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And I thought my childhood was bleak. At least I wasn't a slave. Still, it is amazing how we have all found our way together. Onna rises from Hiiragi's lap and makes her way over to the paladin. With a kiss on his cheek, "You have got to be one of the bravest souls I have ever met." She hugs him tightly. "Ragi and I will do everything we can to make certain your past is well behind you. We'll stand with you. Pretty sure most of the others will too. Probably not Captain Stick up his...er, stick in the mud, but everyone else."
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"A country built on 'laws' like that is not worthy of respect" Ikari glowers at Utara. "It is a country of cheats. Of tricksters. Instead of offering fair reward for honest work, it is built on deception and malice."
Ikari rises and faces the Asmodean. "Do not think to defend such arrangements here, amongst us. Here, the only bonds that we permit are those of family and love." He takes his seat again.
I wonder what Sensei will make of all this?
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Kenta shrugs, "I do not know about being that brave, but I do only fear one thing in this world. That I will wake up someday and be back on that estate, trapped in that contract again and all of you will have just been a hallucination. But if that is the case, I will continue living well with my family here so that my memories will hold me through the worst in life."
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"It is an interesting trick of the mind," Hiiragi muses, "that one thinks oneself cleverer than others because of a mere difference in advantages."
She takes a swig from her drink, and shuffles her feet beneath her hakama; they'd been getting sore from Onna's chin, but she was never one to complain.
"Imagine living in such a place that you must triple-check every document you put your name to, for fear that you might be signing your life away! It would be a toil just to get up in the morning with that much enforced suspicion. A childhood prank could succumb an entire family line to slavery..."
She shakes her head. "Kitsune should know better than to allow such high stakes."
A few weeks later you all are summoned for your next mission. Who will show up and who is off cavorting with pixies? Only arriving to the meeting will tell.
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The Pathfinder Society’s Master of Blades, Marcos Farabellus, rarely assigns missions himself. Rarer still do those orders come directly from the Decemvirate.
“You bold few are in for a journey,” the towering wall of a man states. He rubs his beard for a few moments, as if physically searching it for the right words. “There’s a problem in Ustalav. An embarrassing one. Most of you have probably met Vonran Vilk, the old man who used to work in the library. He was the Master of Blades well before my time; the man lived more stories than you or I have even read. A few months back he returned to his homeland of Ustalav to write his memoirs for the Society. Something happened along the way. Now, a serial killer stalks Vilk’s hometown of Ardis, killing off all his old enemies. Under the full moon. I think you get the drift."
“Look. I’m not going to blow you a lot of smoke. Vilk defined what it meant to be a good man in his day. More importantly, he’s still got secrets buried up in that geriatric head of his that the Decemvirate doesn’t want spilled on the cobblestones by some superstitious Ardisian’s silver ax. Even worse, Ustalav sees the Pathfinder Society as a band of mercenaries and grave robbers. If anyone finds out that as prominent a Pathfinder as Vilk stalks their streets and murders their nobles as the man they’re calling the ‘Midnight Mauler,’ that might be enough excuse to have the entire Society expelled from Ardis’s borders without any debate."
“Ideally, you are to stop the murders without killing Vilk. But if push comes to shove, access to all the history of Ustalav outweighs any one man. Stop Vilk, whatever it takes. Our man in Ardis will meet you at the docks.”
The master claps his big meaty hand on Ikari's shoulder, "I know it seems wrong son, but our agent on the ground there is pretty damn sure about this. All the evidence they uncovered points to Vilk being a Lycan and taking out his rage at the moon against those who slighted him in the past. Anyway, he'll be able to fill you in more when you get there. Unfortunately there aren't any other agents suited to taking on a werewolf though, that's where you all come in. I'm sure a pack of foxes with a dog companion shouldn't have any issues, but hopefully it won't come to a fight. Y'all are immune to lycanthropy, right?"
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The bard is about to answer, but she pauses as she further considers the statement. Wait...are we? "Um...I'm not sure that's a thing Mr. Farabellus. I mean, I think someone would have told us by now?" Her voice rises up at the end, showing her uncertainty as she looks to the others for confirmation. "I mean, it would be really helpful. In any case, We should bring nets and stuff." Her eyes drift toward the ceiling as she tries to recall the phase of the moon.
