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Edgar tries to wake his new friends - but they won't stir .... He spends the night guarding the group, but absolutely nothing stirs and the night passes slowly but quietly ... Even for Edgar, who is used to carrion - the number and the state of the dead dogheads is a bit disturbing, and so is the almost supernatural quietness of the night ... As dawn breaks, people start to stir and before long every one but Mandrake is awake, although (for every one except Edgar) your memory of what has happened is vague. The last thing you can remember clearly is waking to see the hunt approaching you .... Mandrake still lies unconscious, he is still warm and breathing - but his body is limp and he won't rouse .... ------------------- OOC: for those of you who are spell casters - When you become unconcious you lose all of your memorised spells - and that has happened to you now. |
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Slowly, consciousness returns to Rolf. Suddenly, he remembers the charging hounds. Rolling over, he manages to raise to his hands and knees before the hardships make themselves felt. He groans as his limbs tremble and muscles protest their abuse. Looking around, it finally occurs to him that it's day time, not the dark of night when first he woke to the hounds baying. "A dream," he mutters, trying to bring his body back under control. He must've been tossing about all night to feel so exhausted. And even now, the smell of blood tickles his nose. "Wait a minute," he whispers, prying his eyes open against the brightness of the dawn. He's meet by the bodies of dogheads and the prone figures of some of his companions, only barely beginning to stir. The area about is far different than what he remembers from the night before. The combination of surprises stirs his blood and gives him the will to react. Hauling himself to his feet, his blade still held weakly, he looks about slowly. No charging hounds, no baying, no blood thirsty dogheads. He lets himself relax slightly. Looking more closely at the scene, he sees the slaughtered dogheads, the bloody weapons of his companions. It's not the dogheads who were the blood thirsty one. Then he finally realizes that the bird is Edgar, not some random bird seeking an easy meal. "Edgar," his voice sounds weak even to himself, "How? Wha...what happened?" Waiting for the response, Rolf moves over to the others, starting with Elsbeth, to see what aid he might give. |
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As Elsbeth stirs, she smells terrible smells- the scents of blood, sweat, mud, fear... She realizes she lies on cold ground, not the soft bedroll she normally spends her night on. As her eyes slowly come awake, she realizes she is on her stomach, a weapon in her hand, her body aching, as if she slept but poorly the night before... Night before? Elsbeth rolls over and as quickly cries out in pain as she feels a wound, the blood dried, pull and try to open on her side. She reaches for the wound, feeling the scab closed, the blood dried. Still she holds her hand up to her face and sees the blood dried on it as well. The night before? She remembers the horn, the sudden appearance of the Hunt, her hunger to join, to run, to... Why can't she remember? The young druid shakes her head, feeling the ache in her chest from running, the ache in her legs. As she reaches a hand up to her head, she feels the blood on her face, in her hair. Oh Goddess above... Letting loose her scimitar (the weapon in her hand), she looks about her, still laying, seeing the decapitated and bludgeoned bodies, the limbs and guts about. Even as she hears others moving about her, she reaches for her scimitar and sees the blood caked on its edge, the same blood on her hands, her clothing, her face... Quickly, Elsbeth recoils and dropping her weapon, rolls over and becomes violently ill... |
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Callum wakes up slowly, feeling relaxed and rested. Gradually, he becomes aware of the carnage surrounding him and sits, then stands up, looking around. He turns at the sound of Elsbeth's retching and shouts. "What ails you lass? Is this not a fine sight to wake up to?". Then moving over to Rolf, he asks "Would it have been us that did this, would you think? I remember the Hunt, but... Ach well, it looks like it turned out for the good!" He moves over to the bodies, starts collecting spears or sharpened pieces of wood, sticking them in the ground point upwards and placing what doghead heads he can recover on the points, then heaving the bodies (and larger parts) into a pile. After this, he walks down and inspects the water of the swamp. If it is reasonably clean, he splashes water over his head and arms then lifts of his furs, soaking them and then spreading them out to dry on the ground. Naked, he then starts inspecting the dogheads equipment for anything interesting. |
