Gjof:
I think it is fair - you receive 1 gjof point for the werevargr. You sermoned about Odin, called the Blessing of Odin, and claimed its death in Odin's name. Be mindful that you must be closer than 30' to claim a death, which means you are in some danger.
I am willing to be pretty lenient in group combat benefiting your dedications to Odin. It is worth asking all players, though - if anyone's character would OBJECT to their deeds being dedicated to Odin, speak up.
Doshea can't use Inspiration on the healingroll, only on the d20s. But being treatedby Skirfir helps... i am going to add the house rule that her proficiencybonus apples, so add +2 hp.
Vakar takes a close look at the wound Doshea received from the werebeast.
"It does not show any signs of infection, yet. But it's too early to be out of harm's way" he states, matter of factly. "But we should treat it. I have quite a lot of experience working for the elder, treating the other thralls. If you all stay here, I shall see what I can come up with. The snow is already quite thick, but there should be some bushes around here. And pine needles. Yes, I will get something together to sooth your pain at least.
"I would thank you for any help, friend" Doshea says to Vakar. She looks to Skirfir,"and I must thank you again, every little bit helps."
She watches as Vakar gathers herbs and needles from nearby, keeping an eye to ensure nothing threatens. "My mother says I tend to act before I think, though I thank you for your kind words."
Vakar and Skirfir together see to Doshea's wounds, Vakar dedicating himself to gathering some early-winter herbs to ease her pain as she rests. Vakar confirms Skirfir's initial observation, that at least there is no sign of infection by the werevargr. (+4hp, new total 6; all three may benefit from the Short Rest, but I think only Doshea may need to.)
Ralfwin announces that he will consecrate and burn the corpse, Stigandr takes his axe and fells some lumber for the pyre. (Neither benefits from the short rest, but I don't think either needs to.)
While the others observe - a congregation of the faithful - Ralfwin dons his ceremonial vestments, prepares and consecrates the scrawny young man's body as a sacrifice to Odin, then calls down divine flame to light the pyre. The split logs ignite readily and the corpse smells like a crackling boar roast over the open fire. It casts light readily through the dark forest, the bonfire illuminating the long face of the plateau's cliff, the walk-up just south, the snow-laden boughs of evergreen pine that surround the clearing.
Hands grasp weapons as you hear branches snap nearby to the northwest. A call from the edge of the firelight reveals it is the second group of hopefuls, the six teens from Jonnamot who left just before you.
"We... we heard your horn, and came to see if we could help," says a strong lad who steps forward to speak on their behalf. He sports a thin mustache, not yet able to muster a beard.
The group, however, is clearly wide-eyed and shaken. Every one of them has scratches and small bloody punctures as if they were beset by angry birds, at least three of them shivering uncontrollably and cradling frozen fingers. They look with both fear and awe on the bonfire's pyre, the emaciated body of a headless youth about their age burning upon it. They wait at the edge of your firelight for your response.
Decisions needed:
What did Stig do with the head?
What do you do with this other party?
Does anyone want to roll a knowledge skill about werevargrs?
What's your next move? (If it is still to track the werevargr, I need a Survival individual or group roll, per rules before.)
Valdís scoffs. "Came to help?" She straightens and steps away from the fire, looking the group up and down. "Half-frozen, henpecked boys. No, you came looking for protection."
She turns back and looks to her own companions. "I say these Mithal should build their own fire. If these boys want to prove themselves men, they should do so, and not beg to hide under our skirts." She drops heavily back into her previous seat in front of the pyre.
"And you, priest—" she says, pointing to Ralfwin— "claim whatever you want to your half-blind god, but don't tell him that I do what I do to honor him." With this, she goes back to contemplating the flames and the smouldering body atop them.
Finally she speaks again without turning away from the crackling flames. "Doshea...if you like, my people have a ritual we use to sniff out poisons and diseases. It may be able to tell us if that creature infected you. I will perform it, if you like. But I warn you, you may not like what you learn."
He has the head of the unfortunate sacked up and attached to his pack which probably leans against a tree trunk as we camp temporarily.
He cuts the wood for the funeral pyre. He looks at the group. "Go warm yourself by the pyre. The heat will thaw you out."
He wonders if this motley crew were responsible for hunting the Werevargr or, judging by their numerous cuts, they actually were beset themselves. Maybe their wounds are caused by the lycanthropes claws or arrows? And they have removed the barbs. The dead figure one of their companions.
Too many questions in his head.
"Strong boy, come with me. Chop more wood for the fire. You others sit over there and the 'she-wolf' will check your injuries." he refers to Valdis, not just because of her Seidr garb and Kunming heritage but the snappiness of her comments to religious Ralfwin.
"Don't worry. Her bark is worse than her bite."
He signals to the boy to grab an axe (surely one is around) and follow him a short way into the forest. Once there he will ask the boy regarding what happened, trying to perceive any inconsistencies in his testimony.