"I'm guessing that even though this is super important and that time is of the essence that you are still gonna make us take a boat and we're gonna arrive just about the next time the moon is full? Unless it's full just about now and you are going to send us up there magically."
Lycanthropes of all types shun silver, and silver weapons penetrate their unnaturally thick hides. The herb wolfsbane—also called aconite or monkshood—may cure a victim but is also poisonous and can kill a werewolf just as easily.
Having been bitten, Vilk is only a bearer of the curse of lycanthropy, and cannot infect others. Only those born with lycanthropy spread the disease to their victims.
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"Y'all are immune to lycanthropy, right?"
Hiiragi makes a stern face.
"I am afraid it is far worse than that. When one of our kind is afflicted, it is imperceptible until it is too late for those around us. Kitsune stories of lycanthropes-- werewolves, in particular-- are more horrifying than other species's stories of them by a significant measure, as a result."
She sniffs. "I... must admit that the Society needs an expert on our culture. Oversights such as this are common."
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Onna smiles at her betrothed, Just when I think I have a grasp on her, she drops some insight like she's been waiting to enlighten us. I don't know how she does it, but I love her for it!
"Well, the good news, if there is any, is that if Vilk has been bitten, he's cursed, but he's only a carrier. He can't actually create any new were-creatures. Now, if one of his victims survives and goes on to have a child, they WILL succumb to the lycanthropy and manifest into a were-being in the future if they are not treated for the disease."
Onna tiredly brushes some hair aside as she begins to take notes. "So, we mentioned nets. Silver weapons or weapons treated with silver-sheen will help us punch through his defenses. We also need to get our hands on wolfsbane, aconite, or monkshood. It's all the same, just regional references to the same herb. In any case, it would be one way to try and cure him. The risk is that it may also kill him. Unfortunately, with Itami retired, I'm not certain we have strong enough magic available to us to break the curse. So we seem to be all-in on the mundane plant."
It is times like these when she feels the loss of the skulk's patriarch the most. He carried the burden of managing the arcane, whereas Onna merely dabbled. Now she had to take that responsibility on herself. She had just enough training to act as a backup before. Up until now, that was fine. She'd just as likely bluff her way along as actually be knowledgeable about something. Recently, she was spending more time studying, trying to close the gaps in her understanding of magic theory. She was exhausted. Reading treatise long into the night was beginning to take its toll. Bleary-eyed mornings caused her to switch from tea to coffee. The others probably suspected she was performing or trying to keep pace with Tosh at the bar. If only. Her greatest fear now was to fail her friends when they needed her most. They all have their faith to carry them along. I just have... me. By Shelyn, I hope it is enough.
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"To pass on the curse to one's children whilst being immune oneself would be a terrible fate..."
"Onna, I have two scrolls bearing a spell that will temporarily adapt a weapon to overcome a variety of resistances, including silver. You should be able to cast this spell." Ikari hands Onna the scroll.
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The mountain of a man assigning the mission smiles, "Alright, so you all know something about this deal. We were right to pick you... not that there was anyone else."
He smiles, "Good luck!"
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They all have their faith to carry them along. I just have... me. I hope it is enough....
"I will have to gather some silver-tipped arrows," muses Hiiragi. She reaches down and squeezes Onna's palm.
"Is the plant easy to come by? I would think, with properties that useful, there would be a patch of it in any dedicated garden..."
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Onna smiles down at Phidoe, "How could I say no?" He's adorable, but I have to keep reminding myself he is not some random stray. He's a kitsune who has suffered some serious trauma. Tosh drinks her way through hers, but this one has created a false reality for himself. Do we really just let that continue forever? How can he heal if he continues to live in denial?
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The pathfinders pool their monies and check out a local alchemist to see if they can purchase some wolfsbane poison. After assuring the owner they only need it to help hunt a werewolf, not to poison someone important, he opens up the magically locked safe and sells them a dose.
He gives them a quick bit of information, saying he isn't 'sure' about how exactly it works, but he's heard tell from adventurers using the item that IF the lycanthrope takes the poison voluntarily (intentionally failing the first save) and then manages to survive the poison's effects (doesn't die from loss of con), they will be cured of their lycanthropy.
The group collects a few scrolls from the lodge and any other necessary items and heads out.
