Heyou dismounts, still clutching his staff, Cat padding up to his side. He remains confused by the situation, but is in anticipation of either of the two outcomes he can foresee.
Either Heyou will get to see a meatsack buried alive, or he will get the chance to see some meatsacks opened up. Heyou can't decide which sounds most interesting.
He leaves Finder and Father Vajan to make the decision for their group, following their lead.
"Very well," sighs the head priest. He runs both hands through his thick, graying hair, and then nods to the dozen men holding the coffin over the grave. "Let's move it to the side there, men. Hraj! Did you bring a crowbar? No? Then use your blade."
The priest eyes Vajan's mace then glances at his companions and their weapons. "It seems we've no choice in the matter."
The coffin is swung onto the pile of excavated earth, and by torchlight the villagers watch as Hraj, a man with the muscular frame of a smith, sets to unbuckling the belts and then prying the lid off the coffin.
The air is one of anticipatory horror. Women back away from the crowd, hands over their mouths, eyes wide. Men grit their jaws and draw their weapons, as if expecting the worst.
With a final wrenching crack the lid comes free, and Hraj tosses it aside and leaps back.
Within a man of middle years lies, bound by coils of rope, his face strained, eyes darting from side to side before fixing on Vajan.
"What - praise Sarenrae! My prayers, they're - they're - please!" He tries to sit up, but is unable to maneuver with the ropes. "Please, get me out of here! Don't let them bury me alive! By the Birth of Light and Truth, I swear to you that I'm an innocent man!"
The priest grimaces in distaste. "There you have him. Begging and saying all the right words. Channel your healing energy, father, and be done with him."
Vajan studies the man very carefully.
Still feeling he is missing something vital that will help him understand what is going on here, Heyou apes Father Vajan's movements, peering at the bound man, reaching out with his otherworldly senses to gleen something about this character.
The plump priest studies the features of the wretch bound within the coffin. "You don't look like a dead thing, Mr. Smith. But these people claim you have committed several bloody murders. For that, the law says your life is forfeit. But first, I will channel the healing energy of Sarenrae, to be certain you are not an undead thing. If that does you no harm, we must hang you from that sturdy tree limb over there and send you on to Pharasma's judgment."
Vajan draws his iron holy symbol of his patron from his robe and holds it above the bound man.
Vajan uses one of his channel positive energy for the day at the man in the coffin: 5/day (DC 10, 1d6)
Kalen, taking advantage of the situation, moves around the coffin while all eyes are on the Vajan, Heyou, and the bound man. He does not draw his own blades, but studies the tied up figure carefully, eyeing the ropes and seeing what he can glean from the man's face as he readies himself for the worst.
in case a fight break out?
"I - what? Hang me for crimes I didn't commit?" The man struggles with his bonds, trying to sit once more. "Disease struck our town, took a number of our people - including my own wife and child, damn it! And they blame me! They think to bury the curse with me, as if that will stop the disease from spreading! This is beyond superstition, this is criminal idiocy! You must stop them -"
His words are interrupted by Vajan's sudden emanation of positive energy, which flows out from him in all directions. Heyou and Kalen both feel the warmth wash over them, a sensation akin to sunlight on a lazy afternoon, filling them with vigor and energy and strength.
Korstan does not seem adversely affected by the energy; his skin doesn't blister, nor does he seem stricken with pain. Instead, he glances around the crowd, from the head priest to the hard faces observing him to the newly arrived strangers, and sees nowhere the mercy or understanding that he seeks.
"So be it," he says bitterly. "Let Pharasma be my judge. However." He looks up, eyes suddenly gleaming, "I might as well take some witnesses with me!"
And with that he surges up out of the coffin, the bonds snapping far too easily, and leaps for Vajan's throat as wicked claws suddenly extrude from his fingertips.
His claws tear through Vajan's stomach, opening it up as he scores a terrible wound into the man's gut, revealing intestines in a spray of gore.
Vajan staggers back (5-foot move), holding in his dangling viscera with the hand gripping his precious holy symbol of Sarenrae, and does another channel, attempting to heal his grievous wound.
