Tristen nods softly, patting Dan on the shoulder. "Let us go talk to Eldon Dan. I hope you are right. I do not think poor Uncles house can take much more of this. I went home last night and practically tore the place apart in anger!"
People walking home last night would have seen Tristen "destroying" his Uncles house, knocking a butter dish off the table, cutting open a downy pillow and even going so far as to tear up a sheet of paper, before tossing it on the floor. Tristen is quite a quiet young man, and to him, this is indeed messing up a house.
Dan cannot imagine the young gent 'ripping apart' his uncles house, but keeps quiet for once. They approach the bad grave-digger, a solumn look to their visages. "Aye, pity about the poor man, never have I been insulted so grievously and eloquently." Dan bows his head.
"How about we do something of import. Last nights bonfire harboured community spirit and stopped more getting lynched, if we get together we can speak our minds." Dan's words are low but carries. "How about we create something tonight, a monument either to our glorious victory over the wolves or create a folly warning of the curse."
Eldon eyes the Baker and the Barrister. "What did you have in mind?"
Tristen strokes his chin softly in thought, before brightening up. "Uhm... Well we take the gibbet, dig a trench around it, raid the church and fill the trench with all the holy water we find. Then we stock the gibbet high with wood and parafin oil, and hang a werewolf effigy from it, before setting the whole thing alight!" Tristen beams hoping excitedly from foot to foot.
In response to the barrister. "I think you be daft to try that. Either throwing suspicion away from your own moonlight activities or bringing the wolf down on you from your own fears. You want a trench dug, I'll dig you the trench. But I want no part of the burning."
In the morning, Whitey gets up first thing and hangs a sign from the door of his pub.
"Closed for the Day"
Instead of performing his usual routine in the morning he completely abandons his duties at the Pub and Brewery. Still red-eyed he searches around town for Edlon.
Tristen deflates slightly but perks up once again. "Well... perhaps it was a little ridiculous yes. I have to admit I am not the most imaginative!" He nodded softly, frowning.
"Perhaps Dan has an idea!"
Bruce sits near the bonfire as the early morning sun rises to cast its stark and unforgiving light across the remains of Taraz. His eyes still puffy from the tears, he watches as Eldon and some of the other men carry the body away to be buried. Light save me, I can't even muster the courage to help bury the man I helped kill.
As news of Wowbagger's death comes in, Bruce feels a pang of fear clutch his breast. They had a wolf in their midst and one of the few who stood any chance of protecting them was dead too? How were they to survive the nights ahead?
As Bruce made his way through town he noticed the young man Tristen's home was in total disarray. There were torn curtains, broken furniture, the house was a complete disaster. It looks like some kind of beast was set loose in there. With a growing fear, Bruce moved off to find some of the others in town, keeping a watchful eye out for the young Bell lad.
Depressed and shamed, his eyes blurred with tears, Simon waits for Whitey to open the pub, and his misery only deepens when the "Closed for the Day" sign goes up in the window. Dejected, he sits in the dirt in front of the establishment, averting his gaze from the mutilated mason.
What have we become? Are we any better than the wolves at this point? At least they seek to reclaim their ancestral home, while we've simply murdered a neighbor out of fear.
Unhappiness and fear builds in Simon's mind and tears start trickling down his sooty face. He considers another attempt at exposing the bite of the wolf on the infected person, but the energy escapes him and instead he pulls his wooly cloak tighter about his lean frame and rocks back and forth. At Dan's call for action, for something of import, a tiny of glimmer of hope flickers in his soul.
"Yes, let us do something, a monument, an effigy, even a trap for the beast. The work shall help clear our minds and keep us united."
"We will figure something out I am sur...!" Tristen turned as he spoke, the smile slowly falling off his face as he trailed off.
"YOU! This is your fault!" Tristen stormed up to Whitey, gesturing towards the cold body of Taraz. "He was your best patron. How could you do it? HOW!"
Tristen growls sharply, his fists clenching as he restrains himself from choking the ignorant Innkeeper out.
"WELL?!"
Dan nods at the lawyers words; "Aye, I have an idea, it may not be the best one - I am a simple man. But it gives us a reason to get together, strive to be better, protect one another on a dangerous evening before the depredation of the night." his voice solemn until he tries to break a strained smile; "And an excuse to eat and drink more."
He moves over to the ashes; "Yes Simon, you have a good idea. A monument or shrine. We build a tower, a shrine made out of dry-stone wall then with a plaster finish. Those with strength of body can help erect it, those of artistic ability can decorate it."
He inclines his head with a wry shake; "Heck, if we get lucky it might even be blessed and have the power to burn a werewolf."
Thoen steps between Whitey and Tristen before the younger man has a chance to cause physical harm to the other.
"Calm yourself boy, we gain nothing by throwing wild accusations against one another. We must be level-headed if we want any chance of living through this menace."
"N-now, now, Mr. Bell," Vorian says with a drunken slur as he shakily gets onto his feet, "You can't go blaming poor Whitey, he clearly had the wastrel's best interests in heart. All there's to do is drink... drink to the poor bastard's demise, and to Wowbagger's triumphant last stand!" He takes a swig from his whiskey bottle, oblivious to the fact that, asides from being empty, the entire lower half of the bottle was shattered.
In doing so he loses his balance, landing back on the ground. Rubbing the back of his head, he seems to come to his senses.
"Two innocents dead... By God, what will this night have in store?"
Tristen steps back, wringing his hands together and staring at the ground, before coughing. "Yes yes of course Master Thoen. Forgive me... I just meant... It IS Whiteys fault after all... Oh bother...!"
Tristen bobbed his head low, before moving over to listen to Dan. "Sounds like a perfect plan Dan. I will of course help out as best I can. I am small but I can lift things and put things... Ill help as much as you need!"
Turning to the shopkeeper, Tristen gets a concerned look upon his face. He walks over to the man, and offers him a hand up. "Of course Mister Ritter... I was being silly. All it was... Can I help you Sir? Perhaps something to eat? To help sober you up?"
"YOU! This is your fault!" Tristen stormed up to Whitey, gesturing towards the cold body of Taraz. "He was your best patron. How could you do it? HOW!"
Tristen growls sharply, his fists clenching as he restrains himself from choking the ignorant Innkeeper out.
"WELL?!"
Tristen steps back, wringing his hands together and staring at the ground, before coughing. "Yes yes of course Master Thoen. Forgive me... I just meant... It IS Whiteys fault after all... Oh bother...!"
Whitey stops dead in his track from his search for Edlon.
What did you just say Boy!?!
This struck a chord with Whitey. The look on his face immediately turns from sadness to anger.
I'm only doing what needs to be done. If we can't figure this out for ourselves the Wolves are going to have us all killed within a week.
I'm not the only one with blood on my hands. As I recall you had it in for Wowbagger and look what happened to him. Torn limb from limb. Is that what you want for the rest of us? Because if we dont do something thats whats going to happen!
Tristen turns and glared at Whitey. "Well maybe for SOME of us, but no not for all. I was wrong about Wowbagger yes, but I was right about our dear Cobbeler. Taraz never hurt anyone. Wowbagger said some very mean things about my mother that were just not true... You did nothing but let your friend die!"
Tristen stood up straight, staring Whitey in the eyes. "I do not trust you Brewmaster!"
Dan's aghast at the youth's outburst, "I thank you help is appreciated, don't worry I will pull my weight too. I have some kiln stones that we can lay as a base upon the bonfire."
He turns to Vorian. "By all that's just a dead wolf. That is what would be good before the night is out, elsewise more of us may perish."
Eldon indwardly sighs at the scene, then comes up to Whitey, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Thought you were lookin' at me when you came up, Whitey. You want something?"
Tristen turns and glared at Whitey. "Well maybe for SOME of us, but no not for all. I was wrong about Wowbagger yes, but I was right about our dear Cobbeler. Taraz never hurt anyone. Wowbagger said some very mean things about my mother that were just not true... You did nothing but let your friend die!"
Tristen stood up straight, staring Whitey in the eyes. "I do not trust you Brewmaster!"
"you do not trust ME! Who are you to place judgment like this? After all I could say the very same thing vice versa to you. I was right about Wowbagger and you threw him to the dogs LITERALLY! Just because I am more open about my suspicions does not mean the rest of you do not have suspicions yourselves."
"Thought you were lookin' at me when you came up, Whitey. You want something?"
I was coming to see if I could help bury this poor lad and the Alien. Maybe hold a service for the two of them when I was interupted by this little brat and his temper."
Tristen bristles visibly before growling. "It is not that I distrust you. It is that I am surprised at you. Whitey you have been good to me but g~&&#$n it man... Taraz was a wastrel. He harmed no one...!"
"Don't you think I know that. This whole situation breaks my heart. I'm the one who has to live with this. We all do! I'm doing what I feel needs to be done to save this town. The sooner we all face facts the sooner you all will realize that more people are going to die! Your number is coming boy. So is mine if we cant solve this problem fast."
