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

[DragonParadox]

On Golden Fields ​

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

Fields of gold stretch out before you in the heady evening light, rustling at the lightest breath of wind. The city is now far behind you and far are the green shadowed paths where the kin of the Shore Sworn till fields of sorghum and oats. You are not going to find many farmers ahead according to Hengo, the soil here is too thin 'enough for grazing' but not worth half-a-spit to a man who loves ordered and tilled land'.

Spoiler: Vista

"Well they sure make the beasts small for such a poor land," Tom says as he motions to a herd of what one might call wild cattle, though they are to what you would call cows what a hoary old wolf is to a grey hound, shaggy and humped, great mountains of ruddy fur moving placidly over the grasslands.

"These lands are wide warrior, even the most meager of fodder can sustain the greatest of beasts so long as they range widely, so it is with the Yayar," so says the bard Cor Eso. The man claims to have traveled far, though quite to where seems to change with the audience and the mood of the day . Whatever the merit of his wisdom he has at least mastered how to sound wise, which Zaia once told you in jest is 'more than half the battle to being a wiseman'. Probably easier to to play the part when your tools are drums and not knives.

"How do you find your way out here?" Inge asks, looking towards the distant mountains. "It's like a sea without ports, 'r maybe more like one where the ports move around...?" She trails off, seeming very small atop 'her' horse. If nothing else the journey has motivated her to learn how to ride on her own, not that you begrudge her the joy of it, but a part of you is uneasy at the reasoning.

Sometimes I'll have to be in another place in battle than at the front with you. A girl of ten should not be thinking of war and battle, but with the hand of Ikomi on her shoulder she can do no other.

"You find your way by the stars and the sun like a ship at sea, but also by the contours of the land, the bones might be hidden under grass and one hill might seem same as the other to eyes used to islands, but they are not. See there, that is the Three Thunders Ridge where the trade is done in the Descending of Elnu, though the Yayar call it the Moon of the Badger..."

You allow the old man's voice to fade into the background of your thoughts as you consider the path still ahead. Horse herds are not uncommon in these lands, short and stocky like ponies, though the proportions of their backs and heads are a little off, as though an inexpert sculptor had tried to mold a horse from memory and left it a little stretched out in some places and pressed together in others, but the hard part would be actually capturing the dozen or so mares to carry the foals Hengo wants and keeping them tame enough to follow you into the city.

The last thing you want is to be caught out here by some Yayar band in transgression of some strange clan law, or even just looking too much like wealthy travelers fit for the plucking. Zaia suggests making use of herbs and potions to calm the beasts and make the more amenable to your ministrations, but he admits that he had never doused a horse before, much less a wild one before taming.

On the other side of things is Megin who thinks that she can sway a herd to follow her by strength of limb and swiftness of hoof. "The eldest mare will know not to gainsay me," she proclaims confidently, her thoughts borne through Swift Pebble, but the otter-kin herself suggests caution. While she speakers of any breed have some sway over their Lesser Kindred it is a long way from the mountains of the south and the herds in these lands may find her presence more unnerving than commanding. Silver is more akin to them, but at the same time as strange in origin as the rest of you.

How do you go about the taming?

[] Just use ropes and ordinary means for roping intractable horses

[] See if Zaia's potions can help

[] Megin and Silver try to sway a herd to follow along

[] Write in

OOC: And we finally have a few days pass. Hope you guys like the outing from the city.

 

[DragonParadox]

Under a Blood Moon ​

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.

 

[DragonParadox]

Under a Blood Moon ​

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.

 

[DragonParadox]

By Strange Tongues Called ​

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

Curses, the word sends a shiver down your spine as the threat of death and maiming alone does not, but you will not let fear rule you, not by night and not by day. A poor fit for dealing with wolves on the prowl, be they on two legs or four. Motioning to the hillock you had made camp on you say to the Yayar: "Hold the ground yonder, I know not how swift these two-skins are but I would wager they would be a good bit less bold in the face of three feet of pine arrow through the gut."

Ainar draws his the lion skin mantle a little aside and draws his sword a few inches from the hilt, enough to reveal a gleam like silver. "The Moon Eaters do not fear your arrows, tis only the bite of silver they fear and the kiss of fire."

