ADVENTURE 17: THE WOLF WITHIN
Game Session Date: 12 March 2016
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Twilight was nearing and the heroes began looking for a good place to camp for the night. As they traveled down the road in their mule-driven wagon, with Binkadink and Finoula riding Obvious and Daisy, respectively, they turned a corner in the road and saw a sight none of them had expected to see: hanging from a branch directly in front of them was a man, his hands digging into the noose choking the life out of him. His legs kicked feebly, his actions slowed down, as his very breath was stolen from him.
Binkadink sent Obvious dashing forward, dipping his furry head beneath the hanged man and then raising his antlers to support the man's legs, as the gnome pulled his glaive from its holder at the jackalope's side and cut through the rope above the noose with a single swipe of his blade. He had hoped the man, thus freed, would steady himself on Obvious's antlers; no such luck - he plopped backwards onto the dirt of the dusty road beneath him, grunting in pain as he landed.
Castillan checked both ways down the road, looking for anyone nearby who might have done this. Despite the rapidly-setting sun, there was still ample light to see among the trees that dotted the landscape; nobody else was visible.
Ingebold leaped from the mule-wagon and raced to the man's side, channeling healing energy through her hand via a simple word of prayer to Moradin. The man groaned, stirred, and then bolted upright in alarm.
"Be at ease, friend," said Ingebold in a soothing voice, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Now then, who did this t'ye?"
"Did this?" repeated the man, bewilderment evident in his voice. "I did this. You shouldn't have cut me down!"
"Why not?" asked Finoula, stepping forward.
"Because I'll turn into a werewolf and try to kill you as soon as the sun sets and Luna rises!"
"Whoa now, hold on," said Castillan. "Maybe you'd better start this story from the beginning." At the man's hesitation, the bounder added, "There are enough of us here to take you out if you start growing fur and try to kill us. We're practiced adventurers, after all."
"Okay," replied the man, rubbing his sore neck and looking up at the seven adventurers standing around him in a ring as he removed the remains of the noose. Seven -- that should be enough, he thought. "My name's Hugo," he began. "I raise sheep."
"Again with the sheep," muttered Gilbert.
"It's sheep country," hissed Finoula to the heavyset wizard. "Let the man finish."
"Two nights ago, two of my sheep went missing from their pen," Hugo continued. "I found the prints of a wolf in my yard, so last night, I stayed up with my bow and arrow, hiding behind the well, ready to catch him if he came back. Well, I must have fallen asleep or something, because the next thing I knew, it was morning, I was naked in my yard, there was blood all over my hands and face, and Fuzzy was half-eaten."
"Fuzzy is a sheep?" guessed Finoula.
"She was, yes," confirmed Hugo. "There's Fuzzy, Wuzzy, Fluffy, Buffy...and Shaggy-Muffin. The two that went missing were--"
"We don't need names of sheep," interrupted Gilbert. "Get on with story." Then, at a stern look from Finoula, he added, "...Please."
"That's about all there is to it," finished Hugo. "I may be a simple sheep farmer, but I know what's what. I got bit by a werewolf, and now I'm a werewolf, too. I got it confirmed by a fortune teller and everything. So I decided I needed to end it all before I hurt anyone. It took me all day to find the courage, but as twilight got closer and closer, I knew I had to do something."
"Wait," said Gilbert. "When this fortune teller show up?"
"Late this afternoon. They had a big wagon, pulled by two horses. Vistani, I think they're called. The people, not the horses, I mean. They were just passing by. But anyway, I told the fortune teller my story, showed her my bite mark, and she confirmed my worst fears. What's worse, she said eventually I wouldn't be satisfied with just killing sheep, neither - I'd go after people!"
"Can we see this bite mark of yours?" asked Finoula. Hugo obediently stood up and lifted his shirt, exposing his left side. Sure enough, there were teeth marks on the side of his back, just above the waistline. "Ingebold?" Finoula asked, frowning.
"Oh, aye," the dwarven cleric confirmed. "Those be human teeth marks, all right. Ye weren't bitten by a wolf, Hugo - ye were bitten by a human!"
"A human?" exclaimed Hugo. "That can't be!" He turned in a slow circle trying to look at his own back.
"Well, it might be an elf," admitted Ingebold. "But it weren't no wolf, that's fer sure."
Darrien rummaged around in his coin purse, then approached Hugo. He placed a silver coin directly on the back of the sheep farmer's hand, held it firmly in place, then removed it and and examined the skin. It was unblemished.
"I don't know what's going on here," the half-elf ranger said, "but you're not a werewolf, Hugo. You don't react to silver. You weren't bitten by a wolf, but a person."
"Maybe the wolf bite turned into a human bite when the werewolf transformed back into human form," suggested the confused sheep farmer.
"I don't think it works that way," replied Castillan.
"Plus, if you bitten by werewolf only last night, you don't transform into werewolf last night," piped up Gilbert. "You transform tonight, for first time."
"And Luna's now up over the treeline, and you're not a wolf," concluded Darrien. It was true: this was the last night of the full moon, and Luna's rays now cast a warm light over the nighttime scene. And there stood Hugo, clearly still a human.
"Hmmm," he said. "I wonder what's going on?"
"Let's go check out your farm," suggested Finoula. "Maybe there's something there to indicate who's behind this."
"Do ye have any enemies?" asked Ingebold. "Anybody who might want ye dead?"
"None that I know of," replied Hugo. "I'm a sheep farmer. Who's enemies with a sheep farmer? Anyway, come on - my farm's over this way."
Hugo lived in a simple, two-room structure, with a small bedroom to the left and an open living area to the right. The only other structure on his land was a small building for the sheep, surrounded by a wooden fence to form a pen. A stone well provided water, there were a few apples trees in the back - and that was about it.
"Cozy place," commented Gilbert.
"This is where I woke up this morning," said Hugo, pointing to an area in the front, next to the sheep pen. "See? There's the remains of the clothes I was wearing yesterday." Darrien examined the clothes in the moonlight - and the everburning torches tied to the antler's on Binkadink's helmet - and grunted. "Look here," he said. "These rips look like they were made by claws after the fact, not torn apart during transformation."
"Prints!" called Finoula, her elven eyes picking out the paw-prints of a large wolf in the dirt of Hugo's land. "Two pairs of them, and - huh! It looks like they were standing on their back feet."
"So we're looking for two people wearing boots with wolf paws on the bottoms?" asked Binkadink. "This is sounding like something Jinkadoodle would come up with."
"Could be gnolls," offered Gilbert.
"Which ones are gnolls again?" asked Finoula.
"Hyena people!" replied the portly wizard. "We fight really big one in forest after fighting beetles in lair!"
"That was a gnoll?" asked Finoula.
"Well, maybe," admitted Gilbert. "It far too big for normal gnoll. Maybe it gnoll made big with spell or potion."
"Smoggety!" called out Aithanar suddenly from behind the well. Pointing to the ground, he added, "Flinkerdy snorkus!" Despite his nonsensical words, he had found yet another set of footprints - these made by a human or elf, probably a woman by the size of the feet, wearing moccasins or something similar. "Good eye!" said Finoula, and the young fighter's chest filled with pride.
Following the tracks, both sets of wolf prints and the woman's prints all led across the yard and out into the road. Tracking became more difficult there, given the hardness of the road's surface compared to the fresh dirt and grass of the farmer's yard. Checking through the house, Hugo confirmed nothing was missing - not that he had much in the way of goods to steal; Finoula noticed he had but one fork, one knife, one spoon, one cup, one bowl, and one plate.
"So where does this leave us?" asked Binkadink.
"I think we find Vistani wagon," answered Gilbert. "Hugo - which way wagon go?"
"It went right down the road in front of my house," the farmer replied. "Headed east."
"Saddle up," commanded Gilbert. "We follow road east."
Fortunately, it was a fairly straightforward section of road for the next dozen miles or so, with no major intersections. By simply staying on the main road, the group found the Vistani wagon about five miles from Hugo's farm. A simple camp had been set up, with two Vistani women cooking over a small campfire. Two black horses stood nearby, their reins tied to trees, and the brightly-colored wagon had a pair of sturdy logs wedged against one of the wheels to prevent it from moving. Hugo confirmed that one of the two women was the fortune teller he'd spoken to that afternoon.
"I greet thee," said the taller woman as the group pulled up, in what was apparently a ritual greeting. Both women wore head scarves over their dark hair, and their garb seemed to be many different layers of material in a variety of colors. Finoula's eyes were drawn to their footwear: soft leather boots in each case. Not conclusive by any means, but either one could certainly have made the footprints they'd found at Hugo's farm.
"Would you care to--Aaaah!" began the other woman, clearly frightened in mid-sentence upon recognizing Hugo. "Mark of the Beast!" She made some type of warding gesture with her hands.
"Beast? Me?" sputtered Hugo. "But they said--"
"Ladies," said Darrien, sidling up to the Vistani women - a role usually reserved for Castillan, but he had opted to sneak over to the Vistani wagon from the north, apart from the group, to see what he could learn, and thus had dropped off the side of the mule-driven wagon as soon as the Vistani camp had come into view. "I understand you've already met Hugo, but as you can see, the full moon is out and Hugo is not a werewolf."
"But, how can this be?" asked the fortune teller, Djolbana. "I myself heard his story, saw bite of wolf upon his back."
"It's not a wolf bite after all," said Hugo, lifting up his shirt and showing Djolbana his scar, already mostly healed by the spells Ingebold had cast upon him. "It's a human bite. See?"
"This very strange. Earlier today, it was bite of wolf. I have not heard of such magics as these before. But it is good you are not wolf! Come! Join Anelka and I for dinner! There is food for all - it is only simple stew, but we have wine and bread to share as well." As introductions were made all around, Castillan approached the enclosed wagon and saw the only door visible seemed to be the one at the vehicle's rear. The hinges showed it opened outwards; the rustiness of the hinges warned of a possibly loud squeak if he tried opening the door.
"What kind of stew this?" asked Gilbert.
"Mostly mutton," replied Djolbana, serving up a bowl. "But we add to it with what the gods provide. The men are out hunting now - perhaps they return with rabbit, or squirrel, or pheasant."
"Mutton, huh? You get mutton from Hugo, maybe?" asked Gilbert.
"Hmm? No, we buy lamb from farmer, three, four days ago."
"Hey, maybe you help us. Aithanar here, he hit head, now he talk funny."
"He's not the only one," added Darrien in a stage whisper.
"You shut stupid half-elf tongue!" scolded Gilbert, before turning back to the Vistani women. "You have way to help him?" Anelka waved Aithanar over to her side and looked at the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair. "I have herbs that may help," she said, then excused herself and went straight for the wagon's back door. "Fetch more bowls while you're in there!" called Djolbana, and Anelka waved her acknowledgement as she entered the vehicle. Castillan saw her coming just in time and ducked around the corner of the wagon, then rolled underneath it. As Anelka entered - confirming the squeaky hinges as she opened and closed the door - Castillan examined the wagon's bottom as best he could in the shadows, looking for either a trap door or a space between the wooden boards that would give him a peek into the vehicle's interior. He found neither, but he heard Anelka talking to herself inside the wagon, in a language he'd never heard before.
About this time, Finoula's hair suddenly changed color. She generally kept it in a long braid at the back of her head, the best to keep it out of her way during combat, and although it was a light, silvery color, in the moonlight and the glow of the campfire it seemed almost a pearly white. But then, in the blink of an eye, it darkened to a shadowy color, which only proved to be a deep purple once it had been pointed out to the ranger and she scooted closer to the campfire to get a better look.
"What in the world?" she wondered. Binkadink immediately began looking around for his cousin, although that explanation seemed less likely this far from home.
"Do you think it's faeries?" asked Darrien. "They like playing tricks, and some of them can turn invisible - or so my mom always said."
"Faeries, sprites, pixies," muttered Gilbert. "I wonder...."
A loud howl rang out across the clear night, seemingly from the northwest, cutting off Gilbert's mumblings. All other noise - the hoot of an owl, the chirping of crickets - ceased at once. "It's the werewolf!" shouted Hugo, the fact that all indications pointed toward there having been no actual werewolf involved in his attack the previous night immediately evacuated from his mind upon hearing the lupine howl. He jumped up and ran straight for the mule-driven wagon, hiding first behind it and then cowering underneath it. The heroes had other responses: they leapt up as well, but rather than flee in terror they held their ground, pulling out and readying their weapons. Binkadink jumped upon Obvious's back, while Djolbana stood up and huddled by the rest of the group, clearly frightened.
There were crashing sounds coming from the northwest as something large came pounding through the brush. Not wanting to be caught hiding underneath the Vistani wagon, Castillan rolled back out from beneath it the way he'd come, got to his feet, and snapped his shortbow into his left hand. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and drew the bow - and just in time, too, for an enormous dire wolf ran through some low scrub into the clearing and made a bee-line for the elven bounder, his closest target. Castillan saw the beast's eyes glowing an infernal red and lined up his shot to hit right between them. He launched his arrow but the beast dodged to the side at the last second, taking the feathered shaft in his furry back instead of the middle of his lupine face. And then he pounced at Castillan, biting down with his razor-sharp teeth and nearly knocking the elf prone.
"Screw this!" yelled Castillan, looking for a safe perch, and finding one at the top of the Vistani wagon. His muscles propelled by fear as much as by training, he ran up the side of the wagon and huddled flat upon the curved roof, snapping his bow back into his glove on the way up so he'd have both hands free to pull himself up. The dire wolf spun to face his foe and seemed ready to pounce up the side of the wagon in pursuit, but then another pair of targets presented themselves. Hippity-hopping around the front of the wagon from the west, Obvious raced up to the side of the great beast, allowing Binkadink's glaive to come crashing down and slice a wound deep into the wolf's flank. It howled in pain and spun to face this new threat.
Djolbana took the opportunity to race to the Vistani wagon, open the door, and join Anelka inside - where it was relatively safer. She slammed the door behind her, and when Gilbert went to follow he found the door closed and locked. "Hey!" he cried. "Open up!" But neither Vistani woman deigned to reply.
While Binkadink fought the dire wolf to the north of the Vistani wagon, Darrien raced along behind Gilbert and was perfectly placed to see another wolf come crashing through the foliage, this one from a bit farther east. He was the size of a normal-sized wolf, but his eyes blazed the unnatural red of his larger cousin. Darrien shot at the new arrival with an arrow from the Arachnibow, eliciting a howl of pain from the beast.
By then, Finoula and Wrath had followed Obvious's path and were adding sword-strikes and fangs to the fight against the dire wolf. Against the two warriors and their combat-trained animals, the dire wolf fared poorly and in short time he collapsed upon the ground, dead - only to vanish in a puff of rancid smoke after taking his last breath on the Material Plane. Wrath immediately shifted targets to the fiendish wolf Darrien was fighting, giving the half-elf ranger enough breathing space to summon forth the mantis-spirit stored in his amber necklace. The giant mantis materialized behind the fiendish wolf, striking out at him with its wicked claws, and before long the smaller wolf too had been slain - sending his form returning back to whatever foul plane he dwelt upon.
Collectively, the group looked around for any other foes, saw none, and breathed a sigh of relief. But then Castillan, still up on the roof of the Vistani wagon, called out a warning, just as two more lupine figures crashed through the underbrush and into the clearing. While these two had the lupine heads and shaggy fur of the two previous combatants, they stood upon their hind legs - they were, for all appearances, a pair of male werewolves in their hybrid forms. Fortunately for Hugo, he still cowered under the heroes' wagon and didn't see the actual, real-life werewolves, for the sight of what had overnight become his greatest fear would likely be too much for him.
There was shock on the faces of the assembled heroes, who had all come to believe that this whole werewolf business was all just some kind of elaborate hoax - but the giant preying mantis saw the two werewolves merely as another pair of enemies and struck out with its spined forelegs, catching the first of the lycanthropes, Andrei, in its deadly embrace. Ingebold took advantage of a pinned opponent and sent a spiritual weapon in the form of a glowing, dwarven warhammer crashing into Andrei's frame.
Snarling, the other werewolf, Stefan, made a rush at Obvious, the largest of the available targets within easy reach. The jackalope nimbly dodged aside - nearly spilling Binkadink from his back in the process - and then darted forward to catch the lycanthrope's fur between his rodent teeth. Stefan quickly learned just how deadly a big ol' fuzzy bunny rabbit with antlers could be in a battle, as the jackalope kept a firm grip on the hybrid's body with his sharp teeth as he shook him around like a rag doll. Stefan's growls of surprise soon turned to howls of pain.
Gilbert tried forcing his way into the door to no avail and fervently wished he knew the knock spell. Instead, he tried reasoning with the women, first jumping the gun just a bit and saying it was safe to come out because the werewolves had been dealt with (this was far from true, for while they were both being grappled by a large creature neither one was close to being killed just yet); then, when that produced no reaction, he tried taunting them by telling them they had just killed both of their werewolf husbands - hoping one of them would rush outside to verify his claims for herself. He was wrong on both counts there; not only were both werewolves still alive but they were also the brothers, not husbands, of the two Vistani women. But the end result was the same: no response from the women locked inside.
There were two small windows at the front of the wagon; at Gilbert's urging, Castillan peered over the edge of the roof and tried peeking inside, but couldn't get a good view from his perch. He did see an owl leave its tree branch perch and come flying straight for the other window, though - this was Dvani, Djolbana's familiar. Aithanar saw the owl fly through the window but realized he'd never be able to communicate that to the heroes given his current inability to speak anything but gibberish. On the roof, Castillan strained his ears to try to hear what might be going on inside the wagon's interior, but try as he might he heard nothing. So, seeing as how both fiendish wolves had already been slain and the two werewolves were both being contained by the jackalope and the mantis, the bounder leaped back down from his safe perch on the wagon's roof and reactivated the short sword he kept stored in his right glove.
Getting no results from the Vistani women, Gilbert decided to apply himself to the battle at hand. He cast a pair of scorching rays at Andrei, still pinned in the mantis's embrace, and did manage to strike him with one of the rays; the other, unfortunately, overshot the werewolf and smacked the mantis right in its triangular head. Each ray did similar damage, but the mantis looked to have come out the worse for wear of the two of them. Worse yet, the surprise of the "friendly fire" momentarily loosened the mantis's grip on its prey and Andrei wriggled free. He leaped for Castillan, sinking his claws into the bounder's shoulders and biting the startled elf at the side of the neck. Castillan shrieked and fell back, and Andrei turned to attack Finoula next. But Binkadink, struggling to keep his seat on Obvious's back as the jackalope jumped up and down, worrying his prey, the gnome fighter managed to swing his trusty glaive down upon Andrei, keeping him away from Finoula.
Stefan, meanwhile, was having a much more difficult time than he ever would have imagined escaping Obvious's grasp; what he had originally thought was a pushover creature of prey - he had visions of a cook pot full of rabbit stew for weeks - was actually doing him serious harm. He looked over at Andrei just in time to see him slain by a barrage of magic missiles from Gilbert's wand; the distraction was enough for Castillan to strike out with a thrust from his short sword, cutting through the startled werewolf's jugular vein and spilling his life blood onto the ground. Both lycanthropes fell to the ground within seconds of each other, changing form as they did so. Fur receded back into skin, lupine muzzles retracted, and two naked human men were left sprawled in the grass under the rising full moon.
"Okay, Castillan, we need you open this lock now," stated Gilbert, returning to the wagon's back door. The bounder put away his sword and pulled out his lockpicks, and after a minute's work he had popped the door open with a now-familiar creak.
The wagon's interior was somewhat cramped, with hanging curtains that could be pulled closed to wall off two "bedroom areas" with bunks that folded up into the walls, a set of cabinets along the left wall, and a table for eating in the front. There was a small, round table and two chairs at the back - complete with a crystal ball that Gilbert's practiced eye told him was not magical in any sense of the word - and a rocking chair in the far corner, toward the front of the wagon. But of Anelka and Djolbana (and Dvati) there was no sign.
Castillan swung his arms wide, feeling all around the cramped interior in case the two women were present but invisible - no luck. Gilbert poked his head back outside and asked if anybody saw them teleport or dimension door outside - no luck. But then the rocking chair began rocking of its own accord, and pots and pans started spilling out of the cabinets and hurling themselves at Castillan. "Ow!" he cried, after getting beaned in the head by a copper pot. He backed out of the wagon, noticing a humanoid form coalescing out of nothingness in the rocking chair. "Ingebold!" he cried.
The cleric rushed to the back of the wagon, expecting the bounder to need a healing spell or two. But he merely pointed a thumb at the rocking chair, and the scowling, wrinkled old lady sitting there, and said, "Undead, I think - she's all yours." Then he stepped aside, making room for Ingebold to enter the wagon.
Ingebold raised her holy symbol of Moradin and aimed it at the spirit, who snarled in irritation, faded from view for a moment, and then returned. "You invade my home," said Zolfina, the one-time leader of the Vistani family who owned this wagon. "I protect our home," she announced stubbornly, throwing up a pair of arthritic hands and sending more pots and pans flying telekinetically at the cleric.
"We defeated th' two werewolves outside, and sent th' two women fleeing," replied Ingebold, channeling positive energy through her holy symbol for a second time. This time, Zolfina reacted for more than just a moment, a look of astonishment crossing her cramped features. "They are defeated," she repeated, then disappeared from view - but not before the dwarven cleric saw the hint of a smile cross the elderly woman's features. "It's done," Ingebold called to the others when the ghost failed to reappear and the rocking chair stopped moving.
"So where women go?" asked Gilbert. "I all out of detect magic spells - you have any?" Ingebold replied by casting the required spell and looking around the room. "Up there," she said, pointing to the ceiling. "There's an aura of transmutation magic right there."
Gilbert puzzled it out for a moment, then announced, "Got it! Rope trick spell! They hiding in extradimensional space!" Then addressing the ceiling, he called out, "We know you up there! Come out now, we let you live!" When there was no reply, he asked Ingebold if she had a dispel magic spell ready, but she didn't - nor did the wizard. "Crap!" complained Gilbert. "Now we have to wait - maybe for hours."
"Maybe that would be a good spell to have on a scroll, for times like these," pointed out Darrien. Gilbert just harrumphed in irritation.
It took nearly seven hours for the rope trick spell to wear off and the two Vistani women to come crashing down to the floor. The owl also fell from the ceiling, but it managed to flap around until it made it out the nearest window. But by the time the rope trick spell had expired, the heroes had thoroughly explored the wagon, finding a hidden trap door on the floor leading to a cargo compartment, inside which they found a small bit of coins and gems but - of more interest - a handful of magic weapons, including Andrei's longsword, Stefan's short sword, and a whip with retractable thorns that belonged to Anelka.
"So," commented Gilbert casually, "you lock us outside wagon so werewolves can eat us. That not very nice."
"They did not eat you," pointed out Djolbana. "So no real harm was done."
"That not the point," countered Gilbert, his eyes narrowing in anger. "You try to kill us! And you try to blame Hugo for wolf attacks caused by your husbands!"
"They're not our husbands, you idiot," snarled Anelka. "They are our brothers!"
"Were your brothers," corrected Darrien. "...They're dead."
"Bastards!" cried Anelka, her face contorted with rage. She made to claw at the half-elf's eyes, and the sudden movement caused a necklace to slip out from her blouse. It held an image of Erythnul, the evil god of slaughter. That was all the heroes needed to assuage any guilt they might have had about fighting the Vistani sisters. The women fought savagely, but they were hampered by the close quarters in their wagon and were quickly brought down by the steel blades of the heroes.
Upon Anelka's death, the rocking chair started moving again, and Zolfina's image returned briefly. "You have slain my slayer," the elderly ghost said in a whispery voice. "Anelka wanted to lead family, killed me to make room for new leader. Always she was impatient, even as little girl. But now you have freed me. For this, I grant you boon.
"I can peer into future," she continued. "Sometimes it in pictures, images; others it like reading words from a paper. In either case, visions hazy, hidden – like reading or seeing through thick mist." The ghost's form became insubstantial, as if seen through a thick mist as well.
"For you, I see words," she whispered, her voice dissipating as well as her insubstantial body. "Ma," she said. "Returns," she added, then, squinting as if trying to make out the form of someone far away, "Later." And the final word she whispered before discorporating forever was "Minus...." Then she was gone.
"That was kind of creepy," admitted Castillan.
"She gone?" demanded Gilbert. "For good this time?" He had a fireball spell at the ready and was willing to burn the whole wagon down to get rid of the undead monster, if that's what it took.
"Looks t'be," replied Ingebold, stifling a yawn, looking out at the rest of the camp. Binkadink was fast asleep, still in his armor, snuggled up against a snoozing Obvious for warmth. Aithanar had ensured the mules and Daisy were brushed down and tethered to the wagon with plenty of reach, but then he had curled up in the back of the adventurers' wagon and was firmly in his nightly elven trance, blocking out Hugo's snores - for the sheep farmer had fallen into a deep sleep once he saw the werewolves had been taken care of.
"So what was she talking about, there at the end?" asked Darrien. "Whose Ma is returning? From where? And without what?"
"She just crazy old lady," scoffed Gilbert. "Probably just crazy old lady talk."
"No," corrected Finoula. Her hair had returned to its normal silvery coloration about an hour after its abrupt shift to vibrant purple, and now she seemed just as pale as her hair as the blood suddenly drained from her face. "Those weren't all words, just parts of them - and she got them in the wrong order. It wasn't 'Ma returns later minus' - it was 'Ma later minus returns.'"
Finoula held herself in her crossed arms, suddenly very cold. "'Malaterminus returns,'" she concluded.
- - -
This was an interesting change of pace. The players figured out almost immediately that Hugo wasn't a werewolf, coming up with a proof or two I hadn't even considered. They were fairly sure the Vistani women had something to do with the hoax by the time they met up with them, but they were afraid of jumping to a wrong conclusion - perhaps after killing the innocent aspis drones in a case of mistaken identity a few adventures back. But the arrival of the werewolves threw them (momentarily) for a loop, as by then they had convinced themselves there likely weren't any werewolves involved in pranking Hugo. But the Vistani family had gotten their practice down to a science. Kill farm animals on the first night of the full moon, do it again on the second night of the full moon and find a patsy, then leave incriminating evidence that the patsy's the one responsible for the killings. Then move on to a new town or village by the three days of the full moon the following month and repeat the sequence all over.
In any case, the group got three magic weapons out of this adventure, as well as an enclosed Vistani wagon and two black draft horses to pull it. (Jacob immediately came up with the names Castor and Pollux for the horses, and the names have stuck.) I made up the whip of thorns because the image Vicki chose to represent Finoula has such a weapon coiled in her left hand, and I decided to let the campaign catch up to the image. (Vicki recognized it for what it was immediately and called "Dibs" on it for Finoula.) They also got a wand of false life that I'm sure Gilbert will be able to put to good use in future adventures.
I also decided Zolfina hasn't fully left the Vistani wagon. Having spent years in the wagon as a ghost, now that she's passed on she's left behind "the ghost of her ghost" - basically, a permanent unseen servant spell effect that's limited to the wagon's interior. It will function as normal unseen servant with one main difference: it doesn't like anyone sitting in Zolfina's rocking chair. Anyone sitting in her chair - or setting something down there - results in a close-radius lowering of the immediate temperature as a warning, possibly followed up by a poltergeist-like telekinetic temper tantrum if the offender doesn't immediately clear the chair. I'm pretty sure Gilbert's not going to like that bit.
- - -
T-Shirt Worn: As we played through this adventure on the same day as "Communion with the Sea Mother," I was still wearing my shark T-shirt. While I do have a wolf T-shirt that was perfectly suitable for this adventure, and I'm not against bringing a shirt to change into between adventures, I had failed to suitably plan ahead - my wolf T-shirt was in the wash.
Game Session Date: 12 March 2016
- - -
Twilight was nearing and the heroes began looking for a good place to camp for the night. As they traveled down the road in their mule-driven wagon, with Binkadink and Finoula riding Obvious and Daisy, respectively, they turned a corner in the road and saw a sight none of them had expected to see: hanging from a branch directly in front of them was a man, his hands digging into the noose choking the life out of him. His legs kicked feebly, his actions slowed down, as his very breath was stolen from him.
Binkadink sent Obvious dashing forward, dipping his furry head beneath the hanged man and then raising his antlers to support the man's legs, as the gnome pulled his glaive from its holder at the jackalope's side and cut through the rope above the noose with a single swipe of his blade. He had hoped the man, thus freed, would steady himself on Obvious's antlers; no such luck - he plopped backwards onto the dirt of the dusty road beneath him, grunting in pain as he landed.
Castillan checked both ways down the road, looking for anyone nearby who might have done this. Despite the rapidly-setting sun, there was still ample light to see among the trees that dotted the landscape; nobody else was visible.
Ingebold leaped from the mule-wagon and raced to the man's side, channeling healing energy through her hand via a simple word of prayer to Moradin. The man groaned, stirred, and then bolted upright in alarm.
"Be at ease, friend," said Ingebold in a soothing voice, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Now then, who did this t'ye?"
"Did this?" repeated the man, bewilderment evident in his voice. "I did this. You shouldn't have cut me down!"
"Why not?" asked Finoula, stepping forward.
"Because I'll turn into a werewolf and try to kill you as soon as the sun sets and Luna rises!"
"Whoa now, hold on," said Castillan. "Maybe you'd better start this story from the beginning." At the man's hesitation, the bounder added, "There are enough of us here to take you out if you start growing fur and try to kill us. We're practiced adventurers, after all."
"Okay," replied the man, rubbing his sore neck and looking up at the seven adventurers standing around him in a ring as he removed the remains of the noose. Seven -- that should be enough, he thought. "My name's Hugo," he began. "I raise sheep."
"Again with the sheep," muttered Gilbert.
"It's sheep country," hissed Finoula to the heavyset wizard. "Let the man finish."
"Two nights ago, two of my sheep went missing from their pen," Hugo continued. "I found the prints of a wolf in my yard, so last night, I stayed up with my bow and arrow, hiding behind the well, ready to catch him if he came back. Well, I must have fallen asleep or something, because the next thing I knew, it was morning, I was naked in my yard, there was blood all over my hands and face, and Fuzzy was half-eaten."
"Fuzzy is a sheep?" guessed Finoula.
"She was, yes," confirmed Hugo. "There's Fuzzy, Wuzzy, Fluffy, Buffy...and Shaggy-Muffin. The two that went missing were--"
"We don't need names of sheep," interrupted Gilbert. "Get on with story." Then, at a stern look from Finoula, he added, "...Please."
"That's about all there is to it," finished Hugo. "I may be a simple sheep farmer, but I know what's what. I got bit by a werewolf, and now I'm a werewolf, too. I got it confirmed by a fortune teller and everything. So I decided I needed to end it all before I hurt anyone. It took me all day to find the courage, but as twilight got closer and closer, I knew I had to do something."
"Wait," said Gilbert. "When this fortune teller show up?"
"Late this afternoon. They had a big wagon, pulled by two horses. Vistani, I think they're called. The people, not the horses, I mean. They were just passing by. But anyway, I told the fortune teller my story, showed her my bite mark, and she confirmed my worst fears. What's worse, she said eventually I wouldn't be satisfied with just killing sheep, neither - I'd go after people!"
"Can we see this bite mark of yours?" asked Finoula. Hugo obediently stood up and lifted his shirt, exposing his left side. Sure enough, there were teeth marks on the side of his back, just above the waistline. "Ingebold?" Finoula asked, frowning.
"Oh, aye," the dwarven cleric confirmed. "Those be human teeth marks, all right. Ye weren't bitten by a wolf, Hugo - ye were bitten by a human!"
"A human?" exclaimed Hugo. "That can't be!" He turned in a slow circle trying to look at his own back.
"Well, it might be an elf," admitted Ingebold. "But it weren't no wolf, that's fer sure."
Darrien rummaged around in his coin purse, then approached Hugo. He placed a silver coin directly on the back of the sheep farmer's hand, held it firmly in place, then removed it and and examined the skin. It was unblemished.
"I don't know what's going on here," the half-elf ranger said, "but you're not a werewolf, Hugo. You don't react to silver. You weren't bitten by a wolf, but a person."
"Maybe the wolf bite turned into a human bite when the werewolf transformed back into human form," suggested the confused sheep farmer.
"I don't think it works that way," replied Castillan.
"Plus, if you bitten by werewolf only last night, you don't transform into werewolf last night," piped up Gilbert. "You transform tonight, for first time."
"And Luna's now up over the treeline, and you're not a wolf," concluded Darrien. It was true: this was the last night of the full moon, and Luna's rays now cast a warm light over the nighttime scene. And there stood Hugo, clearly still a human.
"Hmmm," he said. "I wonder what's going on?"
"Let's go check out your farm," suggested Finoula. "Maybe there's something there to indicate who's behind this."
"Do ye have any enemies?" asked Ingebold. "Anybody who might want ye dead?"
"None that I know of," replied Hugo. "I'm a sheep farmer. Who's enemies with a sheep farmer? Anyway, come on - my farm's over this way."
Hugo lived in a simple, two-room structure, with a small bedroom to the left and an open living area to the right. The only other structure on his land was a small building for the sheep, surrounded by a wooden fence to form a pen. A stone well provided water, there were a few apples trees in the back - and that was about it.
"Cozy place," commented Gilbert.
"This is where I woke up this morning," said Hugo, pointing to an area in the front, next to the sheep pen. "See? There's the remains of the clothes I was wearing yesterday." Darrien examined the clothes in the moonlight - and the everburning torches tied to the antler's on Binkadink's helmet - and grunted. "Look here," he said. "These rips look like they were made by claws after the fact, not torn apart during transformation."
"Prints!" called Finoula, her elven eyes picking out the paw-prints of a large wolf in the dirt of Hugo's land. "Two pairs of them, and - huh! It looks like they were standing on their back feet."
"So we're looking for two people wearing boots with wolf paws on the bottoms?" asked Binkadink. "This is sounding like something Jinkadoodle would come up with."
"Could be gnolls," offered Gilbert.
"Which ones are gnolls again?" asked Finoula.
"Hyena people!" replied the portly wizard. "We fight really big one in forest after fighting beetles in lair!"
"That was a gnoll?" asked Finoula.
"Well, maybe," admitted Gilbert. "It far too big for normal gnoll. Maybe it gnoll made big with spell or potion."
"Smoggety!" called out Aithanar suddenly from behind the well. Pointing to the ground, he added, "Flinkerdy snorkus!" Despite his nonsensical words, he had found yet another set of footprints - these made by a human or elf, probably a woman by the size of the feet, wearing moccasins or something similar. "Good eye!" said Finoula, and the young fighter's chest filled with pride.
Following the tracks, both sets of wolf prints and the woman's prints all led across the yard and out into the road. Tracking became more difficult there, given the hardness of the road's surface compared to the fresh dirt and grass of the farmer's yard. Checking through the house, Hugo confirmed nothing was missing - not that he had much in the way of goods to steal; Finoula noticed he had but one fork, one knife, one spoon, one cup, one bowl, and one plate.
"So where does this leave us?" asked Binkadink.
"I think we find Vistani wagon," answered Gilbert. "Hugo - which way wagon go?"
"It went right down the road in front of my house," the farmer replied. "Headed east."
"Saddle up," commanded Gilbert. "We follow road east."
Fortunately, it was a fairly straightforward section of road for the next dozen miles or so, with no major intersections. By simply staying on the main road, the group found the Vistani wagon about five miles from Hugo's farm. A simple camp had been set up, with two Vistani women cooking over a small campfire. Two black horses stood nearby, their reins tied to trees, and the brightly-colored wagon had a pair of sturdy logs wedged against one of the wheels to prevent it from moving. Hugo confirmed that one of the two women was the fortune teller he'd spoken to that afternoon.
"I greet thee," said the taller woman as the group pulled up, in what was apparently a ritual greeting. Both women wore head scarves over their dark hair, and their garb seemed to be many different layers of material in a variety of colors. Finoula's eyes were drawn to their footwear: soft leather boots in each case. Not conclusive by any means, but either one could certainly have made the footprints they'd found at Hugo's farm.
"Would you care to--Aaaah!" began the other woman, clearly frightened in mid-sentence upon recognizing Hugo. "Mark of the Beast!" She made some type of warding gesture with her hands.
"Beast? Me?" sputtered Hugo. "But they said--"
"Ladies," said Darrien, sidling up to the Vistani women - a role usually reserved for Castillan, but he had opted to sneak over to the Vistani wagon from the north, apart from the group, to see what he could learn, and thus had dropped off the side of the mule-driven wagon as soon as the Vistani camp had come into view. "I understand you've already met Hugo, but as you can see, the full moon is out and Hugo is not a werewolf."
"But, how can this be?" asked the fortune teller, Djolbana. "I myself heard his story, saw bite of wolf upon his back."
"It's not a wolf bite after all," said Hugo, lifting up his shirt and showing Djolbana his scar, already mostly healed by the spells Ingebold had cast upon him. "It's a human bite. See?"
"This very strange. Earlier today, it was bite of wolf. I have not heard of such magics as these before. But it is good you are not wolf! Come! Join Anelka and I for dinner! There is food for all - it is only simple stew, but we have wine and bread to share as well." As introductions were made all around, Castillan approached the enclosed wagon and saw the only door visible seemed to be the one at the vehicle's rear. The hinges showed it opened outwards; the rustiness of the hinges warned of a possibly loud squeak if he tried opening the door.
"What kind of stew this?" asked Gilbert.
"Mostly mutton," replied Djolbana, serving up a bowl. "But we add to it with what the gods provide. The men are out hunting now - perhaps they return with rabbit, or squirrel, or pheasant."
"Mutton, huh? You get mutton from Hugo, maybe?" asked Gilbert.
"Hmm? No, we buy lamb from farmer, three, four days ago."
"Hey, maybe you help us. Aithanar here, he hit head, now he talk funny."
"He's not the only one," added Darrien in a stage whisper.
"You shut stupid half-elf tongue!" scolded Gilbert, before turning back to the Vistani women. "You have way to help him?" Anelka waved Aithanar over to her side and looked at the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair. "I have herbs that may help," she said, then excused herself and went straight for the wagon's back door. "Fetch more bowls while you're in there!" called Djolbana, and Anelka waved her acknowledgement as she entered the vehicle. Castillan saw her coming just in time and ducked around the corner of the wagon, then rolled underneath it. As Anelka entered - confirming the squeaky hinges as she opened and closed the door - Castillan examined the wagon's bottom as best he could in the shadows, looking for either a trap door or a space between the wooden boards that would give him a peek into the vehicle's interior. He found neither, but he heard Anelka talking to herself inside the wagon, in a language he'd never heard before.
About this time, Finoula's hair suddenly changed color. She generally kept it in a long braid at the back of her head, the best to keep it out of her way during combat, and although it was a light, silvery color, in the moonlight and the glow of the campfire it seemed almost a pearly white. But then, in the blink of an eye, it darkened to a shadowy color, which only proved to be a deep purple once it had been pointed out to the ranger and she scooted closer to the campfire to get a better look.
"What in the world?" she wondered. Binkadink immediately began looking around for his cousin, although that explanation seemed less likely this far from home.
"Do you think it's faeries?" asked Darrien. "They like playing tricks, and some of them can turn invisible - or so my mom always said."
"Faeries, sprites, pixies," muttered Gilbert. "I wonder...."
A loud howl rang out across the clear night, seemingly from the northwest, cutting off Gilbert's mumblings. All other noise - the hoot of an owl, the chirping of crickets - ceased at once. "It's the werewolf!" shouted Hugo, the fact that all indications pointed toward there having been no actual werewolf involved in his attack the previous night immediately evacuated from his mind upon hearing the lupine howl. He jumped up and ran straight for the mule-driven wagon, hiding first behind it and then cowering underneath it. The heroes had other responses: they leapt up as well, but rather than flee in terror they held their ground, pulling out and readying their weapons. Binkadink jumped upon Obvious's back, while Djolbana stood up and huddled by the rest of the group, clearly frightened.
There were crashing sounds coming from the northwest as something large came pounding through the brush. Not wanting to be caught hiding underneath the Vistani wagon, Castillan rolled back out from beneath it the way he'd come, got to his feet, and snapped his shortbow into his left hand. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and drew the bow - and just in time, too, for an enormous dire wolf ran through some low scrub into the clearing and made a bee-line for the elven bounder, his closest target. Castillan saw the beast's eyes glowing an infernal red and lined up his shot to hit right between them. He launched his arrow but the beast dodged to the side at the last second, taking the feathered shaft in his furry back instead of the middle of his lupine face. And then he pounced at Castillan, biting down with his razor-sharp teeth and nearly knocking the elf prone.
"Screw this!" yelled Castillan, looking for a safe perch, and finding one at the top of the Vistani wagon. His muscles propelled by fear as much as by training, he ran up the side of the wagon and huddled flat upon the curved roof, snapping his bow back into his glove on the way up so he'd have both hands free to pull himself up. The dire wolf spun to face his foe and seemed ready to pounce up the side of the wagon in pursuit, but then another pair of targets presented themselves. Hippity-hopping around the front of the wagon from the west, Obvious raced up to the side of the great beast, allowing Binkadink's glaive to come crashing down and slice a wound deep into the wolf's flank. It howled in pain and spun to face this new threat.
Djolbana took the opportunity to race to the Vistani wagon, open the door, and join Anelka inside - where it was relatively safer. She slammed the door behind her, and when Gilbert went to follow he found the door closed and locked. "Hey!" he cried. "Open up!" But neither Vistani woman deigned to reply.
