Test run!

[Agmasek]

Subconsciously, the moment he begins to draw breath, in order to answer, sensing himself about to divulge more than is asked, tries, and narrowly resists the compulsion of the spell. 'Tis evident at least that he's aware of and tries to fight it, the strained expression that passes over his face considered, and then a hateful glare is the first answer given, before he steps forward, reaching a big hand to grapple the man's throat, and lift him clear off the floor, [i:1ub07k4v]"Bleedin' bastard, I'm not fer tradin' with yer likes! Try that foul trick again, an' there won't be enough of ye intact to revive, by magic or medicine! Now, either yer tellin' me what in the Nine Hells this is 'bout, or yer settin' me loose ta leave yer damned hateful little village, an' pray I don't mention yer treatment of me to other merchants on the road. Now, what's it to be?!"[/i:1ub07k4v] Without even realizing it, he's squeezing hard enough as he might not be allowing the man to answer him, not a wise thing to try handling him alone. Perhaps Helm will come in person to rescue the rude little cleric, perhaps the mercenary hired to track and capture the feared paladin, would be coming back to a very different village, full of those either dead, or serving a new leader. With barred door and guards ordered away, he knows well enough that he has the necessary privacy to bite, infect, and turn this little robed man before any alarms could be raised. Still, he awaits an answer before thinking much further ahead.

[veraka]

Jormung narrowed his golden eyes at the tiefling's remarks; "please, Vailintin; not only would I have little to no use for such a device, but I find some of its characteristics somewhat questionable, but usable for someone like you. I wouldn't dream of parting it from your hand, merely a simple question with a simple answer, one that which you have already given." The dragon-in-elf's skin gave a light smirk to the tiefling, which might be a enough to throw the infernal blooded crossbreed for a loop.

Veraka heard the shouting voice off in the distance, and at the sound of one particular insult, clenched his armored hand into a fist at the words. However, Neriah, sensing her husbands stress, put a slender hand on his shoulder, and gave him a reassuring, firm grip. Exhaling, the paladin slowly returned back to his priority, which was simply to get around this town and onward with his journey. If that infernal guard wanted to send bounty hunters after him, fine; he'd slain Red Wizards and worse in defense of his family; he'd do the same to any would-be bounty hunter that came after him or his family for his actions of defending them, as should any husband's first duty be.

[color=#0000FF:2rtwwzuf]"My Veraka, you certainly are famous today."[/color:2rtwwzuf]

The platinum armored aasimar turned to regard the tiefling, his silver eyes glowing; "yes, Vailintin; I'm well aware of the inconvenient shouts of joy at my presence in this blasted forest." The acid in his voice was obvious as it was stringent. "I take no pride in holding such fame."

"Regardless of what you may feel, my young friend;" Jormung interjected, "we need to be heading off, now in such a case as haste might be preferred to being lax."
With that said, Veraka spurned Blaze into a full on gallop, with Aurora trailing right behind them, and Jormung running just behind the winter wolf.

[Rainbow Prism]

As the strong grip on his throat tightens, the man's face pales and bushy eyebrows start to shake with muscles straining their movements. Hands clasp the wrist of gripping hold, looking as if it barely tries to find leverage to not be strangled. It looked that way until there came sickening snap of the bone. Two hands used the leverage of the holder's arm to break momentum. And something else.
Free of the hold on his windpipe, anger made the priest not to wait for catching breath and he slammed with his shoulder the much bigger man. Unexpectedly, the strength was much greater, rivaling that of a giant. Enough to push away the brute into the wall, near the door. Coughing, helmite took out mace from the folds of the robe.
"Fool! You do not think I put guards out for no reason? It was so they would not interfere."
Chanting came from his lips and air crackled with power, little mace charging with might. "I was prepared for tricks of yours. Now, I repeat your question. What is the answer?"

