"Weren't no mortal thieves, Lord Ulrych," Mr. Welkin mumbles. "Not with that much blood on the fields. It was some beast that got them, and a right terrible one at that.
See, my family's raised Issian cattle for generations. They may be smaller, but them shaggy critters are tough. It's no mean feat for a beast to bring down one of them cows, much less three in the span of a week.
"I told Father Kavken that I was fixing to try and restring my grandpappy's old crossbow and hunt the thing myself, but he insisted I talk to Lady Kavinka first and, well, here I am."
He nervously punctuates the sentiment by waving his hat towards the castle's mighty walls. He quickly snaps back and clutches the hat to his chest, fearful that he may have insulted his lord with such a casual gesture.
"Gee, I never thought I'd get to step foot inside such a place," he muses, allowing his eyes to wander across the castle yard. "This really is something."
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"Indeed, something large and powerful enough to kill and eat three cows in a week is certainly something that should not be left unchecked," Ahto replies. "We will go back with you to your farm and see if we can determine what it is and where it lairs. We will then see to ceasing its predations upon your herd."
Ahto stands and moves over to retrieve his armor and weapons. "Would you be so kind as to lead us to your farm, Mr. Welkin?"
"I'm glad Father Kavken told you to come to us. A predator that vicious shouldn't be hunted alone." Particularly not by a farmer with nothing but an old crossbow, Eunomia thinks but tactfully doesn't say.
She doesn't have much preparing to do herself, but she makes sure to grab her crossbow just in case magic fails her. Glor had always insisted that only fools relied on one weapon. Once outfitted, she nods at Mr. Welkin. "Yes, your guidance would be most helpful. Not just in leading us to your farm, but also in letting us know if there's anything unusual in the area."
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Lady Kavinka...!
The Vixen's swooning on the inside.
"Yeah, ye did right coming to me Lady," the Vixen assures the man.
The Vixen introduces herself as "The Vermilion Vixen, follower o' Milani whose holy day apparently brought us all together.
"So I s'pose it's appropriate I tell ye... me goddess' symbol—the imagery of a rose blossoming from a pool o' spilled blood—it really spoke to me. I first saw the image shortly after the day I discovered me friend's body—the very same day I avenged her death.
"I guess I'd thought of innocent life being so beautiful, so fragile, like a flower. And seeing Milani's symbol cleared up how a woman like meself can take on the cruelty and the evils o' the world.
"Milani's flower, the rose, is the beauty—the innocence—the precious life o' those ye love, and all the good people around ye. And the thorns're the vicious means o' protecting that flower."
She stresses, "If ye must.
"I'm not asking ye to become some kind of army. All I want is to stay in shape, and teach ye to fight with the one weapon ye've always got on ye. In fact, ye've four of 'em:
"Yer limbs."
She smiles at the crowd. "I'm sure ye're all just as relieved as Lady Kavinka that I ain't teaching ye to fight in heels. In fact, we'll start with some punching techniques after me Lady leads the warm-ups."
The Vixen focuses her first session on unarmed strikes...
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Wonky seems very excited to get back in the field.
"I am extremely supportive of this notion of the ruling class handling the impact of predations upon the citizens," Wonky says, moving in between the party and pressing vials into each person's hands. "This is an excellent opportunity to instil confidence within the people, not only in the decisions that steer our budding nation to vitality, but also individual confidence in our field-borne problem solving skills."
"I had to leave many things behind in Horace in order to travel light!"
It would seem that 'travel light' is an expression to the gnome.
Harmond takes the vials from Wonky. "Thank you Miss Prong. I'll make sure to use it well!" Answering Ahto "No sir. I am ready to head out whenever you are."
The Vixen inserts each potion and vial into one of the six compartments in her handbag.
"Oh, wow! Thanks, Wonky." To answer Ahto, she says, "Just need a moment with me Lady."
The Vixen turns to Ash. "Y'know part o' me job'll have me running off every now and then. In case I miss me own training session, tell 'em I said just do yer warm-ups and repeat the basics we covered last time. If there's a story worth telling, I can let me students know what we found out there.