You hear Zaia murmur something to himself in his own tongue, but pay it no mind.

"Silver I do not have, but fire I can manage," you say drawing Durendal, a tongue of fire defiant in the dark.

Seeing this the head of the riders seems heartened calls out to his folk in their own lilting quick footed tongue and they follow along to the foot of the hill. There isn't enough room for man and beast along its crest, far from it, but all the men with bows stand vigil there as Tom calls out for the others to take up the stakes he had carved as soon as you rode onto the plains. True those had been prepared to see off folks like your new allies, but they will serve just as well in the face of rampaging wolf-men or so at least you hope.

"Do you need healing?" Zaia asks, reaching for his satchel adorned with ribbons in a riot of colors only he knows the full meaning to. The red ones are for healing, that much you recall.

For their part the riders to not know what to make of the old man, at the very least they do not seem to have the same clear mark of a sorcerer as the Anwa... but it is hard to miss that he is the only one here without armor or weapon. The eldest among them atop an elk with whose coat is the same color as his hair and beard shakes his head and calls what seems from the tone a warning. You are already regretting not bringing Esha along, though if you had who knows how they might have taken her presence,

After conversing with his fellows further Ainar refuses the offer: "We will see to our own wounds strangers."

Before you can think how to reply a fork of lightning races across the sky though there is not a drop of rain in the air and by the fierce light you see them. Wolves they are, but not as you know them backs arched in unnatural arcs as though ready to spring and tear at the throats of their foes, fangs yellowed and dripping in preparation for the feast and eyes... Even so far as you are three hundred feet from the foot of the hillock to the nearest of the beasts you can see that their eyes are not those of beasts but men.

Spoiler: Wolves in the Dark

And of men are their voices as they call out in the tongue of the Yayar or perhaps one close to it, but which none of you can speak. It sounds like a challenge or perhaps a warning, drifting off expecting an answer.

You look to Ainar for answers.

"They give you a chance to flee if your beasts will bear you, but you should leave anything too heavy for their backs behind..."

"Tribute, they are asking for tribute," Hengo cuts in. Anger makes his beard bristle and his back straighten. A merchant will count his coins before his children, the old saw comes to you, but you shake it off. You have played the merchant more than once yourself and truth be told you can well see why a man might be wrathful at the prospect of the swat of his brow being stolen.

The lead wolf snarls again and Ainar's mount tosses his head, horns slashing at the air. "Then he says he will take... he will take our lives from our bleeding flesh."

Odd... not that a man would hesitate in speaking of such a threat at a time like this, but the pause did not seem to be weighted with fear, but more with, uncertainly, a furtive look around to see if any other ear could catch the word.

Alas Hengo seems distracted now, telling his own men how to fight, he had not caught the look, perhaps not even the words.

What do you do?

[] Prepare for battle
-[] Write in

[] Challenge Ainar on his account

[] Ask Swift Pebble to speak to the wolves with her mind, warn them off

[] Write in

OOC: Welp that was an interesting moment to make your sense motive roll. Up to you guys if you want to follow up on it.

 

[DragonParadox]

Unspoken Words, Unwelcome Arrow ​

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

"Ask them what they really want," you say to Swift Pebble, though you do not have much hope of ending this without blood. Men are hard enough to hold fast when their blood is up. How much more troublesome then would it be for those who bear the shape of beasts. "Hold steady unless they charge you say to the archers, your own bow strung, arrow in hand. 'T would be folly to loose into the dark."

"Here let me," Inge says softly as she grasps for that arrow and sets about it the cold light of Ikomi. Clever, you mentally cheer, though now you had best put your own shaft into the back of the lead wolf to guide the others in. Maybe from now on you can have her light up a handful of arrows for every soldier since the light, unlike greater magics, does not run out.

Your thoughts are not allowed to linger long because Swift Pebble has words and they are not those Ainar had brought: "They say Golden Pelt killed a... Big Beast... er Great Spirit, words slip like water, a Wolf that was more than a wolf, that had been keeper of the spring whence their ancestors took for the first time the Red Water, the Blood of the Earth."

"They claim he murdered one of their spirits," you send back quickly.

