"I was being sarcastic. I've been in enough orderly little inns that I've come to not like them very much. Someone always needs a wizard's services, and rarely are they forthcoming about what they want."
Only Adelbrand hears a rustling in the bushes, and the soft fall of paws against the ground.
A trio of wolves bounds out of the forest trees, their mouths snarling and foaming with blood. Their eyes are an inky, monochrome black, and one can make out drops falling from their eyes. Their jaws are stretched out too long, and their mouths are open to reveal jagged teeth.
Adelbrand's nose twitches a moment before the wolves show up. With a scowl, he shoves his way past Kjell to stand between the party and the threat. Any grizzled bravado that he may have spat out died on his tongue as he got a look at the beasts.
"On your guard," was all he said as he drew his greatsword.
Sieglinde watches Adelbrand cut down the wolf with ease. She preferred other tools to dispose of beasts in her way. The alchemist pulled a wand from a holster and it crackled to life as mana flowed through it.
She didn't want to take chances, this wolf will fry. Sieglinde concentrated and sparks flew from her wand toward the wolf. Its body contorted upon impact before it fell over dead.
As soon as the battle's over, Adelbrand stoops down to examine the wolf's corpse. Unsatisfied with what he could see in the poor light, he gingerly picks up the body by the tail, being careful to not let the inky eye....stuff get on his boots.
"If this isn't an ill omen, then I don't know what is."
As Adelbrand picks up the monstrosity's corpse, he is soon beset by loud, flashing lights and harsh, guttural noises. His vision becomes clouded until all he can see is the light, and all he can feel is tendrils gnawing at the back of his head.
Don't you hear it?
The Great Mother is coming.
Don't you hear her?
Her tendrils shall cover the land, and stitch all within her grand latticework.
Adelbrand quickly drops the wolf and cradles his head in pain with his clean hand, barely keeping from falling to his knees. After a few moments, he manages to force back the images and sounds enough to speak.
"Do either of you magic types have a way to carry things without touching them?" he says, voice slightly quavering. "These...things are dangerous. We can't leave them on an open road where any traveller can come across them."
Comments
((Perception roll: 6))
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead