The creature's scent was not hard to pick up amid the ruin of its hunting. Without a moment's pause the cat obediently trots off through the hole in the wall, and out into the farmer's field, disappearing in the night's darkness as easily as the creature itself had.
Turning the other direction, and moving back through the barn to the farmer's compound, the party enters the farmhouse. Branch, already recognizing the area of interest from her time spent here before Archibald discovered the creature, leads the party up to the second story and to a door which appears to be locked. She knocks, loud and clear, the sound resonating throughout the building to announce their presence. For a long moment, the quiet sound of their breathing is all that responds, but then a small voice answers, "W-who's out there?"
At the party's introduction, the door unlocks. There stands the farmer and his wife, wearing their small clothes and looking to the world as if they'd seen a ghost. As they're talking, a mental probe enters Chatcho's mind, familiar, friendly. Tik-Tik reports:
Kcha/One who ends knowledge/The killerK'Ka/End Seeking/has been found.
Chatcho’s antennae twitch at the thought of the creature’s stench. Any one of them likely could have followed the pungent horror by scent alone. The wizard opts to leave the chore of banal conversation to his clutchmates and surrenders his sight and hearing for those of Tik-Tik’s.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Branch looks at them questioningly a bit, "Yes, you didn't hear the screams of your goat? I don't know if the thing got to any of your livestock before we chased it away, but is this a common occurrence? I've never in my life seen such a well, as my friend here said, monster. And since we've arrived to this land I guess you'd call it, we've seen some scary things. Are you all ok?"
(I'd like to roll insight to see if their responses seem truthful? Ignore it if that doesn't make sense)
"Of course we heard it!" The wife squeaks, indignation and fear lacing her voice. We're lucky that-- that-- thing didn't get us!"
"Come now, honey." The farmer coos to his wife, trying to calm her. "Look, these good folks took care of it, ran the it off, didn't you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, ushering the party away from the threshold of their door. "Now, I'm going to step outside and talk to them for a second, alright? Why don't you go get settled back in bed?"
The door shutting with a quiet click, and with the previous warmth in his voice gone he asks, "What did you see, out there? What was it?"
Despite the immediately recognizable strain on his psyche, caused by the distance between them, the sleepers' voices fade first into unintelligible bass sounds before disappearing entirely. As if falling into place, new senses replace his as if they'd always belonged. Wet grass poked up at his, no, their paws, the scent of dew dispersing in the air at each oh-so gentle step. That scent was almost entirely overpowered however, by the rot that clung to the creature's body, and the fresh-spilled blood of its prey. It crouched there, illuminated by the moon, a perverse amalgam of a demon and some now unrecognizable wild animal. It ripped and tore with both fang and claw as it raided the carcass for its prize: not meat. No, hunks of flesh were tossed carelessly aside as it instead searched for the goat's organs. The heart it seemed to prize most, lifting it high into the moonlight in celebration once the organ had been removed, and then snapping it up hungrily in seconds flat.
And then, suddenly, it became disinterested in the mostly-untouched carcass in front of it. Chatcho could still hear the voice that had urged it onward, the voice that would now be calling again. 'Feed!' it would be demanding. It wasn't until a moment later, as the creature began huffing, and sniffing at the air, that either he or Tik-Tik realized, with growing horror, that the wind had shifted. Its blood-stained maw turned slowly toward them, its eyes catching the moon and lighting up like beacons in the night. The feeling of adrenaline that spiked that cat's body then crossed the bond easily, despite the distance, as muscles tensed in preparation for one very desperate sprint.
Unaware of what Chatcho was experiencing, Branch bristles a bit at the wife's response to her question. She doesn't say anything and let's the husband usher them out. "Well, Archibald here can probably describe it better as it was him that found it, Chatcho and I just helped drive it away. But man, does this happen often around here?"
"You injured it, then? Why, that's joyous news indeed!" The gnome exclaims, albeit in hushed tones to avoid disturbing his wife in the other room. He turns sheepish after a moment, however, as he recalls Branch's words. "Aye, I cannot say 's we're the first to fall victim to this... thing. It's a sad sight indeed, to lose some of the livestock, but beasties wander in from the forests all the time, and have done since we settled here. It's just the nature of our new world, I suppose. There's been a string of attacks recently though, we think one of them creatures got the taste for our livestock and isn't moving on. No one seems to know where it hides out durin' the day, but the attacks come more frequently and closer to town each time. Now, here? Why, we're spitting distance from the river, and the town just beyond. Mark my words, there'll be killin's, next."