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Rolf helps to steady Elsbeth in her retching as he regards Callum's quesiton. "I think it must have been us. My blade is blooded, as is Elsbeths. I don't think any of this blood is mine." He adds, gesturing at the splattering of blood on his armor. "The last thing I remember is a bunch of glowing hounds charging us and a horn blowing nearby. The rest...." He shakes his head. Seeing Elsbeth is past the worst of it and figuring she'd appreciate a bit of time, Rolf stands again. As Callum starts his gristly efforts, Rolf finally notices Mandrake lying still. A gentle shaking does nothing. Rolf spends a few minutes, trying to decide if Mandrake is injuried. His flesh is warm to the touch and his breathing seems untroubled. The gnome shows a fair bit of damage from what must have been the battle. Rolf tries chaffing the gnomes wrists and sprinkling some water on his face. Finally, he glances over, seeing Elsbeth still trying to recover. Moving over, he gently places a hand on her shoulder, "Elsbeth, I'm sorry, but I need you to see to Mandrake." |
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Elsbeth nods, the color returning to her face. As she sits up, she pulls aside the torn portions of her dress to examine her wound, making sure it did indeed close. She glances up to see the naked form of Callum moving among the dead and decapitated and shakes her head in wonder. "I fear we did do this, as that's what the Hunt is about," she tells Rolf as she moves over to Mandrake. "I'm thinking that the ceremony summoned the Hunter, as we wished revenge on the beasties. I'm remembering no more than you, but I can't imagine still being part of... part of this! But I was, and took a wound as part of it, though not as bad as poor Mandrake, I'm thinking." Elsbeth smiles ruefully. "Herloch will be mighty sad he missed this, I'm thinking though! That lad wanted a fight bad!" She kneels by Mandrake and tries to do what she can. "I've lost my spells, Rolf," she tells him. "All I can do is make sure he's not dying and perhaps put a poultice on him." She looks around again. "Where are we?" she asks. |
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Rolf listens to Elsbeth's words. "Whatever you can do for Mandrake. I haven't a clue as to where we are or where the others might be. Herloch though, what's worse, missing a fight or not remembering having one? But what is this Hunt you speak of, this Hunter? I hadn't realized your ritual might have such a result." |
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Elsbeth laughs, then grimaces as it pulls at the wound in her side. "I was not planning it to come of the ceremony! The Hunt is told of in stories and legends, a tale born of the old times and of the folk such as that one," she continues, pointing at the naked Callum. "All I knew was it was born of the Gods, a magical Hunter and his pack of supernatural dog beasties. They run at night when the wee ones are asleep and good folk stay abed. 'Tis said that it sweeps through the bogs and fields, sweeping folk with it who then become part of the Hunt." She shakes her head. "I'm thinking my two friends there could be telling you more, as I'm not as learned in the ways of the Gods as some." |
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Rolf listens to Elsbeth's talk of the Hunt. "Well, I'd say there's more than a lick of truth to that legend. We're in a swamp, we saw those ghostly hounds and I'd say we were swept up into something akin to a hunt. See to Mandrake, I'm going to have a look around." Rolf starts looking around the area, seeing what there is to see. He comes across his bow and arrow, apparently cast casually aside in the night before. He takes some time to try and clean the dried blood from his sword and armor as well. OOC: John, aside from the weapons and armor, does Rolf have his other stuff or did we leave all of that behind in the rush of the hunt? |
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You have nothing with you apart from what you were wearing and the weapons you grabbed as the hunt approached. |
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Jesse, Rethe and Flea climb to their feet slowly, all three take some time to work out what has happened. Eventually they start examining them selves for wounds, binding any wounds they find and generally start cleaning them selves up. Flea looks somewhat concerned by the whole matter, she is obviously not sure about what has happened - and is very unsure of herself. Rethe and Jesse, on the other hand, are clearly feeling comfortable. Yes, they are obviously sore - but there is no uncertainty or concern in their demeanor. They hold them selves slighty apart from the rest of you, talking in quiet voices. Occasionally Jesse will look long and hard into the sky. |
