As the others look at the corpse of the goat, Branch tries to figure out which way the creature might have gone after it's supposed dinner.  Though looking at the goat, it sure left a lot behind, makes her a bit worried as to what sort of creature they were trying to deal with.

She looks to the surroundings, trying to pick up any scent that would give her a direction in which it headed.  

Survival  4

Chatcho looks over at Branch. Her scrutiny of their surroundings is meticulous and though the wizard hadn't received a vivid augury of today's events, he had a premonition that the trail would likely resume over there.

Chatcho replaces Branch's Survival Roll of 4 with his Portent Roll of 14.

And so the trail continued. Tik-Tik and Chatcho had no trouble remembering where they'd been standing when the attack came, and it was not hard to follow the creature's stench from there. Onward they travelled, for the better part of two hours, the creature never tried to hide its tracks, but seemed to wander, doubling back on itself, walking in looping paths. It takes them through several fields, and a handful of explanations are made to curious farmhands who intercept their journey, but eventually it turns east, and dives into the forest. It is unlike what some of the party has experienced before. Someone has taken the time to clear out much of the underbrush, its no longer as suffocating has it once must've been. 

In the distance, through the trees, a cabin comes into view, likely something the hunters in town would use. Time has not been good to the building, however. Much of it has grown over with moss, and it seems one part has collapsed. The door has been smashed inward, but there's no telling if that was natural or the work of their creature whose trail diverts directly toward the cabin.

As Branch follows Chatcho, looping around, in and out of farmlands.. at least the people they were running into weren't ready to fight them like the stranger back at the village.  So that was a good thing.

The cabin.  Now that took Branch by surprise.  She wasn't expecting to find anything of the sort in these woods that people were basically fearful of.  "I'm going to try and sneak up to a side window to see if there is anything I can see on the inside.  Hang on."  And holding to the edge of the clearing, Branch approaches the cabin looking for a window on the side to peak in through.

Stealth  15

Archibald sneaks right along with Branch, watchful for signs of an attack. There may be victims here

Stealth 23 

Brimthenel hangs back to provide support in case this goes south. Besides, his armor would make stealth difficult at the moment.

(Hold action, will cast firebolt if anything attacks them or something.)

While these woods had been made relatively safe with time, they had not always been so. This cabin, built during a time when the wilds surrounding the town were even more so, featured no windows. The door would seem to be the only entrance or exit, such that a horde of attacking beasts could be funneled through the tight space and cut down in more manageable numbers.

So, there was only the door for Branch to approach, as silent as the grave. Even as she reached it, details began to come to her. The door was of course, smashed inward, and lay on the floor just inside the cabin. The cabin's interior seemed to've once been a communal living room, of sorts. Though it once might've been a place that inspired safety and warmth in its residents, today it bore ready witness to the fierce fight that must've taken place mere hours ago. Blood, and shattered, scoured, or overturned furniture scattered the room, but there seemed to be some hope--despite the clear damage to the room, there was no bodies to be found.

To the left of the entrance was a dividing wall, segregating the living space from what one might assume to be a simple kitchen, given the position of the cabin's chimney from outside. There was no door separating the two spaces, and a warm, flickering, light flooded through the open threshold. Hushed voices could be heard, an indistinguishable murmuring that lent further credence to the idea that perhaps whoever had inhabited this place had survived the attack, after all. Though, with the destruction in the main room, it seemed a small miracle that it was possible.

All this came to her in a single moment, measured in the time between two beats of her heart, as in the next beat, the soft thud of a weight against the forest floor, and a not-so under the breath cursing came from behind her. In his haste to join her, Archibald had tripped up over some of the forest detritus, and fallen awkwardly, sending a painful jolt through the arm that he'd used to catch himself. It seemed to've been enough. The hushed voices paused for just one more moment, picking up again in more urgent tones. Something clattered softly as someone hurried to move, reacting to the sound outside. The fire they'd had hissed and steamed, the light dying and plunging both rooms into darkness save for the daylight filtering in through the open doorway that Branch and Archibald now stood around.

===================================================================================================================

The forest was quiet. Then again, it always seemed quiet. It set hairs on end, put a stone in the gut of any who travelled here. It was no wonder, that those villagers who'd made their living in these woods regarded them with a certain suspicion, and superstition. Even with only the mere 60-odd feet between them, the suffocating weight of the canopy seemed to isolate them, to create a distance not entirely describable. This was nothing, though, both Chatcho and Brimthenel had wandered the true woods, the old wood. It was so much worse in those dark, accursed places of the forest.

Despite his mind wandering in this way, the elven knight of the village was a man of duty, and he did his best not to let it stray to the point of distraction. That, or the beast that caught his eye was just as distracted, for whatever reasons it might have. It wandered into view, stalking Branch and Archibald's position. But from his, he could see it clearly, it looked to perhaps be a young dog. It did not attack, or show any blatant signs of aggression, so he held off on attacking it for the sake of observing it further.