Channel positive energy, 2 of 5 for the day:
On seeing Father Vajan's insides come out, Heyou's eyes widen in wonder.
However, not letting himself get distracted, he gives a quick 'click', and Cat lunges at the attacker.
Heyou follows behind, his staff raised over his head, a gutteral braying betraying his excitement.
[dice=damage]1d6+3]
Kalen's blades are out even as he sees Korstan lunge for Vajan. With a scream of steel, Kalen leaps clear over the now-empty coffin pit, striking silently with both swords at the creature's exposed back.
Vajan stumbles back, light streaming from between his fingers along with blood as he desperately seeks to heal himself from the nearly mortal wound Korstan had dealt.
In that same moment, both Heyou and his cat leap forward, clawing and swinging, but their attacks go wide.
Not so with Kalen. As Korstan ducks beneath Heyou's quarterstaff, Kalen glides forward and stabs both blades into the villager, the longsword stabbing through the man's shoulder, the short sword penetrating between his ribs.
For a moment Korstan simply reels, blood running down his clothing, and then he changes, his body losing all semblance of humanity as he grows taller by a foot, his hair shrinking back into scalp, nose disappearing even as his skin turns an ashen gray.
With a screech of fury he lashes out at Kalen, both of his wickedly clawed hands seeking to find purchase through his assailant's armor.
His first claw skitters off Kalen's scalemail, but the second loops in under his arm and punctures through the weaker leather covering his armpit; a talon bites deep into his flesh, nearly tearing his arm off altogether before ripping free.
The town's people scream and draw back. Men brandish their clubs and blades, but most refuse to come closer. The smith, however, races forward and does his level best to help.
Joanna leaps down off her horse, unslinging her bow and in one practiced pull nocking an arrow and letting fly.
Neither of them manages to land a blow.
Kalen's own snarl of pain and anger echoes in his ears, reverberating off his mask as he staggers back. His shoulder is in flames, any movement stabbing at the joint like knives digging into the bone, but with a grunt he steadies himself, repeating an old mantra in his head.
You've had worse. You've always had worse.
And so, green eyes boring into the beast that had been Korstan with vengeful disgust, he lifts his blades again darts forward. Taking advantage of the creature's distraction at the others' attacks, Kalen slides under a sweeping, clawed hand, pivots, and stab upward at the thing's head and neck.
Thanking Sarenrae for answering his prayers for healing, Vajan turns his attention back to his monstrous assailant and the brave actions of his allies. He considers unleashing a bolt of fire at their foe, but instead determines to aid all he can. Raising his arms, holy symbol prominently displayed, he begins a soothing litany.
Vajan casts bless in a 50-ft. radius.
Corrected for above:
Longsword Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
Shortsword Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Vajan's blessing sweeps over the area, rallying the villagers and perhaps giving Kalen the edge he needs to step in one last time.
Or, given how vicious Kalen's blows have been, perhaps the Heartfinder needs no blessings at all.
Once more his blows go snicker snack, opening up cruel wounds deep in the monster's body. It cries out in a cacophonous threnody of pain, arms flailing up piteously at the sky, then falls back into the very coffin from which it had leaped.
For a horrific moment its body shifts through a hundred different forms - there's a brief flicker of Korstan, than an old woman, then a mighty warrior, a half orc, a fair headed youth, a stunningly beautiful woman - on and on, each blurring into the next, until finally it goes still, blood leaking from its many wounds.
Silence but for the panting of the combatants and the hiss of the rain on torches, and then the villagers let out a ragged cheer, as if half disbelieving that Korstan - or whatever it had been - is finally dead.
"Praise Old One Eye!" crows the head priest, moving forward, beaming at Kalen. "What bravery! What skill! Truly you came in hour of need, good sir! What is your name? How best may we thank you?"
Many of the villagers crowd around the coffin, staring down in awe and disgust at the stranger creature that lies within it.
"What is it?"
"Was that Korstan all along?"
"You sure it's dead? What if it comes back, like?"
The smith places his hands on his hips. "We'll bury him now, that's for sure. Bury him deep. There'll be no coming back for that one."
