An inspiration seems to strike Kaz as he hesitates over the vial of poison.
"Constantin...while I was in Jalmeray, the mystics spoke of Auras, and the art and science of reading them. I seem to recall some instruction - beyond me at the time - in reading a creature's health in its aura. DO you think that you might be able to determine if I am, indeed, diseased by such means?"
Kazamir ingests the poison and, for a while, nothing seems to happen. But then he begins to feel sick to his stomach. Gut-wrenching pain doubles him over and he begins to wretch strings of bile for several long minutes. Thankfully Vala and Hazel are on hand to treat him as he begins to fall ill and, though completely washed out by the experience, the nausea finally fades.
After gathering equipment at the lodge and purchasing new horses from Quiene, the party say a final farewell to Ascanor.
Once more they plunge into the deep forest of the Shudderwood.
Several times the horses are forced to stop as Vermundr has to dismount and find the trail once more.
He stoops as something catches his eye, not the tell tale sign of passing animals, but blood. A small amount, but distinctive and leading off to the east.
Something about it feels odd. Blood in the hunting grounds of the werewolf tribes should not surprise him, but something....
He motions the others to stop as he heads cautiously, blade drawn, into the undergrowth. After fifty yards the blood trail becomes more obvious, great swashes and sprays of the stuff over the leaves and trees that surround him. He pushes on and then as he brushes aside a screen of branches onto a scene of horror.
In the middle of this clearing, for thirty yards in every direction, blood drenches the forest. Chunks of indistinct meat and gibbets of flesh are spread here and there, tattered black clothing mixed in among the gore.
Vermundr bends down to his haunches and sees at last something distinguishable from the rest; a human ear.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Kazamir regards his friends over the rim of the flask, and brings it to his lips...
But before he drinks, he smiles a little sheepishly.
"I think, perhaps, I should sit down." Which he does.
He downs the wolfsbane.
Kazamir calmly sets the flask down on the end-table flanking his plush, wing-backed chair, crosses his leg, foot bouncing leisurely a moment as he regards the staff and guests bustling about in preparation to abandon the lodge.
His breath suddenly flares out of his nostrils in a sharp hiss, and his eyes widen slightly. Unconsciously, his hand lays itself over his stomach, even as he sits up a little straighter.
Kaz's breath seems to falter a bit, and he takes a hard, painful swallow. He looks around at his friends, quirking an eyebrow and giving a tight-lipped, unconvincing smile, all the while worming the fingers of his left hand into the cuff of his right sleeve, feeling his pulse. His eyebrows raise in a alarm...
But in a half a minute or so, his breath, bearing, and smile all relax. With a contented sigh, he removes his fingers from his cuff and cups the ends of the chair's arms, leaning back and beaming at his friends. He is pale, and has a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but appears to be not TOO worse for wear.
"Thank you, all. I think that's the worst of it. I hope..."
He is interrupted by a loud gurgle from his guts. He shows a moment of surprise, then settles his face into a dignified mask.
"If you all will excuse me, please." He rises rather stiffly and, leaning on is cane a litle more than normal, walks with as much grace as he can muster down the hall . He pauses to mutter to Vermundr on the way out.
"If you would be so good...If you hear a loud thump from the garderobe, make sure I'm still alive, please."
Constantin, meanwhile, nods to Kaz's request. He removes his hat, looks up and down Kaz, and his eyes become unfocused, like he's looking through the investigator. Something eerie accompanies his gaze and he becomes completely still. His nostrils flare but his breathing slows to a shallow, barely-noticeable rate.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Kazamir heaves a sigh of relief, and gives a nod of thanks to his companions.
After gathering equipment at the lodge and purchasing new horses from Quiene, the party say a final farewell to Ascanor.
Once more they plunge into the deep forest of the Shudderwood.
Several times the horses are forced to stop as Vermundr has to dismount and find the trail once more.
He stoops as something catches his eye, not the tell tale sign of passing animals, but blood. A small amount, but distinctive and leading off to the east.
Something about it feels odd. Blood in the hunting grounds of the werewolf tribes should not surprise him, but something....
He motions the others to stop as he heads cautiously, blade drawn, into the undergrowth. After fifty yards the blood trail becomes more obvious, great swashes and sprays of the stuff over the leaves and trees that surround him. He pushes on and then as he brushes aside a screen of branches onto a scene of horror.
In the middle of this clearing, for thirty yards in every direction, blood drenches the forest. Chunks of indistinct meat and gibbets of flesh are spread here and there, tattered black clothing mixed in among the gore.
Vermundr bends down to his haunches and sees at last something distinguishable from the rest; a human ear.
Kazamir slides from his saddle and freezes in place, taking in first the sounds and smells of the place, then beginning a detailed scan of the clearing, especially noting tracks before he takes a single step.