Perhaps he doesn't see the pre-consecration harvesting a werewolf body part by Valdis. Or perhaps he turns a blind eye, the creature slain by all and though the body and funeral rite is dedicated to Odin, Valdis must conduct her own Thanksgiving. "There is no covenant without the shedding of blood" he recalls from his sacred texts.
He ignores the rebuke from the Seidr mind. Not all embrace his faith and others have strong convictions they follow too. His itinerancies have taught him much though he feels he has learned little.
I could imagine Valdis taking the werevargr heart if you wanted a body part to offer but certainly he would protest and be against any perceived mutilation of the body. This might be a grey area in Gothi protocols. Essentially the werewolf is a human and cutting him apart to harvest organs or take samples of bone to grind into powders for experimental potion research, for my mind borders on necromancy.
When the boys arrive he gestures them close.
"All are welcome who seek the protection of Odin or Freya." He is mindfull the village of Jonnnamot draws devotees from across the pantheon.
The Werevargr's body is burning. He gesticulates over it, tracing runes in the air then with embers marks himself, a rune signifying protection across his forehead.
Dabbing a finger into the embers again he signals to the boys, "Have you no Gothi among you? Odin is a sword and a shield, the glory and the lifter of our heads. Come hither and kneel,
I will absolve you of bloodguilt." Any who would, he smears a mark upon their foreheads also. He looks for the one who may have used the bow to wound the creature, if indeed they admit to fighting the wolfman. He will use the invitation to join the benediction as a way to get one to testify of their hunt and lead up to the present.
Marullus wrote: ↑Sat Oct 29, 2022 11:48 amIn addition, you can make a skill check with a proficient knowledge skill (history, religion, arcana) and I will give you more info on werewolves.
You are proficient in Arcana, which would give you a boost, but with a natural 20 you wouldn't need it. You could also be rolling against History or Religion as knowledge skills, using your base Intelligence score. What skill you choose flavors the answer I give you.
Flashback: While the rest of the group prepares the body for cremation, Valdís searches the darkness of the battlefield, playing the pale green light in her palm over the trampled rock and grass. "I know how squeamish you Mithal are about collecting trophies from even such a cursed beast as this. It's foolishness, but if we are to be companions for a while I will bend to necessity."
After a while, the light falls on the gleam of bone, no doubt knocked free from the beast by axe or hammer. Looking about furtively, Valdís slips it into her pouch and returns to stack wood on the pyre.
I'd like to collect a bit of bone from the werevargr to use for a future magical item once she has time and money (likely a Masquerade Tattoo).
Also, if Skirfir gives some indication that they are about to make the test re: werevargr, Valdis would be happy to toss in a Guidance.
Valdís stares mistrustfully at the newcomers as they approach the fire at Stigandr's urging. "It seems I am to be overruled as to your right to warm yourselves at our fire. Be warned: I am no healer-woman, though there are many such among my people. I will look over your wounds if you like, though don't blame me if they fester and the blood-fever takes you! I'll not curse your blood intentionally, though even your gods know my people have reason enough to." She closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them to narrow slits as she examines them. "Who are you, and what brings you to our fire?"
Vakar pushes a few logs around in the fire with a stick to keep it going.
"Oh, come on Valdis, I was a thrall of the Mithal for most of my life and I still say, let them warm themselves at least. This is not our foremost battle to fight. Let's save that sweet resentment for our next real fight" he says and laughs. "Sorry about that, that was not appropriate. I do understand where you are coming from."
playing against Solidarity of Aggrieved
"So, Validis, if you are no healer woman, what are you? A trickster? A killer?"
He waits for Valdis' response with at sad look while subtly eyeing the newcomers to see if he can tell anything more from their look or posture.
"Any who fight the coming darkness are welcome to at least thaw themselves by the fire, as we are allies in this fight." She looks to Valdis before stating, "Though they may want to make their way home when they are done as it seems they are not equipped to deal with harshness of this trial, unless of course they can rally themselves and continue on their path." She looks to the other group as they make their way toward the fire. "What sort of creatures did you come across which has given you so many scratches?"
Valdís looks uncertainly at Vakar for a moment, but moves over to make room before the pyre. "I'm...a Seiꝺr. Or I will be. I hope, if this trial goes well. I speak to the spirits of my ancestors.
"That's how I was able to heal you before, actually," she says, looking at Doshea. "It wasn't me that healed you, but one of my ancestors, Cuvie. She was one of our most skilled healers." She turns back and stares into the leaping flames.
Despite the biting words of Valdis, the group of younger prospectives is welcomed into the clearing, the burning pyre now having melted a wide circle of snow for you to sit and rest near its warmth. The green wood crackles and spits as it burns.
A tall brown-eyed lad with an axe goes with Stigandr, talking quietly as the fell and strip another small pine.
The other five come near the fire, kneeling as bidden by Ralfwin to accept the smear of ashes and promised absolution. Ralfwin looks among them, three lads and two girls, and none carry bows. They armed with axes, hammers, and javelins. Doshea asks them how they came by their scratches, the others watching carefully for incongruity.