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Edgar ignores Rolf's questions to begin with, letting speculation fill in many of the blanks, as he frets besides Mandrake, his clawed feet scratching in the dirt as he gently shoves the gnome with his beak in an attempt to wake him, even as the others rise. Eventually, as Elsbeth moves to minister to the wounded gnome, however, he breaks his silence, now no longer caring if the strangers, Jesse and Rethe, find their suspicions about him confirmed. "What happened here ? You have the right of it ... those wounds and bloody weapons did not occur of their own accord." His voice is curiously gentle - there is no hint of criticism in his tones. "The huntsman's horn called you, and something within you answered the call, and you joined with his pack, as one with his hounds, covering the ground almost faster than I could fly." "The pack ... your pack ... fell upon this camp and these creatures - by direction, not chance ... and then." Edgar's words are blunt, and there is fear in his voice, though he struggles to master it. "You slaughtered them. You. Laughing, even as you slew them, unmindful of any blows they scored upon you, as they tried, belatedly to fight back." "The hounds did little save chase down those who tried to flee from you." "And when all were dead, the huntsman urged his pack on, and you fell to the ground in an unnatural slumber, amid the bodies of the dead." He turns his beak towards Mandrake. "He fought as did you all ... but was undone by his lack of skill with his blade, and so the creatures tore at his flesh even as they ran." He shuffles his feet once more, seeming almost embarrassed to be the bearer of such news. |
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As Edgar describes the scenes of the night before, you start to remember, vaguely and impercisely, the events of the previous night. You can almost remember things, BUT as if from a dream. |
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*Dead or dying, we’re all doomed!* Mandrake looks over to see the great warrior Callum fall to a severe blow from an overly large doghead which then stoops to drink the blood from his fallen comrade. Edgar ignores Rolf's questions to begin with, letting speculation fill in many of the blanks, as he frets besides Mandrake, his clawed feet scratching in the dirt as he gently shoves the gnome with his beak in an attempt to wake him, even as the others rise. Mandrake’s attention is brought back to the battle as the creature before him lands another blow, just a scratch this time, but still a line of blood forms on his side. Mandrake groans and pulls away from the probing blade, his body rolling away from Edgar’s attentions. |
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Elsbeth hears the bird's tale while going deathly white. She looks about her at the dismembered bodies being slowly gathered up by Callum, then at the blood both splashed across her clothing and soaked in from her own body. She looks at Jesse and Rethe, feeling extreme guilt that she is not as comfortable with this as they. She wonders if Callum had been right several days ago- maybe she wasn't a real druid. For as she looks at the carnage and imagines her part in it, she is horrified, sickened and dismayed. The woman looks at poor Mandrake, then up at Edgar, her guilt written across her face. "That could've been me," she whispers. "Should've been me. Oh Gods of the Forests, Goddess of my Life- what have I become?" |
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Returning, Rolf finds Elsbeth in quite a state. Walking over, he kneels down beside her, seeing the guilt written on her face. "Let it go, Elsbeth, or it'll eat you up. We would never do such things in your right mind, well maybe Callum. But we're not to blame for this slaughter. It is the Hunt that drew forth the wolf we all carry inside. And look at yourself and Mandrake, it wasn't as though we slew defenseless creatures, these dogheads were armed and armored. And both you and Mandrake bear the mark of their weapons." |
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Elsbeth looks at Rolf, then sighs. The reaches over and grasps him briefly in a tight hug, then as quickly releases him, a blush of red briefly adorning her face. "Thanks to you, Rolf," she admits. "You're right in this. T'was the Gods and we were but his tools. For me to be crying over these beasties!" She shakes her head. "It still makes me ill." Elsbeth glances over at the other two druids. "I'll be needing to talk to them, I'm thinking." She looks at Mandrake. "I've made Mandrake comfortable but can't be helping him further until I've had time to pray. Mayhap we should try to find the others?" |
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