Gallidren nods at Marcus. "Welcome to the team. We have a werewolf to track. Are you ready?"
Marcus blinked. "Well I... wait... really? I had this whole thing about the Stag Lord and how you folks were the only ones I'd seen that i thought might be able to take him down, and how I didn't want to be a... never mind."
"I was really thinking it was going to be a lot harder to convince you to let me join you."
"...did you say werewolf?"
"Frankly, I'd be happy to hear your confession later," Annika says. "But it seems that those two cads in town actually were telling the truth about the werewolf. And they seem to be working with it, rather than protecting people. We're going to kill it."
Marcus looked like he was having second thoughts all of a sudden.
"So, is this normal for you folks? There's a werewolf, and you just take it upon yourselves to track it down and kill it? Who are you people?"
"This is a bit bigger than the usual trouble we're hunting down, but it's more or less this kind of thing."
Marcus took a breath. "Well, I wanted to join up with you to take down the Stag Lord. If that means going up against a werewolf first, so be it."
"Kid, if you hate the Stag Lord as much as it seems, you gotta know a bit about him," Prophet says, dropping his arms again. "He's no common bandit, we ain't gonna just stroll in and beat the piss out of him. Believe me, we're gonna kill him when we can, but right now these folks wanna help people, and now I see a couple sh*theads running a sloppy con on some townsfolk, and that gets my blood boiling enough to lend a hand."
He gives a feral grin and hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "So yeah, let's go kill a werewolf. I wanna see the look on their faces when we drop its carcass in the middle of town."
"Oh, I'm aware of who the Stag Lord is." Marcus said bitterly as he fell into line with the others to follow the trail. "Which way we headed?"
Creon nods at Kilarra. "Response: We are following friend Kilarra's lead, in tracking the creature."
Marcus wanders over to their tracker and leans on his spear. "Tracks, huh? What'cha got?"
"I'd say wolf tracks, but look at the size," Kilarra remarks, gesturing to the huge paw prints that have torn through the clearing. "They're still headed east... away from the village. But they... these don't really seem to interact much. These tracks are newer; they killed the boy without the wolf's help." She shakes her head, before standing upright and heading farther down the trail. "We ought to get moving. We only have so much daylight." Kilarra leads the group eastward for several hours, struggling through the underbrush and along some very difficult to follow tracks. The sun slowly travels across the sky, settling low in the western sky when you reach another clearing.
As the treeline breaks again, you are immediately struck by the smell of rotting corpses. Scattered about the area are the bloated bodies of dead bandits, their torsos and limbs ripped open with viscera dried in the grass. The corpses number around fifteen in total, and their weapons are scattered on the ground, broken and shattered into pieces. Their bodies are pallid and shrunken and have clearly been lying in the sun for days. Each and every one of them wears the Stag Lord's silver amulet about their necks. Their wounds are clearly the work of some sort of beast, although a few of them appear to have wounds consistent with a blade or some sort of puncturing weapon.
"In all the Nine Hells..." Kilarra whispers as she crosses into the clearing, holding a hand in front of her nose. "It must have been the wolf, but... why? Was this simply an opportune slaughter?"
"I know this guy." Marcus said rolling one of the corpses' heads with his foot to get a better look. "His name's Cragger. He's one of the Stag Lord's lieutenants. Well, was, at any rate."
"Couldn't happened to a nicer chap."
Prophet lets out a low whistle as he views the carnage, reminded of battles back in the Hold. Even those had a little more order to them, though. He does a slight double-take at seeing Cragger's body, but doesn't say anything until Marcus speaks. "Huh. Good riddance then, I suppose."
Prophet decides to let the others lead in investigating here, as he doesn't have much skill--and the scent and sight of so much death is exciting the Kordatar.
"That's actually not a bad sign," Annika comments after a moment. "Even if this attack was incredibly brutal, it does show that the wolf and those two scoundrels most likely aren't aligned with the Stag Lord. They're just opportunists taking advantage of the chaos here in the Greenbelt."
Gallidren impassively surveys the scene. "The wolf must die never the less."
