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[X]Take the climb. Chiron is right. Staying here is suicide, and if the wolves have to split their efforts, that's less danger for the both of you!
Talos
Has Completed: Three Quests
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Wasn't mechanically a combat scene. Forge of Stars tends to rock back and forth between mechanics and narrative as needed, and in this case with a potential fight against the enemy leader coming up, I didn't want to batter you with a ton of damage beforehand. A fight against the Merged Wolf would be tough enough already.
If it climbs after us, good. It has to leave all its wolf groupies behind if it does that.
2.9: The Monster in the Dark
Talos
Has Completed: Three Quests
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The group closed with their back to the wall, the wolves surrounding you as they came onwards. From the back of the cave, the leader was moving toward you and you now knew that you had little chance of fighting them off.
"Scaling the wall is our only chance now," You said.
"You go first," Arcadius said. You were about to object, but he shook his head. "No time to argue! You're the most vulnerable, get up there so that the rest of us can follow."
To say that you disliked being singled out as the weakest would be an understatement, but you didn't have time to make an argument of it then. You turned your back to the sound of fighting, the clash of blades. Arcadius and Ox worked together, breaking the enemy and sending them back. Ox moved like a titan, thundering monstrous blows into the wolf pack. His kicks and punches sent whole wolves flying while his blade was now bloody and red from their wounds. His shaggy fur was stained crimson, and blood dripped from the wounds all across his body. He looked every inch the mythical monster which you associated his species with.
Minotaurs were furious, bloody berserkers. More beast than man, filled with a rage that would never be quenched. They never stopped fighting and killing until the very last drop of life left their bodies.
Tall tales, of course. Few people in Drania had ever met a minotaur. But right then, Ox seemed ready to live up to the legend.
Beside him, Arcadius wove his own legend. His axe flashed and cut, his movements were graceful and flowing. Where Ox survived by simply tanking the damage, Arcadius dodged and wove. He moved like a man twenty years younger, and his experience was telling. He responded to and countered attacks that he should never have even seen coming and every blow he landed was brutal and devastating.
The goblin fought with them. Overshadowed by both, but still making a good contribution. Your wolf, you had called back to you as a card. His job was done for now and you didn't want to risk him getting singled out or even worse, one of your allies striking him by mistake.
Your pigeon was off in the forest above. You could still sense it, but it was not very useful in the current situation so you let it be. It could watch out for help or for new danger.
The climb up the cliffside was a mad scramble. The footholds were there, but every moment your back was turned you expected to feel the sudden pain of a bite, or to be dragged back down again by a heavy body. You forced yourself to move, even as your muscles ached and trembled. Your weakened hand threatened to give way several times, and your heart was hammering faster and faster.
You threw yourself up the final few inches, turning around and shouting down as soon as the path was clear.
"Next you!" Ox roared, gesturing to Arcadius. The immortal looked like he wanted to argue, but simply nodded and moved to the wall. As he climbed, the defence of your path had now fallen to Chiron and Ox. Ox's halberd still lay near the mouth of the cave where he had dropped it, but his sword was deadly, and he was not afraid to use hooves, fists and horns. His whole body was a weapon, and as for Chiron, he launched arrow after arrow. There was no sign of fear on his face, no hesitation in his stance. Many archers would have had trouble in this sort of brawl, but he was not afraid.
As soon as Arcadius was away, the last remnant of the wall collapsed and the wolves surged in. You tried to shout as a wolf raced towards Chiron, but he reared up, striking out with his front leg with bone-crushing force. He landed a strike to its skull and it went down.
Chiron's lower half might have been a stag over a horse, but it still had power. He was muscular and tall, and as the wolves surrounded him, he began to lash out with kicks as well as arrows.
"I am up!" Arcadius shouted down. "Ox!"
"Not yet!" The minotaur roared. "Chiron, go! Make a break for the cave entrance!"
"When you're safe," Chiron replied. "Not before!"
"Damn you, centaur, as soon as I go the whole pack will focus on you! Think you can run through that? Go!"
"And if I leave, there'll be no one to guard your back and they'll drag you down as you try to climb! Think I'd let my idiot of a friend die like that?"
"I'll cover him!" You shouted from above. "Or my goblin will, anyway! He can hold them back for long enough and then once Ox is safe, I'll recall him to me so he won't have to climb. The wolves will get no one, trust me!"
Chiron looked from you to Ox, and then his eyes fell to your goblin. The small warrior was wielding a bloody sword and nursing several cuts and bruises. But his red eyes danced with an inner fire, and he laughed as he fought.
He caught Chiron's eye and nodded once, a surprising move a summon, but it was the gesture that Chiron nodded.
"All right then," He said. "But if you die, I'll claw my way to the underworld just to lecture you myself!"
Chiron lashed out then, rearing up and catching a wolf with one of his hooves. As its body flew, he burst into a charge. One poor wolf in his way was tackled into the wall, a second trampled, reminded that centaurs were heavy and powerful. Chiron surged for the cave mouth and several wolves broke off to chase him. But you could already tell that he was faster.
It was fortunate that he was part stag. A horse centaur would have a hard time getting up to full speed in a forest. But a stag? That was a different matter. A pack of wolves would have a hard time outrunning a normal stag and Chiron was far from normal.
He would be fine.
Now the fury of the pack fell upon your goblin. He growled and gave a feral grin. His connection with you surged, the battle and the fury of the moment dragging his personality to the surface. He didn't move faster, but he did move with thought and skill. Not just with instincts but with training and a mind to guide them. He fought a furious retreat, his blade flashed and blurred, focused more on keeping the creatures back than hurting them. The wolves were surprised by this sudden surge of fury. They could have overwhelmed him in a moment but he didn't give them a chance to realise it.
His feral laughter echoed through the cave, bouncing and echoing from wall to wall.
"Come wolf, come! Come to my blade! Find your end on the floor among the others! Yes, yes, yes! I give death! Best present! Who wants some? You? You? You!"
With each word, he lashed out. Carving wounds that while not always lethal, certainly served to keep the pack at bay.
But suddenly a low, echoing call came from the back passage.
The leader was here.
It was a bizarre creature, a mixture of man and wolf as you had known it had to be. Ox may have insisted that it was not beast-kin, but it looked the part. It was a semi-humanoid figure covered in dark, wolf-like fur. Its snout was long, and its maw was full of teeth. But there were traces of humanity in its face and eyes, and its arms ended in hands rather than paws. It stood upright but bent over and its chest rippled with muscles. Its figure allowed it to move like a wolf on four limbs for speed if it wanted to, or rear up and move like a human.
And it was smart. As it came barrelling down the corridors, surrounded by an honour guard of Brier Wolves, you saw that it had come armed.
It had brought a crossbow, and there was a belt strapped to its waist from which hung a short sword, a small buckler shield and quiver of arrows. Before you could shout a warning to your summon, the lord wolf raised its crossbow and depressed the trigger.
A bolt of hard iron stabbed through the air, moving faster than the eye could follow. Your goblin's face changed mid-strike from fury to surprise as the missile lodged in his shoulder. Too late, you felt the rippling aftereffects of his pain and shock.
The wolf your goblin had been fighting sprung, the distraction gave it the chance to bear your ally to the ground. The goblin tried to push it off, but his arm was weak and bleeding badly. The creature opens its maw, dripping teeth hungry for blood. The goblin's neck was exposed, and it snapped forward and caught-
Absolutely nothing. The card that was your goblin's anchor sailed through the air, returning to your hand. You caught it with a flash of relief.
That had been too close.
The lord wolf gazed up at you. Its eyes were feral, but not bestial. There was an intelligence there that you did not like. It reached for another bolt.
"Away from the edge!" You said the party moved back so that you had cover. The wolves circled for several minutes, but the lord wolf did not fire again. He gazed up at you, eyes unblinking. You wondered if he intended to come up after you. The wolves may not have been able to climb, but he could.
He gave an echoing bark instead. Fully half the wolves that he had remaining turned and retreated from the cave. The rest settled around the cliff, ensuring that you did not come back down. The leader shot you one last look and then loped away after the pack.
"What's he doing?" You asked.
"He's going after Chiron," Ox growled. "The rest are keeping us pinned here so we don't help him."
"I don't think so," Arcadius said carefully. "Darc, you still have your pigeon, yes? Can it tell where the pack is going?"
You closed your eyes. The pigeon was on the edge of your range but after what had happened in town, you'd been sure to order it to remain within that zone. Your connection was weakened by distance, and the pigeon was not yet good enough at scouting to give you firm details. But still, the result was not what you had expected.
"No," You said. "It doesn't see them heading away from the hill. I am not quite sure what they're doing, but they're breaking into smaller groups and surrounding it. Are they trying to wait us out?"
"No," Arcadius said. "They're trying to find a way in. The hill is pockmarked with caves, yes? That's how they were able to get behind us before. They can't climb to us from below, but if they find a cave on a higher level and follow our scent, they still might be able to run us down."
Ox cursed.
"And of course," The minotaur growled. "As soon as one group finds a way, it'll call the others. You'd best have your bird watch them, Darc."
"I will," You promised. "But it's not very clever yet. It may miss something."
"If they find an entrance, they'll all gather at the same location," Arcadius said. "I doubt it will miss that."
You nodded, gazing down at the wolves who barred your passage back.
"What now?"
"We have little choice," Arcadius said. "We need to look for a location which is more secure. Look, there are caves running in all directions, we can follow one of those paths. I'd recommend going away from the outside, deeper in."
It was not the best plan, but none of you had anything else you could think to do. Remaining in place would merely ensure that the lord-wolf knew where to find you if it could navigate to a close cave or connection. At least if you were moving, you would have a chance to find cover or a better place to make your stand.
After a short rest to recover from the fight, you moved deeper, following one of the tunnels. The ground beneath your feet was hard stone, and the rocky walls of the passage were craggy and rough. Water dripped from above, splashing against the ground and encouraging the hanging stalactites which clawed down from the roof like teeth. Combined with the wetness and your recent battle against the wolves, it put you in mind of the open maw of a predator.
Not a fun thought.
It was very dark now, and the passage had many twists and turns. Ox was able to see well in the dark, but the only light that you had was the soft blue glow of Arcadius' axe. It held it up like a torch, his face touched with amusement.
"One advantage of a lunar weapon, my boy, is that you're never without light. Though no one promised it would be good light. Don't fall, there are sudden drops ahead which would break your bones."
"Lovely," You muttered. "Just what is this cave anyway? The hill was pretty big, but I didn't expect it to be filled with passages like this."
"No idea," grunted Ox. "I'm not from here, remember? For all I know, all your hills are like this."
"They're not," You assured him."What do you think, Arcadius?"
He said nothing, but by the dim glow of his weapon, you could see that he had a curious expression on his face. A suspicion that he was not yet sure enough to voice.
You went on, following a path which gradually began to move downwards. You thought that you must have crossed half the damn hill by now, or maybe be in the ground under it. The passage continued, and not only that but became smoother. The walls more regular. You blinked in the half light, gazing at the stones. They were far too smooth and far too regular to be natural.
"This is a passage," You said. "It's artificial."
"It's very old," Arcadius said. "I've seen one or two like it before. If it is what I think it is."
"Dangerous?" You asked. In your experience, most things that Arcadius knew about were dangerous. He had a bit of a fascination.
"Probably not," He said. "Just rare. But if I am right, then no wonder the shaman decided to camp here."
Now you saw that there were images on the walls. Writing in a language you did not speak. The scenes depicted were hard to make out. Time had layered them in thick dust and your source of light was not good. It showed knights, you were pretty sure. But there was something off about them. They moved in orderly ranks, fighting with sword and shield. Their armour was well adorned, the images trying to capture every proud detail and every haughty turn.
Yet Drania was not known for its knights. They existed here and there, but there were no knightly orders as existed across the sea in Ur. Certainly, there were not enough knights here to ever fight this sort of battle. And the armour was wrong too. The dimensions didn't add up. It was too long in the arms, too short in the legs.
The knights weren't human.
"What is this place?" You asked again. "The air feels heavy. Like it hasn't been disturbed for hundreds of years."
"Longer than that," Arcadius said. "This place is older than Drania."
