We had made good time along the road, thanks to the horses Siora and Vestele were riding being as fast as Frostmane and myself. A journey that would have taken a cart a week was finished for us just before midday on the third day. The night before, we had camped within sight of the Moonwood.

We were on edge as we passed through the trees of the Moonwood. After all, the night before we had heard the howl of wolves piercing the night, and more than once a solitary wolf had strayed too close to our camp. But we were all of us able to deal with a single wolf without issue, and they did not come in greater numbers. Not yet.

So, it was with a sigh of relief that we found the walls of Moonwater still standing, and their gate intact. It was less relieving to find the gate barred shut against us, despite it being almost midday, but the townsfolk may simply have been skittish, after however long they had been cut off from the world. Still, if we were going to solve the werewolf problems around here, then it would probably be good for us to have a base that isn’t out in the woods. With that in mind, I approached the gate, intending to knock, if they wouldn’t open.

Thunk!

A crossbow bolt landed in the ground about five feet in front of me. Looking up, I saw a pair of frightened-looking guards, one of whom was reloading his crossbow, while the other was pointing his shortbow generally in our direction, an arrow on the string and drawn, ready to loose. The crossbowman called out, “Hold there, strangers! Who are you, and what is your business in the Moonwood?”

I sighed slightly. The man was no more than twenty, by the looks of him, and I could tell he was afraid by the tremor in his voice. Still, I decided to try and be polite. They were just weakling commoners, after all, and they’d been facing werewolves for over a month. That the town still stood at all was fairly impressive, actually.

Melinda’s Diplomacy check: 1d20+14 = 16 (Unfriendly -> Indifferent)

“We are adventurers, hired by the Temple of Selune in Northport. They heard of their priestess’s death, and the troubles that have plagued this town, but none of the merchants who have set out for Moonwater have returned, and this concerns them greatly. So, they placed a call for adventurers, and we answered it. Now, are you going to allow us in, so we might learn more about what is going on here, or do you want us to just go back and tell the temple that you’ve already been eaten and they should give you up as lost?”

Ok, so it wasn’t exactly my most endearing speech, but I didn’t much care for people shooting at me, even if they were frightened. The guard with the crossbow looked like he was about to say something, but the bowman cut him off by saying something to him in a voice low enough that I couldn’t hear his words. Turning back to look at me, the bowman said, “If you are truly sent by the church of Selune, and not wolves in disguise, prove it! I warn you, we won’t be tricked again!”

Melinda’s Bluff Check: 1d20+20 = 29

Guard’s Sense Motive Check: 1d20+1 = 18

Hmm, so the werewolves had tried something at least once, then? We’d have to figure out more about that once we were inside the gates. But first we’d have to prove we weren’t wolves. Well, other than Frostmane. I pulled out my silver holy symbol of Auril, the snowflake on diamond that represented the Cold Goddess, and held it up so that what sunlight shining down upon us caused the silver to reflect the light back into the eyes of the crossbowman. Petty, perhaps, but I wasn’t above a bit of pettiness. “Would one of your wolves carry silver upon their bodies, or be able to hold it in their bare hands, without suffering?”

The bowman frowned, and said, “The others, too.”

Vestele held up her own symbol, also made from silver, showing the pair of lips pierced by a thorn that signified Malcanthet. The other two didn’t have symbols, but that was fine. I placed my symbol against Frostmane’s forehead, and Vestele did the same to Siora. Looking up at the bowman, I asked, “Satisfied now?”

The man nodded, once, and said, “All right then, I guess you’re not wolves.” He looked down at someone behind the wall. “Go get the Captain, and open the gate.”

There was a commotion behind the wall, no doubt them removing the bars that kept the gate firmly shut. Soon, there was the sound of gears, and the wooden doors began to move, swinging outward, little by little. As the gate doors began to creak open, he smacked the crossbowman, who was starting to relax, and said, “Oy! Don’t you go falling asleep on the job, now. Keep watch and make sure that no wolves try and rush the gate, damn it!”

I shook my head and said, softly, “Apparently, things have gotten a bit more desperate than the temple led us to believe. If they’re afraid of daytime attacks, then the wolves must have tried to do something before we got here. Sounds like we’re looking at more than just a couple of werewolves, by this point.”

Siora nodded, a wicked smile on her face. “And they clearly don’t have anyone teaching them about how to identify werewolves at a distance, since silver only bypasses a werewolf’s magical resistances. It doesn’t cause them harm just by holding it, as some would think.”

I shrugged slightly. “Not my fault they don’t have anyone here to tell them these things. But the gate is open, so let’s go inside and see what the people of Moonwater can tell us.”