[Vailintin]

[color=#FF0000:10at606c]<<Let's not make the paladin anymore angry, shall we? Though if you [b:10at606c]DO[/b:10at606c] wish to anger him anymore, you can always mention [b:10at606c]THAT[/b:10at606c] bounty...>>[/color:10at606c] The 'helpful' advice of that rapier, good advice, but none too pleased with its wielder's choices this day, and as a result, inclined to take jabs at Vailintin as well. Hardly anyone would know, lest they be able to pry into the private telepathic conversations between rapier and wielder, that the referred to bounty, has to do with a barbarian tribe, a chieftain's daughter, and a marriage the rogue, ran out on. Perhaps, Vailintin thought, if there was a way he could go back, without risking a brutal beating or worse, he wouldn't mind having a wife on his travels. Again he glares down at the blade, wishing he knew a way to shut out the commentary. Still, he doesn't miss out on the advice to hurry along, and comments aside to Jormungander, his tone half-apologetic, [color=#800000:10at606c]"I can't blame Veraka for being annoyed at me, but dear dragon, if I cannot jest even with you, our time together on this little trek through the woods, is going to be very miserable, indeed. Besides, I'm half inclined to suggest that our pursuer seems to be alone, and summoning animals to track us. even if one of us stays back to protect the children, we still outnumber them four to one, and we're not in eye-shot of any patrols to send her reinforcements. And if she has to die, maybe I can silence my blade for awhile too."[/color:10at606c]

[Agmasek]

When so injured, as cracked, perhaps even broken bones, it becomes difficult for a lycanthrope to hide their secrets, form not withstanding, their supernatural fast healing ability shows up on its own. In this instance, no sooner is the large woodsman recovering from the pain of the injury than is it mending alarmingly fast. holding his wrist just the same, he still levels that hating glare on the now, armed cleric, [i:2s4fap88]"Aye, very well, I have my durned secrets, why do ye priests always have to be so damned nosy? Aye, I might've been figurin' on establishin' a new way an' leadership here if i had ta fight my way ta freedom. Damned tired of havin' to hide from nosy vultures like yerself, every time I make fer a village to sell me wares. I didnae lie 'bout comin' this way to sell furs, but nor did I say a word more. Human folk get all riled up, makin' me the scapegoat fer any number of problems, usually the fault of somethin' else entirely, if their knowin' what I am. So ye think it's any wonder I've begun wantin' ta take a wee town like this and make it a refuge for my kind? Had ye and yer people just let me go 'bout my business, I'd 'ave sold me durned furs, and left in peace. Alright, so maybe I gave that dolt that threatened that paladin on the road, a wee scare, but I was just showin' off fer the Winter Wolf in his company, not at all like her evil kin, and a fine lass no less. Well, by my standards anyhow. Figured if I made like I was helpin' protect that paladin she cares so much 'bout, maybe I'd win her over that way."[/i:2s4fap88]

All this said, everything laid out except for actually shifting his form and making it abundantly clear what he is, in truth, even if it shouldn't be too difficult to figure out, especially what with a 'man' talking about the beauty of a female wolf, as if a lady he means to court. All that, and he lets out a frustrated, and irritated huff, [i:2s4fap88]"So what's it ta be? Do I get ta leave, an' avoid yer village, or ye gonna do like all the rest of yer human kin ta find out, an' force me ta fight me way out? I have a right ta live too, ye know? Or is it now a crime ta be born different?"[/i:2s4fap88]

[Rainbow Prism]