"Where are we?" You asked for the third time. But even as you said, the cave opened up suddenly. You found yourself in a large, spherical depression within the hill. It was too big and too neat to be natural. Ancient statues flanked the entrances, the same knights as before. To the left, there was a large stone wall with was slotted with hooks. Upon the hooks, weapons of all kinds had been placed. They looked like they had once been grand, noble weapons. Ornate and perhaps a bit impractical. But time and the dripping water had ruined them with rust.
To the right, there was a depression in the ground. A pit in which there lay a number of small chests. They were made of wood, and had endured a little bit better, having been fortunate in not getting too wet. The chests lay on a bed of old coins which still had the slightest ghost of a glitter.
"Silver and gold," Arcadius said. "If it's like the others. Don't touch them."
"Why?" Ox rumbled, "is it going to summon a guardian?"
"No, but it's not polite to rob the dead."
He gestured to the centre of the room where there was a large stone case. It was as big as you were, and the top of it had been moulded into the image of one of the knights. He lay at rest, clasping the stone replica of what was probably the sword that he had wielded in life. Directly behind him, there was a proud crest. An image of an axe and a sword crossed against a crimson sky.
"I see now where we are," You said softly. "The hill is not a hill. It is a burial mound."
"And a very old one too," Arcadius said. "The hill formed around it over hundreds of years. As I said, I have seen a few of them before. Not many. The people to which it belongs existed long before even I."
"Who were they?"
"You should ask your goblin that," Arcadius said. "They are his ancestors, after all."
"The knights were goblins?"
"So it seems," your mentor replied. "Before my relationship with the king became quite so...strained... we were fascinated by such things as this. We examined the bodies from such a mound. Within that sarcophagus, there lies a goblin knight. His armour was tailored to his body, made of extremely hard metal. Not magical as far as we know, though it is possible that any spell it had has simply run down. He'll have a shield with that same crest as the one which stands above his tomb, and he'll have a sword as well. A single-handed blade meant to be used in a fighting line. There will also be words written on the inside of the grave, but no living being can read them. The original language of the goblins is now lost."
You felt like your mind was swirling. Your mental picture of a goblin was, well, something tribal. Your summon had wielded a simple club when you first got him. Even the elder shaman that had given you your Runic Summoning System had seemed strangely primitive in his mode of speaking.
"If there were knights," You said slowly. "That means advanced metalworking. A supply chain. Food and places to support them. Long years spent in training. Large armies, so probably cities as well. Empires and kingdoms."
"Yes," Arcadius said. "The goblins had all of those."
"Then why are they just wandering tribes today?"
He shrugged.
"Who knows? The signs of their civilization are few now, and even I am too young to have been present and seen for myself what became of them. We don't know how they came to their current state. We don't know what happened to them, or what disaster befell their people. Even they don't remember as far as we can tell. All the glory of the past, their victories, their cities, their heroes and their legends? All gone, like mist in the night. This is what we always swore to avoid for ourselves. This is the foe that the Forever King swore to fight. Time itself."
Suddenly, there was movement. You spun around, imagining the worst and for an instant, it seemed to be exactly that.
There was a creature coming up from the lower levels of the burial chamber. It looked like nothing you had ever seen before except for death. It very much looked like death. It was a cobbled-together monstrosity, a creature made of rotting flesh and bone of a dozen animals. Its head was a fox, eyes blank and unseeing. Its legs were those of a deer, but it had six of them and moved like a spider. Its torso was a mass of flesh that had been stitched together from several donors if the differing fur types and colours told you anything. It looked like it had started with a bear.
It had an artificially long neck, flesh and muscle had rotted away to reveal rows of vertebrae. A rotting smell surrounded it, but the worst of all was its limbs.
It did not have the limbs of an animal. It had a mass of twitching, shuddering tendrils. Some of them were thinner than your finger while others were long and thick like cables. It took you a moment to realise what they were, but when you did, you felt sick.
They were nervous. Nerves that had been pulled from animals across the forest. Carved open and exposed, they glimmered wetly, making the whole thing look like a fevered nightmare.
It turned to look at you. Its eyes were sightless but you had no doubt that it noticed your presence.
"Ghosts of the sand," Ox muttered. "What the hell is that thing?"
As soon as the shock wore off, you went for your sword but Arcadius raised a hand.
"Both of you stand down. It will not hurt you unless you attack it. And if you attack it, it will not fight alone."
"What do you mean?" Ox turned to him. "What is it?"
"It's a corpse-stitcher," Arcadius said. "I've not seen one for a hundred years. Ugly things, aren't they? But passive. As long as you're not a threat, it won't hurt you and we've trespassed into its lair."
"It's lair?"
"Yes," Arcadius said. "They do like to live with the dead. Good for spare parts, I suppose."
Current Vote:
[]No matter what Arcadius says, you do not like this undead horror. It is defiling the burial mound of a goblin knight and you will drive it out for their sake. You very much doubt they would want such a neighbour.
[]Ask about the corpse-stitcher. What does Arcadius mean when he says it would not fight alone?
[]Secure the room. You don't have time to worry about these things. You do not know when the wolf lord will strike, but you are sure that it will not easily let you out of its grasp.
[]Explore the room. Perhaps you can find something for your goblin here? You're not one to rob the dead, but surely a knight would not begrudge a minor theft to better protect one of his own descendants?
[]There is a lower level from which the corpse-stitcher came. You'd best check that to make sure there are no more of them.
[]Write in?
"Scaling the wall is our only chance now," You said.
"You go first," Arcadius said. You were about to object, but he shook his head. "No time to argue! You're the most vulnerable, get up there so that the rest of us can follow."
To say that you disliked being singled out as the weakest would be an understatement, but you didn't have time to make an argument of it then. You turned your back to the sound of fighting, the clash of blades. Arcadius and Ox worked together, breaking the enemy and sending them back. Ox moved like a titan, thundering monstrous blows into the wolf pack. His kicks and punches sent whole wolves flying while his blade was now bloody and red from their wounds. His shaggy fur was stained crimson, and blood dripped from the wounds all across his body. He looked every inch the mythical monster which you associated his species with.
Minotaurs were furious, bloody berserkers. More beast than man, filled with a rage that would never be quenched. They never stopped fighting and killing until the very last drop of life left their bodies.
Tall tales, of course. Few people in Drania had ever met a minotaur. But right then, Ox seemed ready to live up to the legend.
Beside him, Arcadius wove his own legend. His axe flashed and cut, his movements were graceful and flowing. Where Ox survived by simply tanking the damage, Arcadius dodged and wove. He moved like a man twenty years younger, and his experience was telling. He responded to and countered attacks that he should never have even seen coming and every blow he landed was brutal and devastating.
The goblin fought with them. Overshadowed by both, but still making a good contribution. Your wolf, you had called back to you as a card. His job was done for now and you didn't want to risk him getting singled out or even worse, one of your allies striking him by mistake.
Your pigeon was off in the forest above. You could still sense it, but it was not very useful in the current situation so you let it be. It could watch out for help or for new danger.
The climb up the cliffside was a mad scramble. The footholds were there, but every moment your back was turned you expected to feel the sudden pain of a bite, or to be dragged back down again by a heavy body. You forced yourself to move, even as your muscles ached and trembled. Your weakened hand threatened to give way several times, and your heart was hammering faster and faster.
You threw yourself up the final few inches, turning around and shouting down as soon as the path was clear.
"Next you!" Ox roared, gesturing to Arcadius. The immortal looked like he wanted to argue, but simply nodded and moved to the wall. As he climbed, the defence of your path had now fallen to Chiron and Ox. Ox's halberd still lay near the mouth of the cave where he had dropped it, but his sword was deadly, and he was not afraid to use hooves, fists and horns. His whole body was a weapon, and as for Chiron, he launched arrow after arrow. There was no sign of fear on his face, no hesitation in his stance. Many archers would have had trouble in this sort of brawl, but he was not afraid.
As soon as Arcadius was away, the last remnant of the wall collapsed and the wolves surged in. You tried to shout as a wolf raced towards Chiron, but he reared up, striking out with his front leg with bone-crushing force. He landed a strike to its skull and it went down.
Chiron's lower half might have been a stag over a horse, but it still had power. He was muscular and tall, and as the wolves surrounded him, he began to lash out with kicks as well as arrows.
"I am up!" Arcadius shouted down. "Ox!"
"Not yet!" The minotaur roared. "Chiron, go! Make a break for the cave entrance!"
"When you're safe," Chiron replied. "Not before!"
"Damn you, centaur, as soon as I go the whole pack will focus on you! Think you can run through that? Go!"
"And if I leave, there'll be no one to guard your back and they'll drag you down as you try to climb! Think I'd let my idiot of a friend die like that?"
"I'll cover him!" You shouted from above. "Or my goblin will, anyway! He can hold them back for long enough and then once Ox is safe, I'll recall him to me so he won't have to climb. The wolves will get no one, trust me!"
Chiron looked from you to Ox, and then his eyes fell to your goblin. The small warrior was wielding a bloody sword and nursing several cuts and bruises. But his red eyes danced with an inner fire, and he laughed as he fought.
He caught Chiron's eye and nodded once, a surprising move a summon, but it was the gesture that Chiron nodded.
"All right then," He said. "But if you die, I'll claw my way to the underworld just to lecture you myself!"
Chiron lashed out then, rearing up and catching a wolf with one of his hooves. As its body flew, he burst into a charge. One poor wolf in his way was tackled into the wall, a second trampled, reminded that centaurs were heavy and powerful. Chiron surged for the cave mouth and several wolves broke off to chase him. But you could already tell that he was faster.
It was fortunate that he was part stag. A horse centaur would have a hard time getting up to full speed in a forest. But a stag? That was a different matter. A pack of wolves would have a hard time outrunning a normal stag and Chiron was far from normal.
He would be fine.
Now the fury of the pack fell upon your goblin. He growled and gave a feral grin. His connection with you surged, the battle and the fury of the moment dragging his personality to the surface. He didn't move faster, but he did move with thought and skill. Not just with instincts but with training and a mind to guide them. He fought a furious retreat, his blade flashed and blurred, focused more on keeping the creatures back than hurting them. The wolves were surprised by this sudden surge of fury. They could have overwhelmed him in a moment but he didn't give them a chance to realise it.
His feral laughter echoed through the cave, bouncing and echoing from wall to wall.
"Come wolf, come! Come to my blade! Find your end on the floor among the others! Yes, yes, yes! I give death! Best present! Who wants some? You? You? You!"
With each word, he lashed out. Carving wounds that while not always lethal, certainly served to keep the pack at bay.
But suddenly a low, echoing call came from the back passage.
The leader was here.
It was a bizarre creature, a mixture of man and wolf as you had known it had to be. Ox may have insisted that it was not beast-kin, but it looked the part. It was a semi-humanoid figure covered in dark, wolf-like fur. Its snout was long, and its maw was full of teeth. But there were traces of humanity in its face and eyes, and its arms ended in hands rather than paws. It stood upright but bent over and its chest rippled with muscles. Its figure allowed it to move like a wolf on four limbs for speed if it wanted to, or rear up and move like a human.
And it was smart. As it came barrelling down the corridors, surrounded by an honour guard of Brier Wolves, you saw that it had come armed.
It had brought a crossbow, and there was a belt strapped to its waist from which hung a short sword, a small buckler shield and quiver of arrows. Before you could shout a warning to your summon, the lord wolf raised its crossbow and depressed the trigger.
A bolt of hard iron stabbed through the air, moving faster than the eye could follow. Your goblin's face changed mid-strike from fury to surprise as the missile lodged in his shoulder. Too late, you felt the rippling aftereffects of his pain and shock.
The wolf your goblin had been fighting sprung, the distraction gave it the chance to bear your ally to the ground. The goblin tried to push it off, but his arm was weak and bleeding badly. The creature opens its maw, dripping teeth hungry for blood. The goblin's neck was exposed, and it snapped forward and caught-
Absolutely nothing. The card that was your goblin's anchor sailed through the air, returning to your hand. You caught it with a flash of relief.
That had been too close.
The lord wolf gazed up at you. Its eyes were feral, but not bestial. There was an intelligence there that you did not like. It reached for another bolt.
"Away from the edge!" You said the party moved back so that you had cover. The wolves circled for several minutes, but the lord wolf did not fire again. He gazed up at you, eyes unblinking. You wondered if he intended to come up after you. The wolves may not have been able to climb, but he could.
