The Wolves of Welton (IC)

[Lord of Gifts]

Welton is an unremarkable rural village, much akin to a thousand other settlements throughout the land. Built on the banks of the River Oxwick, the cluster of white-walled oak buildings stands out against the sea of green grass that lines the shallow valley. The river isn’t deep enough to support a major trade route, but it does bring fertile soil, and with that comes good harvests. So blessed, the local economy has long benefited from a proud tradition of sheep herding and wheat farming. Far from enough to birth a financial powerhouse, it has still managed to comfortably support the village, and its residents haven’t known true hardship for many years.

Recently, thing have changed. Coordinated attacks by vicious wolf packs have pushed the village to the point of a crisis. Many shepherds have lost large chunks of their herds, and supplies are starting to run worryingly low. Sympathetic to the plight of a desperate people, or else attracted by the promise of reward, four travellers have resolved to answer the call for aid.

You approach Welton as a group, having met along the main road leading in from the west. With the village now visible in the valley below, you have little more than an hours walk left of your journey. Some distance ahead, the path starts to bend slightly, passing between an outcrop of rocks and the borders of a mossy woodland. A pair of men are driving a small flock of sheep through the gap, aided by four dogs.

Spoiler: OOC

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Roll perception.

[Awful]

Ophine, the Oak-Crowned, was quiet as she walked along the path. Her bare feet pattered quietly against the cobbles and mud of the road along with the clacking of her staff as she walked. Her great oak-horned mask, crowned like the stag, only revealed her mouth and jaw, set in a slight frown, and two hooded green eyes that gazed, almost sleepy in expression, out at the world, as if she'd rather be sleeping that here. Her long, slender limbs swung as she moved, uncovered by the simple plant-fiber cloth wrap that preserved her modesty round her chest and hung round her waist.

Oh, an unusual sight - or perhaps not, compared to some of her companions. A walking, talking lizard from afar, strong of limb, orange of crest, and thick of skull; a young tiefling giving only the name Warlock of the Winds - and wasn't that bold, to peddle such a contract so blazenly; and almost amusingly mundane in comparison, another human, worn and greyed by the rigors of his life.

The village seemed picturesque enough, she supposed. White-washed walls, sheep and wheat. At least the countryside didn't quite have the stink of the cities. Her eyes took in the two shepards as they herded their flock in the direction of the travellers.

[NontheistCleric]

Cloth floats gently on the wind, a few feet shy of the ground. Casting a contentedly bored gaze across the landscape, he notes that green and white is not a combination that enthuses him, as well as that the sheep herd's size fits with the accounts of wolf attacks.

Then he tilts his head, almost as if listening to someone. After a few moments, he murmurs something unintelligible and the air currents carrying him forward strengthen, nudging him towards the girl in the oak-horned mask.

"Notice anything unusual about this place?" he whispers, shoulder brushing hers as he comes up behind her. "The air tells me there is something to see... and your eyes are the sharpest."

Spoiler: OOC

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Casting guidance on Ophine and taking the Help action to grant advantage on her Perception check.

[Vozen]

Kadrus Level 3 Samurai Fighter | HP: 31/31 | AC: 18 Kadrus glances out over the peaceful village as the group approaches. He liked the company of these ones, they were a bit tougher than the average softskin, though he knew he would have to do all the real up-close fighting if things went south. Humans all looked the same to him so whatever oddities they may have held did not phase him, though having a companion floating in the air with red skin and a tail did manage to register as odd to him. He assumed this was a different breed of softskin. "Mmmmm, raiding is always an issue when your guard is down. The town could use more fighters, but that is true of most softskin towns." He quipped. He honestly felt a pang of sympathy for all the softskins who's whole body was covered in a skin that could be cut into as easy as head crest skin, it sounded awful. If this village was in his homeland it would have been ripped apart years ago. Mindful that he would soon meet softskins who did not know of him, the nearly seven foot tall bipedal lizard drew his traveling cloak and hood close to try and seem just that slightest bit less intimidating. He doubted it would work, but as long as he kept his weapons away and made no sudden movements...and remembered not to growl...they would eventually stop pointing spear-tips at him. Perhaps having softskin companions would help this time.

[stack]

Brom Sunborn

Spoiler: Perception

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(1d20+3)[21]

The weathered campaigner finds himself in curious company, but not for the first time. Besides, angry wolves are lesser foes than armies of men. He keeps his peace, not wishing to open a philosophical discussion on the principles of self defense.

