"Greetings pilgrim," Annika says. "You must be Bishop's friend. We've heard quite a bit about you while we escorted him here. We're an expeditionary force from Restov here to deal with the rampant bandit problems here in the Greenbelt." She smiles encouragingly. "But a simple traveling pilgrim has no reason to fear us. We simply wish your insight into the local area and the situation in the village."
Gallidren nods as Annika speaks, "We cannot help you unless you are honest with us."
Marcus looks at you all, his face full of worry, before his posture slowly becomes less defensive. "A simple... yeah, I see. Look, I don't know nothin' about that temple, but town's been a li'l edgy since I showed up." He looks over his shoulder, towards a pair of clergy clearing the shrine of overgrowth. "I... we shouldn't talk here. Here, follow me." Marcus leads you all a bit of the way into the woods, until he seems fairly certain no one has followed you all. "Somethin' ain't right in this town, y'know? I haven't heard nothin' from my camp in weeks, and now Norry's dead? And those two... what're their names, Caleb and Rollin? They... they're rotten, that's the only thing I can think of t'call 'em. They showed up a few days before my partner got lynched, when they found that boy out here in the woods; I can feel the hair stand up on the back of m'neck when they're around."
Annika smiles. "Thank you for your cooperation," she says as they leave the shrine for a little more privacy. She listens to his story carefully. "There was something odd about them to us as well. Have you seen any sign of what they're doing? And what boy are you talking about?"
"I've been keepin' to myself, stickin' close to the shrine. They... don't come by much, really." Marcus rubs his arms, as if a chill had come over him at the mention of the two of them. "As for the boy, that's what started this whole mess. He was a kid from the village, they found him mauled out here in the woods. Some of 'em suggested wolves, but the priests said it wasn't the kind of kill you'd see with them; not that I'd know. Anyway, a few days later those two showed up. They and the priest, the one who led the trial, didn't see eye to eye very much." Marcus leans back against a tree, pulling the sleeves of his shirt down farther onto his arms. "I can't prove it, but... well, I think they did somethin' t'make it happen; the lynching. They argued against it publicly, but... I dunno, it don't sit right with me. The town whipped up into some real kind'a frenzy."
Gallidren stares at the man looking for any signs of lies, "We will need further proof before we can confront them. Does anyone else in town share your suspicions?"
"I'm... I don't know, I haven't asked. Look, the last guy in town workin' for the Stag Lord got hung, alright? Even if they thought he was a werewolf or somethin', they weren't too upset to find out that he was a bandit after they lynched 'im." Marcus seems to scratch at his neck on instinct, clearly uncomfortable with that thought. "I'm sure Jhod did, the priest? Some of the other faithful might too, but I couldn't say for sure. Most of the townspeople..." Marcus sighs, shaking his head. "Most of 'em have never seen someone like these two before, and they've bought it hook, line, and sinker. But... when you run with a group like the Stag Lord's, you learn to spot people like yourself; y'know, crooks. Those two are it, I'm sure of it. Problem is, well... they don't exactly trust me, and I ain't got a lot of evidence."
Gallidren, while the man certainly seems uneasy he does not appear to be lying.
"What evidence has there been of a werewolf attack? Have you seen any yourself?"
"I mean, the priests seem to know it wasn't no wolf that killed the boy, but they weren't sure if it was a warg or somethin' like that. They've been findin' dead livestock, looked like it'd been clawed to death by somethin' huge. And, well... the woman." Marcus seems to shiver as he mentions her, whoever she is. He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts before he continues. "Her body was left in the middle o' town, and she'd been mauled to the Nine Hells and back. That wasn't no warg, I'd bet."
"And... well, the timin's too coincidental. They show up right after that messenger left for Restov, and I ain't seen him around town since. I don't know that he ever came back; I'm sure they got some story t'cover that up, though. Look, though; I know they're involved... and I think they know I ain't who I say I am, neither."
Annika scowls. "Hmmm, you weave a good story, and I completely agree about those two. They are in no way who they seem. I wasn't sure if they were bandits or troublemakers trying to take advantage of people's fear, or if they were the culprits. Is it possible that one of them is a lycanthrope? It's not exactly easy to tell unless they transform in front of you."