Abject fear grips Chatcho and he momentarily forgets he can dismiss Tik-Tik with but a thought. He hurriedly commands the guardian to relinquish its position on the material plane as his senses spiral into oblivion, funneling back to the wizard.
Archibald has an expression like a lightbulb has just struck him.
"We can help! We'll chase it down and smite the monster. That might help these folks not to lump us in with those pirates from before." He looks far too smug about this idea.
"Yes, we did injure it, but it ran off with some of your livestock." Branch looks at Archibald with a bit of shock as he claims they can chase it down and well, smite it.
"Well, that is why we woke you. Guess there isn't much else to say, but we'll see what we can do." With that, she gives her friends a shrug and starts heading down the stairs back into the cool night. She looks off into the direction the beast ran and wonders if they would ever find it?
A flash of blood-stained teeth, and too-long limbs reaching for him. Then, the connection shatters and for a brief moment Chatcho is plunged into a senseless abyss, before slowly, he returns to his own body. When his mind ceases reeling from the sudden disconnect, "--ran off with some of your livestock," Branch is speaking. She continues as he focuses his mind once again, not to re-establish the connection, but to test its presence. And, with a wave of relief, he finds it intact, though subdued, as if a distance unnamable separates him from his familiar.
With Branch's exit from the conversation, the farmer moves to return to his wife. Before he disappears back into the threshold, he leaves Archibald and Chatcho with a few parting words. "As I understand it, some of the townsfolk have taken it upon themselves to hunt creatures like this. I'll send for them in the morning, perhaps you might speak with them, they'll know better the creatures of these woods. In any case, keep safe tonight."
The door shuts behind him with a series of quiet clicks as the latch, and lock, are shut once more.
Branch heads back as well, troubled by the circumstances that woke them. Wondering what other surprises are going to befall them in this new land they have fallen upon.
After all the excitement, the night goes by quietly. Some time in the twilight hour, the farm hands rouse themselves and begin the day's work, sneaking out past Chatcho so as not to disturb the party's rest. It is later on, the sun rising in the morning sky, when a heavy hand knocks upon their door. The knocker on the other side proves rather impatient, knocking twice again with strong blows against the simple door before the party can make themselves presentable and open the door.
A young man stands at the threshold. By the cudgel on his hip and the mean look in his eye he would seem to be one of the troublemakers' sympathizers. A small crowd is gathered behind him, old men and rusted iron all, save for the farmer who seems to've recently failed to stop the young man's brash actions, and one other...
"Are ye the ones 'at fought it off last night?" The young man demands, more than asks.
As the sound of riotous anger echoed from the small crowd, an elf came onto the seen. He wore a doublet which was probably once a rich and vibrant green, but has since faded to a more worn shade as the tunic has undergone the ravages of time. Scale mail peaked out from between his doublet and his undershirt, disappearing beneath his clothes and emerging once more at the ends of his sleeves, leading directly into a pair of fearsome looking gauntlets that each bore a sigil in the shape of a crescent moon. He had neatly combed platinum hair and looked to be in his early hundreds. "What is the meaning of this?!" He barked, wading through the crowd to the center of the commotion.
Branch, still rubbing her eyes trying to wake up after all the excitement last night, heads to the door and opens it. The crowd gathered there was the reluctantly familiar man standing in the threshold, wakes her right up.
Seeing all the iron the folks are carrying, Branch is wary and checks behind her that Chatcho and Archibald are also awake and see what is going on. "Yes, we are. What's it to you?"
Right after she finishes answering, she is taken aback by the entrance of an elf weaving his way through the crowd towards them.
Chatcho commands Tik-Tik to determine the creature’s trail.
Keen Smell: 17
Leaving Tik-Tik to its task, Chatcho follows Archibald.
Their absence doesn’t bode well.
Tik-Tik Stealth: 19
The creature's scent was not hard to pick up amid the ruin of its hunting. Without a moment's pause the cat obediently trots off through the hole in the wall, and out into the farmer's field, disappearing in the night's darkness as easily as the creature itself had.