Vajan sees that something has been branded into the monster's forehead, a three-eyed jackal head, the wound relatively fresh and still raw: the symbol of Lamashtu, mother of monsters. Curiously, the symbol seems to be inverted, and surrounded by a circle of thorn like cuts. At a guess, you might hazard that it is a curse of some kind, something inflicted upon the monster against its will.
Eyes wide, Heyou stares at the thing as it dies, getting as close as possible to the coffin to watch the light of life leave the spasming form.
Once it is still, as the crowd begins to murmer, Heyou turns to his companions, genuine joy in his voice. “Heyou has never seen anything so beautiful.”
Finally composing himself, Heyou walks over to Finder, patting him on the back. ”You have a gift for opening meatsacks. Heyou is honoured to be travelling with you. Heyou would like to keep moving, to find more life to extinguish, but perhaps someone more… appealing to strangers should ask if these meatsacks know anything about our destination? Heyou still thinks we have not been told the entire story regarding our task.”
Kalen flicks his blades clean, doing his best to ignore the throb in his shoulder and the blood he can feel trickling down his arm and chest beneath his shirt. Sheathing the swords at his hips, he hears Heyou's question and looks around at the gathered admires encircling him with a sigh.
"Good people of the village," he announces loudly, holding up both hands and wincing at the stab of pain that juts up into his neck at the motion. "My companions and I happy to have been of service, but it is not given completely out of the goodness of our hearts." He looks into the surrounding faces, an old twinge of discomfort twisting in his stomach as he takes in their bad teeth and filthy clothes. "My companions and I are in route to a settlement along the steeps of Wildhorn Pass. We've heard whispers of trouble in the area. Would any of you have heard news of the place? Perhaps heard word from travelers passing through the Pass...?"
"Aye," says the head priest. "We've heard of Aurin's settlement, right enough. A few days ride across the pass, then down into the Wildhorn. Brave lad, that Aurin, crossing the spine of the Black Cloud mountains."
The smith snorts. "Brave? Foolish more like."
The priest raises a hand. "Erastil rewards those who extend the reach of civilization into the wild lands, and that Aurin was attempting to do. The Wildhorn used to be a sight more dangerous, as did all of this area before the Hell Queen was killed, some five years ago. You know the tale of it?"
A moment's askance, then he continues.
"Aye, well, bad years those were. Diamond Lake would only send heavily armored caravans down this road and past Lamashtu's Courthouse. Our village, a couple of miles down this road here, was spending all its coin on soldiers to defend us at night. There were those of us questioning the very wisdom in trying to hold on. The pass was held by the Hell Queen, a devil-born lass who it's said worked in Diamond Lake's very own brothel before her blood called her to the woods. She set up in the ruins of the pass, and there gathered to her a number of monstrous followers. Bugbears, ettins, all manner of nasty things. For awhile there she was a real terror, then Thangorin and his band went in and killed her and wiped the place clean."
The priest rubs his chin.
"That was five years back. Been quiet since then. But lately things have started up again. Aurin usually sends a monthly wagon over the pass to trade with us. Hasn't come through this month. We've heard from outlying homes that they've seen shapes skulking in the darkness, and monstrous footprints the next morn. Now this with Korstan. I'm not sure what to make of it, but it looks like dark times might be coming again."
Vajan resists his urge to ask more questions, turning first to his wounded colleague.
"That was some impressive swordplay, friend Finder. I think we're most fortunate to have you with us.
Vajan places a hand on fighter's bloodied sleeve.
do a second channel next round if it's a lame roll (less than 4)
"And you and that cat of yours were no slouches either, friend Heyou." He draws the strange man closer to him and whispers in what he believes is his ear. "You may wish to curb your use of the term 'meatsacks' around others, friend. Some may find it a bit unsettling, eh?"
Vajan gathers the bloodstained tatters of his robe where the beastly Korstan tore at his flesh and ties them into a knot to cover his belly. He turns to the priest, expression serious, and puts a hand on the man's shoulder.
"Brother, I hope you will forgive me for doubting you, but I think you will agree that this man was not an undead thing."
