First Adventure: The Hunt for The Night Thing

Bracus, Two-Axe's medicine man, chides himself for being gone during all this and will gladly pledge himself to killing the Night Thing for the clan.

When Skarma's word reaches him Wotan pledges himself to kill The Other Thing going bump in the night.

As the Day-Star sets in the west, the colors of the sky erupt in a wash of bright and beautiful colors. The star goes down...down...down, and as it descends, the sky becomes darker and darker, and then stars streak upward from the edges of horizon. Many, many, many stars streak upward, and start to move into patterns in the night sky.

As you all approach the clanfire of the Two-Axe clan (some of you are familiar with the clan, a few of you are not), putting your weapons outside of firelight, per the pact of guestright, this clan has been beaten down. Those of you familiar with the Two-Axe clan remember them to be excited, eager, happy people. This people is down-trodden, sullen, wounded, and sad.

Nearest the bonfire is the dwarven chieftain herself, Skarna Two-Axe, wearing a traditional stone mask, signifying her grief, hiding her tears from her clansfolk.

Sad chants and songs are sung by the clan of varied kinships. It is a night of mourning for the son of Skarna, Brakar Two-Axe. The shaman, an ancient and crooked godmarked with a single curving horn in the middle of his red forehead, lowers his knotty hands, and the wailing clan goes silent. They have been mourning the chieftain’s slain son for three nights.

"Thank you, everyone, for your reverence, your honor, your respect, as we honor our fallen family, especially Brakar. Honor dictated that we mourn his loss for three nights, and tonight completes that rite. Go in peace, Brakar. Hunt the great spirits of beyond."

The dying clanfire snaps at the sky as the stars swirl above. It’s autumn, and it’s almost dawn. They say Skarna hasn’t spoken in days, except to send out messengers to bring back hunters to track down the Night Thing, a beast which injured her daughter and killed her son. The ceremony is drawing to an end—soon it will be time to begin the hunt.

It wasn't his Hearth to tend so Wotan stood in the dark watching in quiet the events. He listened carefully to tales about the creature in the whispers of the frightful and lamenting clan members. One might think of Wotan as Death Itself, the gaunt and pale human perfectly still as he observed with Silent Vigil.

He paid respects as long as he could tolerate being idle, but then began to patrol the perimeter of the fire, his eyes twin flames of blue cold fire in the darkness. His undead flesh smelled of camphor, eucalyptus, and the sacred embalming oils. It tended to keep pest of the bestial and human variety at bay.

Wotan busily peered on the outskirts of the village searching for any sign of incursion. Trying to ascertain the nature of this predator. He doubted it was a monster, though he had seen many strange things in his centuries long existence he had never seen a monster. It was either a rival tribe, or an apex predator. Wotan hated the idea of a God other than himself. If there was a monster he considered it a threat to his own, deserved supremacy.

Wotan himself would have made for a very strange character for those who saw him in the dark. He had shiny shells all over him, jewelry crafted into cunning patterns a shirt of shells and woven red hair. It was too fine for him, it didn't match the rest of his attire which was tatters of clothing made of leather straps and strips, it existed purely for modesty not covering much of his flesh nor any of the hundreds of scars that covered him head to toes.

What stood out first was the enormous grass hat he had made for himself. Weaving it with his abundance of free time roaming. He was obscured from light, rain, snow, and hail by the thick byweave of grass. The hat and Wotan's face had a matching scar. Something had cut out one of his eyes. It was not an easy face to look at.

He wore wood on his foot, two thin strips of fragrant tree wood. His foot bound in the sewn head of a thylacine. Toes left exposed but craftily the lower jaw had been glued to the wood and small square pegs had been driven through to hold it in place. It would certainly displace much of his weight if he was standing on snow. Dragging behind him, a sled with the rest of his possessions. Many old furs and hides stacked on his sled of reindeer bones.

He stopped and tugged his beard laughing with his characteristic laughter. "Ho! Ho! Ho!" Half Mad Wotan had wandered nearly 100ft from the light of the fire. "Brakar... Berkanan... Birch..." Immediately after he forgot what he was looking for and sought a birch tree.

Bracus was beside himself as he sat at the fireside. He is the only Dragonborn there and probably be the only ever. His race isn't commonly found around and even less a clansman.

The firelight gleamers off his green to blue-green scales and his golden eyes seem to watch everything in his quite self. He is there among all fireside but is alone still as no one sits close to either side of him. It is known he does appreciate close company at all. He is totally quiet the whole evening and seems to just take in everything.

It is already known that he will hunt and is ready even as he sits on the fireside to do so. It is strange to see him in leather armor and not have "Bushmac" at his side, but he is rather keen on the customs of the tribe.

