Party 11

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You walk through the keep, watching out for any sign of danger, but the place is still. With each step, you realise more and more that the term "dead silent" has never felt more appropriate. Heading to the Audience Chamber, you hold your breath, hoping that whoever these attackers were, they didn't get that far. Your hopes are short lived, however, as you reach the door to the Audience Chamber, only to see it torn from its hinges and now lying flat on the ground. The room beyond would be dark if not for the large shattered window in the far wall letting moonlight stream in, illuminating a room decorated by a similar scene of carnage to outside. The remains of several guards lie splattered about the room, each limb attached to the other by a long streak of crimson. Of the attackers, there are no sign.

The silence hangs over you ominously, the moonlight making shadows dance in the corners of the room, forming leering faces and deadly blades in the corner of your eye. In the far corner of the room, you see one of the figures stirring, and it takes you a moment to realise that this one isn't a trick of the light. It pulls itself up into a slumped sitting position, and you realise, behind the mess of blonde hair matted with blood, that this is Lady Morwen. She looks up at you, pleadingly, her voice little more than a whisper.
"You... have to help... please..."
 
Nazire runs to Lady Morwen, sliding in beside her and gently holding her head in her hands. "Wha...what happened?" Nazire tries to wipe the blood off, trying to find where the blood might be coming from. "Don't you panic Duchess, this...this is just a flesh wound. I'm sure you'll be fine!"

Looking up in a slight panic at her friends, she chokes back the panic, unsure of what to do to help.
 
After running into the audience chamber, Gimbel stops in his tracks. Staring at the horrendous scene before him, his mind goes blank. Shock. He can't even think, can't process what he's seeing. For a few seconds, Gimbel is frozen in time.

Only snapping out of it after Nazire runs past him to the duchess. Quickly following her and dropping to Morwens side. Not bothering to speak, he knows she's in trouble. Taking a deep breath, focussing like his grandpa taught him.

In his mind; picturing renewal and life. New growth, new life, young animals, spring, warm sunshine, trees reaching higher in the sky than even an elfs sharp eyes can find the tops. All of these and more flash through his head, building the magic, shaping it into what he wants it to do. Taking in one final deep breath, he exhaled and says a single word.

"Heal."

As the magic flows from him Morwens wounds visibly close. Gimbel doesn't notice much more than that while he catches his breath, exhausted from the magic.
 
Trusting that Gimbel can see to Lady Morewen's wounds, Aramil eases into the audience chamber, staying close to the walls, and scans for either threats, or other survivors. Quick calculations leave him astounded.

Aramil thinks to himself, "We were gone just barely an hour... What could have done so much damage so quickly? So efficiently? It is almost as though the keep did not mount any defense... Surely they could not have gotten a battering ram through the streets without notice..."

That was when Aramil noticed the claw marks on the sundered doors. "Wait, are those Claw Marks on the doors? Nine Trees! Did something rip those doors from their hinges?!... Gimbel! Will she live? Find out if she knows who - or what - did this...and if they are still here!"
 
Henjk's disbelief of the massacre shows on his face. He is aptly mortified at the scene before him.

Henjk draws his flail and bangs on his shield.

"We must find out who did this and they shall be punished."
 
Sitting on the ground near Morwen, still catching his breath, Gimbel nods at Aramil. At least the elf always keeps a cool head he thinks to himself. "Pretty sure she'll live, but I'm not a priest or a cleric."

Turning to look at the duchess, seeing that she's doing better, he asks her simply "stars and stones, happened here??"
 