[Lord of Gifts]

Nearing a little, you sense a pervasive feeling of discomfort, reflected in the anxious chattering of the herd. One of the shepherds calls out a greeting, seemingly glad to see the well-armed newcomers, but this relief is short lived.

The first sign of actual danger is when the dogs, previously calmer than the rest of the group, prick up their ears and start barking in unison. Obviously distressed, the shepherds turn their attention from the party, drawing long wooden cudgels and looking about wildly for the source of the danger.

Sharp-eyed and alert, the adventurers are able to pick out at least half a dozen lean grey shapes hidden amongst the rocks and trees, moving slowly to encircle the flock. Unaware of the threat, both shepherds edge back towards their sheep, weapons raised and eyes towards the forest.

[stack]

Brom calls down to the shepherds, "Move yourselves and your flock behind us, we will deal with the wolves. Keep an eye out for any that try to skirt around." He readies his weapon and moves to interpose himself between the predators and their erstwhile prey.

[NontheistCleric]

Air swirls protectively around Cloth as he prepares to defend himself.

"Are wolves afraid of any kind of animal?" he asks Ophine. "And if they are, what does it sound like?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Casting mage armor on self.

[Vozen]

Kadrus shifted his hood off his head and took out his longsword and shield, moving in front of not only the farmers and flock but his fellow adventurers. He always worked best out in front. He had nothing to say, action spoke here.

Drawn up to his full height, he hoped that they would be wise enough not to tackle with the larger predictor. Not likely though, since pack tactics were the staple of wolves.

[Awful]

Ophine's green eyes gave an amused look towards the tiefling as he spoke.
"Shepards," Ophine said dryly, "Typically."

She tapped her staff against the soil, and it took on a hue and form closer to horn, with points growing from the wood. Her pace quickened, as she moved to interpose herself between the wolves and the flock.

[NontheistCleric]

"Not really working for them, is it?" remarks the warlock, eyes on the frantic shepherds. "But I suppose that's why we're here."

Then he tenses himself for action and a miniature gale erupts behind him, sending him rocketing through the air towards the shepherds. Nearing the wolves, he launches himself upward before reaching biting distance, tracing an arc in the sky and tumbling to a flurried stop above the middle of the sheep herd.

"You're surrounded," Cloth informs the shepherds, "but don't panic. Now keep your sheep under control—I'm going to make a little noise to try and scare these wolves off."

As he speaks, he unslings the staff from his back and holds it in the air.

Wind, bring me the sound of angry men!

There is a moment of silence, and then the air around them explodes. A battalion's worth of shouting, screaming voices sound, joined by barks like the sheep-dogs' but multiplied tenfold. Steel seems to clang continuously alongside an ominous crackle, as though a fire burns wherever the din comes from.

Spoiler: OOC

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Casting expeditious retreat on self, then using movement and the spell-granted Dash to advance 60 feet. According to the distances given in the OOC thread, that should put me 40 feet away from the shepherds and 20 from the nearest wolves.

Then combat starts.

Start of Combat
Using move and spell-granted Dash to close the remaining distance to the shepherds, then casting minor illusion. I should be safe from exhaustion stopping where I am, as I believe sheep are generally less than 5 feet tall.

Unless these are giant fantasy sheep, which I suppose is fair.

[Awful]

Ophine didn't reply to Cloth's statement, instead moving as close to the shepards and their flcok as she could. She felt the energy within herself, the capability of change - and held it back for now. Maybe if the fight became dire, but for now she kept her human skin.

Spoiler: OOC

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Move to interpose herself as close to the sheep and shepards as possible, preparing action to strike any wolf within range with Shillegh if possible.

[Lord of Gifts]

Closing the trap, the wolves lunge towards the sheep, but Cloth intervenes. Startled by the sudden cacophony, most of them recoil in fear, further encouraged by sharp blows from the shepherds’ clubs.

As Ophine surges forward in support, one of the braver wolves rushes out to challenge the interloper. Lashing out with vicious jaws, it is met by heavy blows from the druid’s staff, brimming with the force of nature.

Spoiler: OOC

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The wolves are currently suffering from the frightened condition, due to the illusion.

Ophine attacking the wolf: (1d20+5)[11]
Damage: (1d8+3)[6]

The wolf attacking with disadvantage: (1d20+4)[19], (1d20+4)[17]
Damage: (2d4+2)[5]

Ok, Ophine misses the wolf and suffers 5 points of damage.