He searches the area for additional tracks.
"Let's follow this beast to its lair."
Creon stares at the bodies, but is none the wiser for it. He nods to Prophet.
"Agreement: fifteen bandits fewer. Not a bad thing."
He pauses.
"Question: why did Caleb and Rollin kill the boy, if the wolf wasn't present? Our theory was that the boy had found their connection to the wolf. If that was not the case, why kill him? Then this ..."
"Speculation: is the wolf perhaps our ally here?"
"No, I don't think so," Kilarra says, examining some of the wounds closer. After digging one slender finger into one of their wounds, she fishes out what looks to be a small metal ball; the same sort of ammunition fired by Rollin. "They killed the boy, and aided the wolf in slaughtering these men... and they've been dead for days, from the looks of it. They're crawling the maggots, their blood's pooled towards the ground... this wasn't a recent kill. That boy, didn't he die a few days before you all arrive as well?" Kilarra wipes the small metal ball off on her tunic, before sliding it into a belt pocket. "These killings happened close to one another. Why?"
"That's an interesting point," Annika says with a thoughtful expression. "Hmmmm, it could be that the bandits were in the wrong place at the wrong time. But they also could have been out here intentionally. Perhaps the Stag Lord isn't thrilled about a werewolf running around in his territory."
"Lets find out where the survivors went." Marcus said mostly to himself as he moved carefully around the site of the slaughter.
After Marcus takes a look, he notices that a few pairs of boot prints, along with a fair bit of dried blood, are headed southwest from your current position. From what you remember, that's where Cragger had originally made camp, hoping to put a stranglehold on the little village with Norry up to the north. The boot prints are few in number, maybe four or five, and appear to originate from some dragging marks in the grass; the best bet is that a few of the bandits played dead and ran when they had the chance. It doesn't appear as if anything followed them, but in the chaos it's difficult to notice whether another set of prints show up nearby, explicitly following them.
"I think I got something here. pretty sure the survivors went this way." Marcus said.
Creon nods, but doesn't speak. He raises his mask back above his face and moves his bow and arrow to readiness once more, following the group on the trail.
Gallidren will follows the others. He remains wary of danger.
"Very well, let's be quick then. We don't want to lose the wolf's trail."
Spotting the tracks leading farther south, the group begins to follow them. The trail isn't difficult, with drag marks and dried blood littering the ground, along with the obvious footprints. After perhaps twenty minutes of walking, the find the first of the "survivors"; the dead bandit looks to have stumbled and fallen, still clutching at a ragged wound on his chest when you turn him over. His eyes are glassy, and his blood has pooled at the front of his body, considering he died lying face-down. The trail continues onward, with one less set of footprints, but it's possible the trail continues for quite some time. Do you all continue to follow them to their conclusion, or do you turn back and attempt to follow the werewolf once more?
Gallidren rolls over the bandit to confirm he is dead. "Once less bandit for us to kill. I'll bury him on the way back. Let's keep moving."
"I like your thought, elf," Prophet comments. He barely gives the body so much as a second glance as he passes by.
Annika murmurs a brief prayer under her breath as they find the corpse. "I hope that this isn't just going to be a trail of dead bodies with nothing at the end. That would be a colossal waste of time."
Keeping his silence and following the others Theo stays mostly lost in thought This land is nothing but a trail of death.. Why did I..No, no, no. I came here for a reason and this is it. I hope.
"No way to know without seeing the end of the trail." Marcus said, continuing to pick his way along the path.
The path continues to wind through the forest for some time, eventually brushing up against the Skunk River. Along the way, the group spots the corpses of two more bandits; these two souls lie half-submerged along the riverbank, with great chunks of their flesh rent from their bones. Their armor is similarly destroyed, and whatever weapons they may have carried have since washed away in the current. A large tangle of brush, wood, and jagged stones form a makeshift dam on the river, forcing the current to slow as it either worms its way through or drifts around through a small offshoot. Another skeleton, this one's flesh long since rotted away, is trapped among the tangled branches. While it's fairly obvious something must have crafted this dam, whatever it was doesn't appear to be here at the moment. The wounds on the two bandits are clearly different than those on the others at the clearing, and look more like something ate the two of them.