"But there wouldn't be a class if not for ye. Picking me goddess' holiday for recruitment—that was brilliant, Ash!" She whispers a declaration of love in Ash's ear and gives her a kiss.
Ash suppresses a giggle, clearly understanding the Vixen's meaning.
"If I can get them to hang on my words half as intently as they do yours, I'll consider that a victory. Don't worry, they'll be in good hands."
The castle is left in the care of Asham and Captain Garess, while Hexa patrols the rolling hills outside Horace, and Paval promises to keep an eye on the three of them.
Beyond the outskirts of your growing town, you find that hedgerows and fieldstone walls have begun to spread across the surrounding countryside as farmsteads set down their roots. Mr. Welkin leads you along the dusty trails worn by wagon wheels and mule hooves. As you travel northwards, your path paralleling the Shrike River's course, the farmer remains reticent, clearly anxious to be in your presence and too nervous to make conversation.
After a couple hours, from atop a hill's crest, you see the Thorn River appears in the distance. The farms here remain more sporadic and given over to pasture and grazing land, anchored by small cabins for the owners and lean-tos for the animals.
Soon enough, you reach your destination, and Mr. Welkin stops and presents his farmstead. Eight shaggy cattle graze in a field marked by shallow hills, hemmed in by a fence formed by rope strung along thick wooden posts. A stout log cabin sits nearby, with thin wisps of smoke curling from a hole cut in the roof.
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"This is great!" Wonky spouts as a genuine compliment to Mr Welkin. "You have a picturesque pastoral Paradise, Mr. Welkin. I am particularly interested in your Issian herd; I have heard - I make a bit of a pun out of the homonym, I confess - a great deal about the dairy products from these cattle: a unique peppery taste to the cheese if I remember correctly?
Wonky blooms with enthusiasm, no small amount of which is meant to flatter the farmer.
Sprocket woofs happily as a punctuation to Wonky's remarks.
The Vixen has to admit, it is very beautiful.
"Ye got family inside?" she asks, noting the smoke. If so, the Vixen says she'd love to meet the wife and kids. While true, she wants to ensure the family is home, safe and unharmed.
Wonky's knowledge about dairy pries a smile loose from the farmer, and Mr. Welkin seems to perk up.
"Why, yes! Of course, the real trick is how you set the cheese to age. You got to wrap some fresh wild herbs up in the cheesecloth, and you can't let it get too dry, else it won't absorb that spicy accent."
The Vixen's question comes like a crowbar, keeping Mr. Welkin from losing himself in a deep discussion of cheese culture.
"Oh, yes, my sister Isarna's in there with her children. Her husband is out keeping an eye on their half of the herd on the far side of our land."
Mr. Welkin walks up the loose fencing. He pulls a wooden pin to release the small gate and pushes it open, offering a gesture of welcome for you to step into the pasture.
"I'm no hunter or tracker, so I wouldn't really know what to look for. Not to mention the grass is pretty tall - ankle deep - so I'd have trouble finding anything even if I knew what I was looking for."
He leads you to a northerly stretch of the pasture, spilling down a shallow hillside. It offers a rather striking view of the narrow river in the distance. Mr. Welkin explains that this is where he found the blood and small bits of offal.
"Thank you Mr. Welkin," Eunomia says absentmindedly as she takes in the view. It's a truly beautiful one, but she needs to remain focused on the task at hand. She's no more a tracker than Mr. Welkin, but she is perceptive. So she looks around the area to see what she can find. Any evidence laying around that might explain what we're dealing with?
Even without the farmer's aid, Eunomia and Ahto immediate hone in on the site of the most recent attack. The ankle-deep grass is bent and trampled, some of it still stained with dried blood. Bits of the livestock's shaggy fur remain caught among blades of grass and the hook-like leaves of scrawny weeds.