Morwen's wounds close as the light from Gimbel's spell diffuses across her skin. Her strength returned somewhat, and she unsteadily got to her feet. No longer on death's door, she was nevertheless still far from full strength.
"He took her. He took her, and it's my fault. By the gods, it's all my fault. I should have been able to protect her. You have to get her back."
She took a deep breath, organising her thoughts.
"My husband was never one for this lifestyle, but he accepted it for the sake of myself, and our daughter Eve. But when he was bitten, and contracted the curse, he chose to embrace it, letting the bestial side take over. I was forced to banish him from this domain, for fear of the safety of this town. For that, he cursed my name, promising to return to take our daughter into his pack. He returned while you were away, killing my guards, taking my daughter, and leaving me infected with his damnable curse."
She takes a deep breath, trying desperately not to panic.
"Please, I have maybe an hour, maybe less, until the curse takes hold. You have to help me. There must be something you can do."
 
Curse?? Pack??

Even though Morwen hadn't explicitly said the word, Gimbel knew very well what she was talking about. WEREWOLVES.

Gimbels never seen one before, but everybody knew the stories. His eyes light up with excitement, and just a touch of fear. Werewolves!! How many people can say they've seen one??

But then he remembers the rest of what Morwen said. The little girl. And Morwen herself.

Gimbel glances at his friends uneasily. After clearing his throat he says "I'm not sure there's anything we can do. I've never heard of anyone curing the beast curse. The best we can offer you is to make sure you don't hurt anyone or worse, infect anybody else...." He trails off not sure what else they could do for the woman.
 
Henjk lowers his arms and looks at Gimbel.

"Nice once Gimbel. That gives us some time to find out more about what happened".

Henjk turns to Morwen "I don't know how the curse is cured, however I do think there are ways to stop you from turning. Albeit these ways are....permanent." Henjk looks down at the ground respectfully before Morwen.

"Morwan, before we start worrying about that, we have some time until you turn. Do you know where he took your daughter? Any information pertaining to their possible location would be helpful"
 
Quietly relieved that he was not forced to be the one to voice his inner thoughts, Aramil nods to Henjk in a show of approval for the inevitable course of action.


Aramil had never encountered Lycanthropy in person before, but he clearly recalled one of his many tutors lecturing him on the historical significance of the curse.

With those lessons in mind he edged closer to Henjk and leaned in to whisper, "Once the curse takes hold there is nothing that can be done. It is indeed a mercy to end her plight now, but do any of us carry silvered weapons? Only those can properly end the life of those so cursed... And let my hand do the deed. She deserves at least that honour of having a superior offer her this graceful exit to her short, and human life..."

Aramil met the eyes of the Duchess as he leaned back from his quick words to Henjk, and he nodded a short, respectful bow to her potential sacrifice. Despite her flaws as a host, this was an unfortunate end to one of the only nobles in the immediate region who at least tried to be Noble. In retrospect, Aramil was almost able to admit that her wine cellar was not that poorly stocked... OK, no. That was asking too much. It was an abysmal selection of wines. Aramil felt almost dirty for trying to convince himself it was even near adequate, but he could appreciate that the Duchess had tried...

Aramil then cast his eyes back to survey the room seeking both hidden dangers, and silvered cutlery that could aid in the last act of grace Lady Morwen could offer her subjects...
 
Lady Morwen coughs, pained, and tries to stand up straighter, but gives up quite quickly, wincing. "If none of you have a cure, then so be it. I can have my servants tend to me and have me restrained on nights where the curse will manifest itself but I do not know how long I can hold out against it before it takes my mind completely. But worry not for me, find Eve. Her safety should be your primary priority. Once she is safe, you can locate the cure to Lycanthropy and return to me. But hurry and find Eve, before any harm should come to her. Rumar hunts in the forests to the East. That is where you will find his pack." You notice some of the servants, who had previously been hiding, have begun to poke their heads out into the Throne Room, not hearing any noise and deciding that the danger had now passed.
 
Not really wanting to murder the duchess in cold blood, Gimbel happily takes the easy out. Looking to a servant that poked out of a nearby door, he points at the man and says, "Did you hear that?? Lady Morwen is to be restrained on the night of the full moon. You need to do it to protect yourself and the people of this town."