"I mean, I think so. Like y'said, it ain't exactly easy to tell when they're not goin' around howlin' at the moon and whatnot... but if they ain't, they're workin' for it for some reason." Marcus shakes his head, moving back towards town. "I think... we should talk to Father Kriss; he's the only one of the priests that didn't turn on Jhod when he got kicked out. He might have somethin' we can do, figure out what those two are and why they're really here." He nods back towards town, the knuckles of his hand white as they grip his sword hilt. "We should head back; these woods ain't safe, after all. A werewolf mauled a boy to death out here, after all..."
Marcus's shift in behavior seems quite odd, before you notice another, almost imperceptible nod as he inclines his head farther towards the woods. For a second you catch a glimpse of golden eyes between the trunks of a pair of trees, before they're gone with the sound of rustling leaves; it's unclear whether it was aware it was spotted, whatever it was.
"Werewolves are more than just beasts. It could have friends that work for it in its human form." She sighs. "I suppose more information can't hurt. Let's speak with the Father and see if he knows anything." Her eyes narrow as notices the bandit's reflexive gesture and her hand drifts to the hilt of her sword. "Back to the shrine then."
Creon frowns. He studies the man closely while he is talking.
"Question and tentative apology: perhaps I have not been listening closely enough, or perhaps I have forgotten a detail. In which case I apologise. Why did this messenger leave for Restov?"
"Supplementary: When the attacks occurred ... was there a full moon? The attacks seem to be sporadic in some way. Was there some kind of pattern to the timing?"
"Well, before the kid died, they had a suspicion that somethin' had been prowlin' about town... at first they figured bandits, but apparently they found these big ol' footprints, like a wolf's, near the edge of town. It spooked 'em, as it probably should, and they sent for help." Marcus starts leading you back to the village, surreptitiously looking over his shoulder. "The full moon... It couldn't have been for both of 'em, it ain't been more than a month or so, and they were too close together. But... the boy, I think. It could've been a full moon that night."
Annika's hand tightens around her blade as she catches Marcus's gaze, but she doesn't respond, not wanting to provoke what might be a werewolf when they're distinctly short on silver weapons. "If I recall correctly, it is possible for werewolves to transform when there's not a full moon, but the moonlight brings out they're beast more easily."
"Still, I really couldn't tell ya. Father Kriss prob'ly knows more about it; what with worshippin' the God of the Wilds and all. I have a feelin' that's why Jhod didn't like those two, like there was somethin' off about 'em he could pick up on." After a few minuntes, Marcus has led you back to town, and lets his hand drop from his sword. "Here, Father Kriss lives right by the shrine, in the 'monastery', I guess you'd call it..." Marcus's voice drops low, speaking to the group quietly. "At least one of you saw that, right? Look, it ain't safe for me here no more, not alone. You gotta let me stay with you, or your one lead's as good as dead."
"Yes," Annika agrees. "Hopefully the Father will know something useful to us." Once they're well away from the woods, she nods again. "And yes, I saw it. The beast in the trees. You and your friend will both be remaining with us at all times. Both for your own safety and so we can keep an eye on you." She pauses for a moment. "Tell me, is there an apothecary in the village?"
"An apothecary? Yeah, I think so." Marcus shrugs, before putting a hand on the door. "I don't know who runs it, but I'm pretty sure I've heard about it. Why, is there somethin' you needed from them? Is it... is it somethin' about the werewolves?"
"Alchemical tools are useful for fighting lycanthropes. There are compounds that can give a blade the quality of silver and fire is effective against almost anything."
Gallidren is clearly unnerved at the mention of werewolves. He shares what little insight with the group that he has on the weaknesses of lycanthropes. Gallidren attempts to remember the phase of the moon tonight.
"Yeah, I understand. I don't know that they'd know how t'make it, but I'm sure they'd have something for you." Marcus gives the door a pull, wrenching it open wide. Inside the small building, an elderly gentleman sits at a desk towards the back of the room, the other three priests still outside tending to the shrine. The building is sparsely furnished, with wooden furniture and minimal decoration. The old man looks up from his desk, at which point you can tell he was writing upon some sort of scroll. "Marcus, who are these people?" Despite the priest's age, his voice is deep and full of power, even if his body does not match it. "Other pilgrims, perhaps? I'm afraid we don't have enough beds to--"
"They're here about Caleb and Rollin; I think they're the werewolves terrorizing the town." Marcus catches himself, clamping his own hands over his mouth before talking more quietly. "I don't trust them, Father. They're rotten, I know it." He gestures to the party, his arm sweeping in a wide arc. "They're here from Restov, and they don't trust them either. Don't that seem fishy t'you?"
"... I see. I suspected as much, as did Jhod. Standing up to them then would have been foolish, but with you all here..." He strokes his thin, wispy beard with one hand, before turning to examine a bookshelf. "As Marcus has no doubt told you, I am Father Kriss. While I search for the book I'm looking for, could I trouble you for an introduction?"
"My name is Malaz Tarn. And we ran into your Jhod, older man with a haunted look, right?" Prophet shakes his head. "He came to Oleg's and asked us to take care of some things. Oh, and he said to tell you he's sorry." The half-orc gives a small, wicked grin. "At the time it didn't make much sense, but I guess now I see why he asked."
Creon thinks: More priests! Am I the only unbeliever in these lands? No wonder it's a mess.
But Creon says different. He notes Marcus' suspicions. Nobody thus far has actually accused these two of being the lycanthropes.
"Introduction: my name is Creon. And I think my friend here is about to show you his charter."
He looks expectantly at Gallidren.
Annika Valarius," the half-elf introduces herself. "Swordlord of Restov and servant of the Eternal Rose. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Gallidren sighs. "I am Gallidren. We are an expeditionary group sent by Brevoy to clear the greenbelt of bandits."
Gallidren hands his charter to Father Kriss for inspection.
"If Caleb and Rollin are in league with the bandits, as it appears that they are, then we will dispose of them."
"I am Theodore Greyhawk Iscariot. Formerly in service to the courts of Restov, I now aid in the efforts to tame these lands. I see you are a devout follower of Erastil. Many noble huntsmen are cut from the cloth of Old Deadeye. Tell me, how would one best go about hunting a werewolf?"
"Theodore, you said? Well, don't you get right down to business... I wouldn't expect someone so forthright to serve any courts, but perhaps that's why you're out here?" The old man gives Theo a wry grin, before finally pulling an old, leather-bound book off of the shelf. Etched into the leather is the image of some sort of plant, and the work is clearly very old. "I assume Marcus has told you of his suspicions... and his loyalties?" He casts the young man a disapproving glance, but otherwise doesn't dwell on it. For a second, his eyes focus on Prophet. "Jhod... he's alive, then? I'm glad; his banishment wasn't what I wanted, but it was what needed to be done." The old priest sighs, and he flips through the pages of the book quickly.
"I kept Marcus safe because I believed the boy was on to something, especially when his friend was hung. He told me what he thought, who he worked for, and asked for amnesty." Finally, Father Kriss settles on a page, covered in old, handwritten scrawl. "If those two are what we suspect, then... well, I believe I may know how we can find out. Lycanthropes exist on the fringes of society, one of the many places in which Erastil's faith flourishes."
"While I'm sure you already know this, it's prudent to point out that werewolves have a particular aversion to silver... which is what they claim their weapons are made of. Many feel physical discomfort from being in contact with the substance at all, let alone when used against them as a weapon. However, it might be best if we were to try this; werewolves exhibit symptoms of violent sickness when in the presence of wolfsbane, even without the toxins entering their system." He turns to the group, leaving the book propped open. "The apothecary has some, for medicinal purposes... but not much. You musn't touch the petals with your bare hands, either; the toxins would kill you in hours."
Prophet lets out a short bark of laughter at the comment on Marcus's loyalties. "You can drop the disapproval, Father. The men Marcus was held to are dead or in chains. You're a bandit no more, kid, unless you choose to join your old comrades." The half-orc gives the youth a chilling wink. "As for their weapons, they got silver like this?" Prophet draws his sword and holds it up to reflect some light off its dull gray blade. "Cause this isn't silver."
He slides the weapon away and sighs. "Yep, I'm thinking we're gonna kill us some werewolves. Let's go visit the apothecary."
Gallidren shakes his head at the prophet, "Cold iron won't help us. We need silver or an alchemical silver blanch. Let's see what's available at the apothecary."
"My friend, I believe his point is that this is further evidence these two are not as they seem." Father Kriss examines the blade himself, before nodding to Prophet. "I haven't seen their weapons drawn, nor up close, but I'd imagine they're masquerading these weapons as silver since the common folk wouldn't know any better. Perhaps that's why I've never seen them up close?" The old man's grin is gone now, replaced by a weary look. "Go, speak with the apothecary. I will see if there is anything else of interest in these old books. If I find anything, I will send someone to fetch you," he says waving towards the door. He clasps his hands together, bowing slightly. "May the Hunter guide you in these trials before you."