Still, the path continues onward, although the tracks from here on out appear to be panicked as they scramble away from the bank and farther into the forest. While you left in the early morning, when you finally reach your destination the sun is close to setting, casting a warm pink glow over the forest. Marcus, having noticed not long ago that it seemed the survivors were headed back to Cragger's camp. Sure enough, the trees open up into a small clearing as two bandits sit around a small fire, with another of their number lying on the ground near it as well. You're too far away to hear what they're saying, but their body language looks quite fearful.
Marcus gestures to the others that he's spotted the camp and brings up two fingers. Then he quietly approaches the camp to listen in on the conversation.
Gallidren draws his bow and readies a shot on the bandits if they make any hostile moves.
Mimicking Gallidrens actions Theo draws a long bow and readies a shot. A swift death if they do not surrender.
Creon nods to Marcus, picks a target and draws a bow.
No more offers of surrender, please. These vermin deserve to die.
"Only three of them. They should be fairly easy to deal with. Hopefully we can learn something of the wolf from them first though." Annika draws her longbow, not wanting to waste her silvered blade against ordinary bandits, and waits to see how they respond.
Prophet draws his sword slowly, the scrape of metal lasting longer but remaining quieter overall. He stays back with the others, not wanting to approach closer unless a fight is breaking out. Hope that happens soon.
As Marcus approaches the camp quietly, he sees more clearly that the last of their number is nearly dead, with a large bloody gash along his chest and down past his hip. His breathing is ragged and shallow, and it seems the two still alive are trying to figure out a way to keep him alive. As he gets closer still, he can notice that both of the living bandits are a bit worse for wear as well, but their injuries are relatively minor. Just as he notices this, one of them casts his gaze in Marcus's direction. "Who the f*ck--!" he starts, drawing a knife from his belt, before he gets a better look at the man before him. "Sh*t, Marcus, is that you? We... we figured you'd be dead. They killed Cragger, killed 'em all..." The man has a haunted look in his eyes, and he looks to their half-dead companion. "Even if we get away, the Stag Lord'll kill us for losin' this damned village."
"I aint dead yet. What happened?" Marcus said, walking into the firelight and around to the other side of the two men, scanning the camp and taking a better look at the wounded man.
From where he stood now, their eyes would be on him and not on the people behind them in the dark with bows trained on them.
"We got ambushed," the bandit says, shaking slightly. He flinches visibly as a wolf howls somewhere out in the darkness, reaching close to his chest as he does so. "These two... two men, they was blockin' our path; Cragger'd gotten impatient, and was gonna start leanin' on the village for some payments earlier than we'd planned. When he saw these two, he... he didn't look happpy." The man on the ground convulses for a moment, coughing violently, before his body again lies mostly still; he never appears to regain consciousness. As Marcus gets a better look, the man seems to be sweating quite heavily, and a bit of pus leaks from one of his wounds. "He started shouting something about 'their deal', or somethin' like that. He was mad that they killed some kid, but I didn't know what they were yellin' about. Cragger pulled his sword, and... the howling," he manages to say, shivering slightly despite the heat of the fire. "It killed Cragger in seconds, and then ripped through the others like it was nothin'. A few managed to get close enough to the two men to take a swing, but it didn't matter. They were dead 'fore they hit the ground."
"We... we dropped like we were dead," says the other man, after coughing himself. "The wolf went around sniffin' the bodies... I was afraid it'd find us. But they all left, and we took anyone who us alive and made a run for it. One of 'em died not far from the clearing, and another got eaten by some strange, snake-looking things near a damn in the river. We're all that's... all that's left. We've been tryin' to get Erik here in travelin' shape, but his wound's infected. I've been doin' my best, but we've been here a while, and he ain't lookin' any better. He ain't makin' it back to the Fort like this."