While Binkadink fought the dire wolf to the north of the Vistani wagon, Darrien raced along behind Gilbert and was perfectly placed to see another wolf come crashing through the foliage, this one from a bit farther east. He was the size of a normal-sized wolf, but his eyes blazed the unnatural red of his larger cousin. Darrien shot at the new arrival with an arrow from the Arachnibow, eliciting a howl of pain from the beast.
By then, Finoula and Wrath had followed Obvious's path and were adding sword-strikes and fangs to the fight against the dire wolf. Against the two warriors and their combat-trained animals, the dire wolf fared poorly and in short time he collapsed upon the ground, dead - only to vanish in a puff of rancid smoke after taking his last breath on the Material Plane. Wrath immediately shifted targets to the fiendish wolf Darrien was fighting, giving the half-elf ranger enough breathing space to summon forth the mantis-spirit stored in his amber necklace. The giant mantis materialized behind the fiendish wolf, striking out at him with its wicked claws, and before long the smaller wolf too had been slain - sending his form returning back to whatever foul plane he dwelt upon.
Collectively, the group looked around for any other foes, saw none, and breathed a sigh of relief. But then Castillan, still up on the roof of the Vistani wagon, called out a warning, just as two more lupine figures crashed through the underbrush and into the clearing. While these two had the lupine heads and shaggy fur of the two previous combatants, they stood upon their hind legs - they were, for all appearances, a pair of male werewolves in their hybrid forms. Fortunately for Hugo, he still cowered under the heroes' wagon and didn't see the actual, real-life werewolves, for the sight of what had overnight become his greatest fear would likely be too much for him.
There was shock on the faces of the assembled heroes, who had all come to believe that this whole werewolf business was all just some kind of elaborate hoax - but the giant preying mantis saw the two werewolves merely as another pair of enemies and struck out with its spined forelegs, catching the first of the lycanthropes, Andrei, in its deadly embrace. Ingebold took advantage of a pinned opponent and sent a spiritual weapon in the form of a glowing, dwarven warhammer crashing into Andrei's frame.
Snarling, the other werewolf, Stefan, made a rush at Obvious, the largest of the available targets within easy reach. The jackalope nimbly dodged aside - nearly spilling Binkadink from his back in the process - and then darted forward to catch the lycanthrope's fur between his rodent teeth. Stefan quickly learned just how deadly a big ol' fuzzy bunny rabbit with antlers could be in a battle, as the jackalope kept a firm grip on the hybrid's body with his sharp teeth as he shook him around like a rag doll. Stefan's growls of surprise soon turned to howls of pain.
Gilbert tried forcing his way into the door to no avail and fervently wished he knew the knock spell. Instead, he tried reasoning with the women, first jumping the gun just a bit and saying it was safe to come out because the werewolves had been dealt with (this was far from true, for while they were both being grappled by a large creature neither one was close to being killed just yet); then, when that produced no reaction, he tried taunting them by telling them they had just killed both of their werewolf husbands - hoping one of them would rush outside to verify his claims for herself. He was wrong on both counts there; not only were both werewolves still alive but they were also the brothers, not husbands, of the two Vistani women. But the end result was the same: no response from the women locked inside.
There were two small windows at the front of the wagon; at Gilbert's urging, Castillan peered over the edge of the roof and tried peeking inside, but couldn't get a good view from his perch. He did see an owl leave its tree branch perch and come flying straight for the other window, though - this was Dvani, Djolbana's familiar. Aithanar saw the owl fly through the window but realized he'd never be able to communicate that to the heroes given his current inability to speak anything but gibberish. On the roof, Castillan strained his ears to try to hear what might be going on inside the wagon's interior, but try as he might he heard nothing. So, seeing as how both fiendish wolves had already been slain and the two werewolves were both being contained by the jackalope and the mantis, the bounder leaped back down from his safe perch on the wagon's roof and reactivated the short sword he kept stored in his right glove.
Getting no results from the Vistani women, Gilbert decided to apply himself to the battle at hand. He cast a pair of scorching rays at Andrei, still pinned in the mantis's embrace, and did manage to strike him with one of the rays; the other, unfortunately, overshot the werewolf and smacked the mantis right in its triangular head. Each ray did similar damage, but the mantis looked to have come out the worse for wear of the two of them. Worse yet, the surprise of the "friendly fire" momentarily loosened the mantis's grip on its prey and Andrei wriggled free. He leaped for Castillan, sinking his claws into the bounder's shoulders and biting the startled elf at the side of the neck. Castillan shrieked and fell back, and Andrei turned to attack Finoula next. But Binkadink, struggling to keep his seat on Obvious's back as the jackalope jumped up and down, worrying his prey, the gnome fighter managed to swing his trusty glaive down upon Andrei, keeping him away from Finoula.
Stefan, meanwhile, was having a much more difficult time than he ever would have imagined escaping Obvious's grasp; what he had originally thought was a pushover creature of prey - he had visions of a cook pot full of rabbit stew for weeks - was actually doing him serious harm. He looked over at Andrei just in time to see him slain by a barrage of magic missiles from Gilbert's wand; the distraction was enough for Castillan to strike out with a thrust from his short sword, cutting through the startled werewolf's jugular vein and spilling his life blood onto the ground. Both lycanthropes fell to the ground within seconds of each other, changing form as they did so. Fur receded back into skin, lupine muzzles retracted, and two naked human men were left sprawled in the grass under the rising full moon.
"Okay, Castillan, we need you open this lock now," stated Gilbert, returning to the wagon's back door. The bounder put away his sword and pulled out his lockpicks, and after a minute's work he had popped the door open with a now-familiar creak.
The wagon's interior was somewhat cramped, with hanging curtains that could be pulled closed to wall off two "bedroom areas" with bunks that folded up into the walls, a set of cabinets along the left wall, and a table for eating in the front. There was a small, round table and two chairs at the back - complete with a crystal ball that Gilbert's practiced eye told him was not magical in any sense of the word - and a rocking chair in the far corner, toward the front of the wagon. But of Anelka and Djolbana (and Dvati) there was no sign.
Castillan swung his arms wide, feeling all around the cramped interior in case the two women were present but invisible - no luck. Gilbert poked his head back outside and asked if anybody saw them teleport or dimension door outside - no luck. But then the rocking chair began rocking of its own accord, and pots and pans started spilling out of the cabinets and hurling themselves at Castillan. "Ow!" he cried, after getting beaned in the head by a copper pot. He backed out of the wagon, noticing a humanoid form coalescing out of nothingness in the rocking chair. "Ingebold!" he cried.
The cleric rushed to the back of the wagon, expecting the bounder to need a healing spell or two. But he merely pointed a thumb at the rocking chair, and the scowling, wrinkled old lady sitting there, and said, "Undead, I think - she's all yours." Then he stepped aside, making room for Ingebold to enter the wagon.
