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Chapter Seven: Melshaef's Tree and the Crown of Chains

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Bren stares down at the unusual tracks. "This is strange indeed. I admit I'm curious as to what these creatures are doing here, but given their natures I'm sure it's nothing good." He frowns, looking up at the gray clouds above before turning back to his fellows. "Wolf, would Pecker be able to take a message back to the wagons, and let them know what's going on? I'd rather follow these while we have them to follow, not to mention how hard it would be to pick the trail up again if we lose it now."
 
Leonard Wolf - The Ranger


(presently in HUMAN form, looking DECISIVE)




"Of course we're following." Wolf says as if it's understood, casting a sharp glance at Bren. "This is too interesting to let pass."


"Pecker!" the ranger signals to his falcon. "Kindly fly back to Sparkle and tell her our hunt's led us off road at this point, then return to me. I will need your far sight."
 
For those of you who have chosen a second Signature Ability, the strange aching feeling you have been experiencing since obtaining the Cosmic Ore becomes still, satiated perhaps. But for those of you who have not chosen, that discomforting void is as open and as wide as ever...


Also... Wolf's message is delivered via Pecker and Pecker returns to Wolf. It is Sparkle who interprets the message and passes it on to Luna. Bria, Powerpaw, and Sabrefang exchange curious looks with Luna. "Well," Bria replies softly, "maybe we should stop the wagons here. And... maybe you want to join them, Luna? You have a perspective they lack that might come in useful. What do you think we should do?"


Powerpaw nods and grabs his maul. "Yah, Luna-face! I kin escorts you dere an' I'll comes back?"


Sabrefang is wearing her worried face. "Ohhh..." is all she can muster as she peers northward and wrings her paws together.

The above comments from the NPCs are a shameless plug to invite and insert Luna up to the tracking party, not because she is any good at tracking, but because I don't want to leave a player (Sherwood) out of any scene that may happen up that way. In other words, I don't want Sherwood missing out on what the rest of the players are experiencing if I can avoid it. I've been that player - it's kind of like being the sick kid at the party. You're in your room having to listen to all of the fun others are having. Oh joy. =)


Meanwhile... for your reading pleasure... I give you...


"Of Birds and Dragons..."





Pecker spreads his brown and white wings wide and with a hop from Wolf's arm, he takes to the air with the fleetness of a speeding arrow. "Will tell! Will tell!" the hunting falcon loyally cries to Wolf as he flaps energetically toward the Adventurers' Wagon. Once he nears it, Pecker climbs above the trees and spies with unerring accuracy the people atop both of the Wanderers' Wagons, and yet, it is not the main wagon whereupon Luna and Bria sit chatting with the Felane, but the Forge Wagon where sits a small, reptilian creature in apparent distress...


(A moment before...)


Sparkle the pseudo-dragon sat with her goodies alone atop the slowly-moving Forge Wagon. The old girl with the long memory was licking her lips at the sight of her cup of milk and large, round bowl. The bowl was especially cause for lip-licking for its contents were so recently made as to be soft, warm, and very yummy. Oh, fresh and hot from the oven! Still melting! I can't wait to- what is that sound?





The old girl froze and let her eyes and ears do the moving. Both senses acutely detected the bird, for they knew his sounds all too well. He was chirping something awful when Sparkle's draconic memory bestowed a nugget regarding the falcon... a memory involving much inane and nonsensical dreaming of fish... and then waking to find a big, fat, smelly one laid smack down in front of her nose while she slept. Pecker would pay...





Thinking quickly, Sparkle cast her newest spell, and then slowly, lazily, rolled onto her back and held her belly with both claws and moaned.


(Now...)


Pecker saw Sparkle (or "dumb fish-hater!") and grimaced. He had never seen Sparkle that way. Why was she moaning? Hurt? Dreaming? It did not matter to the simple-minded falcon, for whatever had happened to Sparkle was likely something the aging scale-face had coming to her. That was the Way of Things. But... what was that she was near? Bowl? Cup? Those meant Nommies! Why was Sparkle covering the bowl with one open wing? Well, whatever she ate, it was too bad it wasn't fish. Pecker glared and twitched his tail.