"Be cautious father," Annika says. "I'm certain that those two aren't happy that we're in town and they might do something rash if they decide we're a threat. You could be in danger."
Creon's mind is still on the question of the temple. Surely all these issues are related?
"Question: Jhod spoke of a temple with "the head of an elk jutting out from an old, carved ridge of rock". Are you aware of it, or of any problem therewith?"
"I wouldn't worry about me, miss Annika. I've been in this little village a long time, and I've put down my roots to firmly for them to uproot me so easily." Father Kriss chuckles, before listening to Creon's question. "A temple, you say? I'm not familiar with it personally... although many people have tried and failed to colonize these lands en masse for centuries; I would not doubt such a temple exists." Father Kriss thinks for a moment, his hand on his chin. "Did Jhod mention how he knew of it? That could provide some clarity, I would think."
"Do you think they could be connected?"
Prophet holds off on speaking for a long moment, then coughs and shakes his head. "Your friend Jhod wasn't exactly forthcoming with his story. He didn't say a damn thing about werewolves or what happened here, you know? So, no, we only really know there's some temple that he wants us to clean out, even though Erastil told him to do it." He scratches his neck and grimaces. "I dunno how Old Deadeye usually works, but when Gorum tells us to do something, he doesn't mean go get somebody else to do it. You hup to or get dead quick."
"No, I don't imagine he was willing to tell much... but you say Erastil told him of this temple? I can't imagine that would be a coincidence. This temple, I don't suppose any of you have visited it yourselves, have you?" Father Kyte now seems more interested, leaning forward towards the group as he speaks. "I would suspect these must be related, but I have no idea how. Unless you have any other questions, I believe I might be better served engaging in prayer and meditation, to see if I might make some sense of this."
Creon frowns. Prayer and meditation? Priests!
"Assertion: I still believe we should seek out this temple. Let's collect appropriate armaments from the apothecary. We can return here afterwards to check if something has occurred to Father Kriss, in his books or his prayers. But I believe the key is at the temple."
"Very well father, we'll leave you to your meditations then. Just remember to keep one eye open." She looks at the sniper and nods once, agreeing with his plan.
"Of course, I'll send for you if I think of anything more." As you leave, Marcus takes you to the local apothecary, a shop that appears to be owned by an old, kindly looking woman. The shop appears to also be her home, and is a relatively simple affair, but she seems competent enough as you look around.
"What can I do for you today?" the woman asks, a strained tone of happiness in her voice. "Did you need a potion brewed, something like that? Or some herbs? I haven't been out to pick anything fresh from the woods in a few weeks, but I've got what I can grow..." She sighs, moving from a stack of books towards the back of her home towards the makeshift counter. "If there's somethin' else you need I can give it a shot, but like I said, I don't have a lot to work with." Behind her, a few pots are growing with various herbs and plants, one of which is recognizable; it's clearly the same plant that was on the front of the book Father Kriss opened on his desk.
"Good day ma'am," Annika says, bowing her head politely. "We've heard that you might be able to help us. We have a bit of a suspicion as to what might have caused the recent incidents, but we have need of wolf's bane to be certain. Additionally, I was wondering if it was within your skills to craft weapon blanch." Her eyes scan the room and she frowns slightly. She can't help hoping that the alchemist's child is just out at the moment. The most recent victim was a child after all...
"Wolfsbane? For the werewolf, you mean?" The woman seems distant, but moves towards the plant you recognized from the book cover. "I grow some of it for medicinal purposes, but I don't use it often. I... could part with it, I suppose." As she puts on a pair of gloves to handle the deadly plant, she looks to a set of alchemist's tools. "I'm guessing you want silver blanches, then? Caleb and Rollin didn't ask for any, but he said that blade's made of silver anyway, so I guess there wasn't much point." She picks up a small bag, and plucks several petals from the wolfsbane plant, gingerly placing them inside. "Don't handle these with your bare hands... the toxins on one petal could kill a grown man."
"I can't get the blanches done until tomorrow, though. You'll... have to come back for those." She casts a glance towards the back of the room, towards the items Annika noticed, but doesn't say anything. "You can pay for it all then, if you'd like."