Ingebold raised her holy symbol of Moradin and aimed it at the spirit, who snarled in irritation, faded from view for a moment, and then returned. "You invade my home," said Zolfina, the one-time leader of the Vistani family who owned this wagon. "I protect our home," she announced stubbornly, throwing up a pair of arthritic hands and sending more pots and pans flying telekinetically at the cleric.
"We defeated th' two werewolves outside, and sent th' two women fleeing," replied Ingebold, channeling positive energy through her holy symbol for a second time. This time, Zolfina reacted for more than just a moment, a look of astonishment crossing her cramped features. "They are defeated," she repeated, then disappeared from view - but not before the dwarven cleric saw the hint of a smile cross the elderly woman's features. "It's done," Ingebold called to the others when the ghost failed to reappear and the rocking chair stopped moving.
"So where women go?" asked Gilbert. "I all out of detect magic spells - you have any?" Ingebold replied by casting the required spell and looking around the room. "Up there," she said, pointing to the ceiling. "There's an aura of transmutation magic right there."
Gilbert puzzled it out for a moment, then announced, "Got it! Rope trick spell! They hiding in extradimensional space!" Then addressing the ceiling, he called out, "We know you up there! Come out now, we let you live!" When there was no reply, he asked Ingebold if she had a dispel magic spell ready, but she didn't - nor did the wizard. "Crap!" complained Gilbert. "Now we have to wait - maybe for hours."
"Maybe that would be a good spell to have on a scroll, for times like these," pointed out Darrien. Gilbert just harrumphed in irritation.
It took nearly seven hours for the rope trick spell to wear off and the two Vistani women to come crashing down to the floor. The owl also fell from the ceiling, but it managed to flap around until it made it out the nearest window. But by the time the rope trick spell had expired, the heroes had thoroughly explored the wagon, finding a hidden trap door on the floor leading to a cargo compartment, inside which they found a small bit of coins and gems but - of more interest - a handful of magic weapons, including Andrei's longsword, Stefan's short sword, and a whip with retractable thorns that belonged to Anelka.
"So," commented Gilbert casually, "you lock us outside wagon so werewolves can eat us. That not very nice."
"They did not eat you," pointed out Djolbana. "So no real harm was done."
"That not the point," countered Gilbert, his eyes narrowing in anger. "You try to kill us! And you try to blame Hugo for wolf attacks caused by your husbands!"
"They're not our husbands, you idiot," snarled Anelka. "They are our brothers!"
"Were your brothers," corrected Darrien. "...They're dead."
"Bastards!" cried Anelka, her face contorted with rage. She made to claw at the half-elf's eyes, and the sudden movement caused a necklace to slip out from her blouse. It held an image of Erythnul, the evil god of slaughter. That was all the heroes needed to assuage any guilt they might have had about fighting the Vistani sisters. The women fought savagely, but they were hampered by the close quarters in their wagon and were quickly brought down by the steel blades of the heroes.
Upon Anelka's death, the rocking chair started moving again, and Zolfina's image returned briefly. "You have slain my slayer," the elderly ghost said in a whispery voice. "Anelka wanted to lead family, killed me to make room for new leader. Always she was impatient, even as little girl. But now you have freed me. For this, I grant you boon.
"I can peer into future," she continued. "Sometimes it in pictures, images; others it like reading words from a paper. In either case, visions hazy, hidden – like reading or seeing through thick mist." The ghost's form became insubstantial, as if seen through a thick mist as well.
"For you, I see words," she whispered, her voice dissipating as well as her insubstantial body. "Ma," she said. "Returns," she added, then, squinting as if trying to make out the form of someone far away, "Later." And the final word she whispered before discorporating forever was "Minus...." Then she was gone.
"That was kind of creepy," admitted Castillan.
"She gone?" demanded Gilbert. "For good this time?" He had a fireball spell at the ready and was willing to burn the whole wagon down to get rid of the undead monster, if that's what it took.
"Looks t'be," replied Ingebold, stifling a yawn, looking out at the rest of the camp. Binkadink was fast asleep, still in his armor, snuggled up against a snoozing Obvious for warmth. Aithanar had ensured the mules and Daisy were brushed down and tethered to the wagon with plenty of reach, but then he had curled up in the back of the adventurers' wagon and was firmly in his nightly elven trance, blocking out Hugo's snores - for the sheep farmer had fallen into a deep sleep once he saw the werewolves had been taken care of.
"So what was she talking about, there at the end?" asked Darrien. "Whose Ma is returning? From where? And without what?"
"She just crazy old lady," scoffed Gilbert. "Probably just crazy old lady talk."
"No," corrected Finoula. Her hair had returned to its normal silvery coloration about an hour after its abrupt shift to vibrant purple, and now she seemed just as pale as her hair as the blood suddenly drained from her face. "Those weren't all words, just parts of them - and she got them in the wrong order. It wasn't 'Ma returns later minus' - it was 'Ma later minus returns.'"
Finoula held herself in her crossed arms, suddenly very cold. "'Malaterminus returns,'" she concluded.
- - -
This was an interesting change of pace. The players figured out almost immediately that Hugo wasn't a werewolf, coming up with a proof or two I hadn't even considered. They were fairly sure the Vistani women had something to do with the hoax by the time they met up with them, but they were afraid of jumping to a wrong conclusion - perhaps after killing the innocent aspis drones in a case of mistaken identity a few adventures back. But the arrival of the werewolves threw them (momentarily) for a loop, as by then they had convinced themselves there likely weren't any werewolves involved in pranking Hugo. But the Vistani family had gotten their practice down to a science. Kill farm animals on the first night of the full moon, do it again on the second night of the full moon and find a patsy, then leave incriminating evidence that the patsy's the one responsible for the killings. Then move on to a new town or village by the three days of the full moon the following month and repeat the sequence all over.
In any case, the group got three magic weapons out of this adventure, as well as an enclosed Vistani wagon and two black draft horses to pull it. (Jacob immediately came up with the names Castor and Pollux for the horses, and the names have stuck.) I made up the whip of thorns because the image Vicki chose to represent Finoula has such a weapon coiled in her left hand, and I decided to let the campaign catch up to the image. (Vicki recognized it for what it was immediately and called "Dibs" on it for Finoula.) They also got a wand of false life that I'm sure Gilbert will be able to put to good use in future adventures.
I also decided Zolfina hasn't fully left the Vistani wagon. Having spent years in the wagon as a ghost, now that she's passed on she's left behind "the ghost of her ghost" - basically, a permanent unseen servant spell effect that's limited to the wagon's interior. It will function as normal unseen servant with one main difference: it doesn't like anyone sitting in Zolfina's rocking chair. Anyone sitting in her chair - or setting something down there - results in a close-radius lowering of the immediate temperature as a warning, possibly followed up by a poltergeist-like telekinetic temper tantrum if the offender doesn't immediately clear the chair. I'm pretty sure Gilbert's not going to like that bit.
- - -
T-Shirt Worn: As we played through this adventure on the same day as "Communion with the Sea Mother," I was still wearing my shark T-shirt. While I do have a wolf T-shirt that was perfectly suitable for this adventure, and I'm not against bringing a shirt to change into between adventures, I had failed to suitably plan ahead - my wolf T-shirt was in the wash.
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