He gave an echoing bark instead. Fully half the wolves that he had remaining turned and retreated from the cave. The rest settled around the cliff, ensuring that you did not come back down. The leader shot you one last look and then loped away after the pack.
"What's he doing?" You asked.
"He's going after Chiron," Ox growled. "The rest are keeping us pinned here so we don't help him."
"I don't think so," Arcadius said carefully. "Darc, you still have your pigeon, yes? Can it tell where the pack is going?"
You closed your eyes. The pigeon was on the edge of your range but after what had happened in town, you'd been sure to order it to remain within that zone. Your connection was weakened by distance, and the pigeon was not yet good enough at scouting to give you firm details. But still, the result was not what you had expected.
"No," You said. "It doesn't see them heading away from the hill. I am not quite sure what they're doing, but they're breaking into smaller groups and surrounding it. Are they trying to wait us out?"
"No," Arcadius said. "They're trying to find a way in. The hill is pockmarked with caves, yes? That's how they were able to get behind us before. They can't climb to us from below, but if they find a cave on a higher level and follow our scent, they still might be able to run us down."
Ox cursed.
"And of course," The minotaur growled. "As soon as one group finds a way, it'll call the others. You'd best have your bird watch them, Darc."
"I will," You promised. "But it's not very clever yet. It may miss something."
"If they find an entrance, they'll all gather at the same location," Arcadius said. "I doubt it will miss that."
You nodded, gazing down at the wolves who barred your passage back.
"What now?"
"We have little choice," Arcadius said. "We need to look for a location which is more secure. Look, there are caves running in all directions, we can follow one of those paths. I'd recommend going away from the outside, deeper in."
It was not the best plan, but none of you had anything else you could think to do. Remaining in place would merely ensure that the lord-wolf knew where to find you if it could navigate to a close cave or connection. At least if you were moving, you would have a chance to find cover or a better place to make your stand.
After a short rest to recover from the fight, you moved deeper, following one of the tunnels. The ground beneath your feet was hard stone, and the rocky walls of the passage were craggy and rough. Water dripped from above, splashing against the ground and encouraging the hanging stalactites which clawed down from the roof like teeth. Combined with the wetness and your recent battle against the wolves, it put you in mind of the open maw of a predator.
Not a fun thought.
It was very dark now, and the passage had many twists and turns. Ox was able to see well in the dark, but the only light that you had was the soft blue glow of Arcadius' axe. It held it up like a torch, his face touched with amusement.
"One advantage of a lunar weapon, my boy, is that you're never without light. Though no one promised it would be good light. Don't fall, there are sudden drops ahead which would break your bones."
"Lovely," You muttered. "Just what is this cave anyway? The hill was pretty big, but I didn't expect it to be filled with passages like this."
"No idea," grunted Ox. "I'm not from here, remember? For all I know, all your hills are like this."
"They're not," You assured him."What do you think, Arcadius?"
He said nothing, but by the dim glow of his weapon, you could see that he had a curious expression on his face. A suspicion that he was not yet sure enough to voice.
You went on, following a path which gradually began to move downwards. You thought that you must have crossed half the damn hill by now, or maybe be in the ground under it. The passage continued, and not only that but became smoother. The walls more regular. You blinked in the half light, gazing at the stones. They were far too smooth and far too regular to be natural.
"This is a passage," You said. "It's artificial."
"It's very old," Arcadius said. "I've seen one or two like it before. If it is what I think it is."
"Dangerous?" You asked. In your experience, most things that Arcadius knew about were dangerous. He had a bit of a fascination.
"Probably not," He said. "Just rare. But if I am right, then no wonder the shaman decided to camp here."
Now you saw that there were images on the walls. Writing in a language you did not speak. The scenes depicted were hard to make out. Time had layered them in thick dust and your source of light was not good. It showed knights, you were pretty sure. But there was something off about them. They moved in orderly ranks, fighting with sword and shield. Their armour was well adorned, the images trying to capture every proud detail and every haughty turn.
Yet Drania was not known for its knights. They existed here and there, but there were no knightly orders as existed across the sea in Ur. Certainly, there were not enough knights here to ever fight this sort of battle. And the armour was wrong too. The dimensions didn't add up. It was too long in the arms, too short in the legs.
The knights weren't human.
"What is this place?" You asked again. "The air feels heavy. Like it hasn't been disturbed for hundreds of years."
"Longer than that," Arcadius said. "This place is older than Drania."
"Where are we?" You asked for the third time. But even as you said, the cave opened up suddenly. You found yourself in a large, spherical depression within the hill. It was too big and too neat to be natural. Ancient statues flanked the entrances, the same knights as before. To the left, there was a large stone wall with was slotted with hooks. Upon the hooks, weapons of all kinds had been placed. They looked like they had once been grand, noble weapons. Ornate and perhaps a bit impractical. But time and the dripping water had ruined them with rust.
To the right, there was a depression in the ground. A pit in which there lay a number of small chests. They were made of wood, and had endured a little bit better, having been fortunate in not getting too wet. The chests lay on a bed of old coins which still had the slightest ghost of a glitter.
"Silver and gold," Arcadius said. "If it's like the others. Don't touch them."
"Why?" Ox rumbled, "is it going to summon a guardian?"
"No, but it's not polite to rob the dead."
He gestured to the centre of the room where there was a large stone case. It was as big as you were, and the top of it had been moulded into the image of one of the knights. He lay at rest, clasping the stone replica of what was probably the sword that he had wielded in life. Directly behind him, there was a proud crest. An image of an axe and a sword crossed against a crimson sky.
"I see now where we are," You said softly. "The hill is not a hill. It is a burial mound."
"And a very old one too," Arcadius said. "The hill formed around it over hundreds of years. As I said, I have seen a few of them before. Not many. The people to which it belongs existed long before even I."
"Who were they?"
"You should ask your goblin that," Arcadius said. "They are his ancestors, after all."
"The knights were goblins?"
"So it seems," your mentor replied. "Before my relationship with the king became quite so...strained... we were fascinated by such things as this. We examined the bodies from such a mound. Within that sarcophagus, there lies a goblin knight. His armour was tailored to his body, made of extremely hard metal. Not magical as far as we know, though it is possible that any spell it had has simply run down. He'll have a shield with that same crest as the one which stands above his tomb, and he'll have a sword as well. A single-handed blade meant to be used in a fighting line. There will also be words written on the inside of the grave, but no living being can read them. The original language of the goblins is now lost."
You felt like your mind was swirling. Your mental picture of a goblin was, well, something tribal. Your summon had wielded a simple club when you first got him. Even the elder shaman that had given you your Runic Summoning System had seemed strangely primitive in his mode of speaking.
"If there were knights," You said slowly. "That means advanced metalworking. A supply chain. Food and places to support them. Long years spent in training. Large armies, so probably cities as well. Empires and kingdoms."
"Yes," Arcadius said. "The goblins had all of those."
"Then why are they just wandering tribes today?"
He shrugged.
"Who knows? The signs of their civilization are few now, and even I am too young to have been present and seen for myself what became of them. We don't know how they came to their current state. We don't know what happened to them, or what disaster befell their people. Even they don't remember as far as we can tell. All the glory of the past, their victories, their cities, their heroes and their legends? All gone, like mist in the night. This is what we always swore to avoid for ourselves. This is the foe that the Forever King swore to fight. Time itself."
Suddenly, there was movement. You spun around, imagining the worst and for an instant, it seemed to be exactly that.
There was a creature coming up from the lower levels of the burial chamber. It looked like nothing you had ever seen before except for death. It very much looked like death. It was a cobbled-together monstrosity, a creature made of rotting flesh and bone of a dozen animals. Its head was a fox, eyes blank and unseeing. Its legs were those of a deer, but it had six of them and moved like a spider. Its torso was a mass of flesh that had been stitched together from several donors if the differing fur types and colours told you anything. It looked like it had started with a bear.
It had an artificially long neck, flesh and muscle had rotted away to reveal rows of vertebrae. A rotting smell surrounded it, but the worst of all was its limbs.
It did not have the limbs of an animal. It had a mass of twitching, shuddering tendrils. Some of them were thinner than your finger while others were long and thick like cables. It took you a moment to realise what they were, but when you did, you felt sick.
They were nervous. Nerves that had been pulled from animals across the forest. Carved open and exposed, they glimmered wetly, making the whole thing look like a fevered nightmare.
It turned to look at you. Its eyes were sightless but you had no doubt that it noticed your presence.
"Ghosts of the sand," Ox muttered. "What the hell is that thing?"
As soon as the shock wore off, you went for your sword but Arcadius raised a hand.
"Both of you stand down. It will not hurt you unless you attack it. And if you attack it, it will not fight alone."
"What do you mean?" Ox turned to him. "What is it?"
"It's a corpse-stitcher," Arcadius said. "I've not seen one for a hundred years. Ugly things, aren't they? But passive. As long as you're not a threat, it won't hurt you and we've trespassed into its lair."
"It's lair?"
"Yes," Arcadius said. "They do like to live with the dead. Good for spare parts, I suppose."
[X]Take the climb. Chiron is right. Staying here is suicide, and if the wolves have to split their efforts, that's less danger for the both of you!
Current Vote:
[]No matter what Arcadius says, you do not like this undead horror. It is defiling the burial mound of a goblin knight and you will drive it out for their sake. You very much doubt they would want such a neighbour.
[]Ask about the corpse-stitcher. What does Arcadius mean when he says it would not fight alone?
[]Secure the room. You don't have time to worry about these things. You do not know when the wolf lord will strike, but you are sure that it will not easily let you out of its grasp.
[]Explore the room. Perhaps you can find something for your goblin here? You're not one to rob the dead, but surely a knight would not begrudge a minor theft to better protect one of his own descendants?
[]There is a lower level from which the corpse-stitcher came. You'd best check that to make sure there are no more of them.
[]Write in?
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- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X]Explore the room. Perhaps you can find something for your goblin here? You're not one to rob the dead, but surely a knight would not begrudge a minor theft to better protect one of his own descendants?
-[X]Ask about the corpse-stitcher. What does Arcadius mean when he says it would not fight alone?
-[X]Ask about the corpse-stitcher. What does Arcadius mean when he says it would not fight alone?
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X]Secure the room. You don't have time to worry about these things. You do not know when the wolf lord will strike, but you are sure that it will not easily let you out of its grasp.
Talos
Has Completed: Three Quests
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Okay guys, as promised here are the stats for your new Brier Wolf. They should have been up a while ago, but I got a bit sidetracked and didn't really get around to preparing them until now. They have been copied to your Summon list, but for the sake of convenience, I am going to be posting them here as well.
Your Brier Wolf is currently still injured from its ''death'' and binding, but can be summoned right now if you so desire.
On a somewhat unrelated note, I have reduced the Old Wolf's Summon Cost from 4 to 3 as he is not exactly a direct threat and more often used in a support role. I felt it would be a good idea to make it easier to maintain him along with someone else.
Your Brier Wolf is currently still injured from its ''death'' and binding, but can be summoned right now if you so desire.
Brier Wolf
Summon Cost: 4
Type: Canine, Wolf, Plant
Health Pool: 45/45 (4)
Strength: 50 (5)
Precision: 30 (3)
Reflex: 45 (4)
Speed: 40 (4)
Willpower: 30 (3)
Intelligence: 15 (1)
Mana Pool: 10/10 (1)
Base Damage: 1D10+Strength (Bite), 1D8+Strength (Claw)
Brier Wolves are a once common species of creatures which existed across the width and breadth of Khal-Thral. Their exact origin is hotly debated. Some suggest that they are nature elementals who adopt the guise of wolves while others suggest that the original Brier Wolves may have been slaughtered wolves whose angry ghosts possessed the forest around them to hunt down their killers.
Either way, Brier Wolves are fierce, deadly hunters who attack with numbers and quickly overwhelm their prey.
Abilities:
Traits:
Pack Hunter
Type: Trait, Innate.
Effect: A creature with this trait is a natural pack hunter. Whenever it fights alongside any other creature which also has this trait, it gains +5 to each Opposed Check it makes for each of those creatures. This trait caps at +25.
When this creature deals damage to a target it gains +1 Physical Damage for every other creature with this trait that is also attacking that specific target. Caps at +5
Summon Cost: 4
Type: Canine, Wolf, Plant
Health Pool: 45/45 (4)
Strength: 50 (5)
Precision: 30 (3)
Reflex: 45 (4)
Speed: 40 (4)
Willpower: 30 (3)
Intelligence: 15 (1)
Mana Pool: 10/10 (1)
Base Damage: 1D10+Strength (Bite), 1D8+Strength (Claw)
Brier Wolves are a once common species of creatures which existed across the width and breadth of Khal-Thral. Their exact origin is hotly debated. Some suggest that they are nature elementals who adopt the guise of wolves while others suggest that the original Brier Wolves may have been slaughtered wolves whose angry ghosts possessed the forest around them to hunt down their killers.
Either way, Brier Wolves are fierce, deadly hunters who attack with numbers and quickly overwhelm their prey.
Abilities:
Traits:
Pack Hunter
Type: Trait, Innate.
Effect: A creature with this trait is a natural pack hunter. Whenever it fights alongside any other creature which also has this trait, it gains +5 to each Opposed Check it makes for each of those creatures. This trait caps at +25.
When this creature deals damage to a target it gains +1 Physical Damage for every other creature with this trait that is also attacking that specific target. Caps at +5
On a somewhat unrelated note, I have reduced the Old Wolf's Summon Cost from 4 to 3 as he is not exactly a direct threat and more often used in a support role. I felt it would be a good idea to make it easier to maintain him along with someone else.
Deadly Snark
Tryhard As Fuck
[X]Explore the room. Perhaps you can find something for your goblin here? You're not one to rob the dead, but surely a knight would not begrudge a minor theft to better protect one of his own descendants?
-[X]Ask about the corpse-stitcher. What does Arcadius mean when he says it would not fight alone?
-[X]Ask about the corpse-stitcher. What does Arcadius mean when he says it would not fight alone?
- Location
- Oregon
So Briar and Old Wolf are a fantastic tag team. For the future, I'm thinking we should boost Intelligence on OW to have him operate as pack leader - honestly running a primarily wolf themed team wouldn't be terrible if we can get trait cohesion.
Goblin with a wolf mount would also be cool...
Goblin with a wolf mount would also be cool...
Quite the number of typos in this update.
[X]Ask about the corpse-stitcher. What does Arcadius mean when he says it would not fight alone?
-[X]Secure the room. You don't have time to worry about these things. You do not know when the wolf lord will strike, but you are sure that it will not easily let you out of its grasp.
Seems that little Darc has overlooked some of the implications Old Coot dropped back in their dream talk.
[X]Ask about the corpse-stitcher. What does Arcadius mean when he says it would not fight alone?
-[X]Secure the room. You don't have time to worry about these things. You do not know when the wolf lord will strike, but you are sure that it will not easily let you out of its grasp.
Seems that little Darc has overlooked some of the implications Old Coot dropped back in their dream talk.
Talos
Has Completed: Three Quests
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I found seven, but they should be fixed now. Thanks for the heads up.
2.10: The Corpse-Stitcher and the Wolf-Lord
Talos
Has Completed: Three Quests
- Pronouns
- She/Her
"What," you said turning towards Arcadius, "Is a corpse-stitcher and why does it look like an abomination?"
"And why should I not kill it?" Ox rumbled. "The thing is a monster, and I doubt this knight - whoever he was - would have wanted it in his tomb."
"Perhaps not," Arcadius said. "But his concerns are now focused on other things. If indeed, he has concerns at all. The tomb, and all that falls within it have been deserted for many hundreds of years. The Corpse-stitcher moved in at some point and has been operating from here since. It must be a particularly old one too, or Kovan's Stand would have known about it."
"You still haven't said what they are," you reminded him. "I hate it when you go on lectures about things that are common knowledge to you and only you. Explain, damnit."
He chuckled.
"Forgive me. You're right, of course. Corpse-stitchers are not common in this day and age."
The creature was still regarding you, but it had made no aggressive moves. It seemed content just to watch. Its numerous tendrils quivered, and the fox head turned back and forth. Its eyes were eerily blank and dead.
"We don't know where they came from," Arcadius explained, taking a seat on the floor. "We know they're not natural beings. The Forever King and I had a theory. That is, they're golems. Or the descendant of golems anyway."
"Hang on," Ox growled. "I may not be from this continent, but I know golems. I have seen golems. Big, clumsy things made of stone or sometimes metal. Can take an order, but not too bright. Very hard to stop once they start to fight, though. They keep going until you smash them to bits. No vital organs, no weak spots. It'll just keep trying to kill you until one of you is no more."
"Descendants of golems, I said," Arcadius remarked.
"But golems are artificial too," You pointed out. "They can't have descendants."
"We thought otherwise," Arcadius' face grew more relaxed as he cast his mind to the past.
"The two of us spent many years going over the lore concerning these creatures. They were more common in those days. They could be found at sites of battle, places where blood was spilled often and graveyards. They are natural necromancers. Able to raise corpses to serve them but they are also surprisingly passive. In spite of their nature, they will not harm you if you do not attack them. Even if you walk into their lair, they bear no grudges. There is no evil in them. They look ugly, yes. But in all my life I have never heard of one attacking unprovoked."
"That is interesting," You agreed. "But you're getting away from the point. How can they be the descendants of golems that can't breed?"
"Our theory went like this," Arcadius told you. "A long time ago, there was a powerful civilization. Maybe the goblins, maybe something older. We don't know but they used golems. Many golems. Golems for different purposes - soldier, builder, transport and medic."
"A golem medic?" Ox laughed. "I'd be amazed if any patients survived!"
Arcadius shook his head.
"These golems were much more advanced than ours. Able to follow through with complex commands, maybe even possessing self-awareness. We don't know - none of them survived intact. We have records, some preserved remains. We can tell that they were masterful creations. But that's besides the point. We believe that this civilization created golems for medical service, and imbued them with a natural magic to aid in that purpose.
"They could knit flesh, repair organs. They could even reanimate dead tissue in order to graft it to a living thing. In our time, this magic is called necromancy or healing depending on where you stand."
"These healing golems then… they were necromancers?"
"That seems to be the case," Arcadius nodded. "A necromancer is an adept healer if you think about it. An organ which has ruptured or died can be brought back into unlife, serving the same function it did when it was truly alive. Of course, one must guard against rot and infection, but there are ways around that
"At some point, the ones who controlled the golems were removed. Again, we do not know how or why. Perhaps they were released, or escaped. Perhaps their masters no longer cared or were wiped out. In any event, the golems reverted to their default program. But they had a problem. They were programmed to help and heal those in need, but the amount of people in need was now far greater than their own number. We think that it was either during or in the aftermath of a great war. Without their masters to make more of them, the healing golems had to get a bit creative."
"I see where this is going," you shuddered. "They used flesh to make more of themselves. It was the one material they could easily knit and use. That's what that thing is. A flesh-golem born from a line of healers and necromancers."
"That's right," Arcadius nodded. "It's a golem built by golems. Designed by golems. Over the generations, their programming has changed and diverged. They don't obey the same rules as their ancestors, but they're rarely volent."
He paused, seemed to consider something and then shook his head.
"Forgive me. I just realised that I was lecturing you. It's been so long since I was able to talk on this subject. It once quite fascinated me."
Ox glared at the creature, clearly still weighing up his options. Then, with a sigh, he turned away from it.
"Fine. As long as it doesn't cause any harm I'll ignore it. But I am not going to trust it."
"Nor should you need to," Arcadius assured him. "It will not cause you any problems. Though it may be a wise idea not to be too badly wounded around it."
"Why?" You asked, "would it try to strip us for parts?"
"Actually, no. It would probably try to help. I just don't think that would be particularly pleasant. It is still a healer, after all and even if it is not compelled to seek out patients, it is unlikely to ignore someone within its reach in obvious need of aid."
You shuddered. Arcadius' confidence in its good intentions aside, you did not relish the place of someone who was given aid by the Corpse-Stitcher.
"That aside," You said. "What do we do now? The man-wolf and its pack are looking for a way in. Do we try to hold our ground, wait for Chiron to bring help? Or do we seek somewhere to hide and hope that we can avoid their attention?"
"Did you see that creature's face? It hated us," Ox growled. "It is not going to give up the hunt easily. We will have to kill it."
"I am inclined to agree," Arcadius nodded, "But it is an ambush predator. We must not allow it a chance to surprise us in our eagerness to bring it to battle. It is seeking a way to us now, but it is not stupid. It knows that if it comes at us alone, it will be outnumbered."
You could find nothing wrong with his sentiment. You had been surprised that the beast was able to wield a crossbow. Even with Ox's forewarning of its true nature, you had half expected a ravening monster. Yet the wolf-lord was intelligent, smart enough to reason, to plan and to employ tactics. You did not think it would eagerly walk into a trap, buit nor did you think it would simply give you up as lost.
"Why?" You asked, both of your companions turned to you.
"Why does it hate? We saw that in its eyes, and it attacked the town for no reason other than to kill. We know that it's a logical, thinking creature, so why did it make that choice? What does it want that is in the town? Or else, what did the town do to enrage it?"
"I know little on the subject," Ox said. "Even if I were highly placed enough to be able to properly answer your question, I would probably not be allowed to. The secret of the Joining is, well, highly guarded. Frankly, I could be in trouble even for revealing this much to you. But I think it is not a new hatred. As I understand it, when a creature is Joined, it can inherit feelings, thoughts, or even memories from its material. That is why the Beast-Folk consider it a great crime to join two sapient creatures. The melding of minds drives them insane."
"But this was a wolf and a man," You said. "There should have been no such melding."
"That's right," Ox nodded to you. "So the hatred probably came from the man. Find out who he is - or was - and you will probably know the source of its rage."
"That may be useful later," You said. "But not now."
"Yes," Arcadius said. "For now, we should secure the tomb. It has only a few entrances, and we can keep an eye on them all. Darc is right - the wolf-lord will not easily step into a fight that is not to its advantage. If we hold here, we should be able to last until Chiron returns. As long as we don't give it a way to slink in behind us and launch a surprise attack. Ox, I want you to guard the main entrance. Darc, you and your summons will try to find out if there are any others. Usually, there are two or three in a mound like this, but there's a chance that damage over time has made more."
"What about you?" You asked him. "What will you do?"
"I am going to check out the lair of this corpse-sticher in the lower level," Arcadius said. "We need to know if there are more entrances there."
You and Ox traded looks at that.
"Rather you than me," rumbled the minotaur, already moving towards the main entrance.
"Are you sure you'll be safe?"
But Arcadius just gave you a small smile.
"Corpse-Stitchers are harmless as long as you don't threaten them. I'll be careful, but I don't anticipate a problem."
"Good," you said. "But if I hear fighting, I am going to come running. You know that, right?"
"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way."
He moved off towards the lower levels and you mustered your summons. The Brier Wolf would still be on the verge of death. Too badly injured to use here, but your Old Wolf could now be used and its sense of smell would let it track any entrances that you didn't spot.
You also summoned your goblin, remembering the burst of personality he had shown during the fight. Fighting with unusual skill, and even taunting his foes! You hoped that he would be like that now, but you were disappointed. He was as normal, almost bestial.
It seemed that only the presence of violence and battle could bring forth his true personality. Only when he was threatened or pushed could his mind shake off the shackles of the Runic System.
Still, it was a start. Perhaps you would be able to learn his name soon? A name was meaningless in the grand scheme of things and yet, part of you felt that it was important.
A small gesture, but small gestures could matter in the long term. They could be more pivotal than you would ever know.
For the next hour or so, you did as Arcadius had told you. Using your wolf and your goblin, you made circles of the interior of the burial mound. When you found a crevice or cave which could be used as an entrance, you marked it. There were three or four of them. Two entrances which had clearly been built along with the mound and several more smaller cracks or fissures which had formed later. You didn't like that there were so many - too many angles to be attacked from - but with the addition of your wood pigeon, you were able to watch most of them.
Two hours into your search, the old wolf barked a sudden warning. It had been keeping guard over one of the side passages, smaller and easily missed. As you turned towards it, you saw a flash of motion. The distant glowing of a canine eye. Before you could shout a warning, there came a click and then the flash of a metal bolt.
You threw yourself to the side, the shot only barely missing your throat. It kicked up sparks, skittering off the stone wall behind you as you came to your feet.