The hoof prints of the slain cow are evident, as are the paw prints of whatever attacked it. The culprit seems to be a pack hunter, evidence by the flanking pincer maneuver unleashed upon the cow. This would also explain why almost nothing of the carcass was left behind. A nearby bluff, overlooking the site of the attack, would have afforded cover to the animals before they leapt out.
Harmond studies the tracks carefully.
Ahto easily traces the tracks. Furthermore, he can recognize signs that the cow was dragged away from the scene of the attack, over the bluff and down the sloping ground. The first physical remnants of the slain livestock is found in a dell, just beyond the roped fence posts, that could have been easily missed from the pasture.
Once the cow was dead, this is likely where the predators dismembered their prey and feasted. Only the rib cage and a couple stout leg bones remain, and even they have been picked clean. The rest was likely hauled off by the predators or intervening scavengers.
Here, Ahto discovers an oddity. Two sets of tracks lead from the site.
One set travel westward, towards the forest, while the other tracks continue northward towards the river crossing.
At the second site, the discovery of two sets of tracks complicates matters. Having them for side-by-side comparison, you are positive that the northward tracks were made by wolves, while the westward tracks were made by thylacines - specifically, the larger brush variety of the creature. Although brush thylacines are known to hunt in packs, it is uncommon behavior.
After studying the tracks Harmond addresses the rest of the group.
"This doesn't make sense. I'm no expert on the subject, but these tracks look like wolves," he gestures to the north,"and those like thylacine. He says gesturing to the west.
"I'm not an expert either, but it does seem weird to have two different species of predators hunting together. Wonky, have you ever heard of anything like this?" Eunomia has gained a great deal of respect for Wonky's broad knowledge on a variety of subjects, and at this point would be more surprised if the gnome didn't know something.
"Regardless, it seems we have a choice to make regarding which tracks to follow." Her head swivels between the two sets for a moment. "Personally I'd follow the tracks to the north. If they're headed to the river crossing...a lot of people go through there on their way to Tamlyn. I don't know if these predators are of any danger to people, but certainly the livestock they bring with them are at risk."
Harmond thinks for a second before responding. "Well, I can't say I've ever seen either of them in the flesh, but from what I've read, the thylacine is the more dangerous predator."
Regarding their reputation, Harmond is only partially correct. Although farmers fear the creatures, blaming all manner of problems on them, in truth thylacines are quite shy and antisocial and usually avoid human settlements. Because of their odd, almost hybrid appearance, thylacines have a far harsher reputation than they probably should, playing a sort of bogeyman role in farming communities.
The Vixen’s only opinion on the matter: “Whatever path’s most likely to prevent loss o’ human life, I’m for it.”
To the farmer, she clarifies, “Not that I’m trivializing the loss to yer livelihood, mind ye.”
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The gnome inspects the area with a lens on a stick that many of you have seen her use before on books and scrolls. After a few minutes where the conversation dies away, she addresses the patient crowd.
”As a point of fact, thylacines are generally much less predatory creatures than most recognise,” Wonky begins, adjusting her glasses. ”While I cannot tell from perusing this scene which group of creatures arrived on the scene first, I can nearly guarantee that the thylacines would not have worked alongside the wolves - they barely work as partners with each other! No, if I were to surmise the truth of it, then I would suggest that the wolfpack is the far more dangerous foe for both livestock and Tamlynite. We should see to the lupine menace first.”
As the group considers her words, she beams at Harmond. ”Tamlynite! It just seemed to come to me as the appropriate ontological classification of the citizenry. Do you concur?”
The Vixen follows, bow in hand...
The wolf tracks descend north, along the gentle slope of the hill country as it leads down to the ford in the river. Unlike the Thorn River's upper reaches, where the water cuts through the hills in a steep, jagged canyon, here where the Shrike and Thorn meet, the basin is far more open, cradled by a wide river valley.
The animal tracks lead right to the ford, which Wonky and Harmond both immediately flag as unusual behavior for such animals. While wolves certainly have no fear of water, they will usually treat sizeable rivers as a boundary for their territory. Crossing the Shrike to attack livestock could be an act of desperation. Conversely, using the river crossing to disguise their tracks would be a clever strategy, but one that should be beyond their animal intelligence.