Archibald, too, as well as Chatcho at his side, seemed to've noticed the creature as well, but it didn't move. At Archibald's gaze it froze mid-step, then sat up, tail quietly rustling as it swayed from side to side, switching to the friendly demeanor of a trained animal in a heart-beat. Had it perhaps been a hunter's dog? Left in the woods after the attack?

Archibald taps on Branch's shoulder to point out the dog. 

"I'll deal with the people, you deal with the dog?" 

He then takes a full step into the cabin. "Hello in there? Are you alright? We're tracking a beast and it seems you've found it. Come out now, no reason to be frightened of us."

persuasion 8 

Edit:

Brimthenel let his focus wane, and the coiled up firebolt dissipated in his hand. He then spoke a word in elven and made a fist with his gauntlet.

(BA cast Expeditious Retreat)

Creeping closer to the door, Branch holds her breath as she sees the carnage in what would be considered the living room.  Just when she is about to head in, she hears the people in the kitchen and breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

Which is short lived as Archibald makes a racket behind her.  She turns and gives him a seething look for following her and before she gets a chance to say anything he decides who is going where and heads in.  Branch gives an audible huff, then turns and sees the dog he is talking about.

Remembering the sort of dogs they fought in the city, she is a bit apprehensive as she approaches.  She squats down and softly asks, "Where did you come from boy?  Do you have an owner?"

Following Archibald, Chatcho takes a Copper Piece the former had lent him and rubs its surface. The Kreen never understood copper’s position in the mammalian hierarchy of value; it was clear the metal surpassed Gold as a conductor. Psionic energy wells in the coin and Chatcho releases it, keen on learning more about whomever it is that seeks refuge here.

Chatcho casts detect thoughts.

Returning what minor energy he'd drawn to the ether, a lightness came to the elf warrior's feet with the proper incantation, and the wave of one hand. Meanwhile, Branch crouched low in front of the animal that'd appeared. At a closer look, the animal seemed pockmarked with still-healing wounds. Perhaps it had been here, last night? Though they all seemed superficial, if it had really gone toe-to-toe with the beast she'd seen the night before, it came out surprisingly well. A big, bushy tail swayed behind it as she spoke, its head turning to one side, studying her with a curious gaze. It was nothing like the beasts of Stayar'Dauthr, those things had long ago been corrupted by some fell magicks. This animal in front of her shared little to no resemblance to them, bearing a mostly healthy pelt and significantly friendlier disposition.

===================================================================================================================

For a long moment, silence reigned over the ruined cabin. Then, slowly, a figure appeared in the threshold. It was a girl, a young, human girl. No more than sixteen, or seventeen. Just, barely, she leans out from behind the cover of the wall and looks upon Archibald and the insect... thing next to him. Her mind was formidable, for someone of her age, but still no match for the honed scalpel-edge of Chatcho's own, especially with the force of the arts behind it. At least for now, anyway.

"I-It's not here." She said after taking them in for a moment, feigning fright even as Chatcho sensed the calm determination, but earnest distrust in her mind. "So just leave"--us... no--"Just leave me be."

It seemed that the animal wasn't hostile - at least not overtly so. Brimthenel came up behind Branch, his head cocked at the beast. Slowly, the elven knight reached into the Bag of Holding hanging from his belt and took out a strip of dried beef. He held the beef in front of the dog's curious maw, awaiting  its reaction.

(-1 ration)

Not wanting to leave the vicinity of the cabin, she watches as Brimthenel attempts to befriend the beast.  She slowly stands up, not to alarm it and looks around to see if  there is anyone that would claim the dog.  He obviously belongs to someone.  

She also keeps an ear open to the cabin in case things go south in that direction.

Chatcho projects to Archibald alone while maintaining eye contact with the girl.

She’s proficient in chaka/The Way/psionics. She lacks my tho/experience but she’s not alone. I’m going to press further. 

Chatcho probes deeper with detect thoughts. His Portent Roll of 11 replaces the girl’s Wisdom saving throw.

Archibald moves closer to the girl. "Come on now, we know you aren't alone. Come out, we aren't here to hurt anyone." 

 The animal nabbed the morsel from the young knight's hands gently enough, but something nagged at the back of his mind as he watched it stand and step toward him, as it came up close and begged with wide, pleading eyes for more. Close enough, that he could reach out to stroke its fur, only to discover it had no collar. And its fur, indeed, was a truly remarkable pelt for a common hound. A tan base, but its underbelly, and the inner sides of its legs were a white like milk, which contrasted rather starkly against its back and tail, which had a salt-and-pepper look to it, all black and silver.

