DCC DotSK: Act 1-3

Dufgal would never presume an introduction as he had spent his life being a mere background shadow of important people’s lives. But he could tell that he was expected to be accounted for. He looked to Aldric but the cleric had not appointed himself the task, so…
I’se no one important, sire. Merely a gongfarmer from Garion’s Hold.
And he folds himself into a ridiculous attempt at a bow.

"PELagia," Aldric corrects the man. What an asshole. Dufgal better sharpen his knives, there were so many of them in this part of the world.

Anora feels the strain at the edges of her eyes, as talk of Pelagia, the Fates, and Justicia takes hold. She didn’t deny the gods, nor their power. That would be a fools position, but it did weary her when talk became thick.

"Anora the Blue." she says simply. Her moniker would need no explanation to a fellow robe-wearer.

"Our man… Have the Fates decided his already?" she asks, knowing this magician had heard them call out for the man a moment before.

"If their gates and hearths were worth a damn, they wouldn’t be marching barmaids out into the woods." Anora mutters quietly to the others.

She winces as the report of the dead sons comes in. That would be reason enough not to make the journey, certainly. She just had to satisfy herself that the man still drew breath. She had explanations enough for her employer already.

"We merely seek proof of life for a concerned friend down the road. Nothing more." she says, with some finality; trusting the man not to pry any further into business not his own.

Looking forward to rest and food, Dufgal has no reaction to the subtleties of this encounter and just gathers himself for entry into Hirot. He is currently homeless after all. Any new village holds potential for him.

It is fortunate that Ty's blindfold hides the tightening of his eyes at Sylle Ru's mention of the Fates. It was probably nothing, but Tyravasiel's own relationship with the Sisters is a vexed one. Presumably it suits their purpose to thwart the mercurial will of Elfland's King, as it suits Ty's purpose to keep his head attached to his neck. One hand washes the other, and the other, and the third...

If he were inclined to prayer, the elf would offer one up that the Fates should have no business here in Hirot.

Aldric wastes no time stepping into the fortified town. They were halfway done their job, and payment wasn't far away. Honestly, they just needed to make sure they didn't fuck things up too much. The town should be the easy part - just follow Anora around and keep her out of trouble while she figures out this Dolsten's situation.

It was weird that the priest said that the demon wolf thing had attacked Dolsten's home.

"Doesn't the tanner live inside these walls?" He asks the guard that brought up "the tanner." "Surely the Beast is unable to break through these fine fortifications?"

Sylle Ru nods ever-so-slightly at Anora's statement, turning and walking, leading the group into the village proper after they come inside. Behind them, the guards close the stout gates with a boom that resounds with finality.

Despite the gloom, for darkness has now all but fallen, the wizardess and her escort can see that the majority of the buildings in Hirot are timber framed, wattle-and-daub constructions. Many of the smaller homes are mere hovels, where families and livestock share the hard-packed, earthen floors. In contrast, there are homes of those who must be prominent, merchants or tradesmen or the like. Those buildings are two and even sometimes three stories in height, and look to have (now-closed) shopfronts on the ground floor.

Of immediate note is that many buildings seem abandoned -- perhaps as high as a third. Some doors have been broken in, some thatch roofs are collapsed... others have had their heavy shutters torn free from windows that no longer have their yellowed, animal horn panes. Dark stains and gouged wood are visible in places, grim signs of what might have happened.

Ahead lies the center of town -- a market square, a stone church, what looks like a large inn. And looming above that, the great hall at the back of the village that could be seen from outside the walls. A ruckus is audible, one or more people angrily shouting at one another, coming from ahead, perhaps the inn or the church.

"He does," Ru responds simply to Aldric as they walk. A moment later, as a man approaches from the town square, the seer adds, "No earthy fortification or weapons can stop the Hound. The thing moves as mist as it likes, then takes corporeal shape before delighting in its murders."

"Sylle Ru, has the Jarl not yet returned?" says the man as he walks up, hand on the pommel of his sword. He is dressed in leathers, looks to be about fifty winters in age, and has a stern face and a hawk-like nose. He sports a long mustache and fierce eyes; eyes that measure the newcomers immediately.

"And who be this, that you've admitted without the Jarl's say?"

"Only travelers, Nothan the Younger," the hooded man answers with the briefest of gestures, "not of any import. Would you see them to safe lodgings for the night, nightwatchman?"