[stack]

Brom continues to close, calling down a magic mace and flame to smite the wolves

Spoiler

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Move: (toward fight, 25 ft)
Action: Sacred Flame vs wolf attacking Ophine Dex DC 13 vs (1d8)[4] radiant damage

Spoiler: Sacred Flame

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Flame-like radiance descends on a creature that you can see within range. The target must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or take 1d8 radiant damage. The target gains no benefit from cover for this saving throw.

Bonus Action: Spiritual weapon vs wolf attacking Ophine attack roll (1d20+5)[17] for (1d8+3)[9] force damage

Spoiler: spiritual weapon

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You create a floating, spectral weapon within range that lasts for the duration or until you cast this spell again. When you cast the spell, you can make a melee spell attack against a creature within 5 feet of the weapon. On a hit, the target takes force damage equal to 1d8 + your spellcasting ability modifier.
As a bonus action on your turn, you can move the weapon up to 20 feet and repeat the attack against a creature within 5 feet of it.
The weapon can take whatever form you choose. Clerics of deities who are associated with a particular weapon (as St. Cuthbert is known for his mace and Thor for his hammer) make this spell's effect resemble that weapon.

[Lord of Gifts]

Jerking to the side, the wolf evades the fire, but is caught by a vicious blow from the spectral mace.

Spoiler: OOC

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Dex Save: (1d20+2)[18], (1d20+2)[18]

[Awful]

Ophine hissed as the wolf's flashing jaws opened bloody divots along her leg. Pain; she'd not been wounded by a woodland beast since old One Eye. She swung at it with her staff, but the wily beast managed to leap away in time. She gave a quick nod to Brom in thanks for the assistance of the spectral mace, her eyes not leaving the wolf.

[NontheistCleric]

Seeing Ophine wounded, Cloth raises a hand in the offending wolf's direction. A concentrated gust of wind rushes forth to batter it.

Spoiler: OOC

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Eldritch blast targeting the wolf that just bit Ophine: (1d20+5)[14]
Damage: (1d10+3)[11]
Potential critical damage: (1d10)[8]

If the wolf is hit, it is pushed 10 feet away from Cloth (and thus also 10 feet away from the sheep herd, as Cloth is in the middle of it).

[Lord of Gifts]

Already dazed from the spectral hammer blow, the wolf is caught off guard by the column of rushing air. Struck hard in the flank, it is thrown violently along the road, falling to the ground in a bloody, lifeless heap.

The wolves were here to ambush scared shepherds, not to fight heavily armed adventurers. Seeing their ringleader killed, they lose their nerve and give up the attack, darting for the safety of the treeline. One of the larger beasts stays planted on the road for a moment, growling ferociously as though to cover the retreat, before finally fleeing in turn.

The shepherds' relief to find allies in the fight turns into elation when the wolves run. In other times, they might be suspicious to see such an odd group travelling through, but now they greet their saviours warmly. "Thank Pelor!", cries the taller of the pair. "I thought we were in for real trouble there." His partner is equally enthusiastic, and what follows is a veritable torrent of praise.

Eventually, the stream of blessings comes to an end, and they turn their attention to more practical matters.

"I suppose folk like you must be here for the bounty on them wolves. They've been plaguing us for months now, and it's about time someone put it right."

"If you’re heading to the village now", interjects his partner, "we’ll show you the way. You scared those lot pretty bad, but they’ll come back. I’d feel an awful lot safer having some of you around when they do."

[JNAProductions]

Celeste catches back up, fresh bandages visible on her leg. She had caught herself on a thornbush, and stayed behind to patch herself up. When she heard the combat, she set off as quick as she could, but came just a little too late to help.

My apologies, she offers to her companions as she reaches them. Is everyone safe?

[NontheistCleric]

Cloth gives a nod of acknowledgement as the shepherds first express their thanks, but his attention quickly wanders to Brom and Ophine. He floats over to them as the shepherds go on.

"Oh dear," he says, wincing slightly at the sight of Ophine's leg wounds. "That looks bad." Summoning up a bit of healing magic, he blows gently in the cuts' direction.

He looks up as Celeste reappears. "Nothing to worry about," he tells her. "All fine, except for that wolf. But it did try to kill us."

"Anyway," he says, turning back to the shepherds, "you were saying something about going to the village? Well then, lead on. Also, do you two have names?"

Spoiler: Spell

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Healing word on Ophine: (1d4+3)[6]

[Awful]

Ophine's wounds closed up under the zephyr of Cloth's healing magic. Begrudgingly, she nodded towards him.
"...Thanks."
Ignoring the two farmers, she went and knelt next to the wolf, looking for anything strange about it.

Spoiler: OOC

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Medicine: (1d20+5)[15] for any signs of illness or deformity that might lead to more aggression
Nature: (1d20)[9] for any more thoughts about their behaviour.

[stack]

Brom watches the wolves retreat; seeing that the healing is already tended to, he instead muses "Going to be a long row to hoe if we have to ambush them one at a time."

[NontheistCleric]

"They come in packs, though, don't they?" says Cloth. "So that makes things easier—or harder, depending on how you see it."

[JNAProductions]

Let them come. We will see the people through, Celeste says. Or, at least, that's the plan.

[Lord of Gifts]

In the sudden absence of wolves, the sheep dogs turn their collective attention to the strangers, assessing them as the conversation takes place. A few cautious growls are directed at the floating tiefling, but they are quickly settled by reassuring gestures from the shepherds. The taller, a lanky man with greying hair and a weathered face, firmly takes the lead. Issuing a cursory apology, he introduces himself as Erden, and his younger, stouter companion as Alric. Gesturing down the road in the direction of Welton, he takes a few short steps, looking back to make sure the adventurers were following.

"I reckon they have a den in the woods," says Alric, visibly excited by the strategic talk. "Month or so ago, a bunch of blokes from the village went out to hunt the wolves," he explains. "Ran into a few too many in the deep woods."

Erden shoots a stern glance at Alric. "I wasn’t there myself," he says, "but it sounded like an unholy mess. They were ambushed, and sent running. Some of 'em tell of booming thunder, others bursts of fire. Whatever did happen, a halfling by the name of Featherock was hurt real bad. All the others thought he was dead." He pauses a moment, looking contemplative. "Funny enough, he was found dumped outside Westly's the next morning, on the edge of the woods. Poor man ain't been the same since, though. Hears voices in the night. Cracked in the head, they say." He turns again to survey the adventurers. "That's why we put out word for professionals. Unless that sorcerer, Father Merrikson's brother, turns up again, we just can't sort this ourselves."

Spoiler: Ophine

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You don't find anything unusual by examining the wolf.

[stack]

Brom nods, taking the information in. He thanks the shepherd, then turns to his companions, "Perhaps we can hire a guide who knows the woods to help find the den, unless one of you all feel able to track them back? Wolves leaving a man alive that they had in their power is mighty odd; I suspect there is a person of some kind behind this business."

[NontheistCleric]

Drifting along behind the shepherds, Cloth can't resist baring his teeth mockingly at one of the dogs that growled at him when Alric and Erden aren't looking.

"Fire and thunder mean some kind of magic," he observes, twirling slowly though the air. Golden eyes lock inquisitively with Erden's as the older man turns back. "Did you say you lost yourselves a sorcerer?"

[Awful]

Ophine pulled the wolf to the side and left it beneath a bush. The ways of nature prescribed no burial, no tombstone; for prey and predator alike was only the conquerer worm.

"As far as I can see," Ophine said, joining the conversation, "There are no signs of the frothing-mouth sickness, which drives beasts wild, and such behaviour is far out of normal. I agree: it seems like there is a mage behind this."

She mused on the motives of this potential mage. Where they attempting to drive away the villagers? Where they an offended fey spirit, taking compense for an insult? None could say at this stage.

[Lord of Gifts]

"Aye, Alexi Merrikson. Bit of a strange bloke, but he did help the village. Used t' wander the hills a lot, fending off wolves and bandits. Ain't been seen since these attacks started though. Normally I wouldn't hear a word against him, but the timing does make you wonder."

[NontheistCleric]

"It does indeed," Cloth acknowledges. "Though even if this Aleksei Merrikson is the source of the magic, it may not necessarily be his fault. You say he wanders about a lot; perhaps a wolf ate him and absorbed his powers." The last sentence is accompanied by the warlock poorly miming a wolf in the act of pouncing on someone and chewing their flesh.

"Of course," he continues, "speculation isn't worth much. Can that Featherock fellow still speak? It might be useful for us to know what he saw, or at least what he thinks he did."