Medheyg sat at a comfortable distance from the fire, having found a conveniently located stone to wait upon. It was a shame about the dead family, she thought. True, these were not her people, but it's hardly fair for anyone to get gobbled up by some horrible creature from the dark night - for a second she considered doing an offer to the spirits of the dead in the style of the Goat Clan, with an offering of good drink to numb the pain of the departed.

She lifted a loose skin, the last of the drink she had brewed some time ago. A mediocre little wine made from odds and ends gathered here and there. Such a drink was a waste of her talents, but it was the only drink she still had. She looks carefully at the glumly people gathered around the fire, and then back at the sad little wineskin.

She loosens the skin only slightly and carefully pours three drops of wine into the soil before taking a good swig herself.

"A shame it was", she thinks, "But not that much of a shame."

Lilla'martu stood in the crowd, near enough to the clanfire that she could feel the radiance of its heat on her skin despite the evening chill. She stood still, but as she blinked a tear rolled down her cheek to join a few others that had already been shed. These people were not of Lilla's kin nor clan, but their sorrow was still genuine and their funerary rites still deeply moving. She had not known Brakar Two-Axe in life, but Lilla considered it a great honour to have been accepted round the hearth.

When Skarna finished speaking, Lilla fished inside her pouch for a small utility knife. Someone towards the back of the crowd was laughing. Lilla found it jarring to hear laughter at such an occasion, but perhaps that was the custom of Clan Two-Axe. As was the custom of her clan, Lilla'martu twisted the tip of the knife into the pad of her left index finger, drawing a drop of blood. She daubed the blood onto a birch twig and carried it reverently towards the fire.

"Brakar," she whispered, and tossed the twig gently onto the clanfire. Immediately the leaves began to shrivel and burn. The birch bark burned brightly for a brief time before fading away and soon the twig was consumed. Lilla retreated back into the crowd.

Wotan chanted in the old tongue. Adding a deep and dark cacophonic verse to the chanter from the dark of the trees. The deep guttural growl had with it the quality of a hiss from the shadows, though the additional sillibance did not effect his enunciation of the words. The overall effect was achieved to remind the mortals of the ever present nature of Death. Emphasizing that even the dead wish joy to the living.

Shortly afterwards Overcome with Inspiration Wotan began to rave along with the ritual. Culminating in his frenzy cutting his own throat over a bowl and fighting a frenzied battle for his existence for a spell. Bleeding profusely into the earthen vessel. He died for a few seconds, then his body began to heal itself. After a moment he looked unharmed.

Shortly after this he approached Suuru with a gift, a bowl full of human blood. "Sacrifice of the Great for the Great." Trusting Suuru would understand the power and the value of such a gift.

Death fixed his eyes on the mourning mask, but compelled by the ancient curse found he could not address the entity in it. He could not see what it was, but quickly averted his gaze. Bowing Wotan crept away back to the comfort of the ice cold shadows.

"Thank you, sir, for your offering to Gwehrsus."

He takes the bowl filled with blood, and raises it high into the air. He says, "As the night ends, Gwehrsus, we honor thee with tribute from this specter from The Infinite Necropolis."

At that moment, the grieving Skarna says, "Wait! Here, bless his axe, that Gwehrsus will honor he who avenges us."

Suuru nods, at the request of his chieftain, and says, "Who else will risk life and limb to bring honor back to our clan? Those who will, come forward now and place your main instrument onto this altar of stone, and receive the blessings of the Giant Boar!"

Medheyg stands up somewhat brusquely and goes to fetch her weapon, Horn. A simple spear of decent make, the point is made with the sharpened horn of a great mountain goat and bound carefully with pitch and rope. The Ascetic walks to the altar and raises it for those present to see.

"I am Medheyg of the Goat Clan, and this is Horn, my spear. Never has it failed me. Should it receive the blessings of the Boar, I swear that it will drink of the Thing's blood."

She lays it reverently upon the altar.

Lilla'martu stared into the clanfire as Suuru spoke, and the call to the hunt resonated within her. The traitor she hunted wasn't here among the Two-Axe clan, so why linger? Moreover helping these people avenge their losses seemed the decent thing to do. A huntress is no stranger to peril; this would be a hunt like any other, Lilla was sure.

Another woman from the crowd stepped forward and announced herself as Medheyg. Lilla gazed up at the stars looking for guidance but found none. Rousing herself, she wiped the remnants of tears from her cheek and stepped forward also.

"I am called Lilla'martu," she said. "Of the Red Cedar Clan. I will answer the call."

From its place tucked into her tunic Lilla withdrew a large talon. Taken from a bird of prey, it measured nearly the length of Lilla's hand. She placed it delicately on the altar next to Medheyg's spear.

