Kawrock draws the mithril war razor he had his claws on the moment he saw the werewolf. "If slathering two people is the message you bring, then allow us to give you a reply."
The werewolf facing you snarls, and one more leaps out of the tree tops. They both stare at all of you full of menace. Then they lift back their heads and let out a long, bone-chilling howl.
AAAAA-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooo
....
Almost immediately, another wolf echoes their cries. Then another, and another, spreading throughout the darkness until the entire wood seems to resound with the howls.
AAA-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
AAA-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
The two enormous werewolves stare at you all, daring you to attack or leave. One growls one last warning.
"We are giving you the gift of mercy. You are intruders in our territory bearing cheap tricks and traps with intent to harm. Leave now, or join the fools you had setting these traps."
You hear Duristan whimper behind you.
|
If lena had a virtue, it was to pick her moment. Slipping out her mithril dagger, she moves up whiskyjack and whispers
whishyjack, picking a fight with werewolves in a forest at night is not a good tactical choice. Yes those poor men are dead, but we have others to protect here, and attacking won't aid that. Look at them. They'll break and be cut down as they flee.
She touches his arm
we can get recompense for their crime later, if we have too. If you want to fight, I'll help of course, but think of those we guard. Walking away jst costs us a little pride. We can get a blood price later, without bystanders in the way.
Eldon looks at Whiskeyjack with an incredibly annoyed expression and whispers at him with an equally annoyed voice, "I was merely trying to stall it while recalling the massive amount of incredibly useful information I have on werewolves, Whiskey!"
Wren and Eldon quickly rack their brains to figure out what they know about werewolves. Eldon knows a bit on the Silverhide pack, but Wren is actually quite well-versed in the subject.
The Silverhides is the colloquial name for the Mordinracht, one of the many werewolf packs the live in the Shudderwood. They get their name from their gray-white fur, and are known for being aggressive, but composed and calculating. The Mordinracht rarely form organized packs, and instead are notorious for blending in with normal humans and secretly living in their communities. Mathus Mordrinracht is the Silverhides' leader.
Wren is vaguely familiar with the Highthrone, which is located in an abandoned temple somewhere. It is the ancestral seat of power, and is where the werewolves meat to contest territories, organize new packs, determine their laws, and pronounce judgement on those who break said laws.
Wren coos, recalling what she remembers.
"Oh, I see now. What tribe are you with if not the Silverhides? The Curs? Forgive me, I'm new here," Wren mentions to the howling wolf.
"KILL THAT THING FIRST!" roars the werewolf, which pounces at the group!
Round 1, Init First
Wren flaps her wings trying to get away, but largely goes no where. Instead she casts Fly and moves up 20', her wings still flapping.
Arval goes full defense, not sure what to expect from the large beasts.
"Puppies going for a bird, how funny. How did we get in this mess again?"
"Tha' did i'."
Whiskeyjack called on Angradd's power and as Wren lifted off, he cast his spell. An blue-white infusion of power entered each of his compatriots as he touched each in turn, protecting them from the worst that evil creatures could throw out.
HP 52/52. Current AC: 24/10/24 (+2 vs. evil)
Active conditions:
Active spell effects:
Fervors remaining: 6/6
Blessings remaining: 7/7
Spells remaining: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/4, 3rd 2/2
Channels remaining: 3/3
bird brained elf! You had to set them off!
Wren squawks an angry retort.
"The dwarf charged with his weapon and the war chickedee wanted to give them a fitting reply, and you blame this on me?" Wren flaps. "Besides, the Mewling Curs sounds like a good name for this one. Or would Mangy B+$&~es be better? I'm not very good with names."
"I do like the sound of Mangy B%++&es better. Plays to their dog like connection better." Kawrock says regarding Wren's comments
Lena fires off two bolts of fire, which badly scorch the werewolf, drawing a roar of pain while Whiskeyjack blesses the group and Wren gets the hell out of dodge.
Incensed at the insult, the werewolves roars at Wren before charging for Arval and Whiskeyjack instead! They draw enormous greatswords before attacking. Whiskeyjack and Arval both take hard shots.
Communal Protection from Evil Active
Werewolf (29 dmg)
Werewolf (triangle)
---
Kawrock
Eldon
Duristan
----Round Two Begins---
Wren
Lena
Arval
Whiskeyjack
----
"Ah, yes, swinging greatswords. That reminds me of the time I taught Arval to swing his weapon. His technique appears to have become somewhat sloppy, though. Guess it's time to remind him of the basics of swordplay."
Eldon draws his rapier and points it forward, placing one foot in front of the other. "First of all, take a stance..."
Arval, unharmed by the attack, takes a step forward. He thrusts with his sword, followed by an underhanded strike.
"No need for instructions! We are going to teach the puppies a lesson."
He says with a grin on his face.
