Patricie holds up her middle finger as she casts Summon Swarm, hoping her death isn't quiet and without extra difficulty on the wolf pack's part.
As the druid starts to engage in spellcrafting after making her rather rude gesture, the two wolves at her head and feet lunge, both managing to penetrate the woman's defenses and score hits. The multitude of wounds overwhelms Patricie, and she falls into the oblivion of unconsciousness.
Tearing off pieces of the bottom of her own dress, the blonde woman manages to stanch Patricie's bleeding before she can expire. Tearing off more strips, she then binds the woman's hands behind her back and her ankles, working grimly and silently, blue eyes blazing with hatred every time she glanced at the other woman's face.
Patricie is looks puzzled as the priestess tends to the wounds her wolves inflicted.
As the druidess regains consciousness, she finds she has been stripped of all her gear, which has been piled many feet away from her. A small fire burns nearby, the blonde priestess holding one of the bolts from the woman's pack in her hand, idly spinning it between her fingers.
A friendly smile comes over the blonde's face as she notices Patricie's eyes flutter open, noting the look of confusion. The smile does not reach her blue eyes, however, nor do the fangs that still protrude over her bottom lip help. The woman's look is of a cat toying with a mouse.
Crystal stares at the woman for many moments, wearing the same smile, her hand reaching down to the other woman's body, smearing her finger in a drying patch of blood on one shoulder. She brings it to her lips, her eyes closing for a moment before they open, her face flushing. "I assure you...this was not what I had in mind when I followed Victor down into that madman's cellar and let him perform whatever voodoo he did. Such is life, I suppose. Or unlife, it seems."
She chuckles humorlessly, staring off into the distance before she focuses back on Patricie. "You know, you would turn many heads in the City, you and your natural looks. I would spend hours dolling myself up, getting pretty to tempt all the young men and women...whereas you don't even try. But I have one thing you don't have. And I'd like to share it with you."
The woman grins as she puts the tip of the bolt into the small fire, letting the metal get red-hot. She reaches down, yanking Patry's shirt off of her stomach. The smile gone, she asks gruffly, her voice rising with every syllable, "Is here fine? Or would you prefer somewhere else?"
Patricie's look gets hard when her abdomen is exposed, and she answers, "If you're going to kill me, please get it over with. I'm tired of hearing your voice."
The other five wolves return empty-handed, the bear having proven quite elusive and faster than it appeared. All ten of the remaining creatures form a ring around the priestess and the druidess, bearing silent witness, all sitting on their haunches and staring.
With a snarl, the blonde woman clamps down on Patricie, holding her still with surprising strength, as she presses the tip of the bolt against the woman's tanned skin. She slowly drags it in a circular shape, setting the tip in the fire many times to reheat it. Crystal's nose wrinkles at the smell of burning flesh. "Kill you?! What would that accomplish? I am marking you, you backwoods b+&$!. When I am done you shall belong to Him."
It continued for many minutes, the agony surely intense for the druid as the tip of the bolt had to be reheated several times. In the end, imperfectly drawn from the writhing of the druidess, is a circle with a star inside of it, the points of the star connecting with the perimeter of the circle. The priestess puts her chin in her hands, nodding at her handiwork. "That will suffice. Not quite the work mine was...but I hardly had the same tools to work with."
With a few shrugs of her shoulders, the priestess lets the tattered remains of her gown drift down as she turns away from the druidess. As her back is bared, the lower portion of it contains a larger version of the star-in-circle she just drew on Patricie. Its dimensions are more correct, as it was surely done with a brand of some sort. After a few moments, the priestess pulls her dress over her shoulders and turns back around. "You are now marked by the One God, Asmodeus." Her face drifts closer to Patricie's, fangs extended, "If any of your friends survive, tell them this is His place now, and there is no room for any of you. If you persist in remaining behind, the next time I encounter you, I will give you the 'other' gift I have, that you don't. And you can serve me...for eternity."