And indeed the time for vengeance had come, as the shaman was preparing the blessing ritual for hunting the beast that caused so much grief to the clan.
<I shall join the hunt too> proclaimed Stekko, speaking to the familiar faces of his clan <so that the story of his fall may reach all your ears and be remembered in times to come>. Then, turning to Skarna, he added: <and so that our blood may be avenged>.
Saying this, he placed his weapon, a simple fire-hardened pointed stick, on the altar to receive the blessing.

Wotan drew his Blade of Grass, and upon dropping it upon the altar it became an ordinary bamboo stick.

Bracus rose and strides over to the side to retrieve his scimitar. The firelight glistens off it as Bracus doesn't sheeve it as he approaches the alter. As he places it there, "I pledge my life to bring honor back to Two-Axes.". After that he stands near the others as the ritual continues.

Slowly Wotan extends his hand, acknowledging the burden of the axe. He picked it up and swore an oath. "I swear upon my immortality. I will lay this at your feet my child, drenched in the blood of what took Brakar from you." Wotan's evil eye glowed orange as he took on the tribes vengeance as his own. "It will never be said, that the All-Father turns a blind eye to the suffering of his children." After making his oath he waited for Skarna to acknowledge this. But the flame in his eye returned to that rimefire blue. "You need but say so my child."

There is no reason for Stekko to claim the axe. He was never that skilled of a warrior, and his greates weapons are his wit and his tongue. <So be it> he would declare after the words of his chief, and then he would speak to his new companions: <On the road we will devise a plan to kill this thing... but first we have to find it. Were should we go?>.

At that moment, the grieving Skarna says, "Go speak with the elf at the front gate. Her name is Quickpause. She can point you in the direction that thing went."

You all walk towards the elven hunter standing guard at the front gate, and you see a very obvious black blood trail headed southeast from the encampment. The blood does not take a direct path in that direction, but zigs and zags every 15-30 feet. It is a strange path to travel.

She points and says, "Go, there. Night Thing big, almost like Tyrantmaw. Safe." She points to you all. "Now, go. Honor Bring Brakar."

Wotan finds a rock in the blood trail, and tastes it. Taking its salt. He sniffs the rock too finding the scent and sets out dragging his sled ahead slower than his usual breakneck pace on account of the oppressive light of the cursed daystar.

The day-star is low in the east, morning mist curling over the frost that grips the wet grass. Crows call through trees tinged with autumn color, and in the air you feel the knife’s edge of a chill, your breath visible out in front of you as you walk into the wilderness. Ahead of you on the hunting trail is a dried pool of black, tarry blood, swarming with insects.
The blood tastes foul and nasty, and it does not taste natural, as if this creature is not from the natural world. Based on its look, its feel, and and its taste, it seems more like resin or some other sticky mass than blood from an animal.

You travel into the forest, surrounded by swirling mist and leaves of green and amber. Bothersome gnats and flies whine nearby as you walk along the blood trail. The land dips and curves, crossing small creeks and old riverbeds.

Bracus can be lead tracker or watcher. He has +5 in Survival and Perception. He is fairly good at it but is not a hunter at all. Traveled a lot and seen a lot, but not a woodsman.

Lilla stepped carefully through the brush, following closely behind the leader. The forest was quiet save for the snapping of twigs and the incessant whine of insects, and that gave Lilla no small amount of discomfort. This beast, this... thing that they tracked, it was obviously wounded, but how gravely? Were they being lured into a trap?

Wotan followed closely behind Lilla keeping his head on a swivel. Holding Blade of Grass at the low ready. "Jötun's blood, it has been so long."

As the group proceeded forward, Stekko positioned himself on the left side of the column, focusing his attention on dangers that might come from the back or the left flank.

OOC: Stekko will watch for dangers, specifically coming from the backlines or other blind spots.

Bracus surprisingly took the lead in following the blood traces with his scimitar handy. He moves just a bit ahead of everyone, but not far enough as you can still smell as he pasted. Seems his scent is building.

Following the lead of the others in the group, Medheyg keeps a close watch on the unfamiliar environment, falling back into the role of a forager. A herb here, a fruit there, even roots or insects could be used to fortify the potent brew she was going to concoct. Even so, she kept Horn in hand, wary of being ambushed by the creature.

You all travel along this path that Bracus follows for roughly half of one hour.

A curve in the path reveals a sudden climb ahead—a granite cliff rises from the forest floor, as high as five or six hunters. The steep cliff face is plastered with wet green and yellow leaves. A huge, dead fern tree leans at an angle against the cliff. Its roots are half-dug out of the earth and its crown rests near the top of the cliff. The tree is sticky with the smeared blood of the Night Thing, which must have used this tree to reach the top.

The cliff is steep and covered in wet leaves.

Medheyg steps forward and looks up at the cliff, considering the inclination and available footholds. After thinking to herself for a moment, she nods and turns back to the rest of the group.

"I could walk up the cliff and tie my rope to the top. It would make it easy for everyone else."

"Ever faithful Heidrun. She is one and the same." Whether that was agreement or not Wotan didn't clarify, instead he tasted the blood once more ascertaining the qualities of its freshness.

The more Wotan tastes the blood, the more sickened he begins to feel. His immense fortitude keeps his body from feeling its effects, but he can tell that the blood is toxic to mortals.

Bracus announces I shall climb up and drop a rope down.

<caution Bracus ...> Stekko advises while scratching his nose, <we do not know the extent of its cunning, nor if it knows of our hunt... I want to live to tell the story, and the clan will need his healer in the seasons to come> he explains. For the moment he remains at the base of the tree, continuing to guard the rear so as not to be taken by surprise.

Clan Deference (Background)

The Ascetic reaches into her belongings and pulls out a bunched-up rope, handing it over to Bracus.

"You can tie this to your own if necessary. Would you like me to go up with you? I don't think the thing will ambush us up there, but..."

Lilla stood with hands on hips, contemplating the cliff as Bracus and Medheyg prepared to climb.

"I am accustomed to being with the trackers at the head of the hunting party," she said to them. "I am loathe to let you go ahead without the rest of us, as I agree with the Gravelsnake that it may be lying in wait up there, or feel cornered."

She let out a slow breath and gestured with her head towards the tree.

"The tree looks to be the safer route, Bracus," said Lilla. "The wet leaves are likely to be slippery, and it is not a trivial drop. Beware the blood, I fear it is cursed. I will come with you."

"We spent more time deliberating an obstacle than we did committing to hunting and killing it. Lets go!"

Wotan had the patience of a creature that lived for centuries. It had run out. He set himself to tackling the obstacle ahead and making good on his word.

As he climbed up the tree Wotan pulled himself through the thickest patches of the creatures blood he could find. Smearing his clothes with it painting bizarre symbols, compasses, pictographs: a stick man holding a spear overhead and with the opposite arm pointed down, almost like it was imposing an order. An arrow pointed upwards like a stick man in an aggressive posture, a single line with a delta through its center open upward, perhaps a tree? A single line with a delta attached to its left center, like a stick man flexing. A stickman making an obscene gesture with his manhood. And finally three deltas like the sun rising over a mountain.

*The God war protection Strength Wealth possession"

Medheyg is startled by the man's impatience and huffs, putting her hands to her sides.

"Lowland people are always in such a hurry to scarper. Fine then, let us make haste if that's what's needed."

She takes a few moments to take deep breaths before, with a cracking, whooshing sound, she shifts - grey fur spreading throughout her body, horns lengthening, her feet twisting and hardening before splitting into cloven hooves.

"I'll help you up when I get there."

She leaps, seemingly without issue, going from steep handhold to steep handhold, hooves making a sharp tak, tak, tak sound with each hop; her free hands holding only a jar and some rope - the latter to help her companions, the former to collect samples of the thing's blood.

Bracus has climbed to the top and with Medheyg's rope dropped down to help any others that need it. He does his best to attach it up topside and watches over to make sure it holds and others get up.

Shouldn't be long before Medheyg, Wotan, Lilla'martu, & Stekko have joined him. "Lets get back to moving."

Stekko shakes his head and, if Bracus's climbing is successful, puts his hand on the rope to follow the others, but not before having looked towards Lilla'Martu to add: <it seems we are with wild dogs, they can be useful while hunting in their thirst for blood, but the master must remain clear of head and swift of feet, or the cunning wolves will get him still.

Wotan’s impatience costs the tree. He manages to get up there, but the tree is damaged and rotted, and breaks and falls as he grasps onto the edge of the cliff face and pull himself up. With collected blood, he writes those pictographs onto himself.

The others make the climb, and help those who are not pre-disposed to climbing sheet rock faces.

After everyone is up on the top of the cliff face, Medheyg and Bracus hears a faint, high-pitched whining sound.

Just ahead is a thick pool of clotted black blood. It seems the Night Thing rested here after scaling the promontory, and now its blood swarms with biting flies and mosquitoes, as well as four much larger insects, about the size of your fist. You have disturbed them, and the insectile whine turns aggressive as they sense fresher blood.

The climb goes well, although the climbing skills of a dwarf leave something to be desired, but it is on the top that the first obstacle to their path manifests itself. <So much goes the cat to the lard, that it leaves there a paw> he sighs, preparing to fight.

Wotan draws the Blade of Grass and stands in a fools guard.

Medheyg draws her spear and takes a vanguard position, cursing having spent her energy on the climb.

Wotan lunges into a brutal underhand slash barreling forth, he did not roar but his throat chanting served him as a guttural wail emanated from him. Slashing into the most ready looking Stirge.

The swarming insects and stirges all head towards the first creature feast they sense (Wotan), and the swarm attempts to bite the man, but they cannot find purchase through the man’s skin.

Wotan is able to pop the all-too-eager Stirge that flies up to him (Stirge with init 17).

Bracus quickly moves into combat. He attacks a strirge that isn't on Wotan, but he slips more on the wet leaves and such on the way.

<Time to skewer! Stekko grips his stick (Rapier) and charges to the second closest Stirge (the one Bracus is not attacking). Then he lunges forward to try to impale it. <Power and Might to the Two-Axe Clan> he shouts.

Medheyg leaps eagerly into combat, following Stekko's lead and trying to skewer the same Stirge with Horn. She follows up with a savage high kick if the beast still lives.

Bracus swings with his scimitar, but misses the stirge.Stekko takes on one of the incoming stirges, skewering it into his pointy stick.
Medheyg, seeing Stekko dispatch one of the mosquitoes, aims for the one flying towards Bracus, missing with their spear, but doubling back with their foot, high-kicking hard, and causing the mosquito-like creature to sail into a nearby tree trunk with enough force to cause it to splat on the trunk.

Another swarm of mosquitoes and biting gnats flies over to the group, assaulting Stekko, while the remaining Stirge heads for Wotan, its original target. The flies bite at Stekko, but the Stirge does not find purchase in Wotan’s skin.

Lilla's eyes grew wide as the swarm attacked. Before she could react, Medheyg and Stekko had already killed some of the insects, and Wotan one of the stirges. One of the stirges still remained and Lilla judged it to be the greatest threat. She reached out with her senses, focusing on the stirge's primitive nervous system. Feeling the fabric of raw magic flowing through the world, Lilla directed some of it towards the stirge, giving it a psychic jolt.

The Stirge falls to the ground, twitching until its head pops and black blood spurts everywhere within 5 feet of it.

The bugs swarming Wotan bite at him, this time burrowing deep enough to penetrate his strange skin, though it seems to have less effect than a normal humanoid would (thanks to his Rage).

A creature in the distance lets out a deep-bellied roar.

Wotan crushes into the swarm using frenetic speed and Vigor to smash the insects instead of technique. He was a rave of motion and anger. His Blade of Grass flailing wildly without any real regard for safety.

Wotan, with the fury and frenzy driven by his supernatural gifts, seems to usher the pesky bugs away, and they fly off.

Lilla'martu gripped her staff tightly and looked around wide-eyed.

"Did anyone else hear that roar?" she whispered urgently. "If it is our quarry, the Night Thing, we should prepare to ambush it!"

Beckoning to Stekko Gravelsnake, Lilla moved as quickly and quietly as she could towards what little cover could be found.

Lilla, you recognize the sound of a tyrantmaw's roar! You know that this is an apex predator, well above most people's ability to actually fight off.

"Wait a minute," said Lilla, standing up in alarm, eyes wide. She knew that roar.

"Tyrantmaw!" she hissed, waving her arms frantically at her comrades. "Hide!"

Wotan dove into the nearby mud and blood and held as still as he possibly could.

Bracus doesn't have to be hear that twice as he moves to side for cover.

Medheyg takes the advice seriously and immediately slides into cover behind a decently-sized rock or bush.

The only one who doesn't take cover is poor Stekko, but that's not (entirely) his fault... you see, too much blood lost (curses to you mosquito bites) means he is currently out cold.
Hopefully, Tyrantmaws are like bears and playing dead will save the poor dwarf... at worst he will work hard to cause a bad stomach ache to the beast.

Lilla frowned and looked out at the clearing atop the cliffside where there lay a pool of toxic blood and the body of Stekko Gravelsnake.

"Oh, gods," whispered Lilla.

She glanced frantically around the treeline and saw no sign of the tyrantmaw they'd heard earlier. In the confusion of combat she hadn't noticed him go down. The Gravelsnake was not of her clan, but they'd had some friendly encounters over the years, she and him. To leave Stekko for carrion would be unacceptable.

"Help me!" Lilla hissed, as loudly as she dared.

She ran in a hunched-over sprint towards where Stekko lay and fell to her knees beside his prostrate form. Lilla pressed two fingers into his neck. There was a pulse, which sent a wave of relief washing through Lilla's body, but there was much blood that ought to have been inside the dwarf rather than smeared on his skin and the ground. Lilla grabbed Stekko under the arms and began trying to drag him towards cover.

Bracus suddenly realizes that Stekko is down, and he rushes over to him and takes the time to cast a cure wound on him before helping him to take cover.

Stekko is dragged by Lilla, out of the mud and thrown into a bush, and Bracus comes forward, covers Stekko more, and heals the dwarf.The tyrantmaw tears through the trees. It steps right where Wotan was, and its tail hits the spot that Medheyg was crouched in prior to hugging the tree.