Marcus shook his head sadly and leaned on his spear. "The boss is losing men left and right around here. He ain't gonna be happy. I think you're right about that wound, Erik's a goner unless he gets help real soon. Closest healer's probably back at the village. There's a priest of Erastil there. Think his name's Kriss. Might be that you could get Erik back there, but those folks ain't likely to take you in unless you give 'em a damn good reason."
"Yeah, he ain't gonna be happy, and I don't wanna be the one that's gotta tell 'im." He gives Marcus a look for a moment as he mentions heading back into the village, and shakes his head. "Them two are still prowlin' around near town, and that wolf is... somewhere. They weren't keen on lettin' us anywhere near that town, and I don't think we'll do much better if'n we try and get there now." He grimaces as Erik coughs again in his sleep, and a trickle of blood escapes his bandages. "But there ain't no way he's gonna survive if we don't get back into the village, either. How'd you get away, anyway? They didn't figure you out?"
Marcus shrugged. "I quit. Got tired of it all. Didn't feel like robbin' people who got nothin', or dying for someone who don't give a damn about me. Turns out, those villagers ain't half bad if you aren't trying t' rob 'em. "
"What 'two'?"
"What'd'ya mean you quit? You mean you ain't... you're leavin' the Stag Lord? Are you nuts? He'll have Dovan hunt you down and bring your ears back as a prize." He seems frightened at the sheer mention of the man, even by his own voice. "As for the two of 'em, well, I didn't catch their names, but Cragger knew 'em," the bandit says, shuddering. "They both had on these long overcoats... one of 'em had a greatsword, and the other was carrying those, what're they called? Pistols, I think. He had a few of them strapped to his chest; he shot down a half dozen people with them 'fore I could blink."
"Wait, if you ain't with the Stag Lord no more... why'd you come lookin' for us? I ain't leavin', if that's what you're suggestin'. The Stag Lord might be a bloody drunk, but he'd cut the lot of 'em in two before they got through the first gate."
Marcus shrugged again. "Dovan's one man with lots of other stuff to worry about. If it means not getting shredded by werewolves, gunned down by whoever those two are, or any of the dozens of other ways folks like us die on the road, I'll take the trade. I ain't exactly helpless. If Dovan wants to take me out, he's going to have to work for it."
"I didn't come to find you. I'm tracking the werewolves. Just found you first."
"You're temptin' fate, Marcus. First you're tellin' the Stag Lord to bugger off, and then you decide you'll go off huntin' a werewolf by yourself?" The man shakes his head, almost chuckling despite his circumstances. "Y'know, maybe if'n you fled north into Brevoy or somethin', you'd be able to get away from 'im. But now you're itchin' to take on a werewolf on his territory? That makes you more than a liability; it's gonna make you a threat. How d'you think you'll be able to get away from 'im on your own, if you even survive a fight with the wolf in the first place?"
"By myself? That would be crazy." Marcus chuckled. "You ever use the Wolf's Bait gambit? Where you draw a mark's attention in one direction while the rest of your crew sets up behind 'em? I figured that might work on an actual wolf. It worked on you two. Don't go for your weapons, alright?"
Prophet shifts slightly and redoubles the grip on his sword. G͢o f̕ǫŕ y͠o̸u͡r̛ w̸ea̵po͡n͏s.
Creon notices Prophet's slight change of stance; above his mask, the android's eyes narrow and focus, almost as an unconscious response to the slow ratcheting up of the tension.
Finally ...
His bow is raised, targeted on the man with whom Marcus is speaking.
"Marcus, 'course we've used the Wolf's Bai-- oh, you son of a b*tch!" The man reaches for a longsword, the sheath unbuckled from his belt and lying beside him, as he spins around and catches sight of the others, his face halfway between surprise and anger. "What d'you think you're pullin' here? You, you, you--" the man starts, scrambling towards his feet, his companion doing the same, all the while trying to draw his blade. "Oh, f*ck it all. What, were we gonna be the first to die now that you've gone turncoat? Huh?" The man finally succeeds in freeing his blade from the sheath, and holds it out towards Marcus to ward the other man back, but doesn't make any motion to attack. "I ain't havin' it, I'm not dyin' out here after I managed to get away from a f*ckin' werewolf."