Sparkle landed on the Forge Wagon's roof about a Powerpaw-sized span away from Sparkle. He walked about and looked suspiciously at the moaning dragon.


What do you want? Leave me alone. Sparkle sent drearily in her natural psychic tongue.


"Here to deliver message!" Pecker chirped. "What in bowl?"


Message important?





"Yes, yes! Wolf says Shield Stallion will take path into forest off of road!" This was a complicated sentence for the bird, but he had kept it straight the whole flight there. He was very proud of himself for doing so and looking forward to Wolf's praise upon his return.


Oh, will they? I will have to tell Luna.





His mission complete, Pecker turned and almost flew away except that the contents of the bowl were still unknown to him. And there Sparkle was, still covering it from his sight. What was she hiding?


"Told you message," he tweeted at her, "now what in bowl?"


Oh... I just couldn't resist... The smell was too delicious... I had to keep eating and eating, but I cannot finish it. My belly is too full.





"Finish what? Speak! Speak!"


Why, my fish! You were right all along. Fish is soooo nommy...





"WHAT?!" Pecker bounced around in surprise and agitation. Fish?! And she didn't even call him to share it with him? Still, he had won! She lost! He had proven he was right all along! Fish was always better than steak! Maybe she might share?


Sparkle waved her wing and the tremendously delicious odor of freshly-caught fish wafted his way. Uncooked. Straight out of some restless pond nearby no doubt. Pecker hopped up and down as he stared transfixed at the bowl.


"Want! Want!"


I'm not sharing with you, featherhead! You're... well... I really can't finish it...





"Give! Give! Or I peck you!"


Fine, fine... I give. Sparkle waved her claw in surrender, her wing falling away, slowly revealing the bowl. Pecker's impatience combined with the tugging scent of fresh fish was too much. He dove right at the bowl.


"FIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH!!"


Sparkle moved her wing out of the way at the very last moment and just in time, for Pecker attacked the contents of the bowl hungrily and savagely, gulping down bite after bite of... what?


Sparkle sat up. Heh, heh, heh...





Pecker struggled. This wasn't fish! There was no meat! No scales! No bones! And where did the fish smell go? Why did it smell like something else now? Pecker opened his mouth to yell at her...


"Squawwblshhh, fbblisshhh!"


Sparkle cupped one ear and giggled at him. What was that?





"Isshh shhhd, sqwaawwblsh, flbilishilish!"


I'm having trouble understanding you, pebble-brain. Could you chirp a little louder?





Finally, realization dawned on the hunting falcon like a descending net. Sparkle had tricked her! He couldn't chirp! Couldn't talk! He flapped his wings madly as she rolled on her back, this time with the high sound of triumphant draconic laughter.


Place a piece of fish in my face while I sleep, will you? Make me dream of endless fish, will you? Well, now we are even, you fishless simpleton!





"SQUAWBBIB!! Wshib washib dishibb?!"


What is this, you ask? You have just enjoyed a bowl full of fresh peanut butter cookies! Cookies, you hear?! Still warm and gooey, like chocolate!





Pecker hopped around like a bird possessed. The more he tried to yell at her, the worse his voice became.


Oh, and the smell of fish? All thanks to my newest spell, Prestidigitation, which I bet you couldn't say even with an empty mouth. Back to Wolf with you! He'll give you some water and clear you right up while I deliver the message! Enjoy your peanut butter cookies, you waddling dolt!





Pecker was madder than hell but completely unable to express it vocally, so he glared and glared at the psuedo-dragon. Who skipped gaily past him. Acting as if she were ignoring him on her way to Luna. Whistling. Because she could.





Pecker mentally swore revenge on the dragon for this horrible humiliation. How was he supposed to gain Wolf's praise about his terrific success at delivering the important message with these... peanut butter cookies in him? Well, there was nothing to be gained here any longer. He launched angrily off of the Forge Wagon and flew north back up the Road of Kings.