The tyrantmaw leaves the scene, and after a few minutes, you don’t feel the vibrations in the floor caused by its earthquake-like steps.

"Thank you spirit."

Wotan whispers to the wood and when the coast is clear slowly stands to full height. "Not trying to die again." He offered with a mirthful chuckle. "Ho ho ho! Merry combat!"

<Uh?> Stekko's conciousness comes back not with the best timing, since the dwarf is about to ask loudly to Lilla and Bracus, who are near him, about what happened. The last thing he remembers is that he was being stung by those pesky flies and then... black. <Wh...> he is stopped at the start of the sentence by a strange voice, whispering in his ear.
He thinks about it just for a moment, then he shrugs his shoulders, it's not the first time that he listens to a voice in his head.
And good for the dwarf, since the giant Tyrantmaw would have definetly saw him otherwise.

Stekko waits for the monster to be out of reach before taking a breath and almost start screaming: <What in the upside-down happened?> he asks to the rest of the group, <Merry combat? Look at this you goat-head> he shows the pale arm with little to no blood remaining, <it will take at least half a tyrantmaw worth of meat to regain all that blood...> he sighs.

Medheyg peeks out of the tree to see if the danger is clear and then steps out, clearly relieved. It seems the spirits of this land don't want them dead just yet. She looks over at the complaining dwarf and pulls out her wineskin.

"It wouldn't do for that, companion. Here, have the rest of this - it's invigorating."

She offers the wineskin to Stekko and then goes off to poke at the corpses of the insects, picking one or another piece to take with her.

Lilla'martu exhaled slowly and her shoulders slumped in relief.

"Phew," she said. "My thanks to whomever that was whispering to me. Which of you was it?"

She looked around expectantly at her comrades.

"It was Ymir, the Great Spirit." Wotan replied cryptically.

Wotan walked a circle around the site of the bugs and found the blood trail, looking for signs of his quarry.

Bracus looks about and says, "Perhaps we can fallow it and find a way to kill it. It is what we must do."

"We need to keep focused."

"Follow it?" Lilla asked. "You mean the tyrantmaw?"

Lilla shook her head.

"That is not what I agreed to, Bracus," she said. "Unless I mistake your meaning. The Night Thing is the quarry I intend to hunt."

With that, Lilla began searching to pick up the trail of blood once more.

"This air is getting to me Lilla. Your right. Lets find that trail" With a quick look where Lilla is looking as well, "I think the trail is here."

Stekko takes the whiteskin offered by Medehyg and takes a couple of long gulps. <Aaah, now we're talking> he exclaims satisfied. The flavor is slightly more intense than drinks gulped at the campfire, however the dwarf seems to have no problem with it, after all they don't call them Fireblood Dwarves for nothing. After regaining some clarity, Stekko turns to the rest of the group: <I certainly did not spoke, and I was too dazed to hear anything. Maybe it was Ymir, maybe it was one of the many spirits that inhabit this land, let's be thankful and let's proceed>.

Finally he turns to Bracus and Lilla'Plum: <I agree, we must not lose sight of what our goal is, but the one who has both eyes fixed on the prey will be taken from behind by another predator. Next time we better exercise more caution and devise a plan ... let's move, Bracus, Lilla'Martu you lead? Me and the others will watch for perils>.

Then he would stay still and quiet for a moment, trying to catch any glimpse of presence in their surroundings, both using his ears and eyes.

After feeling satisfied with the parts she collected, the Ascetic returns to the group and recovers the - now empty - wineskin. She's visibly glad that someone else got to enjoy the drink, even if it means she has to do without.

"I will help keep watch, then. We will probably not be as surprised by the next foe."

You all find a blood trail that leads into the woods. You follow that trail for some time, and you notice that the yellow woods are quiet and untroubled by insects. The spatters of blood are less frequent now, but can still be followed through the trees. The path continues peacefully for a long time. Medheyg notices a marker repeated about once every quarter hour—a rodent’s skull (the size of a small acorn) bound to the trunk of a young tree by a knotted cord. She notices this marker after the third time she sees it.

The ascetic stops suddenly and lifts her hand to call attention to the marker. She leans down next to it and pokes experimentally with a stick.

"A curious little thing. What do you think? Does the Thing use path markers, or do others live here?"

Nothing happens to you as you poke it with a stick.

"Its a ward. Magical in nature. If we find the beast we should attempt to lure it here." Wotan said and carefully avoided the suspicious magical wards.

"Would that magic be divine or arcane?" Bracus asks.

Wotan just shrugged at the distinction.

Lilla sidled up to Medheyg and bent close to the tree for a better look at the skull.

"The Thing we are hunting is a fell beast," said Lilla in a measured tone. "I do not think these are for its use or benefit. Wotan, any idea what it is warding against?"

