A Fitting Curse
Thirtieth Day of the Eight Month 292 AC
After a moment's thought you say, "We need to kill those things before they drive more of the revelers mad." Waymar nods resolutely, though he is markedly less content with your next words. "We should not take foolish chances for it, though. The crowd could tear us apart if we are careless. We move together and try to slay as many of the Handmaidens as we can..."
"Handmaidens...?" Tyene asks as the four of you rush down the stairway of the inn and into the crowded taproom, luckily filled with only the ordinary feasting and drinking.
"Handmaidens of Excess, the Bringers of Madness," you answer before beginning swift incantations as the others kept a wary eye on the door. From your own magic and that bound in one of Lya's scrolls, you call swiftness in battle wards against body and mind.
Lost one scroll of Protection from Evil
"So like demons," Tyene replies, the suspicion clear in her voice.
"No," Waymar replies to your surprise, motioning to his sword, the enchanted bronze barely glimmering with silver light where your recall it had blazed bright when drawn in the presence of demons. "Demons are creatures of wilful sin, a perversion of what is good and pure in the world. These things seen a denial of all restraint and of reason itself."
"I don't suppose the people getting eaten care for the distinction," Ser Richard puts in softly as he checks the draw on Oathkeeper.
"Let's go," you call, settling a coat of scales upon yourself and then a glamor to hide the change. "Take them alive where you can..." you add.
***
Outside, madness waits: people drinking, fighting, feasting, and rutting in the streets like beasts, moving from one to the other in the blink of an eye. You are distantly glad you ate lightly for dinner. Waymar stumbles against a man soaked in blood and wine babbling madly, and for a moment you fear he too is caught in the grip of the enchantment, but the young Valeman holds his own, the words of the Old Tongue cutting through the din. In a flash of sorcery he is next to the monster without having to struggle with its thralls. Rather than follow you speak the words of changing, weaving your knowledge of the foe into the enchantment. If it will drive men to act like beasts then you will make it one.
Even as Ser Richard leaps over the heads of the revelers, meaning to slice the thing apart, otherworldly flesh shifts... contracts, and Oathkeeper cuts naught but empty air as the creature becomes a common fox, its fur the color of spilled blood.
The revelers awaken to their state and the screams change to horror and disbelief. They run howling into the distance, or else begin to puke wine and other less wholesome things.
After only a moment's hesitation Ser Richard lunges at the new-made fox and pulls the hissing, spitting beast up. A spell of sleep gentles it soon after. "Is this going to turn back?" the knight shouts, looking like he would still rather kill the monster.. Though you assure him that it will not, the question of where to put the damn thing remains.
What do you do with the cursed Maenad and any of its sisters you manage to capture in like fashion?
[] Put them into the bag of holding, they should be guarded from any attempts to break the curse there, as long as they do not run out of air
[] Have Tyene hold on to them, they are small enough, though it does risk escape and the curse being broken
[] Write in
OOC: Waymar was actually confused there because the DC to resist the Infectious dance was 24 due to all the people on the street making the effect stronger. However he rolled "act normally" on the confused chart. And then of course the Maenad went down to Assay Spell-Resistance+Baleful Polymorph like a chump. That combination is terrifying.