The Fey, the Far, and the Ugly Space In Between

[Tecklenburg]

With the storm at our flank and the importance of securing information about the settlement, I make a mental mark about the location and press on towards the settlement.

[sblock]Undertake a Perilous Journey

Deduct 1 from adventuring gear[/sblock]

In order to keep my lower extremities dry and to prevent frost bite, the journey thru ice, snow and sleet has required additional clothing.

 

[Manbearcat]

The hour is late when you arrive at World's End Bluff and the settlement that rests upon it. The vast expanse of the frozen lake of the same name lies directly below, stretching far in all directions. The settlers here are the kind of hardy, frontier folk that you would expect in these lands; hunters, goat herders, cheese-makers, trappers and furriers. With the bluff itself serving as three impossible points of entry into the settlement, there is but one wall of vertical timbers that secures the settlement. It is unmanned. The gate is wide open.

The snow is multiple feet deep. These folk always maintain their herding territory and the lanes from which carts travel. Not anymore. There are no signs of the manifold goats that serve as the lifeblood of the settlement. There are no herding dogs. There are no shepherds.

Seven families people this place with a building for each family and a large festhall with common room for the general affairs of all. There should be smoke billowing from chimneys and lanterns in windows. There is nothing. The moon is full, unobscured by the raging storm that is hammering the area you left behind. It is the only light by which you can take the measure of the eerie state of the settlement.

One of the eight buildings is a burned out husk. The wind howls behind you. As you behold this place through the opening of the gate, one other extremely slight sound accompanies the moans of the distant storm. Scratching. Scratch, scratch, scratch. Pause. Scratch, scratch, scratch. Pause.

Its coming from the interior of the common building.

[sblock] @Binks , be sure to mark off 1 AG or Ammo and describe its loss. Both you and @Tecklenburg need to roll to Defy Danger Wisdom. [/sblock]

 

[Binks]

When we arrive at the settlement, I remove the heavy winter shawl as it has basically become a straight-jacket of ice. It's torn to pieces with the removal. I pull out my backup and put it on.

[sblock]Mark off 1 Adventuring Gear from the Perilous Journey[/sblock]

When we arrive at the settlement, as I'm taking in what I can see from on-high, I say to Otthor (referencing the scratching coming from the common hall), "does that sound like a dog to you?"

[sblock]Discern Realities (Wis)

4, 1 + 2 = 7. 1 question and + 1 forward when acting on the answer.

What happened here recently? Specifically, are the doors barred or windows shuttered and what about the burned building?[/sblock]

Per Manbearcat
Given that there are no signs of fires, no signs of light, no signs of transit, no signs of upkeep...the settlers are all dead or have been driven from their homes. All of the doors show signs of being boarded up from the inside and the windows are clearly boarded up from the outside.

The burned out husk of a building must have been set ablaze some time ago. The burned timbers have degraded quite a bit from the cold. It is burned enough that it either wildly got out of control quickly or it was intentionally set ablaze and left to burn.

[sblock]Defy Danger (Wis)
4, 3 + 2 = 9.

Success with complication.[/sblock]

Per Manbearcat
Your mind is awash with deranged and violent images. For a few moments, they assail you intermittently with auditory hallucinations accompanying them. You see horrific images of slaughter, carnal actions, sometimes the marriage of the two. You feel a burning hatred for some minor transgression that Otthor has committed in the past. You feel formless and changing. Then it stops.

You shunt them from your mind and all that is left is a nagging headache. You take - 1 forward to Aid or Defend Otthor.

I bow my head and rub my temples. When the visions have passed, I turn to Otthor and Rawr. "Did you feel that?"

Per Manbearcat
In whatever way that he typically conveys language to you (perhaps rearing or snorting), Rawr conveys that his head hurts too and he has seen things in his head that aren't here.

Unless Otthor is debilitated by whatever affect is upon us, we'll warily move through the open gates and down into the settlement. I point to the common hall but we'll make a sweep around the perimeter to search for any signs of passage/tracks or any other clues as to what may have happened here. I would prefer us to stay together here.

