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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Carnifex" data-source="post: 290887" data-attributes="member: 227">Silent Runnings:Finding himself in one of the small villagers houses, Kale slipped the umbramantic ring on his finger and watched as the shadows around the room slipped towards him, draping him in darkness and bringing a cool sensation to his skin after the encompassing warmth of the burning barn. He reached for his healing potion, only to find that it too had been shattered by the fall; the precious liquid within had doubtless spilt on the barn floor, now burned to steam by the inferno that was consuming the building over the road. As he watched, support timbers within failed and the barn begin to collapse in on itself. Looking around the house, it seemed to be a normal, one-storey peasant home; but something unpleasant on the air caught his nostrils. He found the source quickly, in a pool of blood by the fire. The owner seemed to have been caught by the werewolves during their initial attck, an elderly man with his throat torn out, curled in a foetal position in death. * * *The temple loomed up over the smithy party as they scurried the last few feet into its protecting embrace; once within, all could let out a sigh of relief. Militiamen grabbed the boxes of arrows and weapons, carrying them into the main chamber to be handed out to the troops; the 'commanders', Wolf, Evant and Latorath, quickly hurried to meet the returned band. "Thank Ishrak," Wolf said with a lopsided grin as he saw that the mercenaries had returned without too much apparent damage to life and limb. "Seems the decoy worked well enough to get you lot back here in one piece." * * *Char stung Kale's nose as stifled a growl, angry with himself that he'd broken his needed potion. Sitting enshrouded in shadow, it was more important than ever that he haul his battered body back to the temple- without being detected. Foul scent and sight, Kale's encountered the corpse of a hapless villager. There was no sorrow in the mercenary's heart, as the sight served only as a warning in this desperate time. Screw up, and you end up like this. Taking a cloth to quickly bind his torn shoulder, Kale gritted his teeth for the pain, peeking as he did so through the window and the deadly zone beyond.  Precious little time for preparation, he exited into shadow as quickly as he could. Making his way downwind for a bit, he turned then and parallelled his way back to the temple, hoping the wolves' darkvision was an exagerated fable. Drawing his sword slowly from a baked leather sheath, Kale moved out, concealing the odd oily blade from any light source. To the balls of his feet, he watched and moved silently, prey in a stalking game he simply couldn't afford to lose.* * *The temple doors opened for them. Relieved, Burl uttered, “Quickly men, inside the temple. They must quickly arm themselves as we need to help Kale.” Burl handed his share of the items off and waited for the last to make it safely inside before he shut the door behind him. Looking to Wolf and the others, “What of Kale? Has he been spotted?” Barely waiting for an answer, he continued, “Shouldn’t we be going to look for him?His question was echoed by the priestess. "Where's Kale? Did Kale make it back?" Wyshira searched the faces of those gathered in the Temple, looking for an answer to her question. She barely even noticed Wolf's words of thanksgiving to the goddess. Kale was not there. "Wolf, Burl and I are going for Kale," she told the older mercenary even as she was heading towards the temple door.As Wyshira and Burl headed for the way out, intent on seeking Kale, Wolf interposed himself between them and the exit, iron grip grasping their shoulders. "No." "You go out that door, what do you think you'll achieve? You're right, Kale isn't back yet. That means he's either dead, in which case there's nothing you can do for him, or he's alive and well and trying to make his way back. If you go storming out there after him, and he's trying to quietly make his way back, what do you think you'll achieve?" "You'll alert them to his presence, and yours. It'll most likely be the death of all of you. If you go running out there now, the coven will tear you to pieces. Kale, on his own, stands a chance of getting back. We've pretty much expended all the tricks we have of decoying the wolves so we just have to sit and wait for him to make it back by himself." "You think Kale wants to make it back for me to tell him that you two got torn to shreds by running off on your own into the village?" The Inquisitor and the Solar Templar watched silently; a matter for the mercenaries to solve amidst themselves, it seemed. Burl heard these words, then thought, Maybe we will achieve getting Kale back again. But he answered instead, “What good did we accomplish by bringing these weapons back if we don’t use them. Arm the men so we can sweep through the city while the beasts are confused. And at the same time maybe, just maybe we can save our friend. If we wait until the morning, the beasts will have had time to recover and regroup and our task will be much harder and more than likely Kale will be dead.” Even as he spoke, Burl knew that Wolf and the others were right and that Kale would just have to make it on his own.