He draws closer to the man, putting an arm around his shoulder and signaling his comrades to draw near so that they might hear. "Instead, I think he was something altogether different: a shapeshifter of some kind. I believe that the blessing I laid upon the group may have inadvertently affected a curse placed on the man. If you look upon his forehead, you will see the foul symbol of Lamashtu—mother of the malformed, patron of beasts—but see here...it is inverted, and surrounded by a circle of thorn-like cuts. Though I can't say what this means, I do not believe poor Mr. Smith was willingly made into this bestial thing. Priest, please tell us more of this Hell Queen. What was she, how was she slain? What can you tell us of this Thangorin? Might we speak with him?"
The priest seems willing to forgive everything with the death of Korstan, and smiles broadly at Vajan as he bobs his head.
"Forgive? You are heroes, all of you! There is nothing to forgive. I've no idea what Korstan was, but you've the right of it - he's no undead Korstan, come back from the grave. A shapeshifter sounds more like it, but naught like a werewolf I've ever heard of. Either way, your friend here has laid it to rest, and for that we're eternally grateful."
He listens closely to Vajan's questions, and then tugs at his iron gray beard.
"The Hell Queen, well. Was said she was perilously beautiful, and that to look upon her was enough to bewitch a man. She's supposed to have lived a hard life in Diamond Lake, an orphan it was said, and to have worked all her young years in the Perfumed Corridor of the Emporium. One night it's said she was savagely beaten by a customer, and then thrown into the streets by the proprietor for being 'ruined goods' and for having dared stabbed the man while he slept next to her. Aye, a tale to tug at your heart strings. Right until she rode off into the woods and crowned herself mistress of monsters."
The other villagers press in close, obviously enjoying the tale, even despite the rain.
"Her name it's said was Karlaena, and she ruled the Court for a year. Then Thangorin, bless his name, came riding in like some hero of old. He was a mighty paladin of proud dwarven stock, and led a band of heroes. Alas, after killing Karlaena, he took to doing the rounds of all the taverns and enjoying the free ale, until he had a mishap in a stable and died in the collapse."
The priest strokes his beard pensively. "Very strange, how he died. Nobody ever quite had the right of it. Some suspected foul play, but... either way, he died a year after Karlaena, and his band separated to the four corners. One of them is still living about these parts: a ranger by the name of Gorsh. Said to keep a hermit's cabin up in the Black Cloud mountains, a good couple of miles that-a-ways. Reclusive fellow, but very dangerous. Would have to be, to live alone like that."
The smith jumps in. "As for how the Hell Queen was slain, well, that's a ballad and a half, that is. Thangorin is said to have marched through the court yard, defeating one foe after another, until he reached her altar, and there struck her down even as she was transforming into something heinous. Her screams were heard across the mountain peaks, and some claim to have been awoken by them even in our village, though I wasn't."
The priest nods. "Aye, true enough, true enough. There's a couple of variations to the ballad, with some saying Thangorin treated Karlaena with kindness, and that so disarmed the lass that she repented and allowed herself to be killed, but who knows? Thangorin himself agreed to any version that resulted in his being fed and feasted."
Heyou narrows his eyes as Vajan, and moves over to Cat, to whisper to his ummoving companion.
"How strange these meatsacks are, Cat, to not want to be told what they are. Do you not want to be called Cat? Should Heyou call you Dog instead? No, you are not that silly. Also, you have no mind to be silly with."
After listening to the priest's tale, Heyou steps forward, growing impatient.
"Hello, lovely human people. Heyou is having a lot of fun listening to your story, and it was fun to kill something, but now he thinks we should be heading elsewhere. Heyou would very much love to see a Hell Queen, but it sounds like she is dead, and we have dragon-people to see to."
Vajan's magic sweeps over Kalen, the ethereal tingle of the spellwork simultaneously pleasant and uncomfortable, writhing in the flesh of his shoulder. Before long, though, the sensation fades, and he tests the joint experimental, bending it this way and that.
"Near good as new," he says to the man, impressed. "You have my thanks, Father."
Vajan, though, is already busy in discussion with the Stag Lord's priest, and does not hear him. Kalen decides to join the pair, listening to them discuss as others crowd around them as well.
