Eldon moves to the front of the party and looks up at the female guard.
"I am the one and only Eldon Appleton, epic storyteller of the most epic stories ever told. I and my assistants have come here invited, and I would very much appreciate it if you'd step aside and let us in."
Eldon retrieves his personalized invitation from his pocket and holds it up. "You can check this invitation if you'd like, but I'm sure my epic word will suffice?"
Arval reaches in his backpack and gets out a really crumpled piece of paper. If they accept Eldon's invitation he will also offer his one.
"Aye, tha' an' th' word we bring tha' yer guests be falli' afoul o' creatures in th' woods on the way here. Wha' kind o' Huntin' Lodge leaves weaverworms an' ettercaps t' prey on folks in its own domain? Wren, ye be havin' tha' bloody note?"
Wren stops her fluttering enough to pull out her invite, as needed. While she waits, she preens and fluffs the feathers in her armor. She prides herself in being colorful.
As the group starts talking, the guards stop you and turn to call someone out. A serious-looking halfling dressed in officious clothing approaches the gate, and takes the invitations offered. He looks them over, looks at you, and then back at the invitations, frowning deeply. As people start to speak or protest, he silences you with a look before he finally speaks after several minutes of reading the invitations.
“I apologize for any misunderstanding, but as the porter of Ascanor Lodge, I cannot permit your entrance at this time. You do not have reservations in our books, and despite your claims, I have no evidence to justify allowing strangers into the lodge. Madam halfling, you are not invited. From the looks of you, unlike the rest of my guests, you haven’t come here to take a peaceful retreat. I want no trouble, so off with you all, and take whatever troubles you bring somewhere else!”
As he speaks you can see that a curious crowd has started to gather towards the gate. You see a variety of servants and finely dressed Ustalavian nobility saring at you with open curiousity, whispering to each other.
Eldon then launches into his short, impassioned speech and the halfling porter gives pause.
He stares at the invitations, back at the group, and then lets out a sigh.
"Fine. Fine. We have room, and a direct invitation from the Palatine Eye does carry some weight around here. Don't upset the proper guests, and don't cause any trouble. My name is Belik."
He then looks at Whiskeyjack.
"Sir, this is the Shudderwood. IF it were not as deadly-dangerous as it is, nobody would come here for the hunting. Please, enter. Welcome to Ascanor Lodge."
The halfling steps back, revealing the interior grounds. The massive wooden lodge dominates your view, with grounds to the east and west. The servants within the small crowd gawking at you quickly disperse while the various well-dressed folk immediately start minding their own business, sneaking glances at you. The glances range from deeply curious to open hostility.
"Hey! Arval."
Arval says as he extends his hand in greeting as they head inside.
Wren finishes her fluffing in time to catch the tail end of Belik's invite. She enters, looking forward to having a bed for the first time in weeks.
"Excellent, Belik, excellent," Wren coos happily. She does not notice the jealous looks from the other guests. She is used to the attention that her colorful wonder imbues.
"Come along, I wish to clean up before dinner. What time is dinner served, Belik? Will there be seeds?"
Belik looks stupidly at Wren, unsure of how to answer. He opens his mouth to speak and...
baaaaaaa
Everyone starts as a hunting horn sounds! A rough-and-tumble-looking woodsman heads for the gate, followed by a young noble dressed in finely tailored, studded hunting leathers. Despite the commotion, the two men push through the crowd, oblivious to anyone else’s concerns. Several scruffy-looking hirelings follow behind them leading a pair of horses and carrying wooden crates marked with heraldic symbols. As they shuffle past, the woodsman calls back to the noble,
“For the last time Duristan! I’ll take you there, but I ain’t bringing my dogs!”
"Well why did I bring my bloody horn then?" shouts back the nobleman. "Oh! Do horns scare werewolves? As you well know I've killed enough of the buggers myself, but the more tactics one has on hand, the better things go you kno-- I say!"
The nobleman - apparently Duristan - regards all of you.