* * *It is here that a new PC joins the game: Cord, a monk of Grumand (the earth god) and a dwarf. What makes this character so unique is that he is also entirely blind. We came up with a special ‘Blind’ template for him; effectively he cannot make use of any sight-related ability, while gaining a big bonus to Listen checks and suchlike. However, since he is also a monk and focused towards perfect attunement, the template also grants him Blindsight out to a distance of up to half his speed; meaning that as he progresses in monk levels and his speed increases, so does his ability to sense the world around him to a far higher peak through listening, smell and feeling movements in the air around him.For Cord, travel didn't abide by the normal rhythms of day and night. He walked when he felt able, and slept when he was tired. For the sightless, whether it was the gloom of night or the light of day did not matter. Thus it was that his travels had brought him to the small village in the south-west of Adbar in the morning, after many hours of travel in the quiet of dark. A friendly peasant farmer had offered him lodgings at his own home to sleep in; he found that often people would give him such aid just to hope for returned aid from Grumand in the form of rich soils and suchlike. So that morning, even as the sun rose, he had settled down to sleep. * * *Kale crept through the shadows; they shimmered and tugged after him in his wake, but the growing gloom of evening could only serve to aid his hopes of staying hidden. His progress was slow, agonisingly slow, but he simply couldn't risk being seen now. As he snuck past the back door of one peasant house, he struck trouble. Silently padding along, he didn't notice that the shadows that protected him also concealed a resting lycanthrope behind a pile of chopped wood that kept it from his sight. Stepping past the wood-pile, he found himself right next to the being; it was in human form but the feral eyes and blood spattered down its shirt left him in little doubt of what it was. They both stared at each other for a second or two, caught up in shock at the others sudden appearance, and then the werewolf began to struggle to its feet... No. No, NO!!! Kale's mind shouted in denial as the feral bloody form scrambled before him. Bereft of team, gear, proper weapons, health, dirty tricks- yet another threat, and the desperate mercenary began to fade despondant. Taking on too much with this assignment, it seemed the mistake would be his last. But this blood has a cost, Kale thought to the wolf, leaping on the thing like a wild animal. Stronger and faster, the stained chest beast would beat the wounded man. Choosing a test of strength, Kale could at least deny the thing its jarring speed. The pages of epics, inked in faceless warriors' blood- an anonymous honor, a nameless end. Kale could imagine his unmarked grave, and he could consider it no regret, so long as he drove... this... blade... home. * * *Cord awoke. It was quiet, yet he was sure that for those with sight, it must have been some time before nightfalll just yet; surely the village must still be active and noisy? But no, his acute ears could pick nothing up except... ...except the roaring, crackling sound of fire. Something was burning, it sounded like a building not all that far away, and to his sensitive nostrils it brought the acrid tang of smoke. And yet, apart from that, no sounds. No people desperately rushing around to douse the fire, nothing at all. He could smell something else on the breeze too; blood. Its metallic tang lingered in the air, though he could not tell the source. Blood, the scent of death. The uneasy feelings that had been plaguing him for months now as he walked the Drakkath flared up into supremacy in his sensations; it was almost gut-wrenching, just how strongly he could feel that something was wrong here. Cord could smell it, feel it, taste it.He rose from the bed, gripping the splintering edge with strength and sniffed the air slightly, hoping to catch the distinctive whiff of the man that welcomed him earlier in the day. Nothing, only the overwhelming smell of blood mixed with the heavy charcoal of wood smoke. He hesitated to even allow the thought into his mind, but there seemed no choice: the town was dead. He stifled his reaction. He was, after all, still alive. Others must be as well. Cord wove through the house, it's floorplan memorized when he first explored before setting down to rest. He made his short way to the main room, hoping to sense the movements of the peasant and his family. He paused, listening. Again, nothing. Except-The house was only a single storey; suddenly, just outside the back door, he heard movement. He twisted his body in the direction of the sudden sound. It had come from somewhere in the back, a slight movement on the other side of the thin wall. He wanted to believe it was the peasant, but his gut convinced