Turning the other direction, and moving back through the barn to the farmer's compound, the party enters the farmhouse. Branch, already recognizing the area of interest from her time spent here before Archibald discovered the creature, leads the party up to the second story and to a door which appears to be locked. She knocks, loud and clear, the sound resonating throughout the building to announce their presence. For a long moment, the quiet sound of their breathing is all that responds, but then a small voice answers, "W-who's out there?"
At the party's introduction, the door unlocks. There stands the farmer and his wife, wearing their small clothes and looking to the world as if they'd seen a ghost. As they're talking, a mental probe enters Chatcho's mind, familiar, friendly. Tik-Tik reports:
Kcha/One who ends knowledge/The killer K'Ka/End Seeking/has been found.
Chatcho’s antennae twitch at the thought of the creature’s stench. Any one of them likely could have followed the pungent horror by scent alone. The wizard opts to leave the chore of banal conversation to his clutchmates and surrenders his sight and hearing for those of Tik-Tik’s.
Archibald shifts uncomfortably at the state of dress
"You didn't hear the commotion? There was a monster in your barn!"
Paladin - warforged - orange
Branch looks at them questioningly a bit, "Yes, you didn't hear the screams of your goat? I don't know if the thing got to any of your livestock before we chased it away, but is this a common occurrence? I've never in my life seen such a well, as my friend here said, monster. And since we've arrived to this land I guess you'd call it, we've seen some scary things. Are you all ok?"
(I'd like to roll insight to see if their responses seem truthful? Ignore it if that doesn't make sense)
Insight 14
Creature Perception: 22
"Of course we heard it!" The wife squeaks, indignation and fear lacing her voice. We're lucky that-- that-- thing didn't get us!"
"Come now, honey." The farmer coos to his wife, trying to calm her. "Look, these good folks took care of it, ran the it off, didn't you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, ushering the party away from the threshold of their door. "Now, I'm going to step outside and talk to them for a second, alright? Why don't you go get settled back in bed?"
The door shutting with a quiet click, and with the previous warmth in his voice gone he asks, "What did you see, out there? What was it?"
===================================================================================================================
Despite the immediately recognizable strain on his psyche, caused by the distance between them, the sleepers' voices fade first into unintelligible bass sounds before disappearing entirely. As if falling into place, new senses replace his as if they'd always belonged. Wet grass poked up at his, no, their paws, the scent of dew dispersing in the air at each oh-so gentle step. That scent was almost entirely overpowered however, by the rot that clung to the creature's body, and the fresh-spilled blood of its prey. It crouched there, illuminated by the moon, a perverse amalgam of a demon and some now unrecognizable wild animal. It ripped and tore with both fang and claw as it raided the carcass for its prize: not meat. No, hunks of flesh were tossed carelessly aside as it instead searched for the goat's organs. The heart it seemed to prize most, lifting it high into the moonlight in celebration once the organ had been removed, and then snapping it up hungrily in seconds flat.
And then, suddenly, it became disinterested in the mostly-untouched carcass in front of it. Chatcho could still hear the voice that had urged it onward, the voice that would now be calling again. 'Feed!' it would be demanding. It wasn't until a moment later, as the creature began huffing, and sniffing at the air, that either he or Tik-Tik realized, with growing horror, that the wind had shifted. Its blood-stained maw turned slowly toward them, its eyes catching the moon and lighting up like beacons in the night. The feeling of adrenaline that spiked that cat's body then crossed the bond easily, despite the distance, as muscles tensed in preparation for one very desperate sprint.
Unaware of what Chatcho was experiencing, Branch bristles a bit at the wife's response to her question. She doesn't say anything and let's the husband usher them out. "Well, Archibald here can probably describe it better as it was him that found it, Chatcho and I just helped drive it away. But man, does this happen often around here?"
"It was a rotting beast that eats goats and made a hole in your barn rather than using the door. It's short a hand now, though. Maybe."
Paladin - warforged - orange
"You injured it, then? Why, that's joyous news indeed!" The gnome exclaims, albeit in hushed tones to avoid disturbing his wife in the other room. He turns sheepish after a moment, however, as he recalls Branch's words. "Aye, I cannot say 's we're the first to fall victim to this... thing. It's a sad sight indeed, to lose some of the livestock, but beasties wander in from the forests all the time, and have done since we settled here. It's just the nature of our new world, I suppose. There's been a string of attacks recently though, we think one of them creatures got the taste for our livestock and isn't moving on. No one seems to know where it hides out durin' the day, but the attacks come more frequently and closer to town each time. Now, here? Why, we're spitting distance from the river, and the town just beyond. Mark my words, there'll be killin's, next."