As Medheyg prodded the skull with her stick, Lilla noted that Medheyg seemed to suffer no ill effects. With the briefest of hesitation, Lilla reached out and grasped the skull, feeling for traces of magic.

"If these are magical wards," said Lilla, "perhaps we should take one with us for protection?"

From her belt Lilla produced a simple stone dagger, and looked around for confirmation before cutting the skull free.

<Whatever their purpose, I don't think they are a token of welcome> turns up his nose as he analyzes more closely the one touched by Lilla'Martu, trying to discern its nature.

"My Children have bizarre customs. These are likely a serious territory marker."

Wotan drew the Blade of Grass began searching his surroundings looking for sign of potential incursion. He began to scan the brush for irregularities.

"Deadly Serious."

When Lilla grasps the skull, her eyes begin to sting, which causes her to blink. When she opens her eyes again, she sees the trees to the right have shifted to reveal a path that wasn't there before. The path is crooked, and zig-zags into a darker part of the wood, where the leaves are brown, with more skulls of small animals hung on either side at irregular intervals. A low, shifting mist curls along the path at ankle-height.
Lilla doesn't think it is warding a person, but she discerns that it hid a path.
The Gravelsnake knows that magical beings use these kinds of talismans and markers for all sorts of effects; some for illusory means, some for protective means, some as enchanting devices, sometimes for evocative, destructive means. He cannot positively discern the intent of these devices that they have encountered while walking.

<Uhm> he mumbles, while trying do discern the purpose of these trinkets, <these might mean all sorts of things... all magical. I do not suggest we pay attention to them, le'ts just keep following the trail of the beast and leave them alone>.

Tears welled up in Lilla's eyes from the stinging sensation. With one hand she wiped them away and another she kept hold of the skull. She frowned at the newly-revealed path.

"Oh," she said softly, and then to the others: "The path, it branches here!"

Then Lilla left the intersection and took just a few cautious steps down the new path, wary for any sign of danger.

As Lilla walks along the path, she immediately disappears from your view.

Medheyg leaps back, startled. She brandishes Horn menacingly as if to intimidate the thin air. She looks at the spot where Lilla was standing, unsure how to proceed.

"What tricksy craft is this?"

Wotan motioned for silence and caution as he followed one step behind Lilla.

Bracus joins in and walk into nowhere's land.

"It was at the very beginning, it was Ymir’s time, there was no sand, no sea, no cooling waves, no earth, no sky, no grass, just Ginnungagap." Wotan muttered as he reached into the portal. Into the realm between realms.

His one eye affixed on nothing. Interdimensional travel being nothing new to the Shaman. He knew there was no preparing for what was about to happen next and surrendered. Focused solely on his hate for the gods, for he could sense it beyond the gate. Something beckoned it called to him in the same way a lone lamb ought seem to a wolf. The key to his salvation, the key to its damnation. Beyond lay one of Ymir's ilk here it could be killed, truly.

Still nervous, the Ascetic follows as the others seem to step into nothingness.

As you all step into the space where Lilla disappeared, you see a path snaking through the forest slightly downhill. The trees—adorned with little skulls, thick with dead leaves and overgrown in thorny brambles—press in close on both sides. The ankle-deep mist is cold and clammy. Somewhere in the distance a crow calls at intervals.

As you all continue along the path, no more than one quarter of an hour, before the path cuts around in a hairpin turn, and the trees open in a sudden clearing. It’s dark in the clearing, as on a stormy afternoon in winter, the sky gray as wolf hair. In the center of the clearing is a great dead oak, twisted and towering. Built into and around the oak is a windowless, slanted hut of mud and sticks. The hut has a muddy yard not more than 10’ wide, and a little twig fence surrounds it. The fence is all hung with the skulls of little forest animals. Smoke pours out of the hut’s chimney, and shifting light at edge of the closed door inside suggests movement within.

A chill and visible perturbation caused Wotan pause. He shrunk back and shook his head. "I dare not enter." Shuddering the mighty warrior instead looked around the perimeter. "A word of warning. Do not tell it your name. Do not eat its food. Do not touch anything."

Stekko follows the rest of the group, keeping a bit of a distance from the leading Lilla'Martu. <All this situation screams "death" from head to tail> he babbles, <let's hope that at least this will be a decent story to tell>. Then, as their eyes catch the glimpses of movements inside the building, he adds: <Well... I for sure won't be the first to go in there> he looks around, in search of a big stone laying on the ground near the entrance.
If he finds one, he will touch it to charge it, <this will be a good way of covering our escape, if things go badly... just remember, my rash companions, to jump over it and not step on it>.

Bracus says, "Looks like we came to an end and lets end this." He moves with the others.