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A couple days/weeks/whatever later, they arrive in Ustalav. A MERE SEVERAL HOURS BEFORE DUSK ON THE NIGHT OF THE NEXT FULL MOON. How convenient.
An excited young man strains for a view from behind a row of dull, bored, gray-clad observers on the docks of Ardis’s modest harbor. His face beams with equal parts excitement and relief as the gangplank drops.
“Well met, my brothers and sisters,” the young man says. “Thank you for coming so quickly! I am Ryado Erudyta.” Despite his youth, Ryado approaches with a limp in his left leg. “I have a coach waiting to take us back to the safe house. We can speak more freely away from these crowds.”
The rented cab is small but well appointed, and after a moment of securing the luggage, Erudyta continues. “By now you must have heard of the unfortunate circumstances of Master Vilk’s… condition. I ran into him by chance six weeks ago at the library of a mutual friend. I was researching the Dracora family’s lineage, but that’s neither here nor there.”
He glances out the window, peering at the long, orange shadows cast by the late afternoon sun. “To my shame, I didn’t put all the clues together until the most recent round of murders, but now I see it all… Vilk’s overland journey into Ustalav under cover of darkness, the low profile he maintains, and the identities of the seemingly random victims.” He shakes his head, showing more years than his rosy cheeks would suggest. “I wish I could stop him myself, but fighting a werewolf would’ve been well beyond my skills even before the ghouls got to me.” He knocks gently on his left leg.
“The full moon starts tonight, along with Vilk’s next round of murders. I beg you to cure our wayward master if at all possible. You’ll find curative magics scarce in Ardis, but I believe a powerful dose of wolfsbane may reverse his condition, should he survive it. There might even be enough humanity left in his bestial soul to reason with. The guards grow wise to the beast, and the locals are on edge as well—if the guards or an angry mob beat us to Vilk, the Society’s relationship to the Midnight Mauler will be exposed. We can’t let that happen. One way or another, Vilk’s rampage must end tonight.”
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A MERE SEVERAL HOURS BEFORE DUSK ON THE NIGHT OF THE NEXT FULL MOON. How convenient.
"Has there been actual witnesses who saw Vilk attack anyone? Right now it seems purely circumstantial. Not that we won't try to save whomever it is. And now that you mention it, how 'random' are these victims? And, not to pry, but how long were you attacked by ghouls? If you were actually bitten by Vilk, the curse may still run in your veins and on to any children you sire from this point forward."
Has there been actual witnesses who saw Vilk attack anyone?
"No, if there were he would have been executed very quickly. We have had several almost lynchings already in town on just hearsay. Fortunately, no one has died yet except the fourteen victims of the mauler."
Right now it seems purely circumstantial. Not that we won't try to save whomever it is. And now that you mention it, how 'random' are these victims?
"And that is why he has not yet been arrested. I believe that we are the only ones who know the connections between the murders and Vilk. If you somehow manage to find him and he isn't a werewolf, then I will be extremely relieved. But considering the circumstantial evidence is about a mountain's worth, I am just hoping you stop him before someone else dies. The first victim was Wanda Oteski, the granddaughter of one of Vilk’s old adventuring rivals. Afterward he slew an elderly merchant and his son who bore witness at Vilk’s trial. The next month saw the death of an elven information broker; apparently she directed Vilk and his band to that ill-fated tomb. The list goes on, but all of them bear some connection to Vilk.”
And, not to pry, but how long were you attacked by ghouls?
"It was an injury some time ago that took me out of the field. Now I just serve the society in a non-combat manner."
If you were actually bitten by Vilk, the curse may still run in your veins and on to any children you sire from this point forward.
"I have not been bitten by a werewolf."
What was Vilk doing at the library?
"Probably researching his next victim or perhaps his condition."
Is he aware of his condition?
"I would guess so, though he may have no control over it other than directing towards the next target."
Do you have any idea where or who he might strike next?
"That’s been a bit of a problem. I spent six weeks trying to track him down without any luck; too many of his records were simply wiped clean after his exile. If anyone in Ardis knows Vilk well enough to predict his actions, it would be his ex-lover: a half-elf courtesan named Markov Rutowski. Despite the urban decay, Ardis’s courtesans remain well insulated, and I lack the influence to even gain an audience with him. I understand Vilk’s exile was something of a black mark on Rutowski’s own career, and it likely remains a sensitive topic."