 

[Manbearcat]

[sblock]...and a little offscreen while we wait for our male elven hero to make an appearance.[/sblock]

Meanwhile...many miles away...

The chill wind is a hail of daggers on their exposed faces. Their lungs burn in their chests, their feet throb through their boots. Its a whiteout, but the hasty crunch of snow easily marks their fleeing path for their pursuit.

The man blindly leading the trio by hand thinks "...what was I thinking coming here...Gods help me, I've cursed us to an even crueler fate..."

The little one yelps as he takes yet another tumble in the uneven, unforgiving ground of the highland tundra. The snow is not soft, but icy hard. Where he hits it he bruises. Where he misses it, he gashes his skin on razor-rock. Whether through fear or wanting to show his father he is tough lad, he stifles a sob.

The third of the trio wraps her arms around his tiny waist and scoops him up, nestling him near to her momentarily to offer him some security amidst the terror that he is surely feeling. She smiles at him "...you are strong like your father."

A hulking shadow casts over them, stealing the tenderness of the moment. The much smaller man attempts to throw himself between his family and the huge, looming brute. The back of a hand as large as the man's head greets him, felling him unconscious. "The father is weak and so shall the son be."

Another man, also covered in heavy furs, smaller, but no less imposing, walks up to the group. "We've fed you lot for two weeks...given you shelter...kept you safe from 'the things" out there....and this is how you show your gratitude? Slinking off in the night...your debt unpaid?"

He steps in close to the kneeling woman and her boy. One eye nothing more than an empty socket, face a mess of pocks and scars, he whispers "...nothing in the highlands is free."

 

[Manbearcat]

I'm going to move things forward as our male elven hero has inevitably fallen prey to the coven of four witches that he domesticates with.

I bow my head and rub my temples. When the visions have passed, I turn to Otthor and Rawr. "Did you feel that?"

[sblock]Otthor Defy Danger (Wis)

3, 5 + 0 = 8

Success with complications.[/sblock]

I'll let Otthor add to this to whatever degree he wishes when he gets an opportunity to post. He is assailed by the same disorienting and disturbing images that you are. When you ask about it, he answers in the affirmative as he narrows his eyes like a hawk surveying the scene for prey...in this case, an unseen enemy.

[MENTION=6781356]Tecklenburg[/MENTION], due to some nagging paranoia that you cannot explain, you take - 1 forward to Discern Realities.

...we'll warily move through the open gates and down into the settlement. I point to the common hall but we'll make a sweep around the perimeter to search for any signs of passage/tracks or any other clues as to what may have happened here. I would prefer us to stay together here.

As you circle around the perimeter, all is eerily quiet save for the stray scratch, scratch, scratch that you hear coming from within the large festhall that bisects the settlement in the back; a common hall for governance, community feasts, and a hostel for any traveler's from Gilliad's Rest or elsewhere.

The wind whips up momentarily as you pass near one of the houses.

Nailed to the timbers of an exterior wall of one of the buildings is a shabbily scrawled note on goatskin parchment. It tears loose at the great gust of wind. Blowing freely, it is carried aloft near you. You easily intercept it before it is lost. It appears to be smeared in extreme haste by an ink-stain fingered:

Gone. All gone. Taken by that thing. Think it was Edmonds.

Pass closed. Went to Coldlands. Maybe highland tribes will help. Took Miller's wife and son with us.

Don't go into the common house.

The snow isn't as deep under the small structure's eave and the freeze has kept some prints embedded in the icy whiteness. If you'd like to Hunt and Track, you can give it a go.

Not far from where you have intercepted the note is a small cemetery on a gently rolling hill from which the snow seems to naturally shed. Five headstones are older and have markings on them to signify the year and the deceased. Five more are not so old and their headstones are uncarved and uncut.

The scorched house with the collapsed roof stares at you from across the way. A set of heavy, locked wooden doors separate the outside world from whatever lies within the cellar.

Just a few paces away now, scratch, scratch, scratch from the common house.