Round 2, Init Firstish
"Oh, Arval, dearie, do mind their swords. They look sharp and hurty." Wren advises Arval while drawing her wand of Magic Missile. She activates it at the most wounded werewolf.
force damage
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: (4/8 used).
:
Wand of Acid Arrow: 2 charges left
Wand of Magic Missile 48 charges left
Kawrock steps in and slashes at a werewolf with his war razor.
Whiskeyjack shook off the blow and heft his shield, intending to charge right in between Arval and Kawrock. His dwarven legs pumped and he started moving, only to trip on an exposed root. Arms flailing, he barely managed to not fall right on his face, though he did end up staring in to a werewolf's grinning face.
HP 52/52. Current AC: 24/10/24 (+2 vs. evil)
Active conditions:
Active spell effects:
Fervors remaining: 6/6
Blessings remaining: 7/7
Spells remaining: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/4, 3rd 2/2
Channels remaining: 3/3
Arval slashes out twice, viciously at the werewolf in front of him, despite its damage resistance he manages to penetrate, wounding it. Kawrock manages a thin, bleeding cut with his war razor while Wren blasts the werewolf with magic missiles.
Duristan, with shaking fingers, fits two arrows and fires them into the werewolves, somewhat bolstered by Eldon's babbling. His silver arrows find their mark with a satisfying thud.
Brutally injured, the werewolf facing the group snarls, leaping upon ARval as he attempts to tear the head off of the warrior, but she is knocked back by his shield.
The southernmost werewolf spies Kawrock, attacking him! The tengu manages to evade the deadly bite but is slashed across the chest.
Communal protection from evil
Inspire courage, +2 attack/damage
Communal Protection from Evil Active
Werewolf (69 dmg)
Werewolf (triangle)
---
Kawrock (20 dmg)
Eldon
Duristan
----Round Two Begins---
Wren
Lena
Arval
Whiskeyjack
Round 3, Init Firstish
"Oh Kawrock! What did I just tell Arval about avoiding their swords?! Don't you listen to anything I chirp?" Wren chides Kawrock. "Probably not your fault, much like a chicken, you don't have ears, do you?"
Wren fires her wand at the most wounded w'wolf if it still stands.
force damage
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: (4/8 used).
:
Wand of Acid Arrow: 2 charges left
Wand of Magic Missile 47 charges left
Wren's magic missile slams into the werewolf right between the eyes. It stops mid-roar, and then collapses face-first on the ground.
Arval turns and shifts his focus to the southern wolf. He grins as the first sword hits, once again.
"not so tough are you? We still have some space over the fire for you also!"
Whiskeyjack spent a moment calling out to Angradd, then reached over to touch Arval's sword. The weapon lit up with fire from hit to tip, and Whiskeyjack grinned as he saw the flames reflected in the werewolf's eyes.
HP 52/52. Current AC: 24/10/24 (+2 vs. evil)
Active conditions:
Active spell effects:
Fervors remaining: 6/6
Blessings remaining: 6/7
Spells remaining: 1st 5/5, 2nd 3/4, 3rd 2/2
Channels remaining: 3/3
Kawrock takes a step back before combusting into his firey form.
"Well done!" Eldon comments when one of the werewolves is dropped.
Eldon moves forward and stabs at the other werewolves. "Now on to the basics of attacking. Use more flair, like this!"
Arval move sin on the remaining werewolf, the tremendous force of his blows overcoming its resistance to weaponry. It is clear the werewolf did not expect a counterattack with this ferocity. This is doubled when Arval's sword bursts into flames. Finally, Eldon bravely charges forwards, poinking the werewolf with his rapier.
Realizing the fight is not going his way, the stalker backs off.
"Do not return to our territory, you will see many more than two of us in the future!"
She turns, withdrawing from the fight and loping off into the woods after sparing one last glance at the fallen werewolf.
Eldon casts haste on himself and his allies.
"We have to chase after it! It may return with allies while we're sleeping!"
He moves after the creatures at twice his usual speed. "I just sped everyone up. Now you're all moving as fast as I usually am, and I'm moving even faster!"
Arval starts running after the werewolf, ending up next to it.
"It is our territory now. Why are you running?"
Round 4, Init Firstish
Wren flies after the fleeing Cur, still wanting to know the name of the tribe.
"Are all of your tribe as cowardly as you? Should we look for the tribe that runs away the fastest? Will that be yours or does it have a name?"
Wren fires her wand at the werewolf.
force damage
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: (4/8 used).
:
Wand of Acid Arrow: 2 charges left
Wand of Magic Missile 46 charges left
The werewolf shudders as the magic missile thuds into it, and realizing that it is not going to flee, turns to face Wren, shouting at her and the group.
"I will gladly die defending my territory!" she snarls. "Mock me all you want. My howls have been answered, my death will be known by the Vollensag.
As if to punctuate its words, Duristan fires off two more silver arrows, one of which slams into the werewolf.
