"I will be here for sure." Mathus growls.
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Mathus looks offended by Herm's request, but he bites his tongue.
"Are you done now?" You see the wolf standing halfway on the stairs leading to the top. He looks irritated. Sense Motive DC16: The wolf is shaken. Maybe he had an encounter too.
Marthus doesn't take the hand. "Then it is settled. Don't take too long, or the Whispering Way might have moved on from Feldgrau." He turn away to let his gaze wander over the clearing. The other weres are still not comfortable.
Marthus tenses with anger. The clenching of teeth and all his muscles slightly shaking give it away. The other wolves are also tense. But for other reasons. Their eyes switch between Marthus, the stern woman and the edge of the clearing. A few moments that feel like forever pass. "Sounds resonable." Marthus presses through his teeth. "Get the cooks bag." he barks at one of his wolves. The wolf leaves to the floor below the top to fetch the backpack. Taking several stairs at once he is back quickly and drops it at Yilgwi's feet. The armor is tied to it. As the were is back in line Marthus stares daggers at Herm. "Your turn."
"I got here one paladin, two girls, and a dwarf without pants. First you agree, then he gets his stuff." Marthus replies.
"Sure, come up." Marthus replies. "But draw a wepaon up here and you're dead."
"A cook? That's not trustworthy. I want that paladin to swear an oath. Then you can have your stuff back." the wolf offers.
"Who is this Thisamet? Never heard of him!" Marthus calls back. "You're a dwarf, why don't you follow Thorag? Is that Thisamet the dwarven thief god?"
"I want you off my back and if you take care of those stupid demon vwolves on the way, you're most welcome. Tell me what you need fo rthat, and I'll give it to you!" Marthus shouts down from the tower.
"I'm Marthus Mordrinacht! Leader of the Silverhides and rightful new Packlord!"
"You're helping them a great deal, if you kill me!"
"What do you know of werewolf laws! And the demon wolves aren't here. You can follow them to Feldgrau."
"What do you want here." an angry voice calls down from above. "This is a feud between weres and you are none. Why do you interfere?!"
"I beg to differ." a deep guttural voice answers that from the shadows, followed by short a shriek of the poor hireling who's neck gets broken by the huge claw of the werewolf holding him up. The werewolf is almost double the size of the hireling she is holding up. "This is Vollensag territory. You have no business here. Leave, or you'll die. And tell the others to stay away too." then she drops the dead body, waiting four the group to leave.
Duristan raises his chin and points to the scar at his neck. "Remember when I told you this gave me immunity to lycanthropy? Well, I was wrong!" Immediately his face is distorted, a snout growing out and fur accruing on his skin. He draws his sword.
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