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A wolfhound pads through the door, shakes itself and transforms gracefully into a nondescript girl. "This is odd. One minute I'm biting a ghoul's bum, next thing I know, I'm here. Pancakes please. Anything to take away the great taste of undead." She looks around, slightly disappointed. "I don't think I'm in the same edition as any of you ... please don't hold that against me."
Savage Rend v Stalker 1 (Ref) (1d20 12=19, 1d10 10=17) Madda is unable to overcome her revulsion, and misses again. Once more she curses her sensitive nose and contents herself with providing flanking for Setil. A low, menacing rumble rises in her throat.
DM Grumpysauce Spoiler:
DM Grumpysauce Spoiler:
Grasping Claws (Ref) v Emissary. On hit, target can be slid one square. (1d20 10=17, 1d8 10=13). Desperate to try and pull at least one horror away from Setil, Madda jumps and misses, flinching back once more from the smell. She circles, a growl rising in her throat, to flank the second stalker.
Shifting her way through the reeking terrain, Madda's sensitive wolfhound nostrils flare as she pounces once more on the Emissary. The smell almost knocks her off her feet and her jaws close on nothing. Mouthwash. May Melora send me mouthwash ... and nose plugs. Pounce (Ref) v 3 (Emissary) (1d20 12=18, 1d8 10=16)
Trying to close off her nostrils and her mind to the horrors in front of her, Madda pounces. This time, she is sure she's done some damage. Fighting off the poisons flowing through her, she calls on her animal instincts to continue the fight. Pounce (Ref). On hit target is grants CA to next ally to attack it. (1d20 10=27, 1d8 8=14).
Madda can't speak, but the small, grateful bark that greets Galad's efforts on her behalf is clear enough.
Madda:** spoiler omitted ** DM Grumpysauce Spoiler:
Entirely fine. Many thanks for sorting that out. Aren't effects and terrain a right pain to keep track of?
"Gods... Jurival?" Disgust and pity mingle in Madda's voice as she morphs into wolfhound form and joins the fray, determined to end this fast. Circling through the stinking fog, she launches herself at her original foe before turning, swift as a snake and attacking the thing that used to be Jurival.
Madda raises her totem again and calls on the power of the land to help rid the world of these abominations.
Grasping Tide (Fort) v 4 and 2 (1d20 12=27, 1d6 8=13, 1d20 12=18)
Madda's totem trembles and she stamps lightly sending a tremor through the earth beneath the attackers. To her horror, she realises what they are. "Ghouls - but bigger, quicker, nastier and probably hungrier," she yells. "And they paralyse you ..." she adds a little unnecessarily.
Madda braces herself, totem held high. "From the east. A few. And they're really fast."
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Senses tingling, Madda shifts back to human form and warns her companions. "Bad stuff coming. Hang on to those horses."
Bounding tirelessly beside the horses, Madda keeps her senses alert, trying to work out what might be causing their uneasiness.
Madda greets Deirdre and is sincerely glad to accept Ioun's blessing. She gathers her belongings and pauses to ask the priestess something. "This is a bit unlikely - but do you happen to know the ritual for dealing with extremes of temperature? We're heading into the mountains and that's not warm at any time of year." "As for what happens to the Tear if we find it at all - that's a story for another time. Getting it back is going to be enough to occupy us for a while."
Madda at home Spoiler: The warm familiarity of her home wraps itself around her and is a better restorative to the events of the day than any ritual could devise. Matching her father bite for bite with the cinnamon bread, not even aware of how much she's eating, at the back of her mind, Madda is aware that this is what she's fighting for. We may be ants and rats to the gods, but these are my ants and rats... The thought passes lightly through her mind as she listens, inwardly absorbing all the advice about Harrowswode. Nodding, never interrupting, she lets her father's warm presence support her. In the background, she hears the creaking of the old house as the wood stretches with the night chill. She knows that her mother will be waiting for her gift and will have one of her own to give as well. Probably a specially baked cinnamon twist, kept aside. "Stop stuffing dad." She pulls the bread away from him. "You'll get fat." It's an old and childish joke. Her father will never be fat, big man though he is, but she grins at him knowing the reaction before it comes when he tugs the plate back towards him and growls at her. As he leaves, she stretches luxuriously and lolls, seemingly nearly asleep until Ewan sneaks up on her. "Hmmm ....?" she murmurs as he gets too close and reaches out to him with razor reflexes, yanking her little brother to the floor, pushing him over and sitting on him. "Say that again about Galad. I dare you. Anyway, it's not him I fancied. That grell philosopher was quite attractive if you can ignore the tentacles. I like an aberration with brains."