"You lot! Fall in me, I need some more able sword-arms for the hunt!"
Wren looks at Duristan up and down, considering.
"Who are you? Are you important? Are we going to be wasting our time with you?" Wren buzzes with questions. "We've been on the road for weeks and we probably have better things to do, like eat and poop in a proper chamberpot rather than squatting behind a tree, rather than spend time with you. Unless I am missing something?"
Clearly unimpressed by the man Arval looks him up and down.
"You want us to go into a melee with werewolves so you can shoot flimsy arrows at them? First of all I am no meat-shield and second of all before you even shoot the thing it will be already dead."
He looks at the party before looking back at the so called nobleman.
"But if you are able to grease our palms sufficiently we may consider your offer."
Arval shoves the point of his shield in the ground and leans on it, waiting for a response. His dented armor and brand new sword look the part in showing his experience.
Kawrock ruffles his feather, he'd been rather silent since they found the dead man in the woods. "I'm not to keen on going back out into those woods. A lot of disturbing things are happening out there."
The nobleman holds up a finger and the retinue stops behind him. He looks like he's about to admonish Wren before Kawrock and Arval cut in. Slowly, he looks all of you over, taking in your arms and armour. The porter, Belik, rushes off into the lodge.
"You're... you're adventurers! Oh please excuse my gaffe, I lost myself in the excitement of it all. I entreat you - please join my hunt, I could learn so much from you! I'm tracking down a werewolf - in exchange you are free to dine with me and I will pay for the entirety of your stay at the Lodge. Oh - and where are my manners? Duristan Ariersir, with me is the Lodge huntsmaster, Delgros Kroitzcer. But I bet you adventurers could show him a thing or two, eh?"
Delgros looks annoyed.
Wren's attitude changes slightly as Duristan's does.
"Well, that is an interesting offer. Why are we hunting a werewolf? And what makes you think there are any around here?" Wren asks before even introductions are made.
Seeing that the man didn't take up on his offer for money Arval quickly looks annoyed.
"Could we move this inside? With food and hopefully a chair."
He replies in a gruff voice.
"Arval by the way. No need for surnames, not calling anyone by that."
He sticks out a sweaty and dirty hand as greeting.
"Aye, lass, th' thought had occurred to me as well. I be thinkin' we ought t' be soundin' this fellow out on his plan afore we blithely run off wit' him."
Louder, Whiskeyjack hailed the werewolf hunter. "Its sure we be after a challenge an' all, but no' so sure I be tha' we ken be teachin' a huntsmaster like Delgros anythin'. Still, we ran int' a man nailed to a tree wit' a silver knife in 'is chest, an' a trap o' silversheen arrows in th' woods. Tha' be yer doin'?"
Kawrock waits patiently while the others sound out this eager nobleman. While he waits he does take a moment to inspect the two for anything usual about their appearance.
"I, of course, am no stranger to defeating werewolves," Eldon says to Duristan and Delgros.
"My name's Eldon Appleton, epic storyteller of epic stories about yours truly. Let me amaze you by telling you about the time I defeated a werewolf in a wrestling match! It all started when I was taking a stroll in the evil forest in my backyard, which I often take strolls in and is filled with dreadful adversaries that only I can handle with extraordinary ease..."
Kawrock gives the nobleman and huntsmaster a very good sizing up. Duristan is not a particularly good-looking fellow, balding early with an unfortunate neck beard. However, he has the manners and dress of the idle rich and nothing strikes you as odd.
Delgros is a very intense-looking individual, powerfully-built with good weaponry. He's in his early thirties and has a distinctly outdoorsy, even dangerous look to him.
Meanwhile, Duristan beams as the trap is mentioned by Whiskeyjack, ignoring Lena's admonishments.
