#18: The Hunt

A pair of armed guards approach from the gate of Xantharl’s Keep, bringing summons from Helder.  The hunt is nigh.  Besides myself, Audric, Oreiron, Bonie and a pair of Anaithnid men, Omgrath and Nazag, answer the summons and we make ready to depart.  Bonie still seems pale and sickly; I take it for nerves, as none of the symptoms match the Black Rot.  Audric offers to let her stay, but she shakes her head determinedly, indicating that she’s ready to continue.

We are escorted into the keep, passing the outer palisade.  Not much of a welcome awaits us; we are brought to Helder and a small group of townsfolk, among them are Yishma, her husband, and a young man of about 20 years.  Yishma hands us a parcel of salves to ward against acceleration of the Black Rot, should any of us come to harm, and the young man is revealed to be their son, Wyardt.  Two other groups of hunters are waiting, with Helder planning to lead one of them.  We are to divide and conquer, each of us taking a trail miles apart that will take us three to four days from town.  Wyardt tells us that he has grown up in the woods and feels confident that he can lead us safely.

We are led to the southernmost of the three trails, which Wyardt says he knows quite well.  The air is cold but there’s no snow or frost; the weather is clear and makes for easy travel.  Wyardt takes the lead, sharing a few words about his parents.  He explains that they have good hearts, and that they see beyond stigmas—a trait that Wyardt tends to live by, as well.

We travel in two smaller groups, with Wyardt, me and the two Anaithnid in the front, and Audric, Bonie and Oreiron in the rear, hoping to mitigate the noise of our more heavily armored companions.  The trail winds deeper into the Lurkwood, occasionally ascending a hillock or dipping into a ravine, but so far, our visibility is good, and the travel is easy and uneventful.  After a few hours, we come across a large bootprint in a patch of broken ground, leading north from the trail.  We also find a tuft of fur stuck in the bark of a nearby tree—signs that there is a bugbear presence, but we already knew that was the case.  What is surprising, however, is that the signs are discovered so close to Xantharl’s Keep.  With little to follow in the way of a clear path, we decide to continue along the trail, warier for our knowledge that the bugbear threat is close.

As the afternoon fades, Wyardt says we should push on a few hours more, and we take his guidance.  We descend into a grove and notice a disturbance with a few trees ahead.  Knowing that the bugbear are crafty enemies, we fear an ambush and decide to split the group.  Wyardt and I will take the Anaithnid and flank the group, approaching from multiple angles.  Audric, Bonie and Oreiron make a fair amount of noise, hopefully obscuring any sounds we are making in the wood, though it’s a safe bet that if there are indeed enemies, they already know we’re here.

A pair of large oaks lie ahead and pinned to each tree is what appears to be a skinned humanoid, stuck to the tree with spears and other sharp implements.  The sight is revolting, and the splay of limbs and the queer angles of the corpses' joints make it clear that the deed was torturous.  I split from Wyardt to investigate further, and it seems that they were human men.  The Anaithnid seem agitated, and after trying to communicate with them, we determine that the bodies probably aren’t Anaithnid but that they are perhaps Uthgardt—after further discussion through gestures, we discern that they weren’t a tribe friendly to the Anaithnid.

We light a torch to better investigate the scene, knowing that there’s little harm to come from the light.  We’ll have to light a fire for camp anyway.  Unfortunately, we find no other signs that provide any clues as to the identity of the men or motivation for their torture.  Backtracking a bit, we find a hill and make camp, setting a fire and discuss watches.  The night passes quietly and uneventfully, and our scout around the camp in the morning turns up no signs of any nocturnal visitors.  We pack up and continue, returning to the valley with the corpses.

We find them much as they were left the previous day, and the daylight investigation reveals no additional clues.  Wyardt does, however, find signs and prints from bugbears, but nothing that leads in any obvious direction, just more incidental traces.  We decide to continue along the trail, traveling throughout the morning.   Around mid-afternoon, we come to a significant descent that leads into a low valley that is flanked by rock walls.  We decide to push through as bypassing the valley isn’t pragmatic, so I go ahead of Wyardt so that if anything does happen, there’s a buffer between the groups.

At the base of the valley, I hear a rustle in a bush nearby.  Sensing an ambush, I decide to turn tail and run back towards Wyardt and the others.  Fortunately, my instincts were good—a pair of unidentified missiles whir by my head striking trees.  I retreat to the others, and we prepare to fight!