[Protection from Evil, Haste, Inspire Courage]
Werewolf (triangle) (44 dmg)
---
Kawrock (20 dmg)
Eldon
Duristan
Wren
Lena
Arval
Whiskeyjack
"Why do they always run?" complained Whiskeyjack as he stumped along after the werewolf. Thanks to Edon's spell, he was able to keep up, but only just.
Kawrock flies after the werewolf, easily catching up with the help of Eldon's spell. Once he is in range he fires a bolt of flame and the fleeing shapeshifter.
The flames fly across the forest, thudding into the werewolf who collapses on the ground, smouldering.
End of Combat
Duristan slowly approaches you with wide eyes.
"Tho... those are the biggest werewolves I've ever seen! I've always had to trap or surp.. how did you do that? Oh this is most excellent! Most excellent!"
The werewolves' only equipment is two greatswords.
Wren continues to flit about in the air like a hummingbird seeking nectar as she keeps a lookout for more of the Pollenbag tribe of werewolves.
"Well, let's get back to the Lodge. I think we've earned some rest and dinner, don't you think?" Wren coos.
Hopefully, the party will return to rest and party for the night. And we can give 'Jack a bath.
... A slain lycanthrope reverts to its humanoid form...
After a short while, the wolves burn, our bleed out and shift, turning into the corpses of brawny, hairy humans.
Exploring the area around your camp reveals the werewolves silently everyone who was manning the traps. Their bodies are gathered and piled onto the cart, and the journey back to the Lodge takes you very late into the night. The moment he enters the lodge, Duristan parts ways with you.
"This much excitement has me just exhausted fellows, splendid hunt! That's five to my total now!"
With that, he abandons you in the courtyard, but your confusion only lasts a moment before the halfing porter who was so rude to you at the gates emerges from the lodge, and opens the door to beckon you inwards. He offers a tray full of steaming hot coffee.
"Please accept my most sincere apologies for my inappropriate behavior earlier. I was not informed of your coming and acted hastily on behalf of the lodge warden. I can assure you that you will suffer no further ill treatment during your stay at Ascanor Lodge.”
After waiting to see if you take the coffee, he then waves with his hand further inwards.
[b]"If it's convenient for you, my master requests your company at this time for a brief introduction, and to offer his apologies as well."
You currently stand in the grand hall of the lodge, which is abandoned at this very late - or early hour.
This huge hallway serves as the centrepiece of the ground floor. Golden Golden pine floor planks, over a foot in width and sanded smooth, stretch almost the entire length of the hall, while four massive tree trunks serve as pillars, running down run the center of the room supporting the ceiling overhead. Large hide rugs and trophy heads of bears bucks, and snarling wolves adorn the floor and natural log walls, boasting of some of the lodge’s patrons’ finer kills. Garlands and banners embroidered with the crests of various aristocrats, secret orders, and hunting clubs hang from exposed rafters high overhead. Stone fireplaces on either side keep the room at a comfortable temperature.
Do the wolves stay in their wolfy form? Revert?! I have no idea...TV gives me so many confusing images.
Kawrock shifts back to his regular self before entering the lodge. He refuses the coffee and follows the group into the grand hall.
Do the wolves stay in their wolfy form? Revert?! I have no idea...TV gives me so many confusing images.
Wren accepts coffee and snacks (if offered) in the great hall.
"Ooh, this is a Grand Hall, probably the grandest hall I've ever been in. And I've been in some quiet grand halls, let me tell you..." Then Wren does begin to explain the different halls she's been in. "This one hall was notoriously mirrored, including on the ceiling...blahblahblah...used for watching oneself doing the funky munky...blahblahblah...or sliding greased into one's open...blahblahblah...and another hall had numerous naked gnomes, I think they were gnomes, quite ugly, the lot of them...blahblahblah...fights and fisticuffs...blahblahblah...and that's where I learned about the Dutch Oven."
While Wren walks around examining the Hall, she will cast Detect Magic, mostly out of curiosity.
Arval accepts a mug of coffee and steps inside. His dirty boots leaving behind muddy footprints all over the hallway.
"Well it is late already so lead on."
Arval motions to the man to take them to his master. As they walk on he comments on the interior.
"Quite fancy isn't it? Bit over the top for me but well, not complaining."
Whiskeyjack stomped into the hall and then looked about. He was as impressed as Arval, and as lackadaisical about any tracks or scuff marks his boots made on the wooden floor.
"Aye, lad. Ain't seen nothin' this fancy since tha' Qadirian place when I was workin' fer th' Caliphate an' 'is mercenary guards. Th' Redwalls they called us, on accoun' o' th' Duke o' Redwalls wha' led us a' th' time. Mouse-faced man 'e was. Ne'er checked 'is boots fer scorpions in th' mornin'. Always check yer boots fer scorpions, lad. Tha's a bad way t' go. 'Is foot turned all purple-like, an' rotted clean away. Wouldnae le' me treat 'im neither, cause he said he had no truck with dwarven gods. Ken ye believe tha'?"