As they drew nearer to the hut, with its fence adorned in skulls, Lilla's pace slackened. The forest around her seemed to weigh heavily upon her spirit, as if the trees themselves were watching. Lilla snapped her head from side to side, as if wary of potential ambush lurking just off the path. Wotan's ominous warning hung in the air.

"Wotan, what do you know of this place, and who or what is it that lives here?" Lilla liked her lips apprehensively before continuing. "I do not like the feel of this clearing. Can we go back?"

Wotan looked sick. He swallowed this away and had blanched considerably. Fear shook him like a leaf in the wind. "Aye, this place I never thought to see it again."

Wotan resolved himself, sighed, and put away his weapon. He then summoned all of his courage. Approaching the house with certain determination. He breathlessly hummed a very old song as he summoned his courage and approached. He was quite careful to avoid Stekko's trap.

"I know that I hung, on the windswept Ash tree, nine whole nights impaled by Gungnir my spear, to Wotan offered, myself to myself; on that tree, of which no one knows from what root it springs.

Bread none gave me, nor a horn of drink, downward I peered, reaching out I grasped the runes, then fell down into the abyss.

Nine words of power I learned from the famed Bolthornson, Bestla’s sire, and a draught obtained of the precious mead, drawn from Odhraerir. The first I know is help, that help should come if you call and help is truly needed."

Wotan gave three distinct knocks.

"Mother?"

Brackus stands aside and watches. Strange look upon his face saying he doesn't understand the situation but says nothing.

Wotan shook his head taking a step back. "Mother, this is not a social call." Presenting the Stone-Axe he held a grim look and shook his head, a single golden tear ran down his cheek. "Your pet has taken the life of one of my favored sons. We have come to repay it in kind."

Lilla had taken a step backwards when Mother Hush opened the door, but Wotan referring to her as 'Mother' rooted Lilla to the spot in shock. She stood uncertain of what to do or say, until the mention of a pet.

"Her 'pet'?" Lilla blurted out. "What.... what is it exactly, and why in the realms would one want such a thing as a pet?"

Medheyg shares in the shock of most of her companions, her grip on the spear tightening. This is a strange and uncomfortable situation that she does not know how to deal with, but she can tell that there is much danger here, even if that danger takes the form of an unnerving old lady.

Bölþhorn's spell had worked. At least as Wotan had saw it. He didn't trust Mother Hush, but he did know her to be treacherous and that made a promise of assistance worthy. He turned to his companions and beckoned them to come. "Remember what I said."

Entering wasn't a thing Bracus favored, and he took up the rear after all had entered.

Stekko brings to mind all the fairy tales he knows about old women living in the woods ... unfortunately almost none ended well for the one who met them. <Very well, old lady> he exclaims showing the best smile he has, <the laws of hospitality bind us all, so we accept with gratitude your generous welcome>. After that, without lowering his guard, he would follow the rest of the group into the hut.

Medheyg warily leaves Horn planted outside the hut, choosing not to break the laws of hospitality. She heads in carefully, but in all, glad to have somewhere to rest her weary legs.

Lilla followed Wotan inside the hut, saying nothing.

Wotan listened carefully to Mama Hush's terms and decided to play a trick.

"I was fed my younger brothers in this very household for the promise of godhood. The promise was a deception, I will kill everyone responsible for that deception before I rest."

Lilla's mouth twisted in disgust, her apprehension about Mother Hush momentarily forgotten.

"Did you say 'fed'?" she said, incredulously. "Is that a metaphor, I hope? That's vile."

Bracus stands there taking in all that he hears with less than happy face, but is taking no action at the moment one way or another.

"I did not know it at the time. But as I drank from the well of knowledge I knew. It is why I gouged out my own eye." There was no way he could have known as Mother Hush kept it a secret. "But I espied that loathsome trickster. And I heard his promise to you, Mother. And here we are damned fools."

Wotan pulled from the wall a Talisman holding the Fiend to its word. "Goodbye Mother." Wotan said as he left the house.

Stekko listen to the happy skirmish between mother and son, trying to hide the disgust when part of Wotan's past is revealed. <I like this game> he answers to Mother Hush, <and I like secrets... uhm... let me think...> he scratches his nose while thinking, <In my village, everyone fears my one-eyed friend here, but I meet with him sometimes, and we play tricks on my people... if they knew this, they wouldn't be happy at all... but his presence and actions are a necessity for the thriving of the clan, even if they cannot realize it>. Then Stekko pauses, looks at Mother Hush, and adds: <Now it's your turn... share a secret with this old dwarf, what do your talismans do?>.

Unlike some of the others Bracus has nothing he cares to share with a Night Hag. He forges the option and only waits for the others to complete to leave.

The ascetic merely shakes her head at the ongoing game, having thought deeply about the matter. She waits for Stekko's turn to be finished.