"Yes, wrong-killing, but because he used a poisoned blade, the spirit was to be challenged with strength not evil-guile," she explains. From the way one concept flowing into another you guess that making sense of that the wolves are saying is harder than most. Alas you can understand all too well what the shadows stalking forward to the right and the left of the hill mean, encirclement. You are going to have to make the call soon.

"So there was supposed to have been a fight, a ritual challenge?" You guess. Ainar had said that the Moon Eaters wanted to change his folk into more of their own. Had he refused the honor already?

"They think of him just as wrong-killer, craven chief..." The young otter-kin sounds if anything even less sure of herself. "She... the spirit I mean was maybe guarding something and he took it after the poisoning."

Before you can ask any other questions one of the wolves, black as charcoal save for a reddish muzzle, seeming almost bloodstained before the battle, lunges forward and the beasts of Hengo's men, not trained or bread for war begin to bleat and bark deep in their throats.

For its part the wolf just snaps its jaw, running a crimson tongue over its fangs, in threat, perhaps in anticipation.

"Are you sure your lives are all they are after?" you ask, keeping your tone unconcerned, but just loud enough that any of the wolves that can speak the Engur tongue would know you are challenging the rider.

"Yes, they take and take always hungry!" This time you do not hear any hesitation in the answer, only anger raw and bleeding.

Whatever feud you had found yourself in, it is an old one and painful. Yet between man fleeing into the night and those who wear the skin of wolves to hunt them could you choose any other way than you have already done?

The choice is taken out of your hands as one of Hengo's men fires at the black wolf... and the arrow breaks on his fur.

Damned be all shaking-handed fools, you curse as the pack howls as one and and the hulking figures streak towards you, a mass of fur, fang and fury.

How do you fight?

[] The two skins are too dangerous, fight to kill

[] There is more here than meets the eye, try to incapacitate

[] Write in

OOC: Sadly that guard had a really good roll for someone who literally has a -1 to his attack because of the fear.

 

[DragonParadox]

On Wings of Terror ​

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

The charge is a sudden savage thing filling the air with howls and screeches, blind in their rush to the snap of arrows and the raising of spears. It perhaps not blind to judge from the way the arrows snap against hide and fur. But they are not beyond the touch of sorcery subtle and sure. Inge reaches out her hand and from it spin strands of bon white webbing. One wolf, then another is snared in it... but another three rush on from the front, two from the left and one lone wolf from the right. Fire roars around them and one more is snared in f web of flame but the last of the pair charge you.

The first one barrels through Silver's legs, tripping him, and the second one leaps on you, trying to hurl you from the saddle... A stumbling charge is still a charge and between the two of you Durendal's blade hisses through the air and finds the back of the lead wolf, cutting through fur, sinew and flesh, scoring bone.

For his part Wanderer does not bother with the weapon. He grabs hold of the wolf with all the stout strength of his kindred and hurls them back into the burning tar where they stick firm.

That still leaves the wolves on your left flank where men have to hold them off with naught but spears and courage, but Tom is there, shouting advice and encouragement to the men as well as some of the most prodigious swearing you heard in your life at the wolves.

"Hold them! Hold them fast!" Again and again the call goes out. Against the snapping jaws and fury of the two skins it's only the leverage of the spears and the heft of the shields that holds firm.

Still hold they do, long enough at least for you to wheel in from the side. You do not have the time to be anything but swift with your sword, swift and deadly. One of the wolves is practically split in two by blow after blow from Durendal and Wanderer's warclub alike.

As howls of fury turn to barks of pain, perhaps of fear you dare to hope that the pack might break soon, but then on the wind you hear a long screech unlike that of any beast you had seen or heard of. A blackness passes before the face of the moon, a tattered thing that should not be... and yet it is. Though its head is that of a wolf, no different from the ones you faced, its had a body twisted onto that of a bat grown monstrously huge.

Spoiler: Winged Horror

Diving low the thing opens its mouth though not to bite and tear but to scream. The sound seems to pierce the ear and strike the heart, driving many of the men of Hengo's party which before had been if not bold than at least willing to let you do the fighting, into a mad panic, scattering hither and yon across from the hill and onto the plains.