Abject fear grips Chatcho and he momentarily forgets he can dismiss Tik-Tik with but a thought. He hurriedly commands the guardian to relinquish its position on the material plane as his senses spiral into oblivion, funneling back to the wizard.
Was I quick enough?
Archibald has an expression like a lightbulb has just struck him.
"We can help! We'll chase it down and smite the monster. That might help these folks not to lump us in with those pirates from before." He looks far too smug about this idea.
Paladin - warforged - orange
"Yes, we did injure it, but it ran off with some of your livestock." Branch looks at Archibald with a bit of shock as he claims they can chase it down and well, smite it.
"Well, that is why we woke you. Guess there isn't much else to say, but we'll see what we can do." With that, she gives her friends a shrug and starts heading down the stairs back into the cool night. She looks off into the direction the beast ran and wonders if they would ever find it?
A flash of blood-stained teeth, and too-long limbs reaching for him. Then, the connection shatters and for a brief moment Chatcho is plunged into a senseless abyss, before slowly, he returns to his own body. When his mind ceases reeling from the sudden disconnect, "--ran off with some of your livestock," Branch is speaking. She continues as he focuses his mind once again, not to re-establish the connection, but to test its presence. And, with a wave of relief, he finds it intact, though subdued, as if a distance unnamable separates him from his familiar.
With Branch's exit from the conversation, the farmer moves to return to his wife. Before he disappears back into the threshold, he leaves Archibald and Chatcho with a few parting words. "As I understand it, some of the townsfolk have taken it upon themselves to hunt creatures like this. I'll send for them in the morning, perhaps you might speak with them, they'll know better the creatures of these woods. In any case, keep safe tonight."
The door shuts behind him with a series of quiet clicks as the latch, and lock, are shut once more.
Archie will head back to bed, ready to be a monster hunter in the morning, now that he's tasted some success
Paladin - warforged - orange
Chatcho turns to leave. He will resume studying upon returning to their room.
Branch heads back as well, troubled by the circumstances that woke them. Wondering what other surprises are going to befall them in this new land they have fallen upon.
After all the excitement, the night goes by quietly. Some time in the twilight hour, the farm hands rouse themselves and begin the day's work, sneaking out past Chatcho so as not to disturb the party's rest. It is later on, the sun rising in the morning sky, when a heavy hand knocks upon their door. The knocker on the other side proves rather impatient, knocking twice again with strong blows against the simple door before the party can make themselves presentable and open the door.
A young man stands at the threshold. By the cudgel on his hip and the mean look in his eye he would seem to be one of the troublemakers' sympathizers. A small crowd is gathered behind him, old men and rusted iron all, save for the farmer who seems to've recently failed to stop the young man's brash actions, and one other...
"Are ye the ones 'at fought it off last night?" The young man demands, more than asks.
As the sound of riotous anger echoed from the small crowd, an elf came onto the seen. He wore a doublet which was probably once a rich and vibrant green, but has since faded to a more worn shade as the tunic has undergone the ravages of time. Scale mail peaked out from between his doublet and his undershirt, disappearing beneath his clothes and emerging once more at the ends of his sleeves, leading directly into a pair of fearsome looking gauntlets that each bore a sigil in the shape of a crescent moon. He had neatly combed platinum hair and looked to be in his early hundreds. "What is the meaning of this?!" He barked, wading through the crowd to the center of the commotion.
Branch, still rubbing her eyes trying to wake up after all the excitement last night, heads to the door and opens it. The crowd gathered there was the reluctantly familiar man standing in the threshold, wakes her right up.
Seeing all the iron the folks are carrying, Branch is wary and checks behind her that Chatcho and Archibald are also awake and see what is going on. "Yes, we are. What's it to you?"
Right after she finishes answering, she is taken aback by the entrance of an elf weaving his way through the crowd towards them.
Archibald emerges and holds out a hand. "You could be a bit more polite if you're looking to shake the hand that cut the beast's hand off."
Paladin - warforged - orange