Mathanaya 8 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar) Part 2

It was late in the afternoon by the time Martialla and I were able to head out into the woods for the lady werewolf showdown. Martialla suggested that was the sort of thing that should wait for the light of day, but I didn’t want to spend any more time in this no horse town so off we went. Yet again marching into the wilderness to face an unknown and possibly deadly threat. Is there such a thing as time magic? If there is I feel like I’ve been influenced by some spell to do the same things over and over again. I tell you this now, when I settle up with Duke Eaglevane and I’m living a life of luxury I am never going to set foot outside of a city again. Not ever. If the city is on fire I’ll burn with it.

“Can I renew my objection to heading out to meet a werewolf as night is coming on?”

“You may not. Besides, there’s no such thing as werewolves.”

“What do you think we’re going to find out there then?”

“A hairy broad that likes slaughtering livestock.”

“And what if she is a werewolf? What’s the plan in that event, unlikely though it may be?”

“Uh-no, I’ll come up with something.”

“How comforting.”

“You’re the magic expert, shouldn’t you know how to curse werewolfism?”

“I’ve heard that removal of the spleen can cure an afflicted wolfperson, the side effect is that they die but the good news is they aren’t damned to the Hells for being a sinful monster.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Surprisingly perhaps we were able to follow Drake’s directions to the letter and as the sun was going down we came across the luxury accommodations that he had secured for this sister – something akin to a trapper’s supply shack that may have been a whole six feet wide. Martialla and I had come under the cloak of invisibility – metaphorically speaking, I mean we were invisible but you know what I’m saying, there was no literal cloak. If you know where I can get a cloak of invisibility let me know because that would be really handy. There was a fellow back at court that had one of those but all he used it for was wandering about the palace naked and molesting himself near the kitchen staff. The point is we came across the twin sister unawares chopping down a tree. I would have never pegged them as twins because this one looked a good ten years younger – although Drake’s premature greying around the edges probably had a lot to with that. She was wearing a simple red peasant shift that clashed horribly with her scarlet locks and a leather apron type thing over that. She was wielding the axe with an expert hand and attacking the tree like it had stolen her virtue.

I became visible as we came up on her “Have you ever considered selling your hair to a wigmaker? I think I’d look fine as a redhead.”

Startled, she spun around with her axe held menacingly “Who are you?!”

“Your brother sent us. I’m surprised you weren’t able to sniff us out, or can you only do that when you’re in wolf form?”

She shook her head “He wouldn’t do that, he’d never send anyone out here!”

“Well he’s in a bit of a pickle. The townfolk are about to burn him alive because you’ve been killing their aquatic monster rats.”

She growled, and I mean really growled – not like a human growls – and snapped the shaft of the axe like a stout twig.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there, hold on – don’t go wolfing out on us right this second, we need to talk.”

She turned her head up to the skies and screamed, a guttural primordial scream that made the tiny hairs on my shivering scalp stand up on end. She slammed into the tree she had been hacking at like she was trying to tackle it and started hammering it with punches – splitting her knuckles open to the bone and sending blood flying with each hit. After more than a minute she fell into a sitting position, exhausted and bloody handed.

“That was . . . something.”

“It’s not the moon, in the stories they say it’s the moon. It’s not the moon. It’s anger, or sadness sometimes. It can happen even if you get really happy – not that that’s happened in a long while. It’s a beast inside of you, waiting until you’re weak or just tired, and then it grabs you and it takes over. You have to hold it back all the time – it’s like you’re trying to hold shut a trap door above you, but the weight pressing down never gets tired, it never lets up – but you do. Eventually you can’t hold the weight anymore and it pushes you down, and it gets on top of you, and it gets inside you. You’re never safe because it’s always with you. Always.”

“Well we’re here to help you.”

She looked utterly forlorn as she met my gaze “How?”

“We’ll figure something out. But right now we need to help your brother. Let’s get back to town, tell them that you’ve been killing the rats not because you’re a werewolf – that would be crazy – but because you’re selling the pelts or meat or whatever to poachers. I’ll buy them off, you and your brother will get kicked out of town and then we can find a cure.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Honestly I have no idea. There’s something inside me too, it’s different though. I feel like I’m a dog chasing its tail sometimes – I just do things.”

“Maybe you’re just a good person.”

Martialla snickered at that and I shot her a dirty look. The three of us started walking back to Long Avon.

“So, when you do your wolf thing are you a red furred wolf?”

“I don’t think so.”

“So what happens to your human hair? Where does it go? And how does it come back?”

“I have no idea.”

“That’s disappointing, I thought we might be onto something there. Some kind of magical dimension of hair. What happens to your tits when you turn? Do they disappear or do you get more of them or what?”

“I’d really rather not talk about it.”

“Sure, sure, I mean it’s probably the only interesting thing you have to talk about but I get it. So, you were really going to town on that tree back there. Looks like you’ve cut down a lot of trees around here.”

