The Strange Black Altar in the Woods, The Haunted Mountains, Gran March, Greyhawk
Day Two. Midday. Sunday, November 13th, 576 CY
Cold, foggy, cloudy, damp
Too wounded to move far, the surviving heroes stagger away from the unholy black altar and prepare for the siege of ravenous wolves they know will soon come.
All backs strain, making preparations under the direction of Brevos the seasoned outdoorsman. Hours pass in toil and the shadows grow long.
The wolves do not come.
Darkness overtakes the land. The moon rises. And then something terrible happens.
Deep in the haunted wood, the pale moonlight begins to heal the heroes' wounds! All the injured adventurers awaken! Miraculously, their most recent injuries are cured!
Suddenly, joy gives way to despair as things go horribly wrong. All the heroes feel a terrible pain, deep within. Their bodies ripple with muscles no human ever had. And their teeth lengthen within their very mouths!
They cry out in agony and no longer recognize their own voices.
The sounds they make are inhuman. Bestial.
Bones break and reform as their limbs distend in a ghastly fashion.
They shed their armor before it strangles their rapidly growing frame.
Their skin sprouts dark, thick fur. The fur of an animal.
They howl. Calling balefully to the pale luminous moon.
And suddenly, horrifically, they hunger. For flesh and blood.
Suddenly, horrifically, their minds are subsumed by a dark and primal force.
The siege of murderous wolves has come. But not in the way they expected.
Responses to any of the above?
PC Status:
- ?????
- None currently.