From seemingly out of nowhere, a half dozen kobolds appear in the valley, a result of one of Audric’s conjurations.  An axe is thrown from a nearby tree, striking Audric in the shoulder, heralding the advance of five bugbears, positioned in a star formation around our group.  I appeal to Malar for a blessing, while the others draw various ranged weapons.  Seizing the initiative, I throw my morning star towards one of the enemies and a ghostly manifestation of it appears several yards away, behind one of the creatures and striking it.  Bonie climbs a nearby tree and readies her bow, then a hail of weapons is thrown towards us.  One strikes me and one strikes one of the Anaithnid, and then Audric’s kobolds pile onto one of the bugbears, wounding it in several places.  Meanwhile, Audric summons forth a swarm of bats to assault another of the foes.

My spiritual weapon slams into the bugbear again, and it rushes me from the cover of the forest, fortunately missing its lunge.  One of the kobolds is devastated by a bugbear, and the bugbear struggling against the swarm of bats surges into melee with the group.  Bonie and the archers miss with their first round of arrows, as does Oreiron with his sling.  One of the bugbears charges Oreiron with a spear, and the dwarf falls to the grievous wound.  The wounded Anaithnid is wounded yet again and struggles to stand against the injuries.  The small army of kobolds manage to bring one of the bugbears to the ground, impaling it with their tiny spears.

A brutal melee ensues.  Audric unslings his axe but is unable to land a blow, though I manage to strike my foe in the head.  It is a brutal strike, but the creature stares back at me defiantly.  Bonie shoots the unwounded bugbear, and Wyardt draws forth a longsword and in a sweeping strike, beheads the creature that had been assaulted by Audric’s bats.  The bugbear retaliates against me but it’s a glancing blow, and one of the tribesmen lands a strike against a foe as well.  The melee is fierce, though the tide seems in our favor; the wounded Anaithnid slays a bugbear, and Audric cleaves another nearly in half with his mighty axe.  The ring’s magic, fortunately, is silent. 

The final bugbear engaged with me seeks to withdraw, and I charge it with a roar, striking it down with my morning star.  I growl a thanks to Malar as I ravage the creature, taking teeth from it as a trophy and five right ears as proof for Helder.  In the aftermath of the melee, Audric stabilizes Oreiron and we tend everyone’s wounds; all but Oreiron are fully healed, the dwarf being beyond our means to magically heal today.  We apply salves to the dwarf to prevent the onset, or at least delay the effects of the Black Rot.  We make a quick search of our foes, finding nothing of value beyond the crude weapons they carried.  We decide to press on a short way to put some distance between us and the valley, then to make a camp so that Oreiron can have a chance to recover.

We awaken in the morning, the only excitement of the night being a family of wild pigs heard in the woods during the middle watch.  Audric ministers to Oreiron, healing him with the blessings granted by Mystra, and it seems for now at least that the dwarf has not yet succumbed to the disease.  We press on throughout the day and encounter no signs of enemies, deciding to camp one final night, as pressing on through the darkness seems unnecessary and dangerous.

The next morning, the sky is clear and the day bright, and we arrive back at Xantharl’s Keep around midday.  No one in our group has manifested any signs of the Black Rot.  We learn that one of the other groups has already arrived, having encountered nothing along their three-day trek.  We also see a bonfire surrounded by the women and children of the Anaithnid—but upon closer inspection we realize that it is instead a funeral pyre.  Selben runs towards us, tears in his eyes, and he explains that the Anaithnid were attacked in the middle of the night by bugbears; the tribe rushed towards the gates of Xantharl’s Keep seeking safety.  The gates were opened, and guards emerged to help defend the tribe, but not soon enough to prevent a melee.  Kezia sacrificed herself so that the others could escape, throwing herself at the enemies.  Selben explains, through tears and shakiness, that she was struck down by the creatures, her blood everywhere.  Selben seems in shock, as if blaming himself for not having done more.

I tell Selben to rein in his emotions—the Anaithnid are sad and grieving, but not with open expression or crying.  There is nothing more he could have done.  I let Selben know that he needs to control his emotions and communicate as best he can with the tribe, promising to discuss it and grieve with him in private later.  I spend a long time before Kezia’s fire with the rest of the tribe, only turning away when necessity and responsibility dictates.  Through Selben and Nurué, I tell the tribe to make camp for the night within the walls of the keep.