Coming down with soar throat, hurt back and tired legs, priestess gave a long sigh, protruding pouch of silver coins, advance payment forcatching thecriminals. Supposed brigand paladin imposter, demon woman and children. Suddenly the whole idea of continuing this errandsounded very foolish. She gave her best, not being master of tracking and not being all-seeing oracle. Itwas noneofher business, human affairs, andheresheis, with silver for doing nothing and scroll in her backpack for quick return to report about how good the new trinket is. Still, it did not sit well with her. She had some things she wantedto clear up with this group and if shewon't be doing it now, she will never do it again. Simply, because.
*Alright, you have angry big, supposedly strong man who will probably wring your neck for appearing before him. What are you going to do and how you are going to...*
Another reckless idea came to the mind. Is meeting with that man counts as bad omen?
Carefully speaking incantation for the spell, question formed in her mind as elf pointed in one direction. Getting favorable reply, Eo tried again, picking another direction. The trick was to not lose all spells in attempt.*casts Augury*
Finally, she got bad sign on third attempt and smile appeared on her face. It was now or never. In one hour, Eo is supposed to meet something very bad on her way. What can be worse in simple village forest other than warrior she provoked from distance? Chanting arcane spell to make it faster, elf ran ahead, cool night wind blowing in her face. *casts Expeditious Retreat*

Eye under black eyebrow glared at the man with some scrutiny. Honestly, the priest was prepared to be attacked, assaulted, maybe even killed with grace of his deity, but he was not prepared to hear the confession so fast. So easily. So... Suspiciously. Still, he held concentration on the spell, not letting it to fizzle.
"That depends, woodsman. Or are you? What do I face here? Vampire? Demon who possessed brute from high road? Maybe a creature that mimics it's last victim? Do not try to lie, stranger. Helm looks at you through my vision and hears you through my ears. Speak, what [i:1z7ojzzn]are[/i:1z7ojzzn] you?"

[Agmasek]

[i:3u6shx6q]"Through yer eyes does he?"[/i:3u6shx6q] Why bother explaining it then, he figures, never been one to take much stock in any gods, all mention of them he's ever encountered coincided with a complete lack of hospitality, but this should be interesting. He draws a breath as if about to answer, but rather steeling himself for the somewhat violent and painful transformation, not as bad as it was when he was younger, something that comes with greater ease the more he does it. Even so, before the eyes of this priest, the only thing more terrible than seeing this woodsman, become a towering fourteen foot tall, giant of humanoid wolf with a mane bony spike-like horns protruding behind head and neck, is the opportunity to witness that rapid process. When all this horrific scene is done, the large human's clothes barely fit this giant of black and silver-streaked fur, the cloak hung not much lower than his knees, and he, not a mere man, but among the rarest of lycanthropes, a Werewolf Lord, breathing heavy, half-growling steadying breaths to push down the willfully summoned rage used to force his transformation.

Once steadied and breathing grown calm again, there comes again that glare, and then ears flat out to the sides, and his gaze softens. His voice comes anew, a deeper, richer timbre, [i:3u6shx6q]"I live in the woods, and am a man of a different nature. I think, speak, and dream same as ye. I am as much woodsman as yer a god's avatar.I hunt wild beasts fer my food, an' save the pelts ta trade fer coin, an' coin fer things I cannae get from huntin'. I leave yer kind be, long as they do the same fer me. Only time I've not killed what I've bitten was fer one lad, that found me tracks, found me, dropped his weapons, an' begged me fer it. At first I refused him, told him ta go back to his village, but hearin' his pleas I soon knew he was fer needin' to escape civilized life, somethin' in his heart made him ache fer a life only I could give him. Funny, all ye priest sorts call it a curse, fer that lad, it was a blessin' that healed his spirit. So come, priest, attack me if ye've the heart fer it, or yer blighted god demands it, I'll give ye yer monster an' death if yer so durned hellbent on havin' it. But far as I'm concerned, the only demons in this room are ye an' yer god."[/i:3u6shx6q]

[Rainbow Prism]

Teeth cringed in scowl that followed this sight. Eyes did not flinch from the horrible transformation, shaping of grotesque figure of the monstrosity shaking something deep inside his soul. This was test of his faith. Test for his patron and protector. But of what? Was that courage in face of the evil monster or belief in his god to defend him? Whatever it was, the priest did not flinch to not dishonor Helm and his church. Though now, even with all precautions of blessings given, he may have met his doom.

Whatever resolve was shaken with this shapechanging, it was renewed with anger at the words of the creature. Clutching his mace, the man pointed it up at the maw of the fiend. The force with which he did it would be enough to strike if his weapon was longer.
"So you killed with nothing but savage instincts? And created another spawn with your poison?! You cursed his life or cursed those who he killed or maimed!"
All what he was taught, experienced and remembered resurfaced in his words.
"I am no avatar. I am his servant. And servant of god is his hand, sword and eye in this realm. Whenever he sees abominations like you, your fate is sealed and he will smite you down for your transgressions. As his servant who swore oath to strike the evil at it's core, I will see to the matter. If you have any reason behind the madness, you will yield now and your soul may rest in his kingdom after your death. You know the alternative." With this, he channeled the divine power to his body, feeling surge of it giving feeling of lightness and strength.*uses Divine Might*

[Agmasek]

How pitifully unfortunate for this priest, but only half-way through his zealous ranting, it becomes abundantly clear where this is leading. Whether the blessing of that Divine Might spell kicks in, in time or not, ceases to matter. Rather than wait to hear the end of this particular sermon that he has heard many times over, the great huge lycanthrope lunges in before it can even finish, grappling either of this man's arms, to hold them out at his sides. Without delay, into one of the priest's shoulders he bites, and only hesitates to make it lethal on a second thought. Letting instead, this miserable specimen of a man become a Cursed Lycanthrope, unlike he, who was naturally born to it. There is only two ways this could turn out, he thought, either the priest would submit himself to this new life, and follow a new leader, or would manage to find a silvered weapon and commit suicide. With 'curse' inflicted, wolf relieves priest of his mace, and drops him down into the nearest chair, taking a few steps back, and one ear focused on the door, in case anyone has overheard the struggle.

Keeping his voice low and even, the great werewolf speaks again, gone is his hate, and spite, turning to something more akin to brotherly affection, [i:25lut0vn]"Now, before ye sputter on 'bout yer vile god one bit more lad, consider this, yer wound will heal quite a bit sooner than it ought, as yer one of mine now. As I see it, ye have three options, find a silvered blade and kill yerself before the next full moon, but while yer doin' that, either in the privacy of this room, where I shall spin a tale of ye bein' the true beast, hidden in these walls fer all this time. Ye attacked me, an' I managed to find somethin' ta fend ye off with; OR out there with a lot of people who will want to know why yer wantin' a silvered blade, why there's blood on yer shoulder, an' turnin' against ye the moment ye so much as utter 'Werewolf', fer they'll know ye've become the evil monster too, I'll be takin' my leave through less conventional means, an' gettin' me horse while I'm at it. Option two, ye can choose ta live if yer god has no love of suicide cases, but I'm fer thinkin' that unless ye swear yer loyalty to me as yer Alpha, or in human terms, yer king, there'll be no one ta keep yer secret or teach ye to keep it under control, when ye cannae risk it comin' out. Of course, option three, ye can also choose to not follow my lead, but how long ye think ye can keep it a secret without my help? In the very least, if ye choose ta live, ye need to get out of this town, as quickly as possible, an' get me out as well, so I cannae tell yer militia what ye are, how ta track ye, how to kill ye. Yer my kin now, I will help ye, but only if ye follow an' ferget 'bout all ye have believed as right an' wrong as a man. I will show ye, that we're not evil, brother, but just tryin' to survive in a world that hates everythin' that's not human, elf, or dwarf."[/i:25lut0vn] Back toward the door he goes, making sure to keep it quite securely shut and now even blocked by his body and several hundred pounds of weight, [i:25lut0vn]"Choose soon, as we've not much time to waste on schemes to turn this to yer advantage. I suspect yer first full moon is bein' tonight, an' it'll be a rough night indeed without my help, if ye choose ta live."[/i:25lut0vn]



((OOC: Few important notes about Natural and Cursed Lycanthropes. Those who are Cursed, first of all can only learn to control their transformations if they are aware of being a lycanthrope, and even then, like any trained skill, it requires practice. Initially even they will be forced to transform during full moons, and revert after, against their will. Also, Cursed Lycanthropes don't possess the Curse of Lycanthropy ability, and as such can't spread it except by producing children who would then be Natural Lycanthropes. Those naturally born into lycanthropy, are able to control their transformations, as being a lycanthrope is just as natural to them as breathing. As you might have suspected by now, Natural Lycanthropes can spread it with their bite.))

[Rainbow Prism]

Groaning, the man looked at his bitten shoulder. Not listening to the long speech of creature, he tore the cloth at the shoulder, tearing off the robe completely. Under it was revealed chainmail armor covering his whole body. Number of various small weapons was dangling from the belt on his breast, one of them being stake of shiny metal. Dropping the mace, inquisitor took it and roared:
[b:jma0435f][i:jma0435f]"Helm guide my hand!"[/i:jma0435f][/b:jma0435f]
It did not matter if his shoulder was bitten. His duty was clear.
It was his turn to jump. Strength of his hand enhanced with divine magic and pure divine energy clasped the fist on the throat of aberration. Summoning his final vestige of strength, he plunged stake in the shoulder, chanting manthra of Helm's dogma. With that strike, he summoned gifted strength of inquisitor to make the monster to turn into more vulnerable human form. With that, he risen his arm again, ready to make final strike.

[Agmasek]

How silly to expect zealot humans to accept their doom in a sensible fashion, woodsman admonished himself mentally, even as this little fool reached for his throat. Choked slightly, he still has the good sense about him, to grab for the arm reaching for a silvered dagger, refusing to let it near. It was becoming abundantly clear this man was so obsessed with his absurd religion, that the only means of survival now, was to kill him. There could be no mercy, the only laws that mattered now, were those of the wild. Even this wolf could not know it, as he had never had opportunity to learn as much, but for all his life had he followed the path Selune had set for his kin, and not that of evil Malar, and in that moment, a whisper as much to she as this man bent on murder, he asks forgiveness, grappling this inquisitor by the throat as well, lifting him, and proceeding to bash his head against the stone wall, repeatedly. He could not be sure which would come first, knocking this priest unconscious, or caving his skull in, but he would not let a mere man slay him let alone with little weapons, and faith in this wicked god, this 'Helm'. The more he heard the name, the more he believed it must be one of those cases as a demon posing as a god to those without the wits to tell the difference. As for the hand grappling his own throat, whilst shaking this man and battering his head against a wall, twists his head around to bite in deep, and then twist away in a fashion that would force the hand to release, or snap the bones in that arm leaving it to be ripped off by that biting, twisting maw.

Whether it is a case of two bite injuries and unconscious but alive, or broken arm and skull, or any other combination of these, when finally free to disengage his host from struggles and battle, large wolf reverts his form to that of a human man, cleans his face of blood, and make for the door, and get as far as he could, ready to explain to the guards, how the priest is a werewolf in disguise, and tried to convert him in the safety of privacy. How he had escaped, barely by overcoming the beast with sheer brute strength. Oh, and but of course, beg to leave this town and return home, playing his part quite well of the terrified simple woodsman, who just narrowly escaped the vile abomination with his life. After all, he's seen enough farmers weave the same tale, shortly before they were told to go home, board up their windows, bar their doors, and wait for word that the beast is slain. Either way, any investigation into his claims would prove true enough. Wanting to leave, that's no lie, and perhaps it is time to try approaching a druid for help, if he could ever find them. Of course, it would be just as well if there's no guards in the way between him, and his horse, and outdoors he has allies. Perhaps even that lovely whote wolf would hear his call and know he needs help.