“Physical activity helps me stay under control. Plus before I got bitten I worked for the lumber consortium.”

“Of Three Rivers?”

“Is there any other?”

“I stand corrected, I’m very interested in that. Tell me everything, in particular focus on any potential embarrassing or ruinous secrets you might know about them – anything that you would consider blackmail fodder.”

“I was just a woodcutter, I don’t know about anything like that.”

“We’ll see, just tell me everything you know, leave nothing out.”

_______________________________________________________________

Hair regrowth progress : .012%

Curses – Marksman’s Malady

Funds: 900 platinum, 4251 gold

XP: 243,161

Inventory: Pathfinder’s Gear (white) Pocketed Scarf, Wrist Sheath, Animal Totem Tattoo (Lion), Dagger of Venom, Bracers of Armor +2, Ring of Protection +2, Light Crossbow, Assortment of Fake Signet Rings, Bag of Concealment, Belt of Giant Strength +4, Vest of Resistance +1, Ring of Sustenance, Silver Chain set with Moonstones, Gold and Emerald Ring (2), Glove of Vampiric Touch, Platinum and Silver Holy Symbol of Kralten, Holy Symbol of Kozilek, Ruby (2), Black Marketers’ Bag, 879 Garnets, bolt of silk, Pirate’s Eyepatch, dress (fancy, revealing) 2, dress (fancy) 6

Revenge List: Duke Eaglevane, ~~Piltis Swine~~, Rince Electrum, ~~watchman Gridley~~, ~~White-Muzzle the worg~~, Percy Ringle the butler, Alice Kinsey , “~~Patch~~”, Heroes of the Lost Sword, Claire Conrad, ~~Erist priest of Strider~~, Riselda owner of the Sage Mirror, Eedraxis, ~~Skin-Taker tribe~~, Kartak, ~~Królewna & Bonifacja Trading Company,~~ Hurmont Family, Androni Titus, Greasy dreadlocks woman, Lodestone Security, Kellgale Nickoslander, Beltian Kruin the Splithog Pauper, The King of Spiders, Auraluna Domiel, ~~mother Hurk~~, ~~Mazzmus Parmalee,~~ Helgan van Tankerstrum, Lightdancer, Bonder Greysmith, Pegwhistle Proudfoot, Lumbfoot Sheepskin, Lumber Consortium of Three Rivers, Hellerhad the Wizard, ~~Forsaken Kin~~

Mathanaya 8 Year 888 (New Imperial Calendar) Part 1

Emerging from the Broken Oar Martialla and I found signs that the wounded swamp cat had been prowling around outside while we were cavorting drunkenly inside. Just the kind of thing you need to make yourself feel like it’s going to be a great day. Because that coward Jopha had abandoned us and we didn’t feel confident in our ability to retrace our steps to Gibson we decided to head east to Bowcrag – we just need to follow the muddy channel where the river used to be and we’ll get there right? As we traveled the ground seemed to randomly get less peaty and more swampy and then back again – at times almost being solid. It was another miserable day tromping through the wilderness.

“Remind me again why we came out here.”

“You wanted to kill the people that killed Hardra.”

“Oh right. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Have you ever been this far east? Are we even in Cymrile County anymore?”

“I don’t know. We might be getting near the border of Vieland.”

“What? Isn’t the border hundreds of miles away?”

“Not as of the last war, you know the one before the one going on now – we, and by we I mean the King and people like that, seized a swath of land from Vieland but there’s two bulges along the coast that still belong to Vieland.”

“We’re not anywhere near the coast are we?”

“No, but they’re big bulges. If you know what I mean. Besides which the land has just recently changed hand so who knows what the people think – maybe they’re on the lookout for a couple Kingdom ladies like ourselves to ravage – you know, to get back at the King. Or the Queen I guess since the King is dead now.”

“Yes I’m sure she’d be devastated to hear about our ravishing.”

“That’s how wars are fought right? I’m sure the kings and high priests and court wizards and so forth sit around in their throne rooms and read lists of all the peasants killed and weep over each one. Otherwise what would be the point of killing them?”

“I always assumed it was something to do with the Gods, they need a war every now and then a something to watch from the Heavens.”

“That too.”

Eventually our slogging led us to a small stream that we followed south, that turned into a slightly larger stream – a creek it could even be called. Following that took us to a small village by the name of Long Avon, named after its founder for reasons I’ll leave to your imagination. Normally it couldn’t have been home to more than fifty people, but there were a lot more there because there was a festival on. A fellow who was visiting from nearby Grimslan clued us in to what was going on – the Long Avoners had captured a vampire that was going to be burned at the stake, which is more than enough reason for a festival. There were painted poles decorated with flowers and long ribbons, wandering minstrels singing, dancers dancing , prancers pranncing, vendors selling dubious wares, and general merriment – all the things you need for a good vampire burning.