Catching Aramil moving to the tipped over table he asks "is now really the best time to be stealing the ....what is that a soup spoon?? A dessert spoon?? A pudding spoon??" He throws his hands up. "the spoons!! Is now the best time to be stealing spoons of any sort!?!"
 
With a snort of derision Aramil went on to collect as many of the silvered knives as he could find. He hoped for at least two apiece for himself and his companions.

"For a good man you certainly have a suspicious heart, Gimble... This is not petty theft, like that of some plebian scrounging for coin. I seek to arm us against terrible foes. The legends say silver weapons are needed to kill werewolves... and those about to turn... The legends do mention binding the cursed to keep them from taking innocent live, but those tales always end the same way..........."

All this Aramil tried to say loudly enough for all in the room to hear. Lady Morwen had been as gracious a host as someone of her meager station could allow, but everyone here needed to know the truth... especially the small people who would suffer the brunt of Lady Morwen's wrath when her bonds inevitably failed. The severity of the situation seemed to dampen his usual flair for condescension.

"Lady Morwen, it seems that my companions and I are largely in agreement that we will seek our your daughter, and attempt to end the curse both your husband and his pack inflicted upon your people... though as Lord of this hamlet, you should have handled this years ago... Your negligence has cost people their lives. Not only those in your employ, but possibly even now your daughter's."

Now Aramil walked with purpose towards the Duchess, and stopped short of her by 10 feet to look her directly in the eye.

"My only questions to you now are: Have you silver arms, and arrows that will aid us in hunting your husband, and possibly saving your daughter; and would you prefer mercy now, from skilled hand so that it is quick and painless, or from a frightened servant who will lash out in fear and desperation while you are bound in your fury? You spoke of a cure, but we know neither of one, nor expect to find one ere your transformation begins... If you insist on being bound, and attempting to endure this fate even though you have seen how it inevitably ends, I would suggest that you do so in your wine cellar... It is likely a secure area with few easily barricaded points of entry."

Aramil kept to himself the unspoken acknowledgment that if she tore her bonds in the wine cellar, nothing great would be lost if the contents of the room were destroyed, and quite possibly the custodian and person who had stocked the room so poorly might even be on hand when she broke free.

EDIT: I no spell good.

EDIT 2: Format for readability.
 
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"Silver?? Really?? Can... can I get one of those??" Gimbel says, pointing at one of the knifes Aramil is holding.

Taking two knifes from the elf, he also pockets two spoons, and a fork. Seeing Aramil eyeing his choice in cutlery he shrugs and says "I dunno. The legends never said anything spoons, did they?? For all I know, spoons are a secret weapon."

Waiting to hear if Morwen is going to provide them any silver weapons to help.... aside from silverware, He starts thinkin about the east forest. He's been in the east forest a few times, but only about a days walk in. He knew there was some dangerous stuff in there. And honestly, that forest gave him the heeby jeebies. Now he knew why. Freakin werewolves were in there.
 
Henjk pockets one of the silver dining utensils, not for fighting with, but he could not help it. His kleptomania overtook him. He mumbles to himself that these would make a great addition to one of his newly forged swords or armors.

Henjk looks at Aramil " You and I both know that no wine cellar or make-shift barricades will hold back a fully turned werewolf. Such thinking is naive and could lead to more townsfolk being killed. Besides, do you trust a servant to be able to do the deed when the time comes? To wrestle down a beast with nothing more than a table cloth? No, we must do this now, for the sake of the town and for Lady Morwen's dignity. My skills lie more with blunt weapons such as my flail, but if truly needed I can perform the deed."

Henjk looks at Gimbel and chuckles. "Gnomes aren't scared of the forest are they?" With a playful tone behind his voice as he lightly shoves Gimbel on the shoulder.
 
Steadying himself after the "light" push (the big man really didn't know his own strenth), Gimbel says "nah, not the forest. I grew up in one of those. But I've only been to the west forest a couple of times. There's always this...." he rolls his hand, looking for the right word..."air, about the place. Not as many small animals and birds as I'm used to."