A bright thought struck him during the flight. How could he face Wolf like this? He would know Sparkle had duped him! How terribly embarrassing! And the dragon knew it, too! "Stupid smart Sparkle!" he thought as he winged his way back to Wolf and Silver Tongue and... Vardadraug! Pecker's eyes widened. He could tell Vardadraug!


Avoiding the huge two-legged folk entirely, Pecker zoomed straight to the one creature besides Wolf he knew he could count on - the trustworthy, gallant, ever-helpful Vardadraug. As the furry canine stared at him in wonder, Pecker chirped something awful.


Come again? Vardadraug replied, his curiosity growing rapidly. What in the Evergreen is wrong with you?


Pecker tried again and again, but nothing meaningful came out.


Hold, Pecker. Speak more slowly. What is in your mouth? I will translate to the others word-for-word. Oh, Shield Stallion? And the Wolf of Ancient Winters did just that to everyone there as Pecker spoke.


You have... Vardadraug found himself clenching his maw shut lest he burst out in laughter. You.... what?





Pecker cried out. "Pebutt!"


You ingested... what? He nearly chuckled.


"Bubber! Shparkull gib meeb peabutt blubber!"


'Peabutt... blubber, you say?





"Yesh! Yesh! Ebil dwagon gibbed meeb peabutt blubber!"


The Exalted Wolf was coughing, his eyes tearing up, in his struggle to keep his laughing inside.


I've.... ahem... almost got it, Pecker.... So sorry... Um, so... yes... just what kind of peabutt blubber did you eat?


"PEABUTT BLUBBER BOOBIES!"


Vardadraug's high-pitched laughter lifted high into the cloudy sky.
 
With a satisfied nod, Luna shuts her book and slips it into its pouch. "Yes, of course. I will go, for we never know when the perspectives and heat of Bright Fire is needed. Please, lead on. I will keep up with the best of my ability."
 
"CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! Ding ding ding!"


The sound is key, simple metal is clunky, clangie, real steel, sings. As usual Bronze is hammering away at things that must needs be made. Under his breath he sings a nice rhythmic adventures tune.


"Stay safe you all, I'll be here working if you need me."


makes sure the pot of stew is hot and bubbly, and takes a spoon-full to keep his tummy from growling at him.
 
As Bronze expertly puts hammer to anvil, Powerpaw gives a brief wave to everyone at the wagons. Armor rustling, the mighty Felane bounds on all fours up the Road of Kings beside Luna. Heavy clouds the color of cold steel float along above you while you pass between rows and rows of oak and pine trees, all puffed up with beautiful brown and evergreen leaves. Watching Luna run along on two feet, Powerpaw says, "Hey, Luna-face? You wanna hops on my back? You an' Sparkle-face doezn't weigh nuffin' so ya won't slow dis Kitty-face down."





Sparkle, who is in a far better mood than normal, smiles and looks to Luna for response.


Either way, Luna is reunited with her fellow Wanderers. Before you, the Formorian trail breaks off into the woods and into an ugly and awful scene. Everywhere down the trail, trees are broken and snapped, pushed aside as if they were meaningless. Grass is pulverized by deep and careless footprints of creatures who must be as tall as the trees. There are no signs or sounds of animals save your own. Indeed, you are the only things making any sound whatsoever beside the cool wind pushing through the forest.


Then something very strange reveals itself to Luna's eyes. It does not take a wizard to see that the Formorians should leave such a trail everywhere they go - except that they don't... About 100 feet into the forest, the trees stand tall, the grass unbroken. The footprints vanish and with them your evidence of their passing.


Through some toil, it is Wolf's keen senses and experience alone that solves the mystery - the Dalsus-born ranger sees the signs where the trees are just wide enough to allow the Formorians passage, but it is not the rampaging giants that might cause Wolf worry, but instead the tell-tale paw print at his feet. That print, along with its unusual pentagram marking, tells much. For rangers of of Wolf's experience and ability can fade into the forest like a ghost in the night... but as far as the ranger knows, they cannot share this ability.