Tristen pauses, frowning slightly. "Well... Well damn Whitey what in the name of god are we meant to do?" He sighs, shrinking in around himself. "We can not just stand here and do nothing. For Wowbagger, for Taraz... We have to do something!"
"Look we find the wolf and kill him, as Vorian suggested to avoid another night of bloodshed." he looks earnestly rubbing his jowls.
Whitey bends over slightly and wave his arms frantically as he shouts:
"THATS WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY!!!
Tristen looks up at the baker and nods, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his large, fear filled eyes. "Okay. Okay yes, you are right Dan, of course. That is what must be done!" He nods, pulling himself together visibly.
Tristen shrinks back, staring at the ground and nods. "Of course Mister mc White. Forgive me... I am just a little over my head!"
Whitey looks around and realizes he is making a scene. He blushes as the embarrassment sets in.
"I must apologize to all you. Especially you Tristan. This is a very emotional time for all of us. I'll try to keep my temper in check for the reminder of this ordeal."
"Why don't we take Whitey's suggestion and bury 'em then. A little hard labor will help straighten you all out."
Tristen nods his head in acceptance, before offering to shake hands with the large Brewmaster. "Truce? We are all under pressure so..." He shrugs, straightening his spectacles on the bridge of his nose
Tristen nods softly, pulling his coat off and dropping it to over a head stone, before he rolls up his sleeves. "How can I be of service Master Gorski?"
Dan wipes his sweaty brow, his face a crimson shiny mask even before he has picked up a shovel. He looks to the tall bald man with a curt nod. "Aye, reet sensible."
Whitey nods as he shakes Tristen's hand but says nothing.
He turns to Edlon and says:
Just let me run home and grab the portable keg and my shovel. I need a drink to unwind from all this. I'll meet you all back here in a second."
With that, Whitey turns and walks off to the shed behind the Pub.
Simon waits for the tavern to open and then promptly buys a bottle from Whitey. Not half way through the liquor, he again sheds his cloths and stands naked in front of the establishment with bottle in hand and loudly calls for..
In the morning the professor's eyes were red and puffy. She'd spent much of the night reading by candlelight to distract herself from mourning Taraz and second-guessing every decision she'd made and every conclusion she'd drawn over the past day. Walking through the morning dew, she is greeted by the sight of Simon making a spectacle of himself again and quickly averts her eyes until he wraps a cloak about himself and sets to discussing Dan's project.
"Yes, let us do something, a monument, an effigy, even a trap for the beast..."
At this idea she ventures, "I'd considered that... there are a number of interesting traps and tricks in the books, but the trouble is that the wolf is among us! What good would it do to press the wolf into building a trap for himself? I like the idea of a monument though, something we can point to when this is all over and tell our children about. That the men and women of Laniel were here, we suffered tragedy, but in the end we won! At the very least, the labor will distract us from all this bickering."
"I too will help with the burials. Just let me grab the shovel I have in my forge--It wasn't designed for digging so much as moving coal, but it will get the job done. I will meet you all there."
Thoen then sets off at a quick jog towards the edge of town where his shop is set up.
"I've done my part in accusing an innocent man, let me do my part in giving him a proper burial. In my shop is a long wood box I'd built for cultivating mycelium and a wheeled platform I use for moving planter boxes about the greenhouse, I'll bring both."
Simon shuffles off to his greenhouse, chin on his chest and head hung in shame. A short while later the creaking of the platform's wheels announce his return, a solid cedar wood box balanced on the slowly rolling platform that Simon pushes before him. He parks it near the ashes of the bonfire and turns his gaze to the charred remains of Taraz. A moment later he lurches a few few away and drops to his hands and knees, his stomach heaving, bile spewing from his lips, and tears streaming from his eyes.
Whitey returns with his supplies.
"I'm ready to go but it looks like Simon could use another minute."
Simon rises shakily to his feet and runs his sleeve across his nose and mouth.
"A mug of your ale would help settle me for this task." Simon says to Whitey, eyeballing his keg.
"Help yourself Simon. I brought this for everybody. I have no doubts that were all going to work up a mighty thirst digging graves.
Dan gets to work digging deep and hard, clearing the turf and rubble first. Quickly the man is puffing and mopping his brow with a hankerchief. "Good honest work."
"Thank you Whitey", Simon grabs a stray mug left from last night's activities and fills it twice, draining it both times in a single tilt.