He waves his hands frantically in the air. "That's not the issue here!!" He says, sternly. "You two are talking about killing her!" He points to the duchess and practically yells, "Cold blooded murder!! She's a victim. We should be helping her!!"
 
With eyes soft and sad tone, Aramil responds to Gimble's plea, "We are helping her, Gimble... We are offering her the chance to end her life with dignity now before an incurable curse turns her against countless innocents to either take their lives, or spread the curse..."

Shifting his attention back to the Duchess, Aramil continues, "What say you Lady Morwen? Look about at what one so afflicted can do to the innocent people under your charge. Armed, and in your fortified keep, these people in your care were unable to stop what you will certainly become without the mercy I offer you."

Aramil moves within arm's reach of Lady Morwen, squatting down to to be able to look her in the eye. "Duchess, we *will* rescue your daughter. Would you have us bring her back to the same terror, and danger that she experiences now in those woods?" Aramil paused in an effort to drive home the gravity of the situation.

Others in the party know that Aramil has no love in his heart for nobles who abuse their status and station. A noble's duty is to serve those bellow them. He was trying to convince Lady Morwen that her fear of death would simply be further endangering her daughter.

Aramil continued, "Or will you let us bring her home to safety? A home filled with sad memories, but full of staff to see that she grows into the strong woman who upholds your memory is a far better fate than bringing her from the dark of the Forrest into the clutches of yet another beast... We *will* rescue your daughter, but there is no way to guarantee we return with her ere you succumb to this curse. You decide what she returns to find: A sorrow of loss; or a curse of her own. So, what say you?"

Aramil pleaded as sincerely as he could, but he knew in his heart that Lady Morwen would not survive the night. He knew that whether or not she was willing, he would have to take her life here both for the sake of those in her House, and for the sake of the rest of his party... For that is what a Noble does, they shoulder the burdens others should never have to bear..... Unless that burden was either poverty, or manual labour, or some other icky task best left for the peasants...

EDIT: I accidentally a word.

EDIT 2: Format for readability.
 
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Nazire had been silent, her mind whirling with the shock of the entire scene that was unfolding before her. She had never seen so much destruction happen in such a short time. If anything, it only proved those who refused to allow her to finish her training as a Paladin right - she was not cut out for the life of a savior or adventurer.

As Aramil argued with Gimbel about the life or death of the Duchess, her eyes filled with tears at the poor woman, clutching to her humanity.

"What about a healer?" She quietly offered, unsure of her own voice at the moment, "Is there a temple of Bahamut nearby? Surely there is someone blessed enough to cure her?"
 
Lady Morwen stands listening to the argument over her fate. It looks as though she is trying to speak, but dares not, in case the trembling in her voice gives her away.
"Or perhaps..."
A tall, regal figure steps forward, regarding the group with a cold stare. You all recognise him as head housekeeper.
"If none of you have a cure, we can keep her in the cell below the manor, which was constructed specifically to hold Rumar after he turned, before he ran off into the night. A cell that you would have found out about, had you bothered asking before immediately leaping to violent conclusions. That way, she will be secure until you return with a cure, and no more death need be inflicted upon us this night."
Stepping up, he wrapped a supporting arm around Lady Morwen, helping her stand, and almost seeming to interpose himself between her and Aramil.
"As for silvered weapons, we have none. We don't believe innocent people should be killed due to their unfortunate circumstances, especially when there are other options available. If you have no other way if injuring these fiends, then perhaps you should find a way to rescue the young Miss Eve without resorting to violence. Consider it a challenging puzzle. How to solve an issue without violence."
 
Hearing the man's words, and glad somebody else stepped in to help calm the situation down, Gimbel nods to the man and asks "can you handle The Duchess??"

After the man nods, he turns back to the party "the steward is right. Morwen hasn't done anything wrong. And if we're seeking a cure, we should ask the cursed himself. Maybe he knows a way to get rid of it. And maybe we can talk some sense into him. Rumar obviously cares for the girl if he was willing to go through all of this to get to see her. If any fighting goes down, Eve might get hurt in all the commotion. That's something nobody wants. And if we're the ones who start the fight, her blood might be on our hands."