Once the faithful of the Stag Lord's and the smith finish their piece, Kalen frowns behind his mask.
"'The Hell Queen'" he repeats thoughtfully, studying the villagers. "Might there be a chance she has something to do with the kobolds we've been hearing about? Come to think of it-" Kalen feels a sudden tug of suspicion in his gut "-have you lot heard anything about kobolds near Erastil's settlement?"
Vajan nods, the way Finder's mind works agreeable to him. Other questions occur to him, but he disciplines his tongue. Best not start running down every rabbit hole that appears in our path. I think my masked friend is on to something, and I'll certainly listen to what these locals have to say, but our charge is to make our way to Aurin's settlement and assess the situation, providing what relief we can. If it turns out following one of these tantalizing leads is the wisest option, we can pursue it later.
"Kobolds?" The priest scratches at his cheek through his sodden beard. "Aye, t'was said all manner of monsters worked for her, years past. But I've not heard of kobold problems, neither here nor in the Wildhorn Pass. Nothing unusual, at any rate."
With that the attention of the crowd turns toward the coffin, and the lowering of Korstan into the grave, and the filling in of the dirt.
"If you'll be excusing me," says the priest. "Again, if you ever pass through our settlement - Thistlehome, it's called - you'll find yourselves a heroes welcome."
With that the priest turns to give last rites to the... thing.
Joanna brings the horses up. Her expression is sober, and she gives Kalen a nod of acknowledgement for his deed this night. There's a newfound respect in her eyes. "Ready to ride?"
The group takes the right hand road leading up into the mountains, and for a good mile the scenery on both sides remains the same; dark forest mostly obscured by rain. Then, the nature of the trees change; gone are the oaks and underbrush, and in their place the heroes ride into a broad belt of black balsam firs, the ground beneath their spreading eves carpeted with needles, their knotty roots grabbing at the ground like hands seeking purchase as a man goes over a cliff's edge. The slopes of the Black Cloud mountains appear above and before you each time lightning flashes, and after a good twenty minutes of riding Joanna slows her mount and turns to the lot of you.
"I thought we could camp here for the night," she calls above the storm, pointing at a clearing that's just visible off to the left. "Wait out the storm, continue riding come dawn. Safer. Less chance of running into monsters by light of day."
She waits, clearly ready to follow your orders: stop and make camp, or press on toward the mountain pass?
"I'm inclined to wait out the storm, as Joanna suggests," Kalen says as he glances at the unnerving sky, deciding that he, too, can extending an olive branch to the woman. "Moreover, we've things to discuss, I think. It does not settle well with me that our Patron would have us believe kobolds would be our greatest trouble on this assignment, when the locals have heard of no such encounters..."
Heyou slides off his mount, peering at the lightning in the distance.
Eyes still fixed on the lightning, he speaks. "Oh, Heyou is certain the female meatsack who hired us was lying about something. Perhaps it is simply that she does not seem too concerned about the fate of her son - from what Heyou has seen, that is not a normal reaction when an offspring is threatened. He has a strong suspicion that our patron has other motives in hiring us. The sooner we get to our destination, the sooner we can discover what they are. Heyou will be disappointed, however, if there are no dragonspawn involved at all."
He then turns to look at the group, his hood further back on his head, his smiling face more exposed than normal. He had learned to trust these people.
"Is it time to eat yet? Heyou always enjoys eating. Also, Heyou is happy to take first watch."
Joanna breaks out the tents and bedrolls. It's too cold this high up in the mountains to sleep uncovered, and when the rain finally stops she lights a small fire to keep the wild animals at bay. The group shares a warm meal, and then everyone turns in.
Heyou settles in for a long watch. The wind howls high overhead as it comes down off the mountain peaks, proving to be a constant, moaning companion throughout the night. The fire crackle and spits, but the old logs she pulls out from under an overhang are so dry they give off no smoke. The horses move restlessly where they're corralled against the face of a bluff, and one by one Heyou hears the sleeping of his companion deepen and grow slow.