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”I believe that there is an advanced specimen travelling with this pack - likely leading it,” Wonky reveals, pointing at a large paw mark in the mud. ”This might explain how this pack has used the river crossing as an effective strategy to avoid most efforts at tracking them. We may be about to find more than a mundane pack of predators.”
Sprocket whines a little.
Eunomia is no tracker, so she follows along with the rest of the group as they chase after the wolves. When Wonky mentions the possibility of an intelligent pack leader, she sits up straighter in her saddle and quickly scans the surrounding area.
"How far could they have followed the river before it became too deep and they were forced to pick a side? Are there any caves nearby they could be using as a den? If they're covering their tracks, perhaps we can still deduce where they most likely would have gone."
Eunomia has not heard any of the farmers or herders that have settled this stretch of land speak of wolf sightings on this side of the river. Neither have loggers or hunters who brave the wooded regions to the west reported encounters of wolf packs, making it unlikely that the animals have been lairing upriver.
Thus, Eunomia comes to suspect that the wolves may dwell on the far side of the river, only crossing the ford to hunt livestock before returning.
"No one on this side of the river has reported seeing wolves in the area, so it seems likely their den is on the other side. Let's cross the ford and see if we can pick up their trail."
Once across, Eunomia starts moving along the river, looking for any signs of the wolves' passage.
Crossing the shallows obviously left at least the wolves' legs, meaning that they tracked water with each step. Thus, the soil turned to mud beneath their paws, preserving their trail quite well. The long, wild grass that grows even more rampant on this side of the river does a fair job concealing these tracks, but your keen observation wins out and identifies them plainly.
Ahto quickly identifies the shallowest point in the river, where the water is only up to Wonky's hip.
What's more, on the far side, Eunomia calls his attention to the tracks left behind by the wolf pack as they themselves cleared the river. Based upon their course, skewing off towards the northeast, he surmises that these wolves may be lairing in the gnarled old sycamore tree that once housed the troublesome mites.
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"It should be safe to cross here," he says to the others, pointing to the fording point. "Miss Prong, it may be up to your waist. If you and Sprocket require any assistance, please let us know, and we will be happy to aid you."
"The tracks on the other side bear to the Northeast, towards the Mite's Tree. It's possible that they have claimed the empty lair as their own."
"The Mite's Tree?" Eunomia is curious, having not been with the group for that particular encounter. "Where is that? Were there mites living in a tree? That seems peculiar, from what little I know of the creatures."
Wonky's thorough maps of the region indicate that the old sycamore tree stands about ten miles from the river crossing, although the landmark's 100-foot height makes it visible from as far as four miles away, at least on a clear day.
"Maybe," Eunomia nods. "Or maybe they were just trying to get their meal as far away from their den as possible, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. It's quite a trek though." She shifts slightly in the saddle. "Longer than I thought we'd be gone. Strange how something as natural-seeming as a predator attacking cattle can turn into a mystery."
The natural conclusion you settle upon is that a worg leads this pack. Those lupine magical beasts are not only intelligent but they possess a natural malevolence that would guide them along this course of action, even if only out of a bizarre arrogance.
Harmond looks at the shallow ford and crosses it with some trepidation. He manages to not fall, but only just barely.
"My boots are going to be wet for hours. Hopefully they will dry by the time we get there. I don't relish the idea of fighting a pack of wolves in soggy boots."
The Vixen actually is surprised— "Oh! It all makes sense now." —and delighted that Wonky solved part of the mystery.
Knowing just a little about Druids (from her own past), she asks, "Can we still track this warg? ...or wargs?"
Eunomia grins at Wonky's enthusiasm. "Alright, I guess I'll be the first to ask...what exactly is a worg? Some sort of super-intelligent wolf?" More seriously, she continues, "Do you know what they're capable of? The more planning we can do in advance the better."