The lord-wolf was watching. Crouched on the other side of the cramped passage, draped in shadow. The crossbow was in one hand. For an instant, time was frozen. It was such an odd creature, you noted distantly. It managed to combine the proportions of both wolf and man. Its body was shaggy and furred, its face elongated and savage. But its eyes were like those of a human, deep with thought and emotion. It watched you and you watched it, and neither of you reached for your weapons.
And then with a flicker of motion, it was gone and the connection was broken. You sounded the alarm, and brought both Ox and Arcadius to full attention.
"It could not get the others in, then." Arcadius said. "Otherwise it would have brought the pack. So it decided to try and take us by surprise, moving down a side-connection which we might have missed. Good work, Darc. I think it wanted to kill at least one of us before we knew it was there and use the chaos to escape or to claim a second victim."
You nodded, but your mind was troubled. The creature's eyes were hard to forget. So human. But, you reminded yourself, it was important not to think that human was the same as good. Plenty of humans loved to kill and torment - just look at Lykanas.
But they were still not the eyes you would expect of a feral beast.
You took the bolt that it had loosed at you. It was made of metal, finely worked. Not a cheap missile at all. It was the bolt of someone who cared for their craft. There was a small band tied around the end of the shaft, alternating colours of white and red.
You took it in case it would be useful later.
The Wolf-Lord continued to probe your defences, but you had been careful and there were no ways for it to get the drop on you. The old wolf would bark a warning whenever it got close, and Ox was ready to plunge into the shadows after it. Without its pack, the wolf-lord did not fancy its chances against your group, and so in spite of its obvious anger, it found itself powerless to hurt you.
Eventually, it withdrew and soon after that, you heard shouts from the front of the cave. Human voices raised in question. Chiron and the folk of Kovan's Stand had arrived.
You and Arcadius shared a careful look. If the Wolf-Lord was still out there, this would be a good chance for it to claim a kill. When you were distracted by the hope of rescue, your guard might fall.
Neither of you were going to allow that to happen. The corpse-stitcher watched as you left its domain. Whether it was curious, or wondered about these strangers who had come and gone, you could not say. It simply watched you go.
Out in the passageway, you waited for some sign of your enemy. Your muscles were tense, and your nerves were taut. Now would be the time to strike.
But the wolf-lord did not strike. It did not want to die. To take one of you now would be to trade its own life, and that was a transaction that carried too high a price. You swore you felt its eyes on you, but you did not see it again even as you exited the cave and found yourselves in the company of Chiron and his men.
The minotaur and the centaur embraced, each glad to see that the other was unharmed. Of the living wolves, there was little sign. The wolf-lord had pulled them back to the forest when it realised that they would be of little use. Of the dead, more was evident. They lay where you had killed them, brier and forest wolf alike. The folk of Kovan's stand grew pale at the sight of them, and at the number too.
"Far too many," they muttered. "How did it gather that much? What manner of creature could?"
Ox and Chiron shared a look, but did not explain the thing's nature. That was fine. Kovan's Stand did not need to know its origin, merely what it could do and this they did not hide.
During the trip back to the town, you again felt that you were being watched. You did not doubt that the wolf-lord was still biding his time. Surrounded by hunters and trackers, he did not wish to strike. But you were sure he was only waiting until the initiative was one more his.
It was not the last time that Kovan's Stand would suffer under his claws.
When you got back to the town, what did you want to do?
Current Vote:
[]Prepare to leave. You have done your bit, and Kovan's Stand is now warned about the danger that lurks in its forest. But you have your own mission and you cannot afford to tarry forever. Ox and Chiron will stay. They alone should be enough.
[]Your next step is to find out who the wolf-lord might have been. You have few clues. You know it was someone who hated the town or something about the town, that he is missing now, and that he used bolts with a certain pattern of colour.
[]Try to organise a hunting party. The wolf-lord has lost many servants, but you doubt he will wait for long before launching another raid. You need to find him and kill him. Now you know what you are looking for, and you can take willing hunters and trackers from the town. Run him down and kill him before he can muster the resources to do the same to you.
[]Write in?
"And why should I not kill it?" Ox rumbled. "The thing is a monster, and I doubt this knight - whoever he was - would have wanted it in his tomb."
"Perhaps not," Arcadius said. "But his concerns are now focused on other things. If indeed, he has concerns at all. The tomb, and all that falls within it have been deserted for many hundreds of years. The Corpse-stitcher moved in at some point and has been operating from here since. It must be a particularly old one too, or Kovan's Stand would have known about it."
"You still haven't said what they are," you reminded him. "I hate it when you go on lectures about things that are common knowledge to you and only you. Explain, damnit."
He chuckled.
"Forgive me. You're right, of course. Corpse-stitchers are not common in this day and age."
The creature was still regarding you, but it had made no aggressive moves. It seemed content just to watch. Its numerous tendrils quivered, and the fox head turned back and forth. Its eyes were eerily blank and dead.
"We don't know where they came from," Arcadius explained, taking a seat on the floor. "We know they're not natural beings. The Forever King and I had a theory. That is, they're golems. Or the descendant of golems anyway."
"Hang on," Ox growled. "I may not be from this continent, but I know golems. I have seen golems. Big, clumsy things made of stone or sometimes metal. Can take an order, but not too bright. Very hard to stop once they start to fight, though. They keep going until you smash them to bits. No vital organs, no weak spots. It'll just keep trying to kill you until one of you is no more."
"Descendants of golems, I said," Arcadius remarked.
"But golems are artificial too," You pointed out. "They can't have descendants."
"We thought otherwise," Arcadius' face grew more relaxed as he cast his mind to the past.
"The two of us spent many years going over the lore concerning these creatures. They were more common in those days. They could be found at sites of battle, places where blood was spilled often and graveyards. They are natural necromancers. Able to raise corpses to serve them but they are also surprisingly passive. In spite of their nature, they will not harm you if you do not attack them. Even if you walk into their lair, they bear no grudges. There is no evil in them. They look ugly, yes. But in all my life I have never heard of one attacking unprovoked."
"That is interesting," You agreed. "But you're getting away from the point. How can they be the descendants of golems that can't breed?"
"Our theory went like this," Arcadius told you. "A long time ago, there was a powerful civilization. Maybe the goblins, maybe something older. We don't know but they used golems. Many golems. Golems for different purposes - soldier, builder, transport and medic."
"A golem medic?" Ox laughed. "I'd be amazed if any patients survived!"
Arcadius shook his head.
"These golems were much more advanced than ours. Able to follow through with complex commands, maybe even possessing self-awareness. We don't know - none of them survived intact. We have records, some preserved remains. We can tell that they were masterful creations. But that's besides the point. We believe that this civilization created golems for medical service, and imbued them with a natural magic to aid in that purpose.
"They could knit flesh, repair organs. They could even reanimate dead tissue in order to graft it to a living thing. In our time, this magic is called necromancy or healing depending on where you stand."
"These healing golems then… they were necromancers?"
"That seems to be the case," Arcadius nodded. "A necromancer is an adept healer if you think about it. An organ which has ruptured or died can be brought back into unlife, serving the same function it did when it was truly alive. Of course, one must guard against rot and infection, but there are ways around that
"At some point, the ones who controlled the golems were removed. Again, we do not know how or why. Perhaps they were released, or escaped. Perhaps their masters no longer cared or were wiped out. In any event, the golems reverted to their default program. But they had a problem. They were programmed to help and heal those in need, but the amount of people in need was now far greater than their own number. We think that it was either during or in the aftermath of a great war. Without their masters to make more of them, the healing golems had to get a bit creative."
"I see where this is going," you shuddered. "They used flesh to make more of themselves. It was the one material they could easily knit and use. That's what that thing is. A flesh-golem born from a line of healers and necromancers."
"That's right," Arcadius nodded. "It's a golem built by golems. Designed by golems. Over the generations, their programming has changed and diverged. They don't obey the same rules as their ancestors, but they're rarely volent."
He paused, seemed to consider something and then shook his head.
"Forgive me. I just realised that I was lecturing you. It's been so long since I was able to talk on this subject. It once quite fascinated me."
Ox glared at the creature, clearly still weighing up his options. Then, with a sigh, he turned away from it.
"Fine. As long as it doesn't cause any harm I'll ignore it. But I am not going to trust it."
"Nor should you need to," Arcadius assured him. "It will not cause you any problems. Though it may be a wise idea not to be too badly wounded around it."
"Why?" You asked, "would it try to strip us for parts?"
"Actually, no. It would probably try to help. I just don't think that would be particularly pleasant. It is still a healer, after all and even if it is not compelled to seek out patients, it is unlikely to ignore someone within its reach in obvious need of aid."
You shuddered. Arcadius' confidence in its good intentions aside, you did not relish the place of someone who was given aid by the Corpse-Stitcher.
"That aside," You said. "What do we do now? The man-wolf and its pack are looking for a way in. Do we try to hold our ground, wait for Chiron to bring help? Or do we seek somewhere to hide and hope that we can avoid their attention?"
"Did you see that creature's face? It hated us," Ox growled. "It is not going to give up the hunt easily. We will have to kill it."
"I am inclined to agree," Arcadius nodded, "But it is an ambush predator. We must not allow it a chance to surprise us in our eagerness to bring it to battle. It is seeking a way to us now, but it is not stupid. It knows that if it comes at us alone, it will be outnumbered."
You could find nothing wrong with his sentiment. You had been surprised that the beast was able to wield a crossbow. Even with Ox's forewarning of its true nature, you had half expected a ravening monster. Yet the wolf-lord was intelligent, smart enough to reason, to plan and to employ tactics. You did not think it would eagerly walk into a trap, buit nor did you think it would simply give you up as lost.
"Why?" You asked, both of your companions turned to you.
"Why does it hate? We saw that in its eyes, and it attacked the town for no reason other than to kill. We know that it's a logical, thinking creature, so why did it make that choice? What does it want that is in the town? Or else, what did the town do to enrage it?"
"I know little on the subject," Ox said. "Even if I were highly placed enough to be able to properly answer your question, I would probably not be allowed to. The secret of the Joining is, well, highly guarded. Frankly, I could be in trouble even for revealing this much to you. But I think it is not a new hatred. As I understand it, when a creature is Joined, it can inherit feelings, thoughts, or even memories from its material. That is why the Beast-Folk consider it a great crime to join two sapient creatures. The melding of minds drives them insane."
"But this was a wolf and a man," You said. "There should have been no such melding."
"That's right," Ox nodded to you. "So the hatred probably came from the man. Find out who he is - or was - and you will probably know the source of its rage."
"That may be useful later," You said. "But not now."
"Yes," Arcadius said. "For now, we should secure the tomb. It has only a few entrances, and we can keep an eye on them all. Darc is right - the wolf-lord will not easily step into a fight that is not to its advantage. If we hold here, we should be able to last until Chiron returns. As long as we don't give it a way to slink in behind us and launch a surprise attack. Ox, I want you to guard the main entrance. Darc, you and your summons will try to find out if there are any others. Usually, there are two or three in a mound like this, but there's a chance that damage over time has made more."
"What about you?" You asked him. "What will you do?"
"I am going to check out the lair of this corpse-sticher in the lower level," Arcadius said. "We need to know if there are more entrances there."
You and Ox traded looks at that.
"Rather you than me," rumbled the minotaur, already moving towards the main entrance.
"Are you sure you'll be safe?"
But Arcadius just gave you a small smile.
"Corpse-Stitchers are harmless as long as you don't threaten them. I'll be careful, but I don't anticipate a problem."
"Good," you said. "But if I hear fighting, I am going to come running. You know that, right?"
"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way."
He moved off towards the lower levels and you mustered your summons. The Brier Wolf would still be on the verge of death. Too badly injured to use here, but your Old Wolf could now be used and its sense of smell would let it track any entrances that you didn't spot.
You also summoned your goblin, remembering the burst of personality he had shown during the fight. Fighting with unusual skill, and even taunting his foes! You hoped that he would be like that now, but you were disappointed. He was as normal, almost bestial.
It seemed that only the presence of violence and battle could bring forth his true personality. Only when he was threatened or pushed could his mind shake off the shackles of the Runic System.
Still, it was a start. Perhaps you would be able to learn his name soon? A name was meaningless in the grand scheme of things and yet, part of you felt that it was important.
A small gesture, but small gestures could matter in the long term. They could be more pivotal than you would ever know.