Time passes. He tosses the occasional log on the fire. The trees stir as the wind passes through the canopy. The clouds part, and the stars become visible, brilliant and scintillating this high up above the world.
He'd almost fallen into a waking reverie when a sound snaps Heyou back into alertness. The snuffling of some large beast, followed by the subtle sound of undergrowth being pushed aside as it approaches. Peer as he might into the darkness, even Heyou can't yet make out what comes. It's still too far away.
Yet whatever it is, it's coming for the camp.
Before tenting down for the night...
Vajan notes Finder's attempt to smooth things over with their guide and smiles in approval. He looks at his masked companion, less unnerved now by his clandestine garb, and speaks. "Yes, what was left out of our patron's briefing does not inspire confidence. I do not believe we were contracted with pure intentions, friends. Nonetheless, I think we must do our best to execute the charge as though our lady employer meant our intervention to succeed. Between us, however, I suspect that there may be something of a...schism between the lady and young Aurin. Perhaps we shall know the truth of it soon."
Vajan tugs at the tied tatters tighter across his midsection now than the robe already was. He pats his belly and stretches out his arms, yawning. "Good Heyou, if you will take first watch I will turn in for the night. This meatsack could use some rest. May the Dawnflower shepherd your sleep. Goodnight, my new friends."
At the sound of the beast in the darkness, Heyou briefly stiffens, then clicks his tongue once, the signal for Cat to animate. Heyou points into the darkness, and Cat takes off into the night, following its master's command to track the enemy.
Meanwhile, Heyou quickly runs to each of the tents, heading for Finder, Father Vajan, and finally Joanna.
"Something has come to eat us," he says in an ill-practised whisper, after kicking each of their bedrolls. "Come," he says, before heading back to the campfire, staff drawn.
Looks like the fat man can move quick when he wants to
Cat disappears into the night like a drop of ink into black water. Even as Heyou sets about awakening the others, he (and they) hear a snorting, snuffling grunt that could be the prelude to a roar of some kind, and a moment later Cat comes bolting back into the firelight.
It's hard to ascribe emotion to Heyou's familiar, but the way it runs to hide behind the strange man, back arched, fur bristling, clearly indicates some measure of alarm. From the direction it's staring, whatever is coming is coming from the north west toward the camp.
Vajan bursts forth from his tent, blinking his eyes as he loads a bolt into his crossbow. He begins scanning the perimeter of the camp, steel tip of his bolt following the probing arc of his eyes, ready to unload on a foe if necessary. "Friend Heyou! What do your eyes and ears tell you?" He spares a quick glance at the cat, fur standing at attention. "...or what does your cat tell you?"
"Cat is scared," Heyou growls, sounding uncharacteristically tense. "Cat is very scared."
Trying to not draw attention to himself, Heyou stamps his foot on the ground. Thin, black tendrils break off from him, burrowing through the earth below, looking for life to grab onto.
Kalen is awake already by the time Heyou moves over to shake him, hiding his face as he don's his mask once more. Even as he climbs to his feet he starts reaching for the shortbow strong to the back by his bedroll.
"What in Verana's good name is that?" he mumbles to the group, listening to the approaching sounds even as he gathers his sword belt and quiver in his other hand, moving to stand by Heyou.
Vajan aims his light crossbow and, closing one eye, peers down the length of the loaded bolt, staring into the darkness. "To the northwest, my friends. The beast comes from that direction. Heyou, your eyes are better in the dark than ours, I suspect. Let us know when you or cat see something...and what that something might be."
Joanna steps up beside you all, longbow held lightly, arrow nocked, waiting for some sign of their enemy at which to fire.
The darkness seethes beyond the firelight.
Then, an earth shattering roar. The thunder of a charge as the night disgorges a massive form, hirsute and towering like a bull, the flash of fangs, broad as a cart and as unstoppable as an avalanche, powering out of the trees and underbrush right at the center of the group.
Right into Heyou's waiting spell.
Dark tendrils erupt from the soil to coil and wrap themselves around the grizzly bear's legs, seeking to trap him, arrest his charge, stop him cold but yards before you all.