With a final glare, the blonde stands and starts back towards the hole, anxious to know what is happening below ground.
As the blonde woman leaves, the wolves continue to stand a silent vigil over Patricie. All their heads snap up as one, then they begin to snarl and suddenly and viciously fall upon Milley, tearing the poor animal to pieces.
Patricie screams and writhes in agony as she is branded with the mark of Asmodeus. As the priestess leaves, she falls over onto the ground.
A few moments after tearing the poor Milley to shreds, the wolves around Patricie silently pad off into the woods, slowly melting into the woods around the druidess, leaving her alone at the grisly scene.
Meeting with his friends and allies someplace away from the streets and the crowds, "Well that was a rather illuminating adventure" Melaphi's words are light, but his expression is sober.
"Are we all in agreement that the current government cannot stand? What then shall we do about it? Take the keep, or build up our strength for a time then strike when they've become a little lax in their security?"
Melaphi takes out a piece of paper, "I received this from... them." He sets it on the table for all to read. "I think I'm going to ignore this for now."
"Melaphi.
You are without a doubt trying to deduct what manner of trap or ploy I am trying to lead you into by writing to you.
After having read that short sentence, you are also going to assume that I will attempt to convince you not to worry about such a ruse; however, I already comprehend that you would have to be foolish and lack any manner of survival instinct to actually fall for such a guileless trick. I have inscribed these words to you for two reasons. Try not to guffaw or feel too bitterly about an old man’s caprices, but I might very well be growing sentimental on my last days and these words are too confidential for those I surround myself with.
You see, Melaphi. You are without a doubt going to disagree, but in you, I see something that I once believed in as well. You have an understanding of the world that is becoming a rarity in this bleak realm. You are not unassuming, but you are still kind enough to be willing to give people a second chance. The years have made me jaded and turned me into something that my younger self would have abhorred, but if I am to take this path, then I at least want a single decent individual to know why I am doing as I do. I know there is very little love between our two groups and the hotheaded individuals on both sides will make lasting peace impossible.
Conflict seems to be inevitable. These words might seem jumbled and without a clear direction, and I fear that they are without structure. I beg not for peace, nor mercy. All I wish for is the chance to explain what led me to this situation. Could you grant an old man that much?
I beg it of you. Write to me. If I am to die by a blade, then I at least want people to understand what I was.
If you should refrain, then I will know that my story was not meant to be shared.
Victor von Ravenport."
Garroth got up from the chair he had been lounging in, busy scratching at the scabs covering his body. As he stood, he probed at the bandage draped over his eye, before pulling it off. The eye was still swollen and red, but he was starting to be able to see, a bloodshot eye peering out from within the folds of purplish grey, inflamed eyelids.
A bit unsteady on his feet, he downed the remainder of whatever hard liqour had been contained within the bottle he was nursing, then strode towards the table to look at the letter. As he read, he murmered along, halfway reading aloud. His brow was furrowed, annoying grunts escaping his lips every so often when a word cause him to pause and reread it. As he finished, he looked up with a sour look.
"I think that would be for the best. Let the old bastard die with unfinished business." He laughed a joyless laugh. "With any luck he will come back a ghost and haunt the others." He spat, the saliva stained pink from a mouth which still would not stop periodically bleeding.
"So, what ARE we gonna be doin'?" He said, grabbing a new chair and sitting down with a sigh.
East of town there lies a haunted dungeon where a group of cultists is said to reside. After some deliberation, the heroes set themselves to the task of clearing out these cultists. Not only would this be prudent for the safety of the City, but this particular dungeon is said to hold long buried artifacts of great power.
The party sets off in search of the moderately valuable treasure and presumably sinister cultists. As they reach the outer wall of the city, they deliberate on the best way to traverse the wilderness.
Melaphi follows Garroth out into the wilderness, trusting the his half-orc friends skills in this matter.
Fethryth knows a bit about the area from studying maps. But Garroth's the one who knows how to navigate the wilds so she follows his lead.