 

[Binks]

I suspect that the footprints are likely the people that left the settlement to go to the Coldlands. I'll mark the structure where they are located in my mind and we will come back to that. I quietly point them out to Otthor as I do and I point away from the settlement, signalling my thoughts.

On our trek around the perimeter, we'll carefully navigate the small hill where the cemetery lies. Given the terrain, the snow-cover will be thin and, therefore, sure to be icy and treacherous. We examine the newer graves. I want to see if any burial rites were given; signs of normal funeral customs. That will give me information on the haste with which they were buried as the lack of inscriptions seems to be in line with a rush.

Per Manbearcat
You don't need to Discern Realities here. Your instincts are spot on. You can tell a shallow grave when you see one. This is a rush job, to be sure. The other gravestones are well-inscribed, and adorned with various mementos of faith, etc. Nothing here. They are extremely recent as well as the ground is not leveled or eroded to smoothness.

We'll carefully make the trek over to the house ruined by the fire where the locked cellar is located. I want to check out the doors for claw marks or any sign of destruction and investigate how sturdy the barring is. I knock on the door and listen for a response.

[sblock]Discern Realities (Wis)
2, 3 + 2 = 7. 1 question and + 1 forward when acting on it.

What recently happened here?[/sblock]

Per Manbearcat
The doors show no sign of damage outside of the normal wear and tear of age. They are solid wood, reinforced with iron. The slat holding them in place is pretty standard. You are able to easily remove it from this side.

Just as you are about to knock on the door, you hear a strange sound from within. It is an odd sort of quiet, muffled wailing through disjointed speech that sounds as if someone is attempting to speak the common tongue but cannot make the sound.

You take + 1 forward when acting on this.

I narrow my eyes and look at Otthor and listen intently with my keen hearing, honed by ages stalking prey and scouting hostile territory. Is this the sound of a aberrant creature, something injured, or something else entirely? Is there a smell of rot or decay coming from the cellar? If someone does explode out of there, Otthor and I want to be in the best position possible to strike it before it can accost us.

[sblock]Discern Realities (Wis) + 1 forward as I'm acting on the prior info.

6, 3, + 2 + 1 = 12.

- What is about to happen?
- What should I be on the lookout for?
- What here is useful or valuable to me?[/sblock]

Per Manbearcat

- Nothing is about to burst from these doors, but the scratch, scratch, scratch is growing more frequent, and it is now coupled with the familiar whining of an extremely old dog, just as you expected.

- If something does burst out of the common building, the inside burned out ruins of this building would make great cover with the windows providing line of sight directly to the front door where the scratch, scratch, scratch, and now whining, is coming from.

- The voice is that of an adolescent. Its hard to say if its male or female because it is muffled, probably under layers of insulating soft material (such as blankets or linens). It is a sob but a sob that is trying to speak. You make out the word "ma" and "pa" in the midst of the collage of incessant babbling.

Take + 1 forward when acting on those.

Ok, I think I'd like to hold here and give my brother-in-arms, [MENTION=6781356]Tecklenburg[/MENTION] a chance for some input on what we do next, because it seems like its about to get hairy. If the witches and their powerful spellbinding of cuteness, batted eyelashes, and "UDAH ME" keeps him delayed for two more days, I'll act on my own.

 

[Tecklenburg]

I'll pay close attention to Saerie as we investigate the settlement. I'll watch the way she moves, what she is paying attention to, and what she deems important to our investigation of what transpired here. When she points out the tracks, I'll listen attentively and follow them with my eyes as far as I can, which is a scrub-brush-filled, hilly terrain to the northeast.

At the cellar when things grow urgent and it seems like something may come forth from the common building with that dog, I'll finally speak up and give my thoughts.

[sblock]Spout Lore (Int)

3, 5 + 3 = 11.

