Age of Ice and Blood: A Pathfinder System Heroic Fantasy Quest

Seventeenth of Olweje-hamba (Olweje Descendent), 1349 A. L. (After Landfall)

"We ride to meet them," you proclaim after a moment. If you were to call back Megin you would lose whatever trust she had gained with the small herd and you mislike the sound of that howling. It is not deepest blackest winter to drive wolves into a frenzy, far from it, though if there is one thing this world had taught you it is that not all those who look or sound like beasts are beasts.

"What need have we to be tangled in the affairs of savages?" Hengo asks again in what he perhaps fancies a lordly manner, though to your ear it sounds more of naked fear.

Rather than answer when John had already made the point you get on Silver again. He's not wearing a saddle this late and in camp, but you don't need a full saddle and stirrups to keep your seat atop his back.

"Stay here and guard the camp," you say to the merchant, offering a slave for his pride at least.

Briefly you think of leaving Inge behind, but she is not of a mind for it. "You'll need a healer and like as not a bit of luck to tide you over when you meet them."

Thus you ride into the dark, under the light of torches, not wanting to risk the sight of unfamiliar magic at first meeting. The first thing you notice about the approaching Yayar is that the line of torches seems ragged as though some of the horned beasts are lagging behind, or perhaps even as though places in the line are empty by intent.

The foremost of them in wide shouldered, bearing a necklace of of polished teeth from beasts great and small, common and strange, with two serrated fangs as long as a man's hand framing his chest, at his side is a sword forged in the manner with a subtle curve and on his back a great tawny pelt as a mantle, but for all his warlike garb the warrior's face is haggard and his voice rough as he asks in the trade tongue of these lands that is more Engur than Yayar:

"What manner of spirit or stone sprung ghost are you to be wandering the plain when the wolf-moon is out?"

"I am Roland de Verley and the moon seems to me much as it has always been, as for wolves I have heard some, but not seen any yet," you answer, confident hopefully without seeming glib.

The man laughs, causing Tom to bristle though to your ear the sound is more bitter than ill meaning. "Your gods play a cruel jest strangers. Moon Eaters are out and they are looking for fresh meat, man or spirit beast or landward they care not, all is meat for the hunt tonight, some to rest in the belly of the hunters some to be man-wolves like them. They say a cruel winter is coming and they must prepare. That for their preparation says Ainar Golden-Pelt." The man spits on the ground.

"What are you doing out here?" Inge asks.

If Ainar is troubled at being questioned by a child he does not show it, though perhaps the sight of amber and silver gleaming about her neck is proof enough that this is no ordinary girl.

"I lead them away from the camps of my people, they prefer to hunt the strong over the weak, warriors not camp folk."

"And now they will come for us as well?" you press.

"I know not, you are not of the land and the spirits do not know you, perhaps the Moon Eaters will think you are unclean for their purposes this night..."

"Just what do they mean to do?" John cuts in wearily.

"To make more of themselves by their accursed bite," the warrior sounds surprised that you did not know it.

"They become two skins?" you cut in. "I thought those were born and not made...?"

Alas you do not have the time for more questions, the howls grow louder and you must decide what to do. Your heart weighs to giving aid, but how much and how to give it.

What do you do?

[] Offer to make a stand with the aid of the Yarar travelers, longbows and chainmail should make quite the unpleasant surprise to these hunters

[] Shadow Ainar and his band with some of your more skilled riders and strike against the hunters at the most opportune moment

[] Write in

OOC: No stats on the werewolves, none of these people are skilled in mystical matters so all they can tell you is generalities.

Seventeenth of Olweje-hamba (Olweje Descendent), 1349 A. L. (After Landfall)

"We ride to meet them," you proclaim after a moment. If you were to call back Megin you would lose whatever trust she had gained with the small herd and you mislike the sound of that howling. It is not deepest blackest winter to drive wolves into a frenzy, far from it, though if there is one thing this world had taught you it is that not all those who look or sound like beasts are beasts.

"What need have we to be tangled in the affairs of savages?" Hengo asks again in what he perhaps fancies a lordly manner, though to your ear it sounds more of naked fear.

Rather than answer when John had already made the point you get on Silver again. He's not wearing a saddle this late and in camp, but you don't need a full saddle and stirrups to keep your seat atop his back.

"Stay here and guard the camp," you say to the merchant, offering a salve for his pride at least.

Briefly you think of leaving Inge behind, but she is not of a mind for it. "You'll need a healer and like as not a bit of luck to tide you over when you meet them."

Thus you ride into the dark, under the light of torches, not wanting to risk the sight of unfamiliar magic at first meeting. The first thing you notice about the approaching Yayar is that the line of torches seems ragged as though some of the horned beasts are lagging behind, or perhaps even as though places in the line are empty by intent.

The foremost of them in wide shouldered, bearing a necklace of of polished teeth from beasts great and small, common and strange, with two serrated fangs as long as a man's hand framing his chest, at his side is a sword forged in the manner with a subtle curve and on his back a great tawny pelt as a mantle, but for all his warlike garb the warrior's face is haggard and his voice rough as he asks in the trade tongue of these lands that is more Engur than Yayar:

"What manner of spirit or stone sprung ghost are you to be wandering the plain when the wolf-moon is out?"

"I am Roland de Verley and the moon seems to me much as it has always been, as for wolves I have heard some, but not seen any yet," you answer, confident hopefully without seeming glib.

The man laughs, causing Tom to bristle though to your ear the sound is more bitter than ill meaning. "Your gods play a cruel jest strangers. Moon Eaters are out and they are looking for fresh meat, man or spirit beast or landward they care not, all is meat for the hunt tonight, some to rest in the belly of the hunters some to be man-wolves like them. They say a cruel winter is coming and they must prepare. That for their preparation says Ainar Golden-Pelt." The man spits on the ground.

"What are you doing out here?" Inge asks.

If Ainar is troubled at being questioned by a child he does not show it, though perhaps the sight of amber and silver gleaming about her neck is proof enough that this is no ordinary girl.

"I lead them away from the camps of my people, they prefer to hunt the strong over the weak, warriors not camp folk."

"And now they will come for us as well?" you press.

"I know not, you are not of the land and the spirits do not know you, perhaps the Moon Eaters will think you are unclean for their purposes this night..."

"Just what do they mean to do?" John cuts in wearily.

"To make more of themselves by their accursed bite," the warrior sounds surprised that you did not know it.

"They become two skins?" you cut in. "I thought those were born and not made...?"

Alas you do not have the time for more questions, the howls grow louder and you must decide what to do. Your heart weighs to giving aid, but how much and how to give it.

What do you do?

[] Offer to make a stand with the aid of the Yarar travelers, longbows and chainmail should make quite the unpleasant surprise to these hunters

[] Shadow Ainar and his band with some of your more skilled riders and strike against the hunters at the most opportune moment

[] Write in

OOC: No stats on the werewolves, none of these people are skilled in mystical matters so all they can tell you is generalities. Not yet edited.