The men of the Fellowship, you note with the moment's pride you can afford to take, had not bee overcome, but now the question is upon you, do you try to rally or continue to fight where it seems Durendal is the most feared weapon on the field.

What do you do?

[] Try to break the remaining wolves

[] Try to rally the scattered riders

[] Write in

OOC: Well Wanderer certainly earned that level up this update. It is not often that a barbarian in the middle of a rage is clever about how they fight, but he was this time around.

 

[DragonParadox]

With Heavy Claw and Nimble Bolt ​

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

Fury boils in your mind, but on your lips is a call to face the foe, to break them as Yayar arrows tear into the thin wing membrane of the flying beast and over all a ran of hot blood falls. From the fallen werewolves also blood wells up as Swift Pebble reaps her own fel harvest. Her dagger cannot pierce their hide, but mouths and noses eyes, those she strikes for. One wolf-man howling in pain from his face tumbles towards you, tearing at your arm in blind fury.

He scores a long gash across it by claws sharper than steel. but not so sharp nor yet so sure as Durendal that cuts the hand at the wrist in one deadly blow.

Lost 8 HP

Any mortal man suffering such a blow would be reeling, likely even fleeing, but not so the two skins seeking vengeance on those who had wronged them. Already you can see the flesh of the stump starting to knit together, still the foe stands before you, dodging Silver's hooves and seeming to shrug off that which he cannot dodge.

Alas that is not the worst you have to face as one of the wolves to the left, the back one who had been starling at the start of the battle, lunges over the heads of your mean with unnatural grace, spear after spear failing to find purchase in his hide, only to land directly on Zaia as he is trying to down some concoction.

Zaia takes 5 Damage

Thankfully he does not drop the burning sphere as your shout comes across the field of battle between one blow and the next. You cannot get there in time, not with the beasts on you like... like wolves on an elk snapping at your flanks. Tom is just as much mired on the right flank, leaving none to raise a weapon in Zaia's defense. Inge does not have to raise a weapon, a hand is enough, a hand and a shard of jagged ice, sharper and more deadly than the one she had carved on that lonely island a year and more ago. It drives into the back of the wolf-man, piercing deep with howl of pain and fury.

For a moment the battle shifts, a dozen bloody eyes widening in shock, in pain, in the understanding that they might yet be driven off then like a black arrow from the accursed skies the winged beast descends and grabs hold of Zaia in its foul embrace. Fire ex-plodes against its chest bright and deadly.

It is not enough, the thing starts to pull Zaia bodily into the air, not all the shouts and all the clashing of spear and shield able to stop it. You see the wolf man whom Inge and struck die and others start to peel away, but it's too late now you know even as you rush to Zaia's defense.

Then a single bowstring snaps, an arrow bright silver tipped strikes the winged beast right in the midst of the charred flesh. It gives out a howl, not of terror but of pain and drops Zaia, his robes tearing in the fall.. Seeing the thing bleed the your own men shoot, once, twice, thrice and this time thew arrow finds its mark at the joint of the second right wing. The thing falls from the sky just at the remainder of the wolves begin to flee.

Zaia takes 2 Damage

Where a man afoot turning his back to the foe is all but inviting a deadly blow with naught but the backs of his fellows to draw the ire of the foe the wolves, sore wounded as they be are swifter. Two of them fall, two to spears and one snapped in half by Wanderer amidst the last of his rage, but the remainder manage to flee, freed from the flaming tar by Zaia's distraction.

What do you do?

[] Pursue, you have a mounted force, your own and the Yayar, no matter how this started you will end it
-[] Call Megin in the pursuit
-[] Do not call Megin in the pursuit

[] Let them flee
-[] Heal the flying shape-changer
-[] Do not heal the flying shape-changer

[] Split up
-[] Write in

OOC: Welp that was a close one, but you managed not to have your alchemist kidnapped.

 

[DragonParadox]

Physician's Ills ​

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

"Let them go, let them go, but heal the winged one, we need to find out where they come from..."

In the long hours of the night to come you would regret those words. While Zaia's salves and potions prove more than enough to heal the two skins whose flesh and sinews knit of their own accord, Zaia himself is not so fortunate. He grows first feverish, hands trembling as he does his work, then pale and shivering under the shin light of the moon.