And its legs, they were... too long. In fact, all of the proportions were off, it was very lithe, and its head was too small for its long thin snout, and tall wide ears. He might've even wagered it to be some kind of fox, with that bushy tail of its, if it stood but a little shorter from the ground. Then again, it stood shorter than the hunting hounds of his village. Perhaps it was a half-breed, but one thing was for certain.

As unlikely as it seemed, this animal couldn't've been from his village. He'd watched the first tree fall, and been there through it all, never had such an animal lived with his people. But it was friendly, gentle even, and that begged the question--where could it have possibly come from? To his reckoning, only two kinds of people had ever managed to travel to and from the village.

The born banamathr.
And the witch.

===================================================================================================================

"Stay back! Don't come closer!" She snapped at Archibald as he approached, angling back towards the kitchen to keep the wall mostly between the two of them even as Chatcho continued with his task. She was proficient. Far more than she ought to be, the young human girl that she was, in that instant before his mind settled on the attack, she must have sensed something, the ocean tide pulling back, the backswing before the hammer-blow of Chatcho's mind against her own. It was not that she had anything near his capabilities, but someone, somewhere, had told her that people like him exist, taught her how to fend them off. Under her breath, she began a very well-practiced recitation.

"In Harder's Field, there lived a man, a man with yellow eyes." A rhythm and flow to lose oneself within, poems were a popular defense.
"He said to me, 'Beware the whispers, for they whisper lies.'" But the fates would not weave her success today.
"Do not wrestle with the demons--"Her breath hitched, the rhythm broke. It was all Chatcho needed.

A knife. Cold and sharp, and heavier in her hands than it would've been in his. She held it against the wall she kept between herself and the strangers from the town. It already had the blood of--a field of rolling grass, a gruff man's face, his eyes, what a striking colour. The knife was gone, whisked away on the river of her thoughts and a torrent of fear. Fear of him, and Archibald, fear of the town-men who kick and throw things. A memory of pain flashed, and was nearly gone as quickly, but he chased after it.

Half walking, half limping down the village street, rain pounded against him, against her, soaking them through the bone, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter because the aching, gnawing, knot in their stomach was much worse. It didn't matter because they weren't the only one who knew that knot, because they had to take care of the little ones, keep them safe after--the darkness under the bed, a voice that beckons, that tempts, that whispers... 

Please, sir, just a morsel of food. The town villager's response was not a dull flash of pain this time. This time, Chatcho lived out her memory of the man's boot as it connected with their ribs, and sent them sprawling in the mud. "Nasty thing." The man growled bitterly, before stomping off down the mud road. For a long moment they lay there, so damned hungry. But, as it had, and as it would do for the rest of her life, the thought of the little ones roused the two of them to their feet, to beg at another man's heels.

A crossroads, a fight with the beast, with a demon, with--"Beware the whispers, for they whisper lies!"  Her defense was faltering, and this time Chatcho was ready, and pushed back against it. A single image came to the front of her mind in response. It was last night, in the living room, the hulking half-rot mass of the beast the party hunted, and her and her family, fending it off with whatever weapons they had. She had been so, so desperately distraught in that moment. So wild with long-set grief. She grieved, for once she'd loved that beast, as only a child could. She grieved, for it, he, had once been her father, and still was even after everything that'd happened.

"Get out of my head!" She screeched, one hand moving to her temple as she leaned against the wall for support.

===================================================================================================================

Her screeching voice echoed out of the cabin, and in immediate response the dog, if it really is such, lunges for Brimthenel. It doesn't bite, or claw at him, however. It just barrels into his chest. It's only barely enough, but it knocks the elven warrior off-balance, and before he can react, the dog is standing on his chest, growling a warning growl and bearing its teeth in his face.

At the same time, two more samesuch 'dogs' emerge from the woodland brush, forming a semi-circle with the third around the cabin entrance. They don't attack quite yet, but warn Branch off any retaliatory movements by growling whenever she so much as twitches.

Archibald is very confused at the whole circumstance. 

"Brimenthal, are you alright? Maybe you're not supposed to feed the dog before lunch or something. I mean... That doesn't seem normal still. Chacho what's happening?"

Brimthenel shouted a curse as the strange beast collided against his chest and pinned him against the ground. The back of his scalp mingled with the earth as the knight tried to avoid the creature's angry maw. He couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment, given this was more or less his first impression to the town's guests. "It's not a dog, and it's not from around here either." He  winced away from its teeth. "A gift from the born banamathr, I suspect."

Branch almost stumbles as she is surprised by the shout from in the house along with the sudden change in demeanor for the animal in front of her.  As it stands on Brimthenel and the others come from the forest.  She gets really confused as the animals look strange to her and Brimthenel then confirms it by stating they aren't dogs.

When Archibald comes out of the cabin, she looks at him with concern.  "Aren't you in there with Chatcho?  What is going on?  What was that scream?"

Then turning back to Brimthenel, "Who is the born banamathr?  I've heard that term before.."