Chapter 2: The Trek to Myrefall

Oh. LOL. Late. "If you're gonna be doing some sneak'n, please give me stealth rolls. If you're just drudgin' up there, let me know."

Leta as a 9 on Stealth Roll. So much for getting the dice roll right.

I'm gonna say a 9 didn't make the check. :P

lol

The party moves carefully through the snow-covered ruins, their footsteps muffled by the fresh powder. They've managed to get surprisingly close to the longhouse, using the cover of fallen timbers to mask their approach. Through the gaps in the broken walls, they can see two figures inside, their attention focused on a glowing stone, which you all immediately identify as a Sending Stone.

The creatures are unlike anything the party has seen before. They stand upright like men, but their bodies are covered in thick, shaggy fur the color of winter shadows. Their limbs are lean and muscular, ending in hands that are more paw than human, with sharp black claws that glint in the dim light. Their heads are distinctly wolf-like, with elongated muzzles and pointed ears that twitch at every sound. Their eyes, a piercing yellow that seems to glow in the darkness, hold an intelligence that speaks of more than mere animal cunning.

The larger of the two holds the stone aloft, its blue veins pulsing with magical light. His other hand rests on the hilt of an elegant longsword at his hip. The blade's pale glow casts strange shadows across his fur-covered face. The crossguard, shaped like crescent moons, catches what little light filters through the gaps in the ruined roof.

The second wolfman reaches up with clawed hands toward the stone. His yellow eyes fix on it with a mix of reverence and hunger. Three wolves, each about the size of a large dog, stand guard nearby. Their breath forms clouds in the frigid air as they pace between the fallen timbers and broken furniture. Suddenly, all three wolves freeze in place. Their ears perk up simultaneously, and their noses twitch as they catch the scent of the party. The still air carries the unmistakable smell of warm bodies and metal. The wolves' heads turn as one, their yellow eyes locking onto the party's position. A low growl rumbles from one wolf's throat, causing the other two to follow its gaze.

The wolfman leader's hand tightens around the stone as he spots the less stealthy members of your group. His lips pull back in a snarl, revealing rows of sharp teeth. He barks a command in their guttural tongue, the sound echoing off the broken walls.

The wolves crouch, their muscles tensing beneath their thick winter coats. The second wolfman draws a crude but deadly-looking axe from his belt. The leader's free hand moves to the hilt of his moon-touched blade. Its pale light grows brighter, as if sensing the coming violence. The ruined longhouse, once a place of community and warmth, is about to become a battlefield.



Pre-combat