"First it takes the body," Ainar says amid the snarling of the winged one, struggling against the ropes Hengo's men had brought out for the horses. You had thought them cruel and foolish then, you still think the former of them now. "Then it takes the mind, not all at once, but in great bloody bites, piece by piece, by piece, all that you are. Then it takes the soul, all that you hold precious, all that is not of the beast, it makes madmen of the most meek of men, the old no less than the young."

"Silence!" you snap. There is a part of you that wants to challenge the man here and now about what evil he had brought to your door by his own thievery from what Swift Pebble had heard, but he surely knows more of this scourge than you. "He is not past aid now and will not be so if there is aught in my power to help."

As you look at the drawn face of the old man , his beard no longer carefully combed but bristling and wild you very much fear it may not be in your power. Inge is praying over him as he takes the potion, but the sea is far away, the wind blows from the planes and through the forests where the wolves howl.

"Ah," Zaia coughs, a wet tearing sound that lifts up his chest and sends his right arm flailing. "Seems like I could not even get myself properly poisoned... a curse of madness and rage. Foolishness, all of it foolishness...."

"I'm sor..." you start to apologize for bringing the battle to him, but the old man shakes his head.

"Not yours, mine. I was too close to the fight and far too untroubled standing my ground. Wounds I can heal now that would have been the death of a strong warrior back in Alexandria for certain. I was acting like a young warrior new blooded rather than a man of my years and this reminded that not all can be seen off with a cordial eh?"

"Off we shall see it still," you say with more conviction than you feel. Neither his potions nor Inge's spells had been enough to fight the curse. What am I meant to do try to cut the thing down with my sword?

"If..." another cough, another spasm, as though something were trying to tear itself out of his chest. "If we cannot find a cure and my mind starts to go make an end of me. I would rather die a man than live as a beast."

"Remember the boar men?" you ask rather than make a vow in haste. "They too were of the same kindred, born of two skins, not made, but they were sound in mind and body no different from us. Better to make use our heads before our harm moves us to rashness."

"You are wise, sir knight," A pained smile passes over the old man's face.

"I am humble before the vastness of my own ignorance," you snort. "Now let's see what we can find out of this ailment and how to mend it."

"Wolf's bane might help to ward it off," Zaia explains, motioning weakly towards one of his books. "There's a drawing of it about a third of the way in. It's written in Greek though so...."You listen closely to the description and find the drawing eventually, in the chapter on poisons ominously, but you will have to trust that Zaia knows what he is doing.

He would have a better chance at healing back in the city... The thought is interrupted by Tom coming with news of your prisoner. Apparently it wants to talk, but only to the chieftain, that is you or near enough.

How do you approach the wolf?

[] Try to intimidate it into explaining more about the curse

[] Get their side of the story in the conflict with Yayar

[] Write in

OOC: Fort saves rolled a one... and then re-rolled the same thing. I almost do not believe it myself.

 

[DragonParadox]

Uncanny Treasures ​

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

"The strength of the wolf is the pack, the strength of the land is the tribe,
The strength of the tribe is the honor that binds us, the heart of honor is the wolf"

You're not sure what you had expected out of a flying beast, part man, part wolf and part bat, but it wasn't the near poetic thought Swift Pebble passes on as the night grows old. Still the more the creature speaks the more you realize it... he isn't a beast. Savage yes, there is no trace of remorse in his manner and even Swift Pebble, bold as she is does not dare get too close to those bone-crushing jaws, but there was a reason behind the hunting of Ainar and the rest of the Yayar and it and listening to it your thoughts grow darker by the moment.

Eight times eight years times eight again ago the ancestors of those who would become the Moon Eaters had come to these lands starving and shivering, for the winters had been hard and the hearts of their neighbors harder as they drove them away with spears of flint and copper red as blood. Father Wolf had been their... god then as well, though you have a feeling the word does not mean the same to them as it does even to the folk of Orinilu still less to a Christian but they had not been like him in blood in those days before the Feast of the Deepblood.

Seeking what shelter they could among the hills whence the river Kine sprung they found a place that shone with its own light, but that light was not gold of the sun nor crimson of flame, it was 'a piece of broken moonlight' and well do you recall Esha's account of moon magic which is under the patronage of no god and thus much beloved of sorcerers like her.