For the next hour or so, you did as Arcadius had told you. Using your wolf and your goblin, you made circles of the interior of the burial mound. When you found a crevice or cave which could be used as an entrance, you marked it. There were three or four of them. Two entrances which had clearly been built along with the mound and several more smaller cracks or fissures which had formed later. You didn't like that there were so many - too many angles to be attacked from - but with the addition of your wood pigeon, you were able to watch most of them.
Two hours into your search, the old wolf barked a sudden warning. It had been keeping guard over one of the side passages, smaller and easily missed. As you turned towards it, you saw a flash of motion. The distant glowing of a canine eye. Before you could shout a warning, there came a click and then the flash of a metal bolt.
You threw yourself to the side, the shot only barely missing your throat. It kicked up sparks, skittering off the stone wall behind you as you came to your feet.
The lord-wolf was watching. Crouched on the other side of the cramped passage, draped in shadow. The crossbow was in one hand. For an instant, time was frozen. It was such an odd creature, you noted distantly. It managed to combine the proportions of both wolf and man. Its body was shaggy and furred, its face elongated and savage. But its eyes were like those of a human, deep with thought and emotion. It watched you and you watched it, and neither of you reached for your weapons.
And then with a flicker of motion, it was gone and the connection was broken. You sounded the alarm, and brought both Ox and Arcadius to full attention.
"It could not get the others in, then." Arcadius said. "Otherwise it would have brought the pack. So it decided to try and take us by surprise, moving down a side-connection which we might have missed. Good work, Darc. I think it wanted to kill at least one of us before we knew it was there and use the chaos to escape or to claim a second victim."
You nodded, but your mind was troubled. The creature's eyes were hard to forget. So human. But, you reminded yourself, it was important not to think that human was the same as good. Plenty of humans loved to kill and torment - just look at Lykanas.
But they were still not the eyes you would expect of a feral beast.
You took the bolt that it had loosed at you. It was made of metal, finely worked. Not a cheap missile at all. It was the bolt of someone who cared for their craft. There was a small band tied around the end of the shaft, alternating colours of white and red.
You took it in case it would be useful later.
The Wolf-Lord continued to probe your defences, but you had been careful and there were no ways for it to get the drop on you. The old wolf would bark a warning whenever it got close, and Ox was ready to plunge into the shadows after it. Without its pack, the wolf-lord did not fancy its chances against your group, and so in spite of its obvious anger, it found itself powerless to hurt you.
Eventually, it withdrew and soon after that, you heard shouts from the front of the cave. Human voices raised in question. Chiron and the folk of Kovan's Stand had arrived.
You and Arcadius shared a careful look. If the Wolf-Lord was still out there, this would be a good chance for it to claim a kill. When you were distracted by the hope of rescue, your guard might fall.
Neither of you were going to allow that to happen. The corpse-stitcher watched as you left its domain. Whether it was curious, or wondered about these strangers who had come and gone, you could not say. It simply watched you go.
Out in the passageway, you waited for some sign of your enemy. Your muscles were tense, and your nerves were taut. Now would be the time to strike.
But the wolf-lord did not strike. It did not want to die. To take one of you now would be to trade its own life, and that was a transaction that carried too high a price. You swore you felt its eyes on you, but you did not see it again even as you exited the cave and found yourselves in the company of Chiron and his men.
The minotaur and the centaur embraced, each glad to see that the other was unharmed. Of the living wolves, there was little sign. The wolf-lord had pulled them back to the forest when it realised that they would be of little use. Of the dead, more was evident. They lay where you had killed them, brier and forest wolf alike. The folk of Kovan's stand grew pale at the sight of them, and at the number too.
"Far too many," they muttered. "How did it gather that much? What manner of creature could?"
Ox and Chiron shared a look, but did not explain the thing's nature. That was fine. Kovan's Stand did not need to know its origin, merely what it could do and this they did not hide.
During the trip back to the town, you again felt that you were being watched. You did not doubt that the wolf-lord was still biding his time. Surrounded by hunters and trackers, he did not wish to strike. But you were sure he was only waiting until the initiative was one more his.
It was not the last time that Kovan's Stand would suffer under his claws.
When you got back to the town, what did you want to do?
Current Vote:
[]Prepare to leave. You have done your bit, and Kovan's Stand is now warned about the danger that lurks in its forest. But you have your own mission and you cannot afford to tarry forever. Ox and Chiron will stay. They alone should be enough.
[]Your next step is to find out who the wolf-lord might have been. You have few clues. You know it was someone who hated the town or something about the town, that he is missing now, and that he used bolts with a certain pattern of colour.
[]Try to organise a hunting party. The wolf-lord has lost many servants, but you doubt he will wait for long before launching another raid. You need to find him and kill him. Now you know what you are looking for, and you can take willing hunters and trackers from the town. Run him down and kill him before he can muster the resources to do the same to you.
[]Write in?
[X]Ask about the corpse-stitcher. What does Arcadius mean when he says it would not fight alone?
-[X]Secure the room. You don't have time to worry about these things. You do not know when the wolf lord will strike, but you are sure that it will not easily let you out of its grasp.
-[X]Secure the room. You don't have time to worry about these things. You do not know when the wolf lord will strike, but you are sure that it will not easily let you out of its grasp.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm very intrigued by this whole situation.
[X]Your next step is to find out who the wolf-lord might have been. You have few clues. You know it was someone who hated the town or something about the town, that he is missing now, and that he used bolts with a certain pattern of colour.
[X]Your next step is to find out who the wolf-lord might have been. You have few clues. You know it was someone who hated the town or something about the town, that he is missing now, and that he used bolts with a certain pattern of colour.
[X]Your next step is to find out who the wolf-lord might have been. You have few clues. You know it was someone who hated the town or something about the town, that he is missing now, and that he used bolts with a certain pattern of colour.
When trying to defeat an enemy, one ought to understand them.
When trying to defeat an enemy, one ought to understand them.
- Location
- Oregon
[X]Your next step is to find out who the wolf-lord might have been. You have few clues. You know it was someone who hated the town or something about the town, that he is missing now, and that he used bolts with a certain pattern of colour.
2.11: The Other Side of the Coin
Talos
Has Completed: Three Quests
- Pronouns
- She/Her
For the next several days, you searched. You had a basic idea of what to look for now. The Wolf Lord had once been a human with a great dislike for the town or something associated with the town. Ox and Chiron had told you that the merging process was not always so specific. Usually, it was the work of multiple Shamans and carefully regulated and controlled. Done by one Shaman alone out in the forest? The results would be less than predictable.
Nevertheless, there was bleedover. The hatred and animosity that the wolf lord seemed to feel about the town were surely not born from the animal side of him. It had to come from the human one.
You had one clue. The coloured band which had been tied about the end of his metal bolt. It was the band of a hunter. You'd seen them before in Rivershead. When hunters went together to capture prey, they would differentiate their shots by marking them with bands of different colours. That way, you knew how to credit with the kill if multiple blows struck home.
You showed it to Amran, letting him hold it and look over it.
"I've not seen one of these for some time," he said. "Do they still use them back home?"
"They did when I last checked," you nodded. "Mostly for hunting parties."
"Ah, I see," the old man said. "When I was young, they were used for contests. Nobles of the court would go out into the forest and see who could claim the biggest game. They'd use marked arrows and bolts so there could be no argument. Just like this."
"It could be a noble? That would be unusual somewhere like this. A noble would probably get noticed. We'd have heard about them."
"Him," Amran grunted. "Always him when it comes to hunting. Nobles of the capital are rather traditionalists, you will find. Comes from immortality, I suppose. They don't change so much. Men hunt and women stitch and sew."
"It sounds very boring," you said.
"The men or the women?" Amran asked you and you laughed.
"Both," you admitted. "I've never been much for hunting myself. Are you really telling me there's not much else for them to do?"
"What else would they do?" Amran asked. "They're immortals. The whole court is immortal."
"That sounds like a dream."
"Aye. Right up until you start eyeing your future prospects. No inherited land or wealth because your father can't die in the first place. A young noble has the title, and money, but what else? Responsibility? By and large, no. The court is several sizes larger than it should be because nobles tend to breed more nobles. But there is only a certain number of vital positions. After that, it's bloat. Titles and ranks which sound impressive but are about as meaningful as ''Lord of the Forest'' or ''Lady of the Ebon Blade'' which by the way, was an actual title back when I was in the capital."
"I see," You said, sitting back in your chair. The fire was burning and around you, the soft sounds of the inn were present. "I hadn't thought of that. Do nobles not retire?"
"Not usually," Amran said. "Why would you give up power? You're immortal, eternally young. Vigorous and healthy. There's no need to retire. So you have sons and daughters with your equally immortal wife, what do they do when they become old enough that you start to see them age? You make them immortal too. But of course, they must have titles. What's the point of being of noble blood if one does not have titles? So the court expands. And then they have sons and daughters, and those children have children…"
"And none of them have anything to do." You said. "So they make their own entertainment."
"That's right," Amran sipped from his drink slowly, his mind clearly on the past. A sort of melancholic look had come upon him. "Every now and then, the Forever King purges the court, but it always seems to build back up in a decade or two. In the meantime, those who are too rich to work, but too unimportant to be trusted with any great duty spend their money on parties and drinking. They hunt, they attend bloodsports. Duelling was popular then. The nobles always liked to watch people die."
"You sound like you don't like them much," You observed.
Amran considered for a moment.
"I like some of them," he said at last. "I was a duelist, so it'd make a hypocrite of me to say that everyone who attended a fight was bad. But I liked the ones who did things. You could always tell the difference. They were sharper, they always knew what they were doing or saying. The other ones were like children playing games. Silly games of make-belief. Like guppies trying to swim with sharks."
"I always thought the Eternal Court was just the Forever King and his closest advisors," you admitted. "It didn't occur to me that there would be so many immortals. So many like Arcadius."
Amran laughed at that, shaking his head.
"They're nothing like Arcadius. Least, not the ones I met. Arcadius is an old school immortal. You can damn well tell that he earned that rank. The others were born into it. There's a difference. Even the serious ones, they can't compare to him. 'Cept maybe one or two. The oldest of the lot."
Amran looked thoughtful then, gazing into his drink while his mind tracked back to the past.
"Perhaps one or two," he said again. "The Eternal Court started as you said. Just the King and his advisors. Most of the original lot is still around. They're the ones you don't hear about often. The ones who run things. I didn't see much of them. They weren't the sort to attend games or fights. They always struck me as very serious, very focused people. The kind of person who you don't annoy if you can help it, but who also won't cause trouble for you unless you're in their way."
"I can see Arcadius in that," You agreed. "He was one of them once, right? Part of the Eternal Court? He'd have to be, though the stories don't mention it much."
"It's the boring part," Amran chuckled. "What he did when he wasn't fighting monsters or winning wars. No one ever asks the hero what he does when he's at home."
The conversation was fascinating, but it did not bring you any closer to identifying who owned the metal bolt. The next day, as the sun donned, you conferred with your companions to pool your knowledge.
"He was a hunter of some sort," Chiron said. "From what you have told me - and what I saw myself - he used that crossbow very well. His aim was solid, and that's not the sort of weapon you can use without at least some practice."
"Skills can transfer over," Ox nodded. "I doubt a wolf ever fired a crossbow. So the human must have been good at it."
"Amran thinks that he may have been a noble," you said. "Or connected to one. The coloured bands that he used are like those that were once used by the eternal court when they were hunting. But it seems an unlikely connection."
"Unlikely," Arcadius agreed. "But possible. It could be that he is distantly related to a noble or the descendant of a fallen line."
"Does that help us much?" Ox asked.
"It may," you said. "If we have to choose between multiple possibilities, knowing something - anything - about the real target will help us narrow it down."
"That being the case," Chiron said thoughtfully. "There is a cabin outside of town, on the outskirts of the forest. I heard about it during my search. An old hunter lives there. There may be no point of connection, but…"
"But better to check than not," you finished his thought. "Arcadius and I will check it out."
"You sure?" Chiron asked. "Ox and I could go too."
"No," You said. "The two of you are beast-folk and a lonesome hunter may not know of your status as heroes here. It could scare him. Better that Arcadius and I take care of it. That is, unless you object?"
You turned to your mentor, aware that you had just volunteered him without asking his permission. He seemed more amused than anything though, and simply nodded his acquiescence to your plan.