Vermundr watches intently as the duo down the wolfsbane, determined to make sure they suck down every last drop.
"For those born with it, the wolf is like a wild twin - separate but joined to the spirit in the most intimate way. For the afflicted, the wolf is a parasite. It feeds on the host's spirit until there's nothing left but the husk of a man with the soul of an animal", the big northern explains grimly.
"The treatment is painful - sometimes lethal. The alternative is worse."
***
Very slowly, Vermundr readies his blade. "Look for signs of tracks."
"This... this is practically an abattoir," says Constantin. His nose wrinkles slightly with distaste.
He removes his tophat and holds it in his hands, slowly turning the brim as his eyes flicker over the morbid, bloody scene.
"No help for it... we must find every clue that we can," he mutters.
Despite the prodigious amount of blood, it appears that this is all the result of a single death. You find a tattered black robe strung halfway up a tree and, buried in the undergrowth, a gagged skull amulet with the chain broken.
Constantin concentrates on the psychic resonance of the scene and feels an overwhelming sense of fear and desperation, he feels short of breath and like his legs are burning with effort.
There are tracks of half a dozen large creatures that lead south.
The scene does not appear to be fresh however
”Whatever did this left the area a while ago. This scene is not fresh”, Vermundr explains after studying the area further. ”But you’re right Hazel. If the wolves are on alert, we may not get a chance to explain we have mutual enemies when we run into them.”
The group follows the tracks for several hours, until they eventually fade when the soft ground beneath the boughs of the Shudderwood give way to firmer, rockier ground in the plains South of the wood.
The rest of the day passes uneventfully though you are still somewhat disturbed by the horrific manner in which the suspected cultist met their end.
Late in the evening `kaz consults the map found on the Whispering Way agent and finds that the party is no more than a few miles from the edge of the Shudderwood. Though night closes in, he urges the party to press on.
It proves to be a wise choice. Though the howling of distant wolves sends shivers down your spines, within a few hours the screen of trees clears and you are greeted once more with the sight of wide open spaces, fields and hills and a river near the horizon. It is only when you leave the wood that you realise how claustrophobic you have become.
You set up camp beside the beginnings of a road, at least it bears the signs of a few passing cart wheels and spend another peaceful night, though this time with the clear night sky and harvest moon above instead of the thick canopy of trees.
"I wonder, could I even be infected? What kind of amalgamation would that become?" Zed muses out loud.
"We definitely should stop for a fresh bite to eat," says Constantin. "We've been putting real strain on ourselves, we need to make sure that we're strong enough to continue."
"A hot meal wouldn't hurt", Vermundr muses. "But let's not waste too much time."
"There's no time to waste. We just won't do any good if we wear ourselves down to the bone and then finally catch up with Vrood and have nothing left for fighting him."
"I think I could stand a good hot meal at this point," Kaz agrees, most of the color back in his face.
You spend the next two days continuing the journey.
By now the track you found upon exiting the forest has become a cobbled road and as you run along the edge of the river, there are even a couple of tiny fishing villages, no more than a couple of houses and a church.
For the most part you see few people. A pair of travelling tinkers cross your path on the second day and greet you pleasantly enough but they have nothing to trade or coin to buy so after exchanging good mornings they continue on their way.
Eventually the cobbled road becomes paved and signs of habitation become far more frequent. Large tracks of corn and wheat fields can be seen on either side of the road with dozens more tracks leading off to other locations from the main thoroughfare. many of the fields are fallow, ploughed but either not planted or failed to take seed. You pass by Chastel to the west and continue on to the larger city of Ardis. By afternoon of the third day you reach the gates.
The city itself is large and expansive, with a taller skyline than Lepistadt. The streets are wide and busy and despite the classical architecture the city still seems somehow provincial. You see evidence of a once majestic city falling on hard times. many of the estates are abandoned and entire streets of tenament buildings with boarded windows greet you. There is an odd juxtaposition of expensive-looking estates now used as work houses or factories and the people that greet you look tired and down-trodden. The urban decay of the city is vastly different to the neat, academic town of Lepistadt.
Despite all that, you can easily find many inns and to house you and the horses and the bustling streets are full of vendors and citizens and Ardis remains one of the major cities in the county.
Ardis is a large city but it's economy has fallen on hard times since it lost capital status. Because of this it's purchase limit and base values are reduced. There is a 75% chance that any item with a value of 6,000gp can be found and the most a vendor can spend on a single transaction with you is 30,000gp (normally these values are 8k and 50k respectively)
6th level spellcasting is available.
Constantin takes in the slumping, slowly decaying city with an analytical eye. It takes him a moment to reply to Hazel.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, you're right, of course," he says absently. He rubs the short, stubby beard on his chin and says, "I could do with a proper shave. I wonder where I can find a decent barber?"