The Dire Wolf of Dalsus's tracks (betrayed only by the destruction caused by the Formorians) seem to lead the giants off of the road and into the trail. They step where the warg steps - and in doing so, disappear with the warg.








In game terms, Wolf alone has discovered that the Dire Wolf of Dalsus seems to not only have the ability to Pass Without Trace as rangers do, but the ability to share it with creatures much greater in size than he...


As Bren and Otiorin stand over another of the warg's tracks, Vardadraug and Pecker emerge from the forest, the latter perched on the former's shoulders. The hunting falcon is wet from beak to back. He spies his own playful nemesis and tweets clearly in the language of animals. "Will get you for this! You and peanut butter cookies!"


Oh really? Sparkle sends. Good! I await your pleasure, you twit.





"Scale-face!"


Feather-plucker!





"Fish-hater!"





Then a moment of silence passes between bird and dragon as they stare at each other with mock-menacing. It does not last long. Both of them know they can only be "mad" at each other for so long. Grins replace scowls in moments.


"Good trick with cookies. Forky-tongue fiend!"


Shhh! There is business afoot. Our friends require our silence.





And as they quiet, both bird and dragon resort to giving each other "dirty" looks.


Powerpaw stands upright and takes a long look at the trail before turning back toward the wagons. "Whoa... Hey, Bren-face? You want any of da rest of us, just send one'a da egg-layers here," he indicates Pecker and Sparkle. "Mom kin understands Pecker-face."
 
Bren grins at the antics of bird, wolf (not Wolf) and dragon, but his smile fades as he studies the tracks - such as they are. He nods a welcome to Luna and Powerpaw. "Hey, friends. You've come in time for a mystery, for the tracks we've been following have suddenly vanished - but for a print here and there of a Dire Wolf, and one that Wolf says he encountered sometime back."
 
Luna looks about her as if she might spot something, then laughs as she realizes that if the rangers couldn't spot the tracks, how could she? "I know little about dire wolves, but from the name, they are not supposed to be soft and fluffy. If I were to run into this wolf, should I run our fight? Some wolves are more dire than others."
 
Leonard Wolf - The Ranger


(presently in HUMAN form, looking DECISIVE)




Wolf observed the interaction between Vardadraug, Sparkle, and Pecker with mild amusement. It wasn't entirely clear to him what happened but the dire situation at hand won his attention over what was most likely just playful bickering. Also, Luna had arrived to the scene. The ranger approached her from behind while she was busy studying the tracks and suddenly wrapped his arms around her, effectively locking her in place. He pressed her body tightly next to his and leaned in until his lips were right next to her left ear.


"It's not that wolf you should be worried about." he told her in a half whisper, adding a touch of menace to his tone. Then he quickly snapped his teeth together, resulting in what he deemed a satisfying click. He stayed like that for a long moment, at the end of which he planted a soft kiss on her neck.


After releasing Luna the ranger reclaimed his serious, decisive demeanor and informed everyone: "The Formorians and the dire wolf are working together. I don't know why but it can't be anything good. We must track them down and spoil their plans. You just focus on the giants... Leave the wolf to me."
 
HP: 52


Initiative: n/a


Spells per day/remaining: 4/4


Active spells: n/a


Active effects: n/a


Otiorin's acute senses detected the arrival of the Felane warrior long before he became visible and nodded silently to his fellows as they entered the clearing, bow hanging loose but ready in his hands. The moment they arrived, he returned to his vigil, his eyes and head constantly moving to cover all avenues of approach or observation around them. He still could not shake the feeling of being watched. Maybe it was his city-born paranoia of the wilderness or not, he did not fancy being caught out by giants who could vanish into the forest after leaving so obvious a trail.


He spared a slight smirk for the animals' antics, and sighed quietly as he watched Wolf embrace Luna.


