Return to Duskwood
Chapter 1 - Duty
Each of you can feel the tension grow among the dozens of nightbane gathered, either from the stature of the packlords, the mindless cowing away in the hills, or the growling amid the packless. How do you react to the tension?
The packleader raises a hand to his ear as he hears the replies, including various calls for blood or confused questions for details. “What did I do?” the packleader yells in echo. “I laughed! Right? Because mutiny is funny? Right?” he ‘laughs’, though clearly getting angrier by the minute, until at last he snarls back at someone inside the cave, saying “It’s time.”
It does not take long before two of Marus’s own men can be seen leading another worgen out of the mineshaft, half of his face covered in blood, and bloodied fangs clenched and snarling with every shaking step. “I laughed a lot!” Marus says, stepping aside to let the now chained packlord be shown to the rest. “I told my own joke too. And he got a real -kick- out of it!” he barks, coming up behind the brown furred captive, and kicking the back of his leg, causing the prisoner to howl and fall face first into the stone.
“Who here remembers our first alpha, Gutspill? Killed by outsiders. How about our second alpha, Gervase? Killed by adventurers! I am the third. And you know what, kid?” he says, placing his foot on the fallen packlord’s back, and kneeling down to snarl into his ear. “I intend to keep it that way for a good long while.” he snarls, then standing, and pointing to Nefaru. “Pack Shadowweaver! Bring me the doo-dad!”
The packlord sorceress nods, and gestures to one of her own, who already has the object in their possession. It appears to be a lantern of some kind, of dark metal and red glass, adorned with menacing gothic spikes. The poor girl, who was introduced to the pack as Lilith, is ushered up to present the object to the packleader. Meanwhile, Marus has reached behind him, unslinging the grizzly rusted farmer’s scythe from his back.
The man on the ground is growling and struggling now as his one good eye looks out across the rest of his former people, with a hateful and betrayed glare from a bloodied red eye. The young woman is standing there holding the object, unsure what else to do, and not given any further instructions. Packleader Marus stands tall, and raises his scythe. “I will tolerate NO SUCH BETRYAL in my pack. In MY forest!” he roars over the clearing, his hands gripping the scythe in both hands, one hand halfway down the handle, and the other a bit lower.
His words are met by bloodthirsty cheers in agreement at what is to come, whether they knew of the traitor’s schemes or not. The scythe is raised. If choosing to watch, roll Composure+Resolve.
The Wolf Cult is recruiting for our new campaign! Message Redmane#1794 on discord or click here to join!
https://discordapp.com/invite/wk34ZsB