Knowing that Nazire was already on his side, he focuses on Henjk and Aramil. "Please. Please at least consider an approach that doesn't leave a trail of bodies behind us." Hoping to seal the deal he adds "and all the gods help us if one of those bodies is a little girl."

After a long moment, both Henjk and Aramil nod, giving Gimbel hope. He asks the duchess "do you think Rumar would talk peacefully with us?? And if not, I'm open to suggestions."
 
It was more of a frown than a nod. Aramil is not wholly convinced of this course of action. To the Steward he addresses his comments. "...If you are certain there is a cure, and equally certain this room can hold her I am willing to seek the cure out. If either of things things prove to be untrue, then the blood that follows in on your head. Gimble is correct that she has not done any wrong, but if left unchecked, this curse will see to it that innocent lives are lost when they need not have been. Just mark that I find it highly doubtful that this beast we seek has both knowledge of a cure, and has not yet been cured... "

Looking about Aramil eyed the destruction caused by a single individual so cursed be fore continuing. "How you expect us to reason with a mad beast capable of such wanton destruction I am unsure, but for the sake of our host I will endeavor to do exactly that. Now, tell us what you know of the beast we hunt, where we can find it, and any other guidance you can give. That you have not chosen to arm your own guard with weapons that can stop the beast that hunts you gives me no confidence in your ability to prepare for what is coming. Just pray that good fortune that brought m- *cough* Us to you in your hour of need holds long enough for us to handle this threat and return lady Morwen's daughter..."
 
The head housekeeper regards you all coldly.
"Worry not about Lady Morwen. We can care for her until your return. As for negotiations, I cannot say. Rumar was a reasonable sort, but that was before he was cursed. Since his first action after he was cursed was to run into the Eastern Woods, and we have seen no sign of him, or any of his kind, in the six years since, I cannot tell you what he would be like now. However, I cannot speak for the others. There were at least a dozen here tonight, and I have no idea how many more may be back at their lair. The only advice I can give is remain cautious. They may be beasts, but they are far from unintelligent. Stay alert, and if you spot any..."
He gestures to the shattered windows around the room.
"Be aware of more that may be lurking in the wings."
 
Henjk looks around to the rest of the group. "I am not familiar with the timetable of the curse. How long it will take her to turn will be a deciding factor in our decision."

Henjk pondered the decision to keep the duchess alive in the cellar.

"If this is something the duchess wishes, then we shall obey. I am not one one to sacrifice someone against their will, even if they are inflicted with such a curse. However, housekeeper, you must know not of werewolves and the types of dangers outside the town. Not many are up for talking and most likely the ones holding Miss Eve are violent, have you not already seen this?. I doubt bringing her back with no bloodshed is an option."
 
Aramil nods at Henjk's words. These people have seen first hand the horrors to be wrought at the hands of those so cursed, yet foolishly both ignore the threat, and take inadequate steps for their own protection.

Keeping two of the 6 silvered blades he did find, Aramil moves amongst the others of his party offering a blade or two to those who desire them. He mutters softly to those he approaches, "If safe and successful parley is possible, we will parlay. If they leave us no choice but violence we need to be able to defend ourselves..."

There are 4 blades to spread across the three other members of the party, and Aramil readily offers the odd blade to whomever desires a second. If no one accepts it, Aramil will carry three.

EDIT: Expanded qualifiers on parley.
 
Gimbel shakes his head at the offered knives from Aramil, showing the elf the 2 knives, the 2 spoons, and the fork that he's already taken. "I'm good."

Taking in the group, he jerks two thumbs at the door "Are we good to go??" Feeling the thrill of adventure shoot through his body at the thought of how much fun this is going to be. Werewolves, dark creepy forest, kidnapping!! He couldn't wait to get going.
 
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