It's good that someone can find someone who reciprocates their love for them, even out here in the wilds.
 
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Powerpaw bounds back down the Road of Kings toward the wagons leaving you with the a trail that only Wolf seems to know how to follow. Wolf's eyes find a big something, for regardless of how well the Formorians tracks have vanished, the giants cannot overcome the law of physics - they must still trek through Shandra's Evergreen in ways that will accept their hulking bodies. Such places are few. Wolf, for the time being, knows where to look for these passages for the dire wolf tracks have disappeared as surely as his own.


You proceed deeper into the rough forest and gone is the easy, flat road behind you. Your feet traversing wild growth as you maneuver between thickets and brush, over hills and waves of grass and the occasional fallen tree taken down by the changer of all things - Time. Otiorin and Luna encounter trouble from time to time as they figure out how to get over, around, or sometimes under obstacles or are caught by those wonderful "wait-a-minute" vines that close around you in the oddest places (but hold securely if you attempt to ignore them). Bren, Wolf, and Vardadraug dance by comparison through the forest almost as easily as if it were open ground. And it is they that discover the thing that should not be...


...for there, flattened upon the earth, is something dressed in a brown, tattered tunic and pants twisted and broken in a sad, unnatural heap. It is a human body, male from the look of things, with a shock of gray hair, no footwear, and a horrible red and black streak of color across his neck and chest.


What do you do?
 
Bronze, being way back at the Wagons keeps working on his craft. At the same time though, he takes a few moments to set up a defensible camp area by moving logs and thorny plants into well placed areas coming from the forest.


"Hey Mr. and Miss. Meadosweets, what cha think on setting us up some small walls in spots and maybe a simple campfire just for the light and stuff? I dunno about you, but giving our friends a nice fall back spot sounds like a good idea, not to mention if we get attacked, we at least will have a chance to fight back, what cha think?"


Bronze also takes into account that the horses need some protection and food and water, so he takes care of the critters.
 
  • Brendoran, human fighter/ranger


    Bren stills for a moment as the sad sight comes into view, then shakes his head. "Mielikki watch over his spirit." He moves in just enough to see better, but not so close as to trample any traces that the party may be able to find. He looks over the scene to see if there is anything to be learned from it beyond the obvious - a poor soul in the wrong place at the wrong time.
 
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Luna frowns at the sight of the fallen man. She has taken the life of others before, but she never took any joy in it, and any death is something to be mourned. She doors scan the area around them to make sure that there is so ambush about to have them join the dead man.


[dice]12837[/dice]
 
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Leonard Wolf - The Ranger


(presently in HUMAN form, looking CAUTIOUS)




Wolf attentively glances around and then sets his sight on Brendoran and the body next to him. He doesn't approach to inspect it himself, seeming to favor staying cautious and on the lookout for danger. He nods his soundless approval to Luna while at it.


"Bren?"


[dice]12963[/dice]
 
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HP: 52


Initiative: n/a


Spells per day/remaining: 4/4


Active spells: n/a


Active effects: n/a
Otiorin maintains his own overwatch. Others more skilled in reading the signs on a dead body were at work and his eyes were better used attending to their surroundings. An ambush could come at any time.


"One thing that concerns me, Bren, Wolf. If this wolf was able to conceal its tracks and those of these giants, why did it do it now, and not when they left the road? I mean, they left a great swathe of destruction through the trees, only to become as stealthy as wind-blown spindrift."
 
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It is Brendoran who comes upon the only evidence of the man's demise; there are slash marks across the man's throat and down his chest is black and red where the blood left him. He lies flat on his back, eyes open, gazing into the trees and sky. There is one thing amiss - the victim's hands do not show the open release of a typical dead person's. One fist, even in death, remains clenched while the other is hidden beneath his blackened tunic.
 
Location: The Road of Kings


Saturday, September 20th, 1118. Time: 10:00 a.m.


Weather: Building cloudy skies with cold winds.