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
"Ever considered growing it out Constantin? I think mutton chops might look rather enigmatic on you."
"I always thought the chops were more colonel mighty hunter style," muses Constantin. "Though if I could pull of something professorial it might be worthwhile."
Constantin says, "The most I could ask for is to look like a dignified man of intellect, like Professor Lorrimor." He quirks a rare smile.
Initially Vermundr only grunts in wordless agreement.
"If he can grow it, a man should wear a proper beard", he adds after a long moment of thought.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Biologically speaking, yes." Zed replies to Hazel.
The night the group rests in Ardis, the moon hangs full and fat over the town. Most of the citizens don't give it a second thought, but Kazamir looks furtively out of his bedroom window at it, wondering what could so easily have transpired
Minor items:
Wand of web (CL4, 50 charges, 6,000)
Gloves of swimming and climbing
Manual of war
Eagle cape
ring of spell knowledge II
Ring of rat fangs
Rhino hide
Bloodletting kukri
Medium items:
Rod of ice
Ring of sacred mistletoe
Wand of lightning bolt (CL 5, 49 charges, 11,025)
Bottle of shadows
+2 keen guisarme
+2 full plate, cold resistance
+3 flaming burst battleaxe
Major items:
Ring of Invisibility
Heavy steel shield +4
Staff of Fire
Staff of Illumination
The party spends the day buying new equipment and selling the items they have acquired along the way. The urgency of the chase for Vrood is not lost, but equally having seen just a small portion of the necromancer’s power, they realise that they have to be as prepared as possible.
In fact, it is a welcome distraction after the horror of the wood to spend time shopping and relaxing. Purchases are made and items ordered and the rest of the day spent in peace, eating and drinking and conversing with one another.
You drink and laugh in the bar well into the night, glad to have some time together where you aren’t constantly on edge, until the light of the full, fat moon shines in through the inn windows. Weariness settling on you all like a warm blanket, one by one you take your leave and retire for a well-earned, fitful sleep.
Before embarking to Ardis they knew Feldgrau was Vrood's destination, and are left hoping that is still the case else the trail run cold.
The day is cold, the bleak autumn clouds are rolling in and bring with them a grey drizzle that quickly soaks you to the skin. Despite this you know you have a long journey ahead to the village and press on with only a single stop for a cold lunch of dried fruits and even drier meat.
The rest of the day continues in the same way, conversation as sparse as the plains you now travel in. This region of Lozerai is marked by long tracks of uninhabited plains that lead to hour upon hour of dreary travel.
Eventually, having seen no sign of habitation for miles around, you set up camp beside the road and try to light a fire in the dismal conditions. However, without dry firewood, it proves a long and frustrating task without success.
---------------
During her watch, Hazel reminds herself to cast a light every hour. With the overcast conditions and the persistent rain, his night vision is even more reduced than usual.
Muttering curses to herself, she buttons her coat up tight against the chill.
Then, she notices a light near by, some hundred yards away. It is a torch, and illuminates a group of about 8 or 10 men and women, it's difficult to tell for certain. She wonders how they managed to navigate in the dark to be able to approach so close before lighting their torch and as she does so a loud and clear voice calls out;
Ho, the camp! Friends approach!
As they get closer you see that there are in fact ten men and women. All are armed and armored in a variety of styles. They seem no strangers to battle. The one who steps forward furthest, and by that you take to the leader, is a man of average height that you would place at around 30 years old. He is dressed in studded leather armour over which he wears a woollen greatcoat of grey wool and a wide-brimmed hat. A colourful, Varisian-style, scarf can be seen poking out over the collar. A rapier and dagger hang at his belt.
In point of fact you did. the man replies.
At this distance you can now see that the man is dark and handsome, with a closely cropped beard and piercing blue eyes that move quickly between the party, appraising each of you.
My name is Rakis Szadro, leader of the Prince's Wolves. We have tracked you since you left Highthrone, though we dared not approach you in Ardis. You killed many of my kind at the Temple. Will you parley with me instead?
Zed narrows his eyes. What's his game? The inquisitor nods hesitantly. "Zed Ulmin. Yes, I think a parley sounds good." Especially since we're outnumbered.
And I am glad of it for I saw what you did to my brothers.
He doesn't come closer but begins to pace back and forth before you, never taking his eyes from you, as might a hound as it examines the kill.
But all brothers fight and squabble of course. The Princes Wolves have fought and opposed the Whispering Way since before the Tyrant himself. But I admit it was my curiosity as to why you should hunt them and get involved in the politics of the woods that led me to seek you out. They say that curiosity kills the cat. So as wolf, I should feel quite safe, no? he says, flashing a sharp smile