"We... we got lost, turned about in the blowing snow. The cold overcame some, and we've had no sign of the wolves we are sent to seek." The girl with auburn hair trails off, embarrased. "The wounds are from a flock of feral ravens, sickly and rotting even as they tore at us. There were dozens... we couldn't kill them... because they were already dead," says a skinny lad. The baker's son, you think. "I swear I saw a dark figure," interjects the dark-haired bookish boy, "A silluhuette amids the blowing snow. Stag antlers upon their head, a staff raised to the birds." He pauses. "Then it was just gone," he adds lamely. "It has never been like this," adds the second girl, scratching in the dirt and dried leaves at her feet with a small stick. "I have brothers. I've heard all the tales. Taking down a wolf is no small feat, but these woods were blessed by Freya, always have been. It's not supposed to be like this."
The first girl speaks again, cautious, her eyes on the pyre. "Did you... lose one of your party? He doesn't look old..." She now looks uncomfortably at the rest of you, all foreign to the town.
You all watch carefully but you do not detect any incongruity or deception. They know their adventure so far has not been a thing of tales, even though it is only two hours begun. They say nothing of a werewolf, and you suspect several of these teens would be dead if they met it.
The tall brown-eyed lad returns with Stig, hearing the end of the shared tale. "We are glad to get warm with you, but we will prevail yet.
The night is young," his voice is stern, he turns to look over the less-sure companions who are with him. "Now that we are warmed and reoriented, I am sure our spirits will be strong. There was this squirrel that kept chattering at us," he points generally back the way you came, a bit reverent at the tale he tells. "It ran back and forth, pointed us right to the tracks of a wolf. The Gods are with us." He stands up a bit straighter.
Skirfir's Knowledge
With his knowledge of the Arcane, Skirfir knows that werewolves are servants of Fenris. A son of Loki and of Asgard, the wolf-god grants power to this plane just as the gods in human form do. Werewolves are resistant to all mundane weapons, posessed of speed and keen senses, and have the power to regenerate themselves from any wound not caused by magic, silver, or fire. Beheading it and burning it with both magical and mundane fire was indeed wise. It is little known that the werevargr retain these great resistances in all their forms and their regenerative vitality makes them great men as well - cults of men seek this 'gift' purposefully and hunt the forests on the full moon as a sacrifice and tribute to their wolf-god. But Fenris is a sower of chaos, particularly among the men who venerate those who chain him. It is specifically only those who have been turned purposefully by Fenris himself who are contagious, their greater form of the 'curse' spread to others through their bite. To be bitten by a werewolf AND to not be slain means you are an enemy who lives on and escaped... the curse of lycanthropy is called 'Fenris's Revenge.' Those who are infected by contagion are like lesser thralls, not devoted to Fenris, and the do not transmit the disease.
I am loving the interplay between your characters! Keep going. The end of this exchange is a decision of what your group's action is in relation to theirs, or if you try to convince them of an alternate course.
The barbarian gets the same tale from the stronger boy as he hears from others in the camp so that settles in his mind there is no deception.
What concerns me is that they were not the ones hunting the Werevargr and the deceased is also not one of their party who manifested his form as they went along.
"Go your way. The gods indeed favour you this night to hunt a wolf. Just take the one and return in triumph." he says to the youngsters (youngsters, he is actually of the same age more or less!) gesturing them to follow the tracks and the squirrels prompting. His gesture is 'less of a gesture and more of a command', which might come across as rude or abrupt but hopefully they take the hint to pack their belongings and head off.
He doesn't answer any question regarding who the deceased night be. With a basic familiarity of the character group, he will presume that Valdis might be best equipped skills wise to locate and track wolves, going up and over the ridge from where the Werevargr came from and opposite to the youths path. "Please, will you lead the way. You may be best fit to recognise dangers ahead." he says alluding to the 'figure with a helm of antlers commanding birds' might be closer to the Seidr's field of knowledge.
He has an uncanny sense which he hasn't quite mastered yet. But if he had, it might tell him that we were being watched, by undead birds or a Werevargr hunter. (At least that is what is paranoia suspects).
Not seeing any archer among the prospective warband, that is what alerts him to the fact all is not as it should be. As Stigandr has concluded, if these youths did not attack the Werevargr then who did? He was marking them with ash from the pyre to absolve them of any guilt in shedding the blood of the deceased. No matter they weren't involved.
It actually provokes more questions than answers, hopefully ones we can solve.
As the pyre burns through and the body cremates as best as we can provide, he agrees with the decision to move on. He pours some honeyed mead from his wineskin into goblets and tankards among those gathered around and raises his in a last salute.
"His name is Robart Paulsen" he says, giving a final gesture over the body before taking off his linen ephod and priestly garb. The others should drink and repeat his name in remembrance.
He gives a firebrand torch lit from the pyre to the other group to help light their way as they go.
"Godspeed. May Odin's flame guide you safely this dark night."
Striking another firebrand for himself, he will anchor the party as we continue our own hunt.
But being treatedby Skirfir helps... i am going to add the house rule that her proficiencybonus apples, so add +2 hp.