With liquid fortitude, Simon pulls a thin blanket from the wooden box and drapes it over Taraz's remains, then cradles the charred wastrel's corpse and places it gently into the wooden box. His stomach buckles again, threatening to purge the ale he just chugged, but he holds it down. With slow shuffling steps he pushes the unhappy load before him to the graveyard, the creaking of the wheels mixing with the scrape of shovels on earth to form a symphony of misery.
Tristen looks hurt at the Dukes comment, as he is a quiet, kind young man, no matter if he is a lawyer or not. He pours himself a mug of beed and sighs, taking a sip, before setting down to work.
"Just... madness..." Vorian huffs, shaking his head. Clearly dejected, he reaches into his wagon and retrieves a shovel of his own. Had it been any other day, perhaps he would have tried to sell it off for this very purpose, but now the thought only made him feel sicker than he already was.
"You don't think we'll need... all of these graves, do you?" he asks nobody in particular as he swallows his spit, watching as Simon wheels Taraz away.
The professor paced restlessly. All this talk of grave digging was morbid and she'd be damned if the last thing she did on God's green earth was to dig her own grave and wait for the night to come- or drink herself into a stupor. The book the marshals had sent around all those years ago felt like a stone in her satchel. She needed someone a level head to confirm her suspicions right now and everyone in town was either so distraught over the deaths that they'd tried to numb themselves with drink, or getting in Eldon's way as they tripped over themselves trying to do his job for him. The Duke seemed the least worked up of the lot, so she approached him to discuss the issue.
The slim volume is simply bound and only marked with one word on the spine and cover, Schwerverbrechers. She opens it to a dog-eared page and shows the police sketch to the Duke. "Excuse me, do you know any German? The authorities sent copies of this book all over the country a few years back, looking for criminals who had fled their home country. It says that this man is a dangerous criminal, guilty of horrible abuses of science and wanted for a rather large sum. I turned a blind eye at first, because I believe a man's past is his own business and he helped us so much during that drought... but the more I think of it the more I'm convinced that the person described in this book would be the sort to sabotage Sir Keinly's lock just for the chance to see a live werewolf in action. What do you think... am I crazy, or does this portrait look familiar?"
Having dug for a while rivulets of sweat rolling down his brow. Dan leans upon his shovel admiring his work, in some way pleased with the effort despite the morbid atmosphere.
He turns to Vorien, "I ain't made a grave for me, when you kill me just chuck us in the woods. I don't care, I would much rather we celebrate life rather than ponder death. Life should be about celebrating and joy not awaiting the enevitable demise." He pushes off from his spade and moves back across the square.
He calls back to the others; "Good thing the tressle tables still there I have a beef joint hanging and good wheel of cheese. It'll go perfect with a loaf or a dozen, I'll bring it out to share." he pats his over-hanging stomach, "After all I have a gut to maintain and this exercise is not doing me any favours." he says with a wink.
"Aye, I'm with Dan on that one, don't waste a fresh grave on account of me. If the wolves tear out my innards then burn my corpse to ashes and sprinkle them on my herb garden to help the greenery thrive."
"I'll help ye carry out the loaves Dan, a little bread and cheese would do us all good. We've still the monument to build before sundown and the morning has been spent digging graves"
As Simon moves to help Dan he notices the Duke and Alessandra looking at a thin book. Intrigued, he shuffles over to them hoping to catch a glimpse on what's captured their attention. As he draws near an image on the page stares back, a familiar face among those left in the village. His eyes wide, Simon lifts his gaze to the face of the librarian and reads her intentions clearly in her expression.
"No, Taraz and Wowbagger died on account of him!" The misery that had coursed through Simon all morning changes in a flash to anger.
Finding a small group of people gathered around the professor Thoen makes his way over to find out what they are doing. Doing his best to recall what German he can, Thoen eventually gets the gist of what is said alongside the portrait.
"I never would have guessed that the doctor was a criminal. Perhaps we should confront him and give him a chance to prove either his innocence or his restitution."
Taking a break from gravedigging, Eldon looks around for Whitey to get himself a drink from his keg. Seeing the group gathered looking at something, Eldon grimaces and marches towards the group. As he approaches, he hears Thoen's remark. "So what's this all about now? A criminal you say?" He glances and sees the book, with a portrait of what may be the doctor. He flashes an angry look at Alessandra, "I like the idea of seeing what the doctor has to say. Let's go find him."
Dan puts up his hands nearly spilling and over-stuffed sandwich contents upon the packed earth; "Now, now we may have all done stuff in the past we weren't too proud off. The Doctor could be no exception."
He shakes his head vaguely remembering something; "So we ask him, but we should live in the present and think hopefully of the future."