"Wonderful, isn't it? A clear message to all werewolves that I am not to be trifled with. Some of my best work." He walks over to Arval, clapping the farmboy on his beefy, armoured shoulder. "And Arval my good, stout man. Do you want to be the fellow who said 'No, I'm too tired to hunt werewolves?'. The thrill, the excitement! How could you say no? And of course there will be cushions and chairs and hot baths and excellent food... when we return. I promise this will be worth your while. You could even sport the hide of a werewolf like I do, and be the envy of the many beautiful, very rich women here."
You're pretty sure werewolves revert to their human form once killed.
You're also pretty sure that he's wearing the hide of a golden retriever.
He then blinks as Eldon starts babbling to him.
"You defeated a werewolf in a wrestling match?! Oh this is too good, please, Master halfling, tell me of your heroic tales. I can't wait to hear them! I am interested in hearing all of your stories. Come Delgros, let us be off!"
Delgros takes a calm look as he sizes you all up before nodding once and turning to follow Duristan, who saunters out of the Lodge.
House Ariesir is an extremely wealthy family from Ardeal, the County to the southeast of the Shudderwood. He is likely to be quite influential within the lodge, despite his personality.
Arval's look darkens as the man admits the trap.
"You were the one who broke my ribs?"
He picks up his shield and moves face to face with the man before he sets off. His face looks like he could break some ribs himself.
"Care to explain?!"
"Werewolves don't have pelts like that. Since they return to human form after you kill them. Pretty sure that's a dogs pelt you are wearing." Kawrock says after looking at the nobleman's pelt. "Also do you have a thing for hunting shape shifters or is it just werewolves you are after?"
The men-at-arms behind Duristan suddenly get very interested as Arval steps up and starts shouting in the man's face. The guards at the gate also reach for their weapons. It looks like swords are about to be drawn before Delgros hold up a hand, barking out a command.
"ENOUGH." He looks between Arval and Duristan. Duristan just stammers at Arval.
"My lord, I told you that trap would catch the wrong bait. Allow me."
Duristan steps back, muttering 'well I never' to himself a few times as Delgros leans in, speaking quietly.
"Look friend, I don't know where you come from but your presence at the lodge will be made far harder, or easier with Duristan's desires. He is a pain in the arse, and through blind luck did kill three werewolves before setting that idiotic trap. Play along, help me out here, and you can have two powerful friends at this lodge."
Delgros then turns, mutters a couple of words to Duristan, and Duristan composes himself. When the noble looks back the pelt draped around his shoulders is no longer there.
"Well. I will forgive your outburst if you will forgive my enthusiasm. I obviously did not mean to harm an innocent such as yourself. If you will accept my apologies and accompany me on my hunt, I will ensure you are richly provisioned here. And I will owe you a favour."
He then looks at Kawrock.
"And werewolves are my only prey, Master Tengu. Your wisdom and guidance would be most useful on this pursuit."
In an equally quiet voice, Whiskeyjack mrumured, "Ease off lads. There be a time an' place t' be callin' a cow out on slingin' its excrement everywhere, bu' this ain't i'. As th' lodge master jest pointed out, th' noble's in a good position t' help us in our investigation, an' t' block us a' every turn. ."
Louder he said, "I be sure tha' ye didnae mean t' harm innocents, though yer plan weren't well thought. An' it's in me own mind tha' a favor from th' likes o' ye wouldnae go unappreciated. What say ye lads and lass? Ken we be helpin' this poor hustsman on 'is quest t' kill werewolves, an' put aside our own injuries - severe though they were, an if'n we hain't had th' divine power o' Angradd wit' us his young life migh've spilled into th' very grass beneath tha' tree?"
|
well, he is obviously a bit sorry, and we are still here to talk about. Let's let bygones be bygones. You know werewolves are pretty dangerous, so killing three is impressive. But there are other monsters. Eldon here is a master story teller (and shameless self promoter) and he can tell you how he defeated the terrifying ghost of the splatter man lena says quickly, trying to defuse tension, while kicking eldon in the ankle.
Eldon, I woild like to not fight the local guards. Do your thing. she whispers in hs ear
Know (Nature)
Wren fluffs up angrily, but tries to still herself when words of sense are spoken...even in defense of a man who confuses a werewolf with a golden retriever.
She waits, thinking for a moment, then speaks.
"I have decided that I will go with you. I guess my birdbath will have to wait a few more hours. Where do we intend to go? How can I help?"
Arval nods to Delgros's proposal and seems to calm down. He turns around to face Duristan.
"Oke, I will accept your apologies and will forgive your enthusiasm. I will also join you on the hunt."
He spits on his hand and holds it out to seal their faiths.
"The trap however emptied one of them healing sticks. We could use a replacement."
Kawrock nods, "Some allies in this place may not be a bad thing. I will join you in the hunt since you are only after werewolves." Kawrock shudders slightly after saying the word werewolf.
The expedition heads out, with Delgros and Duristan mounting up. As Duristan keeps pace with Eldon, listening to every word of the halfling and believing all of it, Delgros falls back a little to talk with the rest of you. Six hirelings tromp along, three in front, and three in the back, looking silent and surly.
"So I lead the Lodge's guests on hunts, right? Earlier today I've got some of the lords and ladies out to get some stag, and we came across a slaughtered buck which was... not pretty to look at. Carcass was flayed and it was - I guess displayed. The nobles all panicked and ran back to drown their sorrows, and of course Duristan here found out."
He shoots the nobleman a sidelong look, shaking his head slightly.
"Duristan thinks everything is a werewolf, and so of course blames the stag on the werewolves and now has dragged me out before supper for this. I appreciate you coming along. We'll see what comes of this."
-----
The trail leads to a small clearing, where the trampled ground
and snapped brush show signs of a great struggle. The soil is
soaked with blood, and more has splashed upon the tree trunks
and leaves. Despite the telltale evidence, Delgros’s jaw drops
and his eyes dart wildly with shock at the situation.
"It's gone!"
Duristan lets out a cry of anguish and leaps from his horse, looking around the clearing.
"This will not do! Everybody, start looking for tracks or any evidence of what happened here!"
The hirelings look at each other in confusion as Delgros groans and starts combing the area for tracks.
Kawrock puts his knowledge and keen senses to work as he looks for any signs of where the body was dragged.
Whiskeyjack tossed back a slug from his hip flask before turning his bloodshot eyes to the ground around where the huntmaster was indicating. A missing corpse in the woods wasn't particularly unusual. After all, there was all manner of animals that would drag of a corpse to satiate themselves and their pack/herd/whatever later.
Wren declines to look for tracks, but instead does what she is good at...looking for magical auras.
She looks for magical traces in the area, ignoring the auras from her companions.
Perception
Arval looks at the hirelings and at Delgros. Knowing something or the wilderness he finds it very suspicious that the man reacts so to the situation. He leans in on Whiskey and whispers.
"I think something is amiss here. Why would he react so? Do you think he might have planted the corpse in the first place?"
He joins the search afterwards.
You quickly begin combing the area. Wren and Whiskeyjack spot at least two sets of prints in the clearing, besides those of the stag. Frustratingly, they're mostly partial prints and badly trampled. The most striking are large wolflike prints, twice the size of a typical wolf's prints.
These are not consistent with anything you know of normal wolves or lycanthropes. Perhaps a dire wolf, although with extremely long claws.
Kawrock's keen eyes pick out what he can immediately spot as the prints of a very, very large boar, which lead through a swath of crushed scrub and brush, as if something was dragged off into the woods. As he points out the crushed brush, Duristan's eyes go wide.
"That's it! Our quarry!"
He charges off into the bush with the rest of you in tow. Just fifty feet ahead, the sounds of grunting and shuffling are heard, but before you can properly plan, Duristan has burst into a clearing where three very, very large boars are feasting of the flayed stag corpse. They look up at you, and squeal their outrage!
Duristan looks over his shoulder at the lot of you, beaming enthusiastically.
"Let's show them what some real adventurers are made of, eh boys? And uh, the good lady Lena."