him otherwise. No family could function normally with the palpable sense of wrongness in the air. Touching doorframes as he passed, lightly dragging his fingers against worn wood, he made his way to the back door. Again, movement. Cord listened, and waited. Dear Grumand, what is happening here? he thought. He placed one palm smoothly against the door and sensed the vibrations through the wood, mentally preparing himself for what he must discover on the other side. I must find the way, and act as I need. * * *Wyshira gasped in shock at Wolf's forceful "No", and had to blink back tears at the mercenary's seemingly cold-hearted assessment of Kale's situation. She wanted to argue that there was a third possibility: that Kale could be unconscious and dying somewhere, in which case there was something she could do for him - she could save his life. But she recognized Wolf as the group's leader. And she had to admit that some of what he said made sense. She certainly didn't want to jeopardize Kale's chances of making his stealthy way back to the Temple, by actually drawing the werewolves' attention to him. And if all three of them - Kale, Burl, and herself - were killed out there, the hope that this village could survive the werewolves' attack would very definitely be severely diminished. But what was she anyway? She didn't see herself as a mercenary, not really. When she had first met Kaerval and heard about his uncle Wolf, the Merc, she had been a priestess in search of a flock to care for. His little band had fit the bill for her nicely: she could use her skills to keep them healthy, while traveling and seeing a little bit of the world. She had been ready to do her share of fighting when the time came too (and so far she had done so), but her real mission, at least in her own eyes, was to take care of the crew by healing their wounds and keeping them safe with the help of the goddess. She just couldn't help but feel that she was failing miserably if she left Kale out there to fend for himself. "Wolf, I - " she began, but she couldn't find the words to tell the mercenary how she felt. Burl rather heatedly suggested that they take the opportunity to attack the werewolves now while they were still confused by the fire, and Wyshira couldn't agree more. "That's right, we have to do something, don't we?" But then, they couldn't very well weaken themselves by splitting their forces. And a sizable force would have to be left at the Temple to defend the townsfolk. She sighed and turned away from Wolf and the others, and began to pace near the door. She whispered a silent and heartfelt prayer that Ishrak would bestow her blessing on Kale.Wolf stared coldly at Burl. "You want to lead all these men to their deaths too, Burl?" "Why do you think they're all holed up in here? It's the most defensible location in this whole god-forsaken village, that's why. If a contingent of men leaves the safety of this compound they are easy meat for the werewolves, who'll be able to pick them off with hit and run attacks, choose when they're weakest and take advantage of the fact that they have no defences... these are ordinary men, wizard. They may now have weapons that can hurt the foe but they fear, and they wish they were elsewhere, and they know that what they're fighting isn't human. It's called morale, Burl, and if you think you're going to be able to rally them to charge out into certain death behind you, then you'd best think again." "So Kale toasted a few werewolves - it doesn't mean they're beaten, and it doesn't mean we'll win if we leave the safety of this temple. We can force them to come to us, if they want the woman back, while we're in a tactically sound defencible position. And guess what? If we all go running out of here now, all those villagers are going to die because we decided that it was a good idea to go charging off. They don't stand a chance without the protection of the militiamen, and we've run out of tricks to decoy the werewolves now, I'm afraid." "The best we can do for Kale now is wait. If he's still alive, he stands a better chance of getting back alive without us going blundering out there and getting all of us killed. If he isn't, then we should make sure that what he did is worth something by not getting ourselves all killed on some fool expedition into the jaws of death." "I fought in a war between the Killanese and a giant tribe of the Storm mountains. I was scouting out their positions, but had to lie low for longer than intended because I nearly got seen by a patrol and their shaman. If they'd seen me, I'd have been carrion. Only, I was away a bit long and the contingent I was assigned to scout for were led by a fool young captain, who decided he'd lead his men off to find out what had become of me. What do you know, as I was creeping away, the forerunners hailed me with shouts and cries. The giants couldn't miss three score soldiers clattering around, and they killed them all." He rolled up one of his sleeves, so the others could see the scars ringing his arm at the top, in a serried circle all the way round. "I was ****ing lucky there was a Manipulator