wren identifies the paste on the crossbow bolts as silversheen, albeit silversheen that is several months old.
With the trap properly explored, you leave the apparent werewolf to its grisly fate and continue on through the Shudderwood. Your remaining day and a half go unmolested, although the heavy canopy and intermittent rain makes for dreary travel.
After several days of travel, the Silent Trail meets up with a larger path through the forest heading east-west before it turns northwards. This leads you to your destination - Ascanor Lodge. It is a walled complex with an enormous manor house built of logs with a log-built wall sharpened at the top to prevent any attempts at climbing.
The entrance to the lodge is through twin wrought-iron portcullises set within arches inside a small half-timber watch-house, flanked on each side by a low stone tower.
The gates are very closed, although the sounds of activity and life within the lodge can clearly be heard. As you approach, you hear a shout from a tower. Two guards move to stand in front of the gate and look at you imposingly. One, a hard-bitten woman with a large scar across her neck, speaks.
"Welcome to Ascanor Lodge. We are not open to visitors. Thank you and have a good day."
Wren waits for the party to realize how awesome she was earlier.
She waits, occasionally coughing, but waiting.