And they do. The bear grinds to a halt, infuriated, straining and wrenching at the ebon tentacles that snare him and constrict him. It roars, a sound more felt in the chest than heard, but for this moment, this precious, fleeting second, it is stopped.
Kalen
Vajan
Heyou
Joanna
Bear
As Heyou's Entanglement charm grounds the bear, Kalen reacts with all the speed of a trained killer. Tossing his sword-belt over his shoulder as he falls to one knee, he drops the quiver, grabbing a fistful of arrows even while it falls, freeing them of the sheath. Planting them in the soft ground by his foot, he knocks them one after the other, firing in rapid succession, aiming for the beast's vulnerable eyes.
Vajan pauses for a split second, feeling a twinge of sadness at the majestic, deadly creature caught up in the unnatural tangle of vegetation called forth by his strange ally. He silently curses his sentimental hesitation in the moment, and aiming carefully, fires a bolt at the bound beast.
The rotund priest immediately begins reloading.
The grizzly struggles mightily against the black tendrils as Kalen's arrow flies high and disappears into the night. Vajan is able to aim with greater accuracy, and his bolt disappears into the thick winter coat of the bear, seeming to almost vanish into the massive ruff that cloaks the bear's shoulders.
Longbow in hand, Joanna darts across the camp, leaping over the fire and past the tents out beyond the periphery, where she wheels, lifts her bow, takes a deep breath than fires at the trapped bear.
Given the size of the bear it's not a hard shot, and the great creature roars in fury at the new pinprick in its side. Furious, it throws itself forward against the black vines.
The vines strain, come close to snapping, but hold the bear in place for a few precious seconds more.
Gritting his teeth in sympathy as the majestic beast is struck by the attacks of himself and his cohort, Vajan aims his crossbow and fires again.
Reaching for another bolt, he begins reloading his weapon for a third shot.
Cursing his poor aim, Kalen draws another arrow, sites carefully, and let's it fly.
"What... what is that beautiful thing?" Heyou gasps, upon seeing the bear.
He grips his staff, grits his teeth, and makes the hair on the back of Cat's neck stand on end, as that seems the right kind of reaction for a situation like this.
Joanna looses another arrow, face grim, knowing that this state of bliss cannot last for much longer.
This time her arrow zips just over the bear's shoulder as it throws its weight against the vines once more, its hide now perforated with bolts and arrows.
With a great ripping and popping sound, the bear tears free of Heyou's vines, and comes lumbering forward, roaring as it makes straight for the cluster of heroes standing before the fire. When it reaches them, crushing one of the tents in the process, both Cat and Heyou lash out, slicing and slamming, inflicting damage for sure and causing the bear to rear up on its hind legs and roar right in your faces as it towers over you.
Seeing the bear charge, Kalen throws his bow aside, tearing his blades free of their sheaths as he stands his ground. Praying ot Verana, doing his best to ignore the shaking of the wet earth beneath his feet.
When the beast rears before him, roaring defiantly, Kalen darts forward, both blades fashing.
Fearing his crossbow bolt may wind up skewering one of his allies, Vajan decides against loosing another projectile. Standing his ground and lowering the crossbow, he reaches for his sacred talisman of the Dawnflower and whispers a prayer, readying a healing wave of energy should his friends require his aid.
Should it prove necessary
As the group punishes the bear, Heyou is surprised to find himself crying, an act he has observed many times, but has never actually done himself, before now.
"It will be over soon," he whispers, even as he brings his staff down over the creature's head. "Heyou promises, it will be over soon."
The bear is a colossus, a veritable wall of muscle and talons. It rises up to a tremendous height before the party, claws rising up to sweep them all away. Blood runs from too many wounds to count - clothyard longbow arrows, crossbow bolts, and then finally two wicked wounds dealt by Kalen's blades.
It sways, its roar turning into a confused moan. Too much blood is drenching the fur of its chest, pooling about its feet.
Then, just as it goes to launch a final, desperate attack, Heyou's Cat leaps forward to swipe at the open wound with its vicious claws.
The wound is widened. The flow of blood becomes a torrent, and with a groan the grizzly collapses onto its side, causing the ground itself to shiver and then go still.