[Rainbow Prism]

"I told you, I am not at duty anymore. I am tired of this, can't you understand that?" Lips of wizened old man moved to say these words. Despite having look of tired poor sob, his peasant clothes could not hide that some time long ago, he was a warrior. Now, he is just one man who wants only to have peaceful life like many folk who settled here.
"And I told you that you have no need to do anything. Just stand near the Garilance while he interrogates the culprit."
"Garilance? I thought that butcher was long out of order?"
"He is not. That is why you should be around."
"*sigh* There is nothing that can be done without him?"
"If you were here, I would not have summoned him to do your job. You can use my armory."

Outside two guards were chattering, whining about how bad this day is and how little time they get to guard this joint. One of the guards was about to say how little action they get when door opened and he saw bloody mess and man with blood all over his clothes. Taking out their swords, each yelled to sound alert.

[Vailintin]

((Pardon me, but whilst Veraka is busy with RL I figured I'd throw in one of my other characters, to make the wait more bearable))

Druids? Hard to find? Naturally this often quite so, as they seldom turn up where you'd ever expect, and more often where one is never looking for them. Such is the wonder and mystery of these 'priests of nature'. Perhaps it is dumb luck that today one is sought, or perhaps it is fate, as one comes upon this little Helmite hamlet, not from the road however, but who would believe it? Falling right out of the sky, and into a convenient arising growth of vines comes that dashing Moon Elf, Tristian Gyssemitori, his landing an expert display of circus-like acrobatics, swinging and flipping from branches and vines on his way down to the thicker growth at the base of the conjured growth, slowing his descent to soften his final landing. When out from the verdant green tangle he steps, there comes the elf of pale skin, dark blue (nearly black) hair, and strange red eyes, clad in simple leather armor, favoring dark shades of green and brown, colors that blend well with the forest as well with darkness. Beneath a lighter green cloak, which bears his family crest and identifies him as a member of his reclusive clan, he of course carries the elven favorite, a composite longbow, along with the only blades a druid may carry, scimitars, symbolic as they are, of claws. Yet, from the various other items on his body, the bandoliers filled with vials of holy water, stakes (albeit steel rather than wood), and a pouch at his side (though its contents could not easily be seen yet) full of garlic, he is all in all easily marked as one of those special variety of brave adventurers, a Vampire Hunter. Such a sight to behold, the occasional elf-hater might not be so quick to welcome, but for those that see his occupation before his race, such a man is the sort common townsfolk might often quickly surround, both in awe of him and in fear that his coming tells of a vampire hidden amongst them.

Tristian, does try to avoid being the center of attention however, setting about summoning an air elemental, and asking the swift and insubstantial being, to scout the town, and anywhere it can get into, and find any signs of trouble. But why [b:he2fub24]did[/b:he2fub24] he come? If someone were to ask him when he is not busy, he would say something cryptic, most likely, like his goddess told him he was needed here, or perhaps that the forest spoke rumors of an abused animal crying out for help, or he might even say he smelled fresh blood on the wind, an explanation that usually gets people out of his way and let him do what he does best, the family business, ridding Faerun of Vampires, where ever they can be found. Off goes the swirling mass of air, an insubstantial breeze that finds entry through every doorway or window that has not an air-tight seal, knowing what this particular druid is looking for, signs of freshly shed human blood. And then, he makes his rounds about the town, talking very little to people, only as much as he has to, and much more to the animals about the town, extracting from them any news of the day they believe noteworthy, be it tales of the axe-murderer who lives down the street and takes chickens to his house to kill them, those of which is the prettiest bitch in town, that all the male dogs in town want to court, or whatever other rumors that fill the heads of domesticated animals. 'Tis not until he comes upon the images of a large human who they could tell, unlike their human masters, was not what he appears, that Tristian stops questioning animals, and seeks out a guard, which is surely not far off to offer assistance with a Vampire Hunter walking around town, [color=#FF8000:he2fub24]"Greetings kind sir, I am Tristian of the Gyssemitori Clan. A fine town you have here, I apologize if my arrival has been any cause for alarm. I cannot yet say for certain that it is safe just yet however, there is something supernatural and perhaps terribly dangerous lurking amongst you yet. With my expertise in dealing with these supernatural predators, and of course your cooperation, we can rid your town of this plague, before it can spread. That said, I have gathered as much as that you or your fellows brought in a large man, in a fur cloak of some manner. If he is still present I should like to see him, and unharmed if at all possible. Some monsters are still possible to reason with, provided they're not too upset. If this man is what I suspect, I may be able to get him to tell me where the rest of his kin are hiding."[/color:he2fub24]