* something interesting and useful about the subject relevant to your situation.[/sblock]

This building is burned out pretty badly. These are log homes without hewn timbers. I've built many shelters such as this for short-lived barracks so the construction is familiar to me. The dowel joints for the primary load-bearing walls are compromised from the fire. I move over to one and give it a push. The building creaks precariously. I nod and quietly say "that will do" to myself as I move back to Saerie. I lean in close and whisper:

Here you will have cover from whatever foul thing, or things, comes through that door - pointing across the way to the common building. Instruct your bear and he and I will take up positions on alternate sides of the door so we may engage whatever comes forth.

If something gets through us and you are in peril, kick the wall here <pointing it to here> and flee the structure immediately. It will collapse with no delay.

Whatever is in there may be beyond our means. If things go poorly, we will need a rally point. The hills to the northeast where the tracks seemed to lead? We may be able to pick them up again there.

If you agree [MENTION=6775039]Binks[/MENTION] , I'll get into position once you instruct your bear.

 

[Binks]

If you agree [MENTION=6775039]Binks[/MENTION] , I'll get into position once you instruct your bear.

I agree.

Saerie quietly instructs her bear to follow Otthor to the front of the common building and take position opposite him, flanking the door. She then settles comfortably into her snipers nest, looking out the window frame of the collapsing building. She makes sure her quiver is in perfect position for her reach, then she pulls forth an arrow, strings it, and trains her aim on the door. Whatever comes forth, she'll be ready.

I assume I'll be attacking a surprised enemy at range here so I can use Called Shot?

 

[Manbearcat]

I assume I'll be attacking a surprised enemy at range here so I can use Called Shot?

That is correct.

Saerie's bear dutifully minds her and pads along at a brisk, quiet pace behind Otthor. As they approach the boarded up (and likely barricaded) front door of the building, the whining and scratching of the dog on the great double doors increases in pace and urgency. As you both get into position, suddenly <WHAM>. Then again. <WHAM>. The whole building shudders under the forceful blasts from something of enormous strength in the interior.

<WHAM>. The third strike brings with it an explosion of splintered timbers as the front doors are smashed through. The haggard, starving, hip-displasia-suffering form of an elderly shephard dog (of the German shephard look IRL) bolts (insofar as he can bolt) from the structure. It is utterly dark in the interior so a quick glance doesn't reveal what is within. However, immediately after the dog bolts, a disgusting, almost rransluscent, pink-hued tendril erupts from the darkness within. The thing has the girth of a great constrictor snake and the speed of a viper's strike. It easily grasps the poor dog, entwines the yelping creature, and threatens to withdraw and bring it back inside where some horrific end inevitably awaits it.

What are you guys doing? You can both make a move.

 

[Binks]

...immediately after the dog bolts, a disgusting, almost translucent, pink-hued tendril erupts from the darkness within. The thing has the girth of a great constrictor snake and the speed of a viper's strike. It easily grasps the poor dog, entwines the yelping creature, and threatens to withdraw and bring it back inside where some horrific end inevitably awaits it.

[sblock]Called Shot (Dex) - Arm (Tendril would basically be an arm here I'm assuming)

5, 3 + 2 = 10

(d8) 7 + 3 (Rawr is in range to apply his Ferocity) = 10 damage and they drop anything they're holding.

Per Manbearcat
That is enough damage to sever the tentacle, destroying it.

[/sblock]

A sneer involuntarily forms on Saerie's face as an eye squeezes shut, her aim is locked in, and her arrow flies free. The velocity and accuracy of the arrow achieve their grotesque ends as Rawr's great maul tears into the constrictor-like mass. The morbid appendage explodes in a spray of thick, pinkish liquid. The severed portion lets the dog go. Rawr shakes it wildly in his maw before flinging it. The thing flails about on the ground for a moment, whipping this way and that, before it realizes its dead and becomes still.

Per Manbearcat
The dog runs free in the freezing snow, then loops back toward Otthor, cowering behind and against his legs. Dogs can instinctively sense both friends and strength. It knows Otthor will protect it and is up to the task.

Alright, the dog is safe and the tendril is down. Score one for the good guys. I'm going to maintain my position here. I'm sure I don't have the angle to see into the dark recesses of the common house so I'll leave that to you Otthor. I'll have an arrow ready should anything else come out!