Travel time to Highwind: On day 5 of 14.


Travel time to Melshaef's Tree: On day 3 of 3.


Back at the wagons, Bonny and Whittle pause in the middle of their second breakfast and look up to Bronze. For hobbits, battle and war, barricades and defensive positions are distant and dreadful things, things meant for humans and other war-like creatures, so perhaps it is no surprise when the furry-footed folk blanch at the very notion and reach for empty plates and the biggest cup they can find. These, they direct in Bronze's direction with happy smiles


"Come now, love!" says Whittle. "Why spend a gloomy morning by making it all gloomier?"


"Quite right," Bonny pours a cup of apple juice and offers it to Bronze, "why should we always be thinking of danger and toil when there is a whole morning to relax with? Have we not cleaned, fixed, maintained, and even painted these wagons back to the best of condition these past two days? Oh, and a looooong two days it has been!"


"Besides that," Whittle adjusts her wide straw hat and looks up to Bronze with her grass-green eyes, "we've yet to learn a thing about you! Why not chat a bit instead of wearing yourself out on pulling fallen trees and such? The rest of the day is yet to come and you never know what Mister Bren and the others might return with!"


"Aye, if we are lucky, they will just return with the passing of travel upon their heroic persons. But not me! I say leave the heroics to the brave! I just want to get home and see our seven little stars..."


"Amen!"


Meanwhile, from the fore of the Forge Wagon, where the hobbits are dining, Bronze can easily see Bria and Powerpaw atop the Adventurers' Wagon. Bria seems to be showing Powerpaw a few combat techniques that are unlike the kind you have seen him use. He watches with interest, mimicking Bria's technique, only to be gently but firmly corrected in places by the ever-patient young woman.


Atop the wagon, well out of striking distance, sits Stewart with book in one hand and quill in the other. He grins a greeting toward Bronze and waves with the tip of his quill to him.


Meanwhile, back at the trail, what do the tracking Wanderers do?
 
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Brendoran, human fighter/ranger


"That is a good question, Otiorin, and one I can't answer, at least for now. Maybe there's something important about this area?" Bren looks over at Wolf when the other ranger speaks his name. "This looks more like the work of the warg, not the giants, wouldn't you say? They were dragging clubs, and these are slash marks." He kneels beside the corpse, trusting in his party members to keep an eye on their surroundings. "Forgive me for disturbing you, friend. If what you hold is merely personal, I'll see it safe to the druid Melshaef, but I'd like to see if it holds a clue to what happened here. Respectfully but firmly, he reaches for the fallen man's hands to see what they're hiding.
 
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Luna feels compelled to step forward and join Bren at the body, to offer her point of view of whatever it is that is concealed in the hands of the fallen man. She continues to keep watch for signs of a trap, though.
 
Leonard Wolf - The Ranger


(presently in HUMAN form, looking NERVOUS)




"Well?" Wolf asks nervously. "Hurry it up, you two. Anything interesting?" The ranger's eyes keep darting between different directions, ready to spot even the slightest movement in the treeline.
 
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Location: The Road of Kings (5 days north of Summerset)


Saturday, September 20th, 1118. Time: 10:15 a.m.


Weather: Building cloudy skies with cold winds.


Travel time to Highwind: On day 5 of 14.


Travel time to Melshaef's Tree: On day 3 of 3.


Wolf sez,

The ranger's eyes keep darting between different directions, ready to spot even the slightest movement in the treeline.
Click to expand...
It is not the trees that move or even the grass. The wind itself seems to still a moment in the tall, verdant wild that is Shandra's Evergreen. Time seems to slow. Only the gray, sullen clouds move.


Otiorin, Wolf, and Vardadraug scan the trees with their eyes and listen keenly with their ears. Neither sense betrays anything amiss while Bren and Luna look together at the sorry corpse of the gray-haired man. His end was clearly an awful one. His throat has been ripped open by something that was not a sharp blade, his tunic is blackened all over from the pouring of his own blood, and under that shirt comes a terrible discovery - this man's insides are no longer in him; it is as if something took him down and ate out his belly while he still lived.