In the Mindspire with Deirdre Spoiler:
Madda lets the others leave and looks at Deirdre with some sympathy. "Gods can be whimsical, but so is nature. I don't think individuals matter much to them. They're looking at a bigger picture." She sits for a moment beside the priestess. "I've always thought it was up to us to look after the thing nearest to our hand. Melora may not care if a particular lamb is taken by wolves, but I can care for her. Who knows? Maybe to the gods we're individually as insignificant as the ants in the honey jar or the rats in the feed bins. We drive away rats and ants, but maybe there are other rats and ants taking care of the ones left starving because of that. We can only do what we can about what we know." "Deirdre, we will do all we can. If Wellspring is the feedbin and someone is driving us from it, we will save who we can in whatever way we can." She smiles and stands up again. "Well, I need to go back and see my folks. They'll have heard about today from Gotfrey by now and they'll be worried, even if they don't say so. I'll show the others the map in the morning. Harrowswode has it's own problems, but we might find out more on the journey. Sleep and dream and let us know if Ioun offers any more advice." Then she goes home.
Disturbed enough by what she's hearing to shake herself back into human form, Madda looks incongruous enough, kneeling on the floor of the Mindspire, still using her arms as a pair of front paws. "Do you know anything about who is looking for the Tear of Ioun? Apart from us - Setil's right of course, we're going on that hunt as well." She stands up, suddenly not looking comical at all, "I'd like to hear anything you can tell us about the ruins as well. Where they are and what kind of beings are ... haunting it, for want of a better word." "If you run out of space at the Cockeral, there'll be room at the farm. I need to say goodbye to my parents before we leave." And maybe write myself a will as well. If there any more grells up there, I may not make it back this time.
"Thanks." Madda shakes herself into wolfhound form and sits quietly, watching and listening, letting her body take over and following her instincts.
"You say that Volarn and all those with him in the temple perished. Does that mean that other Kaorti survived? Is anything known of them." The shock of the last hours suddenly hits Madda and she shivers involuntarily. "Do you mind if I go dog? I can still listen and I'd be warmer."
Her soft heart melts listening to Deirdre and Madda wants to believe her implicitly. Knowing her own weakness, she tries to trust her instincts about the place and the story instead. She thinks hard about anything she might know about the Kaorti as well, but this is new territory to her. "Who are the Kaorti?" Insight on Deirdre (1d20 10=11)
Madda pushes her own hair back off her face. "Dreamless sleep sounds wonderful, but I, for one, won't be having any until we know a bit more about what those animated brains were after."
Madda watches as the fumes from the bark calm the survivors, seeing familiar faces start to relax and forget the horrors of the last few minutes.
Madda looks at the devastation around her and remembers something. "Deirdre, if we light a fire in the centre of the square, people can get warm and comforted before they go home. Add these to the fire and the smell will sooth them I believe." She holds out a handful of bark chips she found high in the forest on one of her journeys. The wild elves had told her about the calming properties of the bark and her own experiments had proven the worth of that knowledge. The sweet smell might help reduce the nightmares and make healing faster and easier.
Madda looks at the sea of destruction and tries to identify who has the most urgent need of help in order to make sure the most critically injured are assisted first.
"And I've forgotten mine. Madda Clannen." Brushing herself down and still concerned about Setil and the wounded, Madda introduces herself to Deirdre. "You said that more would come for the Tear. I should be welcoming you to Wellspring, but it doesn't sound as if we have a lot of time for pleasantries. I am happy to meet you though."
"Jurival? Oh, no." The words slip out involunatarily and Madda looks at Setil with sympathy and worry in her eyes. "We never got time to introduce ourselves before we started saving each others lives. I'm Madda Clannen, and yes, Wellspring is my home. I'm so sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but Jurival has disappeared. He's not the only one. Constable Harras is trying to find out what happened, but dad says nobody seems to know much. Is he why you're here?"
Madda suppresses an inward chuckle as she remembers young Gotfrey's surprise when she turned into a dog in front of him a few years back. It had put a slight crimp in a promising relationship. She turns to Deirdre. "The Tear. They ranted about a Tear."
Madda shifts back to human form as the grell falls and stands up, wiping her mouth. She looks grim as she surveys the remnants of the battlefield, but more relieved when Gotfrey comes towards her. "What can we do to help Gotfrey? Does my father know what's happened here, he'll want to bring food and comfort for anyone ... bereft. How many have we lost?"
Bracing herself for more of the great taste of grell, Madda latches onto a mouthful of tentacles and yanks it to earth.
"You go nowherrrrree!" Hurling herself back into her favoured wolfhound form, Madda throws caution and sense to the winds and charges at the grell, leaping high into the air to pull it back to the ground.
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On it. I'll fail to hit with something else. As she backs off, hoping against hope that her attack did something useful for once, she yells at the philospher. Deep Speech Spoiler:
"Your scansion is horrible. Even if you weren't demolishing my town, I'd call what you do to words a crime." It's a pointless gesture, but it makes her feel better.
Thanking her stars she's human and doesn't have to bite the grells again, Madda clicks gently at the cobbled ground, willing it to fry the aberration, before backing uneasily away. "Sundered, the grells, go for the grells. Ignore what it's telling you."
She tries desperately to shake the philosopher's insidious suggestions from her mind.
Grasping Claws v G4 (on hit G4 is slowed) (1d20 13=17, 1d8 8=14) Racing around Galad to attack G4, Madda flinches away from the taste of tentacles as the last second. Disgusted at her own weakness, she shifts back into human form, gagging slightly. "Sweet gods. Don't bite those things." she gasps.
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