(Adventure) The Monestary of Saint Feragon <Judge:Macbeth>

[Ankh-Morpork Guard]

"What exactly were those creatures?" he asks Bron and any of the nearby Roadwardens. "Are they oft met in this region?"

"The Ogres that Aranel and I fought were like that," Telerin said as he sheathed his blade and knelt down to pet Whitefang, "This is much more widespread than I had feared. Is it more than just willing? Could it be a curse or a disease...?"

((...I think Telerin's going to try and Detect Magic on one of the bodies just to see...))

 

[Uriel]

OoC:He,he,he.. the Feral Template rules...

Bron speaks up 'Well Ishmael, thet's a rath'r 'ard question ta answer. Kroggoth, the foul God wht is affecting these folks, Changes them into beasts...I had thought it was a voluntary thing alone...now we see that the Kroggothites may be doing some forced conversions...'[/COLOR

The Roadwarden that entered limping assuages Ishmael's fears by telling him that though the Beasts did reach the Stables,they were repulsed by the Mare that Bron ridesas well as a rather belligerant little War Pony <I rolled and he smacked one of them for 5HP, as well as Giselle hitting him for 7>. The two killed the Beast....<The Roadwarden looks a bit stunned at this and walks off muttering about crazed Ponies and horses spitting fire...>.

 

[dpdx]

Rurik smiles as a Roadwarden finishes tending to the rest of his wound. "T'looks like the fightin' begins now, I reckon. Thankee - be right back, I will. OH!" he grabs Sturm's letter off the table, then jogs after the rider that gets sent back to town before he can mount his horse. "D'ye reckon ye could drop this off at a courier when ye get there? 'Ere, this'll be fer 'im." Rurik then reaches into his pack and produces a gold piece, which he hands to the rider. "'E'll 'ave a long way to go ta git ta the Kingdom."

With that, Rurik resumes his normal course, which is to head back to the kitchen to clean and sharpen his weapon, whetstone in hand. A minute later, Rurik rushes out of the kitchen, waraxe pristine and razor-sharp, past the assembled group inside, and out the door of the station. "D'ye say a pony killed one a' these beasties? D'ye know if it were a lil' black 'un?", he asks, voice trailing off as he heads to the barn...

 

[Uriel]

The Roadwarden takes the letter, passing it on to the Rider, then that fellow takes of as fast as can be,startling you all with his speed.

The ROadwarden then says Aye, I believe it was the Pony ridden in by that Halfling, it was a black one.'

 

[nimisgod]

Sir Ishmael breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank heavens. Courage is much like his namesake. I would imagine that he was a dwarf in his past life, full of valor and belligerence"

"These creatures, spawn of Kroggoth's corruption, will be a danger to our travel then. Perhaps after more lore is had, we could deal with them. The plight of the monks is keen on my mind now, however.

With these cretin wandering the land, we must make haste to the monastery. Such monstrosities stalking the land will not make our mission any the easier. Roadwarden, wilt thou and thine troop be able to take care of thine-selves in this crisis? It appears that thou hast suffered casualties in thine ranks"

 

[Guilt Puppy]

Sturm looks down at his fallen enemy, a little slack-jawed.

"One swing? Ye vexin' little wag! An' here ye had me expectin' a fight 'n all. 'at's jist rude o' ye! C'mon, get back up an' gimme somethin' worth puttin' in me next letter!"

He kicks at the body a few times, muttering what insults he can hoping to rouse a response, but then his synapses finally fire, and he turns around just in time to see Rurik hand off the letter.

"Oi! Quick thinkin' ye've got! How much did ye pay the lad?" He hands over Rurik the gold he owes him, insistently if need be. With that taken care of, he returns to the body and wipes his scythe clean across its chest, throwing in a few bits of profanity, just to be sure the job's done right.

 

[Uriel]

The Roadwardens move to remove all of the bodies, their companion as well as their former companions. One removes a small necklace, with the telltale fang and red and green beads from the man's neck.

Bron takes a closer look at one of the feral Roadwardens...pulling his shirt open. A Mark, a brand upon the pour Soul's chest.

Bron sighs and says 'It is as I feared, this man was converted to the God of the Wilders against his Will...a Ritual of some sort, I fear. This may bode badly for those Monks...or for us when we reach the Monestary.'

 

[Kahuna Burger]

Sturm looks down at his fallen enemy, a little slack-jawed.

"One swing? Ye vexin' little wag! An' here ye had me expectin' a fight 'n all. 'at's jist rude o' ye! C'mon, get back up an' gimme somethin' worth puttin' in me next letter!"

He kicks at the body a few times, muttering what insults he can hoping to rouse a response, but then his synapses finally fire, and he turns around just in time to see Rurik hand off the letter.

"Oi! Quick thinkin' ye've got! How much did ye pay the lad?" He hands over Rurik the gold he owes him, insistently if need be. With that taken care of, he returns to the body and wipes his scythe clean across its chest, throwing in a few bits of profanity, just to be sure the job's done right.

If possible (diplomacy only +2), Kirin gently but firmly sidetracks the dwarf from his former target. "These men," she indicates the grieving road wardens "fought and ate with our foes before they were changed. You are descecrating THEIR dead as much as if you spit in his face." she nods towards the Roadwarden killed by the ferals.

 

[Kahuna Burger]

A Mark, a brand upon the pour Soul's chest.

Bron sighs and says 'It is as I feared, this man was converted to the God of the Wilders against his Will...a Ritual of some sort, I fear. This may bode badly for those Monks...or for us when we reach the Monestary.'

OOC: damn, no remove curse for quite a while...

Kirin kneels beside the man and casts Detect magic to see if she can tell if the ritual placed an active binding (which could be reversed) on the poor man or if the magic was spent in his orriginal transformation...

"To change the course of one's soul against his will... I thought at first these feral creatures had only the rage of the beast, but this is true evil as only Mortals can create it..."

 

[Aranel]

Aranel had been watching the room in sielnce. The thought of monks turned to savagry such as this disturbed her, monks were always so...peaceful. The ones she'd met anyway.

Reloading her handcrossbow in preperation for next time, she sighed. There always was a next time...
"We are going against the will of a god." she muttered to herself. "A mean one..." Her eyes fell on Telerin. Odd, there were more normal sized people here, and yet she still preffered Telerin's company.
"Do you think Monk's keep a lot of gold?" she asked quietly to him alone. "I want some kind of compensation for going against this....evil..."