"Thank you very kindly, ma'am. Yes, we intend to find the beast and destroy it. As such, I too would like some of these silver blanches, should you have the means."
Theodore glances around the shop. She's made a nice little buisiness in her home. Quite different from the big city life he was used to. The lady hides it well, but he notices the concern on her face.
"If I might ask, miss, how old is your little one?"
Creon frowns. "Inconsistency: it strikes me as more than coincidental that an individual, unaware in advance of the presence of lycanthropy, turn up in town with an expensive silver ..."
His voice tails off. The boy from the village, found mauled in the woods ...
He looks at the woman. "Confirmation: you had a son ...?"
"I... had a son, yes. He was, I assume you heard about the young boy who was found mauled in the woods, torn about by some kind of beast?" The woman's face is clouded with a mixture of anger and sadness, and she grips the counter so strongly her knuckles turn white. "H-his name was Jacob, he was fetching me a batch of herbs from a small patch we found. He'd been there a hundred times, never had a problem... and then he was g-gone." While she does quite well at holding them back, it is clear the woman is trying not to cry. "All I needed was some calendula, Horace had cut his arm open when he was fetching us some wood, I offered to make a poultice to help it heal, but I didn't have any left... it should have taken him an hour, if that. They found him the next day; he'd been out there, being eaten by scavengers..." One hand rises from the counter top as she wipes her eyes for a moment, before straightening her posture in her best effort to remain presentable.
"I'm sorry, I know you're just here for some supplies, you don't want to hear about this. I can get you what you need by tomorrow, if all of you want blanches to coat your weapons, along with the wolfsbane, I'd need about fifty gold pieces for everything."
Annika winces as Creon brings up the son. "We are very sorry for your loss. I know... I know that nothing we can say will make it any better after losing your child, but I can promise we will avenge him. This I swear to you."
"... Thank you. I just... when his body was brought back to town, he looked... I was hoping it wouldn't be too bad, the kinds of wounds you seem sometimes, in this line of work. That he might still look like my little Jacob. But he was all mangled, like whatever ki-kil... whatever did it was playing with its food. I know it wasn't some kind of wolf, either; he was good with animals, and he knew his way around a knife. Horace'd been teachin' him how to keep himself safe, and he would'a been able to scare one of 'em off, and it's not like a pack to attack a boy." She sniffles again, before moving to her bench full of alchemical reagents, as if trying to lose herself in her work. "His knife hand was especially mangled, all torn up and you could... you could see the bones. His little charm was gone too, that I made for him when he was younger. I'd hope it would keep him safe, but... I guess it didn't."
Creon stares at the woman, trying to put this latest run of facts together into some kind of theory.
Prophet stays quiet at the apothecary's, just looking around at the ingredients and equipment. It's obvious something's bothering the woman, but when talk turns to the dead boy, he grimaces and shifts his weight.
At the mention that he could have defended himself, though, Prophet thinks back for a moment, then his eyes narrow slightly and he gives a predatory grin. "Oh, I think your boy did put up an admirable fight, lady. A torn up hand means he was defending himself, and it sounds like whoever did it was angry, probably 'cause he hurt them." He feigns sudden discretion. "Oh, pardon. Did I say whoever? Silly me." With that he takes out a few gold coins and lays them on the counter. "You're a great help to us, ma'am. We'll make sure your son gets justice." After that, he steps outside to wait for the others, his eyes narrow and his hands flexing.
Gallidren joins the Prophet outside, "The wolf walks among the sheep. Let us pay Caleb a visit. The hour of retribution is at hand."
When the others join them outside Gallidren relays what he noted about Caleb's wounds and how they correlate with the woman's story.
"Thank you... for promising that, I mean. I don't know if you'll find it, but that charm I mentioned? If you happen upon it, I'd... like it back. I'd go look for it myself, but with these beasts prowling about, I'm afraid I'd end up like... I'm afraid I might be hurt." She gives you all a nod as you exit her home and gather outside, the sun slowly beginning to set on the small village of Coran's Pass. It might be smart for you all to find somewhere to rest for the night, either here in town or to make camp out in the woods somewhere. There doesn't appear to be an inn, but you do remember Father Kriss seemed to have some more spare beds at the shrine, likely for travelers. Altnerately, you could look for Caleb and Rollin and confront them, if you're comfortable hunting the two of them after dark.