Nothan hesitates a moment as the shouting, coming from one of the buildings behind him, escalates, -- then he nods at the quartet.

"I would."

"Then I shall take my leave," Ru says with a nod. To the four, he bows ever-so-slightly. "Rest well, Anora the Blue, Ty, Aldric, and Gongfarmer. Without fear. The beast will be sated tonight on another's blood."

Nothan looks perturbed at this, but says nothing further as the seer turns to walk northward, through the market square and towards the road that leads to the Jarl's impressive great hall.

Anora thinks the town would be better off barring their gates to strangers, so that they might sate the creature, rather than Hirot’s own. Given that the fortifications did little against the beast, and much against her and her companions that seems the more sensible solution. She was thankful that the people of Hirot didn’t seem overly concerned with sense, at present.

"So many strong men manning the walls and marching the roads." Anora says to this Nothan. "Does the beast demand a woman’s blood?"

Hearing the man's excuse for why the walls were of no use, he wondered at the security, but he didn't wonder for long. When this Nothan cunt talks about sating the beast with another's blood, he knew exactly what the walls were for - keeping the people inside them.

Sacrificing someone else to save your own skin didn't trouble Aldric. A practical solution to a mad world, he supposed. But, not a sustainable one. And, given that they were outsiders, he figured it wouldn't take long before the folk of Hirot decided that they were more suitable sacrifices than their own.

Shit.

Perhaps a demonstration of power would prove necessary, to change their minds. He began mulling over Pelagia's daily catch of spells to think on how to impress upon the townsfolk that they were not to be fucked with.

He pulls Dufgal and Ty close as Anora speaks with whoever the fuck she was talking to. "If these pussies would sacrifice their full-breasted barmaids, they'll gladly put some random cunts off the road onto the chopping block. We need to conclude our business here, quickly."

Dufgal, already having seen enough to be uninvested in Hirot after all, nods to Aldric’s suggestion. I’se thinkin’ our business here is all but done already with them sons being killt and the father bein’ in grief. No more missin’ men mystery as I sees it.
Then he pauses for a moment
Tho I’se hopin’ to eat well and rest well while we can.

A wonder he didn’t put himself in her stead… Anora thinks bitterly for a moment; and then supposed that it must be a very hard thing to do. She hadn’t done so on the road, but then she wasn’t the woman’s blood.

"We’ve heard the beast can’t be killed. Has such a thing been attempted?" she asks simply. She could hear the muttering of Aldric behind her, and thought the man more lucid than he had been on the road. Perhaps that was the most troubling thing of all…

"Ayh," the man responds as they walk, in his wildlands accent. "I've lost four men to that thing, and fought it myself. Put my spear through it's eye."

In the gloomy distance, Sylle Ru tarries for a moment near the center of the village square before he continues onto the road that climbs up to the Jarl's holdfast. Outside the Sign of the Wolf-Spear, where raised voices are still sounding from inside the building, Nothan adds, "I watched the devil-dog boil away to nothing. And then cleaned up the mess of three more victims the very next night. The thing won't stay dead."

"Untie me you bastards!" a voice booms from the inn. "Let me go! She's got her whole fuckin' life ahead of her! We're all just meat for that thing, feeding ourselves to it! What are we even doin'?!"

"That's Broegan, the proprietor. You'll be able to stay the night here, or if you want more peace and quiet, there's a flophouse near the wall, tha' way." Then, hesitating a moment -- it's clear that Nothan the Younger prefers to be a man of few words, but also that much weighs on his mind -- he quietly continues.

"Why've you come here, you four? Did the Jarl or someone else summon you to help?"

"Master, do we seem the sort of fellows who could succeed where bandy-thewed thegns and-- what is more to my way of thinking-- clever watchmen have failed?" Ty scoffs from his stoop.

Phantom dogs and rustic sacrifices are very much none of the elf's business. Nonetheless, his curiosity is piqued.

"No. We are here and gone, sir. Here and gone." The beggar seems to pause and muse. "Indeed, it would take quite an incentive to lure traveling strangers of any skill into such a grim matter that is none of their own."

Aldric moves to interject as Ty downplays the strength of the group, but is suddenly gripped in a fit of coughing. In Aldric's mind, this was a time to present themselves as men not to be trifled with, not sad-sack travellers barely able to fend for themselves! Unfortunately, his hacking fit only underscores Ty's point further.

Fuck these water-logged lungs! he thinks to himself as he tries to recover as gracefully as possible.