He yanks out his bow and fires off an arrow, which thwacks into a boar, annoying it even more.
"Don't boars charge? Well just to be sure..."
He takes a step forward and goes total defense, just beside noble. He holds his shield in front of him and braces his feet in the ground.
Round 1, Init 28
"And I thought this hunt might be exciting!" Wren grouses, "But it appears it will be boaring!"
Wren saunters over to Duristan's side and give him very helpful advice on how to shoot his bow better.
DURISTAN!!:
HP: 43/43
AC: 17 (3 dex, 4 mage armor)
Arcane Bond: 0/1 used
Open spell slots: none
Left Hand: wand of magic missile
Right Hand: { }
Sage Advice: (1/8 used).
:
Wand of Acid Arrow: 2 charges left
Wand of Magic Missile 49 charges left
"Dinnae jest be runnin' off int' th' brush on yer own ye..." Whiskeyjack broke off before he said something he might regret later. Instead, he began counting backwards from ten...in gnomish...with a Mwangi accent. It was therapeutic, but took him a bit to remember the glottal inflections.
Kawrock stays behind and inspects the wolf print.
"He's not going to live long if he keeps charging off like that." The tengu says to himself as he works.
Eldon has no idea what Kawrock is talking about, but nods in agreement.
"Most certainly! He wouldn't want to run into that without me around!"
Kawrock looks up when Eldon comments on the tracks. "I was referring to his current actions, but since you are here take a look at this. It's got the right shape for a wolf or werewolf print, but it's much to large. I thought it might be a dire wolf, but they don't have claws long enough to leave indentions like this." Kawrock says as he points out the details he noticed in the tracks.
"Exactly, my dear feathered friend. That was, of course, what I was referring to."
Eldon also points at the details Kawrock noticed in the tracks, copying him. "It's all in the indentions, yes indeed."
The smell of freshly burned pork fills the air as Lena's fireball explodes in the midst of the boars. Duristan positively squeals with delight as the display of pyrotecthnic magic. Arval steps forward, bringing his shield up while Whiskeyjack tries to clam down. Wren grants Duristan a boon, which delights the nobleman.
Kawrock and Eldon hang back, chatting happily.
With a thunderous squeal, the boars charge straight for Arval, while the other hangs back, unable to get a line due to the rocks and tress.
However, Arval keeps his ground as the enormous, one-ton pig slams into his shield, pushing him back a foot but not laying a tusk on him.
Whiskeyjack
Duristan
Arval
Lena
Wren
---
Tri Boar (24 dmg)
Sqr Boar (24 dmg)
Pln Boar (24 dmg)
---
Meanwhile, outside of the fight, Delgros looks down the trail, and pulls an apple out of his coat, munching on it. He examines the tracks from Kawrock. The men at arms charge off to join the fight next round.
"That... doesn't look good. Big bastard that. I've seen dire wolf tracks and those claws are something else."
Duristan's shrieking battlecry sounds through the forest.
"So, where you lot from?"
Round 2, Init 28
"You want to shoot your bow where you want the arrow to go!" Wren says as she continues to offer helpful advice on how to shoot his bow better.
DURISTAN!!:
HP: 43/43
AC: 17 (3 dex, 4 mage armor)
Arcane Bond: 0/1 used
Open spell slots: none
Left Hand: wand of magic missile
Right Hand: { }
Sage Advice: (2/8 used).
:
Wand of Acid Arrow: 2 charges left
Wand of Magic Missile 49 charges left
Arval snorts as the pig tries to hurt him. He starts swinging his sword at the southern pig within range. He slams his shield back up the moment he finishes his attacks.
|
|
Lena sniffs
roast pork! Now I'm really hungry
She points her finger towards the boars.
let's see, this little piggy went to market,this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef for dinner, this little piggy had none. And this little piggy takes four magic missiles.
four bolts of force slam into piggy two
Hmm, that didn't sound right. Mental note, ask Eldon. Further mental note. Don't ask Eldon.