This moon magic was wild and untamed and it was a poison to the people so they prayed to Father Wolf, but when he looked upon them he saw that the magic was in them already and could not be taken out without slaying them. So in imitation of his people he took in the moon-magic and became as flesh.... and they became as wolves Mooneaters they were.

"The fount is still mad, turn-and-turn-again make-flesh-bubble, claws-sharp wings wide...."

Ah... so that's why the skin of this wolf is not quite like the skin of the other, you reason, though that is not what most interests you.. It seems that the slaying of the mortal incarnation of Father Wolf was not the greatest ill the Yayar had inflicted on the Moon Eaters, certainly that had been itself and ill and impious deed, but nothing beside stealing some of the moon touched water of the spring, the Deepblood. Of course being allowed to take some of it was the agreed reward for defeating the wolf spirit made flesh... but none could be expected to do so and not be touched by the 'gift' of the wolf and made part of the tribe.

Well that is a right mess... though thankfully not all the news is ill Megin had managed to persuade enough of the horses to allow themselves to be taken in to fulfill your obligation to Hengo who is himself all too willing to leave.

But should you just part ways with the Yayar knowing they had taken sacred water from a spring that could 'poison flesh and bone and soul.'

What do you do?

[] Ask for some of the Deepblood in recompense for the harm the battle had done to the Fellowship

[] Try to persuade the Yayar chief to negociate with the Moon Eaters, you have a prisoner to leverage

[] Write in

OOC: Welp, you got the horses at least...now to deal with everything else you got out here.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Wolves and Snakes ​

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

Reasoning that after what passed in the night no man would want to have foes like the Moon Eaters you take Ainar aside and ask bluntly what he and his host mean to do now. The flames and the spears of your soldiers would keep the children of the wolf off him for this night and mayhap fear would ward him a few nights more, but they would keep coming.

"The Yayar do not fear death, the sluggard in rotting hay and the warrior in the thick of battle die just the same when the fated time comes for them," he answers to the cheers of his fellows. "We ride to the tents of the White Serpent with the Deepblood where we will be honored for our bravery. Let the beasts try to hunt us there."

"White Serpent?" you probe.

That is how you learn that one of the greater clans among the Yayar is that of the serpent, known for their skill at healing and their night ambushes both, that is where what you would tentatively call your new allies had been heading when night had overtaken them near your camp. Many clans are gathering under the banners of their chief Borun for the shamans had found the omens in the stars, a serpent is rising over the western horizon and it is the age of the serpent that is looming, or so at least you are told.

Alas Zaia is not here to speak of stars, nor mark in his journals the name of the great chief. You can but do your best to keep in mind the name and the instructions for how to reach the camp that Ainar and his company are seeking.

"The Yayar would not gather in numbers if it is not for war," Hengo offers, his voice hushed with fear, eyes jumping around the weather-beaten faces of the riders and the sharp horns of their beasts. How much you can trust a man who has shown himself so timid you do not know, but you are not without a way to ride there and see. Ainar gifts you with a token of his esteem, a bone flute carved from the antler of one of his former mounts he says. "I will mark well the sound of the flute and made it known that upon my heart's song none shall harm you if you come in peace to trade or to talk."

Gained Flute of Passage

What it says that the flute is carved into the likeness of a weasel's head you are not sure... unlike Swift Pebble who is very sure that she hates the thing for the remainder of the beast that had hunted her kin for so long.

As Ainar and his fellows ride off into the grey light of dawn, just staining the eastern horizon towards the distant hills Wanderer speaks: "What do we do with winged one? Free him maybe, make less foes? Kill him? More feuds, but less likely they can follow." It is clear he has not considered capture, but you have. You could try to make the deal that you had proposed to Ainar if you come back when time is not itself your foe.

What is to be the fate of the werewolf?

[] Free him with a promise that he does not lead his fellows against you and yours and hope he keeps it

[] Kill him, he is too dangerous to live

[] Keep him captive and take him back to Orinilu

[] Write in

OOC: And done, you guys are almost home free with the wolves if not the curse, though you might have made a new enemy as well as new allies for the longer term.