And so, a few hours after that conversation, you and Arcadius came to the old cabin. It was some distance from the town, tucked under the leafy branches of a grove of young trees. The walls of Kovan's Stand were distant but visible.
The cabin itself was made of wood and seemed to have been constructed with great care. It was made mostly of logs, which had been there for some time considering the layer of moss which clung to them. The roof was large and overhung, the windows small and suspicious. The building was big enough to be comfortable for a single person, with several rooms that had obviously been added after the initial construction.
You circled around, checking for any sign of life. Your hand was on your sword, and though you were not deep in the forest, you were aware that you could be attacked at any moment.
Behind the cabin, there was a well-organised garden. Plants had been grown here in structured, regimented ranks. Not flowers though. Food. Medicine. Herbs of healing. The sort of things that a man living out on his own might want to keep to hand.
There was a small shed, and inside of that there was a tanning rack, animal hide still stretched over it. Beyond this, a log stump was marked by the bite of an axe. A pile of firewood which sat against the far wall of the shed told the rest of the tale there.
And that was it. There was nothing nefarious. Nothing sinister. No lurking horrors or monsters waiting to pounce. An old, well-kept home. A garden full of herbs and crops.
Yet some part of you did not believe it.
You circled to the front again. The front of the house was neat and tidy, but dusty. No one had been here for some time. You moved to rap the door, hoping but not expecting to rouse the hunter.
Instead, it creaked open at your first touch. You shared a look with Arcadius, feeling a sense of grim satisfaction.
The lock had been forced. Someone had leaned it against the frame afterwards, making it look like it still could be barred. But it was open.
Inside of the house, there were signs of a struggle. There was blood on the floor. Someone had fought here and died here if you were any judge. The main living area took up much of the home. There was a large fire, a table, and a basic cooking area and one side was dedicated to weapons. Here, there hung bows and spears and swords. Far too many for a simple hunter to own. It was a small armoury.
And some of it was missing. There were holes in the wall of weapons. Between a large recurve bow and a small pistol-like bolt-thrower, a crossbow had been taken. On the side dedicated to shields, a buckler was missing.
"So this is where he got the weapons, anyway," you said to Arcadius. "But we don't know if he was the person who lived or if he was the one who forced the door."
"Check the table," Arcadius suggested, moving over to inspect the weapons. "Maybe there is a clue there."
"Maybe," you muttered. It didn't seem likely. The table was mostly bare. It had not been laid for food, but you could tell by the way that the chair had been moved back that someone had been sitting in it and then risen quickly to their feet.
Something crunched under your feet. A pencil? Your eye flashed across the floor, landing on something pale against the brown wood. It was a piece of paper. You fished it up, but what you saw caused only more confusion.
''Your generous offer is rejected''.
There was no distinguishing mark there. No sign of who it had been from, or whether it had been penned here at all. You did confirm that the bolts the wolf lord had fired at you came from here, though. There were more of them in storage, marked the same way.
"What do you think?" You turned to Arcadius, but he simply bounced the question back to you.
"You tell me," he said. "What are your conclusions about this place?"
You felt a flash of annoyance. He was testing you, checking to make sure you had learned something important. Even now, he was still trying to teach you. What annoyed you more was that you clearly still needed it. You had not formed any conclusion at all, but the fact that Arcadius expected one seemed to indicate that one could be found.
You closed your eyes for a moment, gathering your thoughts.
"The door was forced," you decided to lay out the evidence. "And there are signs of blood and a fight. But there is no body. The weapons that the creature used definitely come from here, which means that it knows this place and was here. Was it the one that killed the previous owner? It's possible.
"The note was there by the table, it was probably being read or written when whatever happened started. The hunter was sitting at the table and rose quickly - knocking the note and the paper to the ground."
"What might the note indicate?"
"I don't know," you felt stupid admitting that. "There's no sign of who it may be from. No identifying marks. Nothing to go off. An offer was rejected."
"What about the door?"
You frowned but answered as best you could.
"The door was broken, but not destroyed. Once whatever happened was over, it was leaned back over again even though it could not close properly."
"So someone forced it," Arcadius said. "Was it the wolf lord?"
"Maybe," you said. "He would be strong enough. Big enough. With powerful arms and claws."
You paused.
"That's why he couldn't have done it. He could force the door easily, but it would be in splinters. The way that the door was forced was done by something less strong, with fewer natural weapons."
"Exactly," Arcadius said, giving you a nod of silent praise. "It was a human who forced the door. Given the strength of the wood, probably a man and a well-trained man at that. Someone physically powerful."
"So a human forced the door," you said, "But the wolf-lord took the weapons? That doesn't make sense. The door was leaned carefully back to look like it was closed."
"And?"
"If the wolf lord took the weapons, it was here after the fight. But why would it care enough about the cabin to carefully close the door? Unless it was his cabin and the hunter who lived here is the one who was merged with the wolf."
"Which raises the question," Arcadius was sitting down now. You could see in his face a sort of grim delight. As he played through the scenario, he seemed to become more and more fascinated. Discovery was a joy for him. "How did he end up being merged with the wolf? And who attacked him here first?"
"The town," you said. "The wolf lord has a hatred of the town, but he wouldn't have had that when he was human or he wouldn't have lived so close to it. Someone from the town did this. Someone tied to the town, so that the two became one and the same once the merging was complete and the wolf lord lost his sanity."
"That still leaves one last question," Arcadius said. "If the hunter was attacked by humans here how did he end up merged with a wolf by a minotaur shaman? According to Chiron, the process cannot be performed on the dead."
"But it can be performed on those nearly dead," you had a stroke of brilliance, almost shouting your answer as it came to you. "It can save the mortally wounded. And according to Ox, this Shaman, Urukal, he was a kind man."
You sat down on the chair beside Arcadius, running through the scenario in your head even as you talked through it.
"Imagine that you're Urukal. You're a minotaur Shaman exiled for your research into something taboo in your tribe. But you don't believe it is. You want to further it for some reason. We don't know why, but it's important to you. You're looking for something, an excuse to use it but you can't just grab a test subject. That would be wrong.
"Just when you think you're going to have to merge two animals - a process that Chiron told us is frowned upon even further - you come upon the scene of a murder. No, wait, that can't be right."
You frowned.
"Urukal was a minotaur. We'd know if he was near the house. No, let's say that you come across a wandering hunter. Wounded badly. Maybe mortally. That's why there is no body here. They didn't manage to kill him! He fled to the forest, and as a hunter who knew it well, his attackers couldn't follow him. But he was badly hurt. Delusional, betrayed and dying from his wounds.
"To Urukal, it must have seemed his prayers had been answered. A man whose life he could save with his magic, a test subject that he could morally condone. He probably intended to help him adjust to his new life as a beast-folk. Remember what Ox said? All that he was missing was the culture."
"And Urukal could have given him that," Arcadius nodded. "But he killed him. Why turn on the man who saved him?"
"Madness," you said. "The process was not perfect. Chiron and Ox both admit that it usually takes several Shamans to run it. And the hunter's last memory was of being betrayed and mortally wounded. Pain and terror, death and despair. Those were the first things that the wolf-lord knew. Everything was an enemy. Everything that was not like him. And a minotaur is, well, intimidating. You saw Urukal's body. He wasn't as big as Ox, but he'd be able to physically overpower just about anyone else."
"So the wolf lord strikes the second he can," Arcadius said. "Before Urukal can explain or calm him down. He kills him and flees into the forest. But he is haunted by his memories. Fear and despair turn to anger. He wants to strike back."
"But he can't quite sort his human memories," you added. "All he remembers is that the pain, the attack and the terror originated from the town."
"And so," Arcadius said. "His thoughts turn to revenge."
"Just so," you agreed, feeling a shiver worm it's way down your spine. "Just so."
"I have to admit that it's a compelling argument," Arcadius said. "But it opens up one last question. What do we do now?"
Current Vote:
[]You have your trap. The Wolf Lord is still taking the gear and the weapons from this place. He will return, and you and Arcadius will be waiting for him. It must be only the two of you. If you bring Chiron or Ox, the chances of him realising it will increase. You want him inside of the house so that you can close off the retreat and finally end this.
You and your mentor will be more than enough.
[]You will trap him here as described above, but you will call your companions. The risk of the wolf lord discovering your trap will be higher, but Ox and Chiron all but ensure that you will be able to make the kill if he does not realise your move. You and Arcadius are a mighty force already. Combined with Chiron's bow and Ox's strength? Unstoppable.
[]You don't want to make your move just yet. Return to the town and consult the others. You're not sure if you can find any more, but perhaps you'll get lucky?
[]Write in?
Nevertheless, there was bleedover. The hatred and animosity that the wolf lord seemed to feel about the town were surely not born from the animal side of him. It had to come from the human one.
You had one clue. The coloured band which had been tied about the end of his metal bolt. It was the band of a hunter. You'd seen them before in Rivershead. When hunters went together to capture prey, they would differentiate their shots by marking them with bands of different colours. That way, you knew how to credit with the kill if multiple blows struck home.
You showed it to Amran, letting him hold it and look over it.
"I've not seen one of these for some time," he said. "Do they still use them back home?"
"They did when I last checked," you nodded. "Mostly for hunting parties."
"Ah, I see," the old man said. "When I was young, they were used for contests. Nobles of the court would go out into the forest and see who could claim the biggest game. They'd use marked arrows and bolts so there could be no argument. Just like this."
"It could be a noble? That would be unusual somewhere like this. A noble would probably get noticed. We'd have heard about them."
"Him," Amran grunted. "Always him when it comes to hunting. Nobles of the capital are rather traditionalists, you will find. Comes from immortality, I suppose. They don't change so much. Men hunt and women stitch and sew."
"It sounds very boring," you said.
"The men or the women?" Amran asked you and you laughed.
"Both," you admitted. "I've never been much for hunting myself. Are you really telling me there's not much else for them to do?"
"What else would they do?" Amran asked. "They're immortals. The whole court is immortal."
"That sounds like a dream."
"Aye. Right up until you start eyeing your future prospects. No inherited land or wealth because your father can't die in the first place. A young noble has the title, and money, but what else? Responsibility? By and large, no. The court is several sizes larger than it should be because nobles tend to breed more nobles. But there is only a certain number of vital positions. After that, it's bloat. Titles and ranks which sound impressive but are about as meaningful as ''Lord of the Forest'' or ''Lady of the Ebon Blade'' which by the way, was an actual title back when I was in the capital."
"I see," You said, sitting back in your chair. The fire was burning and around you, the soft sounds of the inn were present. "I hadn't thought of that. Do nobles not retire?"
"Not usually," Amran said. "Why would you give up power? You're immortal, eternally young. Vigorous and healthy. There's no need to retire. So you have sons and daughters with your equally immortal wife, what do they do when they become old enough that you start to see them age? You make them immortal too. But of course, they must have titles. What's the point of being of noble blood if one does not have titles? So the court expands. And then they have sons and daughters, and those children have children…"
"And none of them have anything to do." You said. "So they make their own entertainment."
"That's right," Amran sipped from his drink slowly, his mind clearly on the past. A sort of melancholic look had come upon him. "Every now and then, the Forever King purges the court, but it always seems to build back up in a decade or two. In the meantime, those who are too rich to work, but too unimportant to be trusted with any great duty spend their money on parties and drinking. They hunt, they attend bloodsports. Duelling was popular then. The nobles always liked to watch people die."
"You sound like you don't like them much," You observed.
Amran considered for a moment.
"I like some of them," he said at last. "I was a duelist, so it'd make a hypocrite of me to say that everyone who attended a fight was bad. But I liked the ones who did things. You could always tell the difference. They were sharper, they always knew what they were doing or saying. The other ones were like children playing games. Silly games of make-belief. Like guppies trying to swim with sharks."
"I always thought the Eternal Court was just the Forever King and his closest advisors," you admitted. "It didn't occur to me that there would be so many immortals. So many like Arcadius."
Amran laughed at that, shaking his head.
"They're nothing like Arcadius. Least, not the ones I met. Arcadius is an old school immortal. You can damn well tell that he earned that rank. The others were born into it. There's a difference. Even the serious ones, they can't compare to him. 'Cept maybe one or two. The oldest of the lot."
Amran looked thoughtful then, gazing into his drink while his mind tracked back to the past.