in camp to reattach my arm. If you go out there now and draw attention to the fact that Kale's still alive, you kill him as surely as if you'd driven a dagger in his heart." Burl turned and walked away from Wolf to sulk in the corner. The wound that Wolf had shown had at first caused him some concern, but after a bit, Burl realized that for someone in his line of work, a few ugly scars was just a natural occurance. Well Spike, I guess I deserved that chewing out. I’m not the battle smart leader here. I only wished that he had taken me aside and spoke rather than dressing me down in front of everyone. It isn’t like I wanted glory. All I wanted was to find Kale. Finding a place to sit, Burl waited for orders, checking his equipment and his component pouch making sure he had everything he would need.* * *Kale and the werewolf both reacted at the same moment, the thing pulling itself up from the ground even as Kale lunged at it. He stabbed with the brine blade, the enchanted sword glinting with the oily exudations along it, but the beast twisted amazingly fast even as it changed form with a gristly crunch and a stomach-churning alteration in appearance. It staggered backwards, slightly off balance at the need to dodge even as it stood up, and bared its fangs at him, snarling as it opened its claws wide and prepared for battle. Kale himself had been thrown off-balance too, hitting the wall behind where the werewolf had been with a thud before he could round on the monster. And into the confusion stepped someone, a short figure slipping out of the back door of the house. A dwarf, that much was immediately clear to Kale, and one of advanced age it seemed from his long and unruly gray-white beard. He wore merely simple garb, but moved with strange grace and speed for a dwarf. There was something else, something Kale couldn't quite place, which was very wrong with the fellow too. The werewolf seemed as surprised by the newcomer as Kale; both had yet to see what he would do. Cord found himself between a man and a beast. His acute senses, amazingly attuned by his blindness and monastic training, could tell the man was afraid by the sweat upon him, but he also smelt strongly of smoke and burned material; his blade had the acrid tang of something chemical lingering in the air. The fellow moved with grace, with speed, and was obviously fighting the other thing... it stank of blood, beast-sweat and foulness, and it had been human one moment and now canine. The stench reminded him of the packs of mongrels in the streets when he had been a beggar, but this had something else too, something corrupted. He could feel it in his very bones; this thing was unattuned to the land, and the land hated it. Grumands antipathy towards it could be felt exuding from the soil beneath Cord's feet; it was a part of the horrible wrongness he had been feeling, he was sure. Cord shrunk back from the overpowering scent of the twisted mockery of nature, at the last moment turning his foot slightly into a defensive stance against the creature. He remained unsure of the man behind him, and kept his hearing attuned to any movements, but Cord kept his attention focused on the beast that had fulfilled his premonitions of the past months. There would be time to worry about the fire and chemical aroma later; now, he had to deal with this canine-human. A werewolf. He readied his stance and prepared for the onslaught, sensing the ragged hot puffs of breath upon his skin and the slightest vibrations of the air as the werewolf shifted positions. "You are a thing not of this world," Cord said quietly, yet clearly, blank eyes staring disconcertingly directly at the werewolf's form. "Leave, foul beast." Of course, the werewolf had no intention of just leaving like the elderly dwarf requested. The short humanoid was old, clearly, a weak, elderly being that was no more deserving of the life it had than that pyromaniac human hiding behind it. Easy prey. Easy meat. Easy kill. The monster therefore leapt at him without another moments hesitation, but Kale's readied counterattack caught it by surprise. It wasn't particularly afraid of the man darting in with a blade as it sailed through the air towards the old dwarf; who had fallen into a stance that suggested he had some battle experience, because it knew well that normal weapons were no threat to its superior being. It was somewhat of a shock, therefore, when the blade slashed in through its ribs and sliced into a lung and innards, the chemical smell of acid billowing from the wound as it corroded through bone and flesh. Agonised and frenzied in pain, it slammed into the monk, rabidly sinking its teeth into his arm held defensively out. Blood spurted from the series of tooth-marks but then the acid tearing through its innards overcame the beast and it collapsed, crumpling into a dead pile at Cord's feet. Silence reigned through the village once again. The faint tang of acid now wafted in the air as the werewolf-pile gave one final gurgle before blood streamed out of its mouth and it expired for good.  </blockquote>

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