The semi-main event was an over nine foot tall “statue” made out of flash paper of varying colors that people called “the Sorceress” – the resultant lightshow of it being set aflame would signal that it was time for the vampire to burn shortly afterwards. Right next to it was the vampire attached to his stake in the traditional arms chained over the head format which has to be Hells on the shoulders. Seemed like a pretty average looking fellow – aside from his brawny arms. His hair was nothing to speak of but I found myself envying it nevertheless. I really need to find a wigmaker.

“Do you see something wrong with this scene?”

“Well, since you ask, I’m no vampirologist but aren’t they supposed to die in sunlight? Aside from being chained to a stake this guy seems fine despite the sun blazing away.”

“Exactly. Do you suppose there’s something stupid happening in every village at all times or are we just the unluckiest people in the world?”

“Don’t look at me, I never encountered this kind of thing until I started following you around.”

I went to poke the “vampire” and asking him what was going on, but was blocked by a chunky fellow in mismatched and rusty armor with an antique halberd. He told us not to bother the prisoner. My initial instinct was to slap him in his corpulent face, but it’s time to return to form. Instead of resorting to violence or childish name-calling I turned on the charm. It was a simple matter to convince the guardsman to let us talk to the prisoner and a good reminder that this is the kind of thing I should be doing more of. Unfortunately the prisoner had nothing much to say, you’d think if you were tied to a stake you’d want to chat just out of boredom but he refused to engage.

Thankfully as we were trying to get the vampire to open us his wife came running over to us – she was quite a beauty for a country girl. Curly wheat-blonde hair, milky white skin, soft pink lips – in another few years country life would leave her a wreck, but for now she was really something to write home about. Sadly she didn’t have much information either, she just insisted her husband wasn’t a vampire and begged us to save him. All she was able to do was direct us to the mayor – one Navomi Noik, who was pretty much an “after” portrait of the vampire’s wife Imma, a rough looking country lady who looked like she had risen to the position of mayor based on her ability to take a punch. She all but admitted that since Drake (the vampire) had come to town a few months ago livestock had started drying mysteriously and he was the scapegoat.

“What kind of livestock do you raise around here?”

“Coypu, they’re a sort of big semi-aquatic rat.”

“What would anyone want that for?”

“Their meat is . . . edible, and you can make clothing out of their pelts, sort of.”

“Why are you accusing this guy of being a vampire? He’s out in the sunlight.”

“It was the best I could do. All signs point to a witch, but everyone knows that only women can be witches so I had to come up with something.”

“That’s flawless logic. When I tried to talk to the guy he wouldn’t say anything, has he denied this vampire accusation?”

“No, which makes my job much easier.”

“How long do we have to find the real reason your super valuable rats are dying?”

“Drake is the real reason of course. He’ll be burned the day after tomorrow though if that’s what you mean.”

We went back to speak with Imma, but were blocked at the door to her hovel by her tall, stern, cadaverous father accusing us of her getting her “riled up” and complaining of her delicate constitution. I was able to persuade him to let us in however and after an excruciating tangent about his wife’s death and how he was a self-made man we finally got to speak with the lovely Imma. Despite her emotional pleas for her husband’s life it didn’t sound like she even knew him that well – saying that he had been rather cold and distant the entirety of their only months long marriage. The father explained that he had arranged the marriage, which is what brought Drake to the village, but talking to these two was getting us nowhere slowly. We went back to the horse’s mouth, where my new friend the rusty guardsman was only too happy to let us try and talk to the prisoner again.

“Here’s what I’m thinking. The reason you’re not shouting your innocence to the Heavens is because you’re protecting whoever is actually responsible for the death of these swamp rats. I’m sure that seems unspeakably noble to you, but here’s the problem – after they burn you to death and the rats keep disappearing what do you think is going to happen? Eventually they’re going to find whoever you’re protecting and kill them too. And then you died for nothing. So how about you let us in on whatever’s going on and we’ll see if we can help you.”

He was a tough nut to crack, but cracking nuts is my specialty, if you know what I mean. There’s no vampire of course, that would be preposterous, a werewolf is killing the watery rodents. Drake has a twin sister who got the Bite of the Moon and is slowly losing her battle against her murderous instincts. People were starting to get suspicious in their old village so Drake did the only sensible thing he could do – arrange a marriage to someone in a different village and then hide his sister in the woods alone, occasionally going out to visit her and try to control her desire to feast on people like so many sheep with prayer and inspirational beatings.

“Since you’re chained to a post and hours away from death this probably doesn’t need to be said, but that wasn’t a very good plan.”

It took even more time to convince him to tell us where this sister of his is hiding out. Despite what Martialla said yesterday I think the real issue is that stabbing someone is fast and it’s done. Trying to get people to do what’s in their own best interest takes forever. I don’t understand why people persist in not doing what I say without question, it’s quite vexing.

“Alright Drake, you hang here, were on the case.”

Martialla shook her head “Really? A pun?”

“That was unintentional, you know I would never do such a thing.”