"Perhaps one or two," he said again. "The Eternal Court started as you said. Just the King and his advisors. Most of the original lot is still around. They're the ones you don't hear about often. The ones who run things. I didn't see much of them. They weren't the sort to attend games or fights. They always struck me as very serious, very focused people. The kind of person who you don't annoy if you can help it, but who also won't cause trouble for you unless you're in their way."
"I can see Arcadius in that," You agreed. "He was one of them once, right? Part of the Eternal Court? He'd have to be, though the stories don't mention it much."
"It's the boring part," Amran chuckled. "What he did when he wasn't fighting monsters or winning wars. No one ever asks the hero what he does when he's at home."
The conversation was fascinating, but it did not bring you any closer to identifying who owned the metal bolt. The next day, as the sun donned, you conferred with your companions to pool your knowledge.
"He was a hunter of some sort," Chiron said. "From what you have told me - and what I saw myself - he used that crossbow very well. His aim was solid, and that's not the sort of weapon you can use without at least some practice."
"Skills can transfer over," Ox nodded. "I doubt a wolf ever fired a crossbow. So the human must have been good at it."
"Amran thinks that he may have been a noble," you said. "Or connected to one. The coloured bands that he used are like those that were once used by the eternal court when they were hunting. But it seems an unlikely connection."
"Unlikely," Arcadius agreed. "But possible. It could be that he is distantly related to a noble or the descendant of a fallen line."
"Does that help us much?" Ox asked.
"It may," you said. "If we have to choose between multiple possibilities, knowing something - anything - about the real target will help us narrow it down."
"That being the case," Chiron said thoughtfully. "There is a cabin outside of town, on the outskirts of the forest. I heard about it during my search. An old hunter lives there. There may be no point of connection, but…"
"But better to check than not," you finished his thought. "Arcadius and I will check it out."
"You sure?" Chiron asked. "Ox and I could go too."
"No," You said. "The two of you are beast-folk and a lonesome hunter may not know of your status as heroes here. It could scare him. Better that Arcadius and I take care of it. That is, unless you object?"
You turned to your mentor, aware that you had just volunteered him without asking his permission. He seemed more amused than anything though, and simply nodded his acquiescence to your plan.
And so, a few hours after that conversation, you and Arcadius came to the old cabin. It was some distance from the town, tucked under the leafy branches of a grove of young trees. The walls of Kovan's Stand were distant but visible.
The cabin itself was made of wood and seemed to have been constructed with great care. It was made mostly of logs, which had been there for some time considering the layer of moss which clung to them. The roof was large and overhung, the windows small and suspicious. The building was big enough to be comfortable for a single person, with several rooms that had obviously been added after the initial construction.
You circled around, checking for any sign of life. Your hand was on your sword, and though you were not deep in the forest, you were aware that you could be attacked at any moment.
Behind the cabin, there was a well-organised garden. Plants had been grown here in structured, regimented ranks. Not flowers though. Food. Medicine. Herbs of healing. The sort of things that a man living out on his own might want to keep to hand.
There was a small shed, and inside of that there was a tanning rack, animal hide still stretched over it. Beyond this, a log stump was marked by the bite of an axe. A pile of firewood which sat against the far wall of the shed told the rest of the tale there.
And that was it. There was nothing nefarious. Nothing sinister. No lurking horrors or monsters waiting to pounce. An old, well-kept home. A garden full of herbs and crops.
Yet some part of you did not believe it.
You circled to the front again. The front of the house was neat and tidy, but dusty. No one had been here for some time. You moved to rap the door, hoping but not expecting to rouse the hunter.
Instead, it creaked open at your first touch. You shared a look with Arcadius, feeling a sense of grim satisfaction.
The lock had been forced. Someone had leaned it against the frame afterwards, making it look like it still could be barred. But it was open.
Inside of the house, there were signs of a struggle. There was blood on the floor. Someone had fought here and died here if you were any judge. The main living area took up much of the home. There was a large fire, a table, and a basic cooking area and one side was dedicated to weapons. Here, there hung bows and spears and swords. Far too many for a simple hunter to own. It was a small armoury.
And some of it was missing. There were holes in the wall of weapons. Between a large recurve bow and a small pistol-like bolt-thrower, a crossbow had been taken. On the side dedicated to shields, a buckler was missing.
"So this is where he got the weapons, anyway," you said to Arcadius. "But we don't know if he was the person who lived or if he was the one who forced the door."
"Check the table," Arcadius suggested, moving over to inspect the weapons. "Maybe there is a clue there."
"Maybe," you muttered. It didn't seem likely. The table was mostly bare. It had not been laid for food, but you could tell by the way that the chair had been moved back that someone had been sitting in it and then risen quickly to their feet.
Something crunched under your feet. A pencil? Your eye flashed across the floor, landing on something pale against the brown wood. It was a piece of paper. You fished it up, but what you saw caused only more confusion.
''Your generous offer is rejected''.
There was no distinguishing mark there. No sign of who it had been from, or whether it had been penned here at all. You did confirm that the bolts the wolf lord had fired at you came from here, though. There were more of them in storage, marked the same way.
"What do you think?" You turned to Arcadius, but he simply bounced the question back to you.
"You tell me," he said. "What are your conclusions about this place?"
You felt a flash of annoyance. He was testing you, checking to make sure you had learned something important. Even now, he was still trying to teach you. What annoyed you more was that you clearly still needed it. You had not formed any conclusion at all, but the fact that Arcadius expected one seemed to indicate that one could be found.
You closed your eyes for a moment, gathering your thoughts.
"The door was forced," you decided to lay out the evidence. "And there are signs of blood and a fight. But there is no body. The weapons that the creature used definitely come from here, which means that it knows this place and was here. Was it the one that killed the previous owner? It's possible.
"The note was there by the table, it was probably being read or written when whatever happened started. The hunter was sitting at the table and rose quickly - knocking the note and the paper to the ground."
"What might the note indicate?"
"I don't know," you felt stupid admitting that. "There's no sign of who it may be from. No identifying marks. Nothing to go off. An offer was rejected."
"What about the door?"
You frowned but answered as best you could.
"The door was broken, but not destroyed. Once whatever happened was over, it was leaned back over again even though it could not close properly."
"So someone forced it," Arcadius said. "Was it the wolf lord?"
"Maybe," you said. "He would be strong enough. Big enough. With powerful arms and claws."
You paused.
"That's why he couldn't have done it. He could force the door easily, but it would be in splinters. The way that the door was forced was done by something less strong, with fewer natural weapons."
"Exactly," Arcadius said, giving you a nod of silent praise. "It was a human who forced the door. Given the strength of the wood, probably a man and a well-trained man at that. Someone physically powerful."
"So a human forced the door," you said, "But the wolf-lord took the weapons? That doesn't make sense. The door was leaned carefully back to look like it was closed."
"And?"
"If the wolf lord took the weapons, it was here after the fight. But why would it care enough about the cabin to carefully close the door? Unless it was his cabin and the hunter who lived here is the one who was merged with the wolf."
"Which raises the question," Arcadius was sitting down now. You could see in his face a sort of grim delight. As he played through the scenario, he seemed to become more and more fascinated. Discovery was a joy for him. "How did he end up being merged with the wolf? And who attacked him here first?"
"The town," you said. "The wolf lord has a hatred of the town, but he wouldn't have had that when he was human or he wouldn't have lived so close to it. Someone from the town did this. Someone tied to the town, so that the two became one and the same once the merging was complete and the wolf lord lost his sanity."
"That still leaves one last question," Arcadius said. "If the hunter was attacked by humans here how did he end up merged with a wolf by a minotaur shaman? According to Chiron, the process cannot be performed on the dead."
"But it can be performed on those nearly dead," you had a stroke of brilliance, almost shouting your answer as it came to you. "It can save the mortally wounded. And according to Ox, this Shaman, Urukal, he was a kind man."
You sat down on the chair beside Arcadius, running through the scenario in your head even as you talked through it.
"Imagine that you're Urukal. You're a minotaur Shaman exiled for your research into something taboo in your tribe. But you don't believe it is. You want to further it for some reason. We don't know why, but it's important to you. You're looking for something, an excuse to use it but you can't just grab a test subject. That would be wrong.
"Just when you think you're going to have to merge two animals - a process that Chiron told us is frowned upon even further - you come upon the scene of a murder. No, wait, that can't be right."
You frowned.
"Urukal was a minotaur. We'd know if he was near the house. No, let's say that you come across a wandering hunter. Wounded badly. Maybe mortally. That's why there is no body here. They didn't manage to kill him! He fled to the forest, and as a hunter who knew it well, his attackers couldn't follow him. But he was badly hurt. Delusional, betrayed and dying from his wounds.
"To Urukal, it must have seemed his prayers had been answered. A man whose life he could save with his magic, a test subject that he could morally condone. He probably intended to help him adjust to his new life as a beast-folk. Remember what Ox said? All that he was missing was the culture."
"And Urukal could have given him that," Arcadius nodded. "But he killed him. Why turn on the man who saved him?"
"Madness," you said. "The process was not perfect. Chiron and Ox both admit that it usually takes several Shamans to run it. And the hunter's last memory was of being betrayed and mortally wounded. Pain and terror, death and despair. Those were the first things that the wolf-lord knew. Everything was an enemy. Everything that was not like him. And a minotaur is, well, intimidating. You saw Urukal's body. He wasn't as big as Ox, but he'd be able to physically overpower just about anyone else."
"So the wolf lord strikes the second he can," Arcadius said. "Before Urukal can explain or calm him down. He kills him and flees into the forest. But he is haunted by his memories. Fear and despair turn to anger. He wants to strike back."
"But he can't quite sort his human memories," you added. "All he remembers is that the pain, the attack and the terror originated from the town."
"And so," Arcadius said. "His thoughts turn to revenge."
"Just so," you agreed, feeling a shiver worm it's way down your spine. "Just so."
"I have to admit that it's a compelling argument," Arcadius said. "But it opens up one last question. What do we do now?"
Current Vote:
[]You have your trap. The Wolf Lord is still taking the gear and the weapons from this place. He will return, and you and Arcadius will be waiting for him. It must be only the two of you. If you bring Chiron or Ox, the chances of him realising it will increase. You want him inside of the house so that you can close off the retreat and finally end this.
You and your mentor will be more than enough.
[]You will trap him here as described above, but you will call your companions. The risk of the wolf lord discovering your trap will be higher, but Ox and Chiron all but ensure that you will be able to make the kill if he does not realise your move. You and Arcadius are a mighty force already. Combined with Chiron's bow and Ox's strength? Unstoppable.
[]You don't want to make your move just yet. Return to the town and consult the others. You're not sure if you can find any more, but perhaps you'll get lucky?
[]Write in?
[X]Your next step is to find out who the wolf-lord might have been. You have few clues. You know it was someone who hated the town or something about the town, that he is missing now, and that he used bolts with a certain pattern of colour.
Deadly Snark
Tryhard As Fuck
Wait an entire court of immortals that constantly reproduces like rabbits?
...
ARISE ARISE YE WHO ARE CHAINED! YOU HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE BUT SUFFERING AND ETERNITY TO BE GAINED! ARISE ARISE!
...
ARISE ARISE YE WHO ARE CHAINED! YOU HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE BUT SUFFERING AND ETERNITY TO BE GAINED! ARISE ARISE!
There's firearms in this world?!
[X]You don't want to make your move just yet. Return to the town and consult the others. You're not sure if you can find any more, but perhaps you'll get lucky?
There is still the question of who attacked the would-be Wolf Lord. If we can find out who it is... we just found out the best of baits!
Talos
Has Completed: Three Quests
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Certain models of crossbow can be referred to as pistols. More mechanical, slimmer things that are usually one shot and can be concealed about your clothes are not unknown in this setting. Typically, that's what would be called a pistol here. They do not use gunpowder and they fire metal bolts just as larger crossbows do.
You are not aware of developed firearms, but it's also not impossible that some basic forms of them do exist outside of your knowledge. Gunpowder is a known thing, and fireworks can get rather advanced, so it would not be surprising if such weapons did exist but Darc just has never encountered them.
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[X] You have your trap. The Wolf Lord is still taking the gear and the weapons from this place. He will return, and you and Arcadius will be waiting for him. It must be only the two of you. If you bring Chiron or Ox, the chances of him realising it will increase. You want him inside of the house so that you can close off the retreat and finally end this.
You and your mentor will be more than enough.
You and your mentor will be more than enough.