[veraka]

((ALright, I'll give ya that one, RL being a pain in the ass; literally. Anyways, got some free time, so here we go.))

Jormungander shakes his head, knowing full well that the tiefling would be quip all through out their time together; while the dragon had an appreciation for words of humor, the blatant sarcasm that the tiefling threw around like someone's garbage would continuously rub him the wrong way; but as long as Veraka could put up with the thief, and his sentient weapon, apparently from a former meeting with the tiefling, then Jormung figured he could show equal restraint like his paladin friend could.
"To be frank, Master Vailintin, you can jest with me, but please do so in a fashion that a dragon can find bemusing. Do remember that I have been walking, and flying, these lands since before you, our friend Veraka, and his wife, Neriah, were even born."

Neriah turned to the tiefling and with a smirk, replied; "the straight of it, Vailintin, is less sarcasm, more wit."

Veraka, still gruff at the words he'd heard shouted over the forest canopy, was still as ice cold, and acid ready as before. However, he managed to give a glance to the tiefling and nod; "if you can find that witch, I'll gladly follow you and let that rapier of yours have a meal. And frankly, if the owner of that voice doesn't have the honor to come to my face and say those words, then I'm not going to give them the honor of a fair fight."

However, the words were cut off as Aurora audibly sniffed the air, and howled in a way that made Veraka shiver. [i:1e9sbahe]A wolf-friend needs our help; come little brother. We must find him swiftly.[/i:1e9sbahe] With that said, the winter wolf took off into the forest in the direction that the guards had led that woodsmen off in.

"Great," Veraka groaned; "Aurora starts getting 'bad feelings'." With that said, he mounted his warcharger and turned Blaze around and thundered off after the winter wolf.

[Agmasek]

True to his plan, the woodsman now in bloodied clothes, in spite of drawn weapons, falls to his knees and clutches the nearest guard, uttering but one word with a look of absolute terror on his face, [i:1jrlac5c][b:1jrlac5c]"W...werewolf!"[/b:1jrlac5c][/i:1jrlac5c] Once that word with all its power of dramatic effect has sunk in he explains himself,[i:1jrlac5c] "Once the door was closed, and we were alone, h-he transformed an' tried ta bite me, I wrestled with him, hit his head 'gainst a wall good 'nough to knock 'm out, an' then ran fer me life! P-please, I know I've been a pain fer ye, but I'm needin' ta get away from here, I'm just a simple hunter that trades furs fer coin, an' coin fer supplies. If ye let me be on me way, with me horse, ye have my word I'm not fer comin' back to yer town."[/i:1jrlac5c]

So many times has he witnessed this same general scenario when there are merely rumors and suspicion of a werewolf hidden amongst the good people of a village, and terrified farmers claiming to have seen the monster, needing help or protection, or comforting words, usually when all they've seen is something far less supernatural. Still, with such experience in watching it, his reenactment of the terror and desperate need of help is just flawlessly executed, genuinely appearing like a man who has just narrowly escaped a life and death situation with a monster that no one would have expected to encounter today.

What with earlier comments about this Garilance's butchery, the accusation of him having been a werewolf in hiding would even seem to fit. Plus, by this point, any of the tests to detect if he is in fact a werewolf, would quite likely prove it to be so. This terrified woodsman, now simply hopes to be out the city gates, before that priest is conscious again, if he ever gets there anyway.