He thinks for a moment, "I personally haven't met Markov Rutowski, but I do have his address. I'm not sure how to even start trying to gain an audience, so I expect anything you all figure out will probably be less than the normal route. Though I'd suggest anything that breaks the law to be held as a last resort."
He glances over the three of you with a small frown, then down at the dog, "Aren't there usually more pathfinders on most missions? At least four? And have you secured Wolfsbane yet or do you just intend to find the mauler and take them out? I'm not going to judge if it is the latter. There are all kinds of agents and some just aren't suited for anything but battle."
He nods, "Good preparation, I'm glad my briefing was listened to by at least someone."
He shrugs apologetically, "His family has relocated since his banishment, or else I’d say they’re your prime target. I don’t know many of the details about the banishment either; most of the records have been destroyed or moved to Caliphas over the past fifty years. Rumor has it he lost four fellow adventurers looting a noble family’s tomb. I know nothing else about the trial or the parties involved. Not many remain in Ardis with memories that long. And I would assume the breakup had something to do with the banishment, or because of it. Long distance relationships are difficult. Though that is just an assumption, one would need to talk with one of the two involved to learn more."
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"So, we're to find the ex-lover, who may or may not be a target himself. Hope he listens to friendly advice and helps us out."
Ikari scowls and glances at Onna. "I'm sure you'll find the right words, Onna."
Then the scowl turns into a grin.
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Unable to stop herself, Onna smiles at the pair.
The kitsune then silently berates herself. This is not the time for making jokes. I have to stay focused. They are all counting on me. Onna turns her attention back to their host. "I don't suppose you know the name of the noble family that was defiled?"
He looks at you all as you speak around him, "Well, that's just rude. I'm here helping you and you can't do me the least bit of curtesy to include me in your conversation or at least wait until you can have your discussion in private. I hope it was important."
He turns to Onna, annoyance clearly rising in his voice, "IF I had found out more in my last six weeks of research, I might not even tell you because of how poorly you are treating your host and ally. But, I will TRY to remain professional. I simply do not know any more details about the banishment."
The pathfinder straightens his jacket and answers any further questions during the ride with 'I don't know'. You arrive at a small museum and he hops out, "This is the best the society can offer for you to stay while here. It's essentially all we have as far as a safehouse goes. You are welcome to rest or plan as needed." He steps out of the carriage to limp inside, "Please don't fail the mission, we barely even have a foothold here and I don't want to have to leave my home."
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Hiiragi giggles. "My apologies, sir," she states, bowing gently. "Something that Ikari had said in Taldane sounded remarkably similar to a phrase in Sylvan, you see, and when he remarked upon it, we rather lost track of ourselves. It will not happen again."
"Rest assured that we will accomplish the mission or d... or do our best to do so."
A thousand-yard stare crosses her face for but a moment before she replaces it with a sweet smile.
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"Please, forgive us. In the not too distant pass we were assigned to look into a missing Venture Captain. It turns out he was a demon worshiper, and had converted the lodges own research facilities toward infernal summoning. Our team experienced...some loss. Due to the possible similarities with Vilk, this mission has us feeling a little on edge. We have now become more guarded when dealing with internal investigations. We were merely discussing our available options moving forward. It was unprofessional not to consider how difficult this must be for you, especially with everything you have at stake. We will be more inclusive in the future."
He sighs and rubs his temples, "Apology accepted. And I'm sorry too, I probably over-reacted. It's just this damn city. If you aren't part of the in-crowd you don't even exist. I love most of the people here, but the attitude of exclusion I get from those in the upper circles is very grating."
The pathfinder straightens his jacket and answers any further questions during the ride with 'I'm sorry, I just don't know'.
You arrive at a small museum and he hops out, "This is the best the society can offer for you to stay while here. It's essentially all we have as far as a safehouse goes. You are welcome to rest or plan as needed." He steps out of the carriage to limp inside, "Please don't fail the mission, we barely even have a foothold here and I don't want to have to leave my home."
About a fifteen minute carriage ride or thirty minute walk later, the foursome arrives at the given address for Vilk's former lover.
A scraggly hedgerow and a thousand storms’ worth of water stains mar Rutowski’s otherwise beautiful townhouse. Wellworn marble steps lead to oaken double doors and an ornate, yellow bell pull.