Yet his hands remain clenched even in death. As Bren removes the stubborn hidden hand from the stinking tunic, it too is closed, and apparently empty. Those fingernails are dug into the flesh. As you lurk here, there comes a strange feeling. It is natural but not altogether right. Something deep within each of you comes to a realization; the part of you that strives to stay alive knows the truth of those ugly fists - it was not something material this man clung to as he died - it was life itself he was clinging to. So strong was the yearning to stay alive that he appears to have tried to hold onto it with all that he was. His twisted features appear pained. His shoulder-length hair is matted with blood. His eyes, though closed, appear far from peaceful.


Without warning, those eyes open!


The fists unclench and Bren feels those fingers suddenly grasp his armored chest and shoulders! The corpse-become-man speaks! The horrid voice that comes shrieking forth exits not from his mouth, but from the hole in his neck and the crazed yelling he produces now would chill the spirit of even the most stalwart. He does not seem to see you; his eyes, brown, cracked, and terror-stricken seem to see something beyond your own, something that perhaps the living would do well to avoid...


"Ai, Mielikki! Do not forsake me! Alas, the jaws of the demon-wolf have stripped me of my life, but his powers threaten my very soul! I was your humble servant, Lady of the Forest! Do not let the demon-wolf devour my soul! Please! Let me pass on to you! Ai! Help me, Mielikki! Save me!!"


His fingers clutch at Bren and his facial features twitch all over as he tries to rise, but only his hands and head seem to function, and then in a manner all too bizarre for the living. It is then that Bren sees it - inside the hole of the tormented man's throat - there is something there that he was not born with but was given...


...there lies a small scar in the shape of a pentagram inside the back of this man's throat. The man's shrieking stops, but his eyes remain open. He falls limp and lifeless, like a discarded doll, yet inside those eyes something there still lurks...


What now do the Wanderers here do?





For those of you who will be preparing for fun at the end of October, with this little scene, I wish you a Happy Halloween! Boo! =)
 
Luna jerks back in shock at the sudden burst of 'life' from the mangled body. She has seen the practice of necromancy before, and knows that it is not an inherently evil art. But, this does not match what she has seen. "Great Boccob! What magic is this?" She is far enough away from the body that she does not see the glyph in his throat, but her mind is racing to try and come up with an answer for the situation.

Knowledge Arcana and Spellcraft are both at the same roll, so I will give this a shot.
[dice]14381[/dice]
 
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Leonard Wolf - The Ranger


(presently in HUMAN form, looking SHOCKED)




Wolf's reflexes make him ready his bow and draw an arrow on a moment's notice, pointing it at the deliberating corpse. The ranger stares at it as if he's staring at a dream - or in this case, nightmare. Disciplined enough, he doesn't loose the arrow. But he doesn't put the readied weapon away either, not even when the dead man returned to his previous, calmer state.


"I've killed enough men to know that's not supposed to happen." he says. "Just what are we dealing with here?"
 
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Brendoran, human fighter/ranger


Bren gasps and flinches back instinctively as the dead eyes open, only to freeze in place as dead hands grab his shoulders. "What in..." The big man's hands come up to grip the dead wrists, but the dead voice speaks before he can do anything else. His eyes widen at the corpse's words - and then narrow suddenly, just before the corpse falls lifeless once more. "Good gods! All of them, maybe. I wish we had a cleric within reach. There's some kind of mark on this poor man, like the mark on the warg's footprints." He reaches down to close the dead man's eyes. "Mielikki guard you, friend. We'll try to help." He stands and backs away a couple steps before turning to face the others. "Wolf, could you send Pecker back to fetch Bria and Saberfang? I'm hoping they can help this poor soul; they're probably the best shot we've got, anyway. Luna, what do you and Sparkle make of this?" He nods at the now-unmoving body. "In the meantime, everyone keep eyes and ears open in case the warg comes back."
 
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