Stepping through the gate, we were met by half a dozen men and women, wearing leather armor and armed with bows or crossbows. Each had some kind of melee weapon at their side, but none of them matched. Clearly an ad-hoc militia. In front of them was a halfling woman wearing chain mail, with a leather helmet, and carrying a silver sword in her hand. She was looking rough, in that ‘barely slept for a month’ kind of way. Clearly, this was the one in charge of the town, or at least its defenses.

Looking us over, she then spared a moment to look behind us. “Don’t be lollygagging around, you louts! Close the gate, Marco! Don’t want the wolves thinking we left the door open for them, now, do we?”

As the gate closed behind us, the halfling looked up at us, and spoke loud enough for the guards to hear. “All right, you sweet-talked your way past Jakke and Asher, but we both know that has more to do with them being less than educated about the world than anything on your part. Me, on the other hand? Well, I’ve been around before, and I know that a werewolf can hold silver in the hand easy enough, even if they dislike it.”

As the halfling woman paused, to make sure that everyone caught the meaning of what she was saying, my initial evaluation of her rose a few points. Clearly, she was more than just a simple warrior. I paid more attention to what she was saying as she spoke again.

“Now, I’m not worried about you, little missy with the wings, or your shaggy friend there. The weres can’t become his lot, and if your wings are any indication, you’re something more than human, and you sure ain’t a giant, which means you can’t be touched by the curse. Which just leaves your friends, here. We’ll be needing some way to prove they aren’t wolves.”

Huh. So, the curse of lycanthropy didn’t affect everyone? That was an interesting piece of news. But I managed to hide my surprise, for the moment, and turned to look at the twins. “Siora, Vestele? Up to you how you want to do this.”

Siora sighed, and said, “Well, we took this job to try and make a name for ourselves, and change minds about our Lady. Might as well go all in on it, then. Together, sister?” Vestele nodded once, and, together, they changed into their natural forms, still twins, but now their crimson skin and fiery eyes looking back over the crowd.

One soul gasped out, “Demons!”

Siora’s Diplomacy Check: 1d20+18 = 36 (Indifferent -> Helpful)

Siora chuckled, a low, sensuous sound. “Oh, no, we’re not demons. You might say demon-touched, however.” She looked to the halfling who was in charge of the defense, and said, “You know of tieflings and aasimar? Well, suffice to say that humans are not the only ones who may have congress with those from other planes, and pass that lineage down their family lines. Needless to say, if our fey friend here cannot be touched by the curse, then we should be free of it as well, no?”

The halfling gawked for a moment at the otherworldly sight of the twins’ true forms, but, to her credit, it was only a moment. She quickly managed to regain her senses, and looked harshly at the militiamen and women around her. “Shut your mouths you bloody idiots before you start attracting flies! Back to work, the lot of you. Not you, Bessie! You go and round up Umfrey and Celaena, and get them over to the Meeting House. I expect they’ll be needing to hear whatever our guests have to say, as well.”

Turning back to us as the militia went about their tasks, she said, “Before that gets started, I’ll be telling you straight that you best not be expecting a feast or anything of the sort, because we’ve been rationing the food we got ever since the problems started. Thank the gods that the trouble didn’t start until after the fall harvest was in, and everything was tucked away for the winter. We’ve got grain and preserved fruit to last us the winter, but not much more, and we’ve not been able to send hunters out for weeks now. A little better luck with the fishermen, until the boats got holed in the night.”

I nodded. “Well, we may not be able to help with the supplies for the rest of the town, but the four of us have gear which can see to our own needs as far as food and water go.” The halfling gave me a look, to which I shrugged, “Being adventurers, and treading out into the wilds without ever knowing where we might find another meal, it is worth the gold to prepare for these things, if you can. Would we prefer a hearty meal and strong ale? Of course, we would! But rations conjured by items are better than an empty belly, any day.”

The halfling nodded. “Aye, we had similar tools in the army, for long hikes. One would provide food enough for a full squad of infantry on the march, but to get enough for the town was always more than we could afford, especially when we were careful about never overhunting or overfishing. As it is, without the magics of our few remaining spellcasters, we would have been in even worse shape.”

The halfling led the way to a large building. Not the largest building in the village, that would be the two-story inn nearby, but a large one all the same. Definitely a meeting place. Inside, there were long rows of tables with benches, clearly designed as some kind of community feast hall, and at the end was a high table with four seats.

As we walked down the aisle between the two rows of tables, a noise came from behind us, and I turned to see a burly man who looked as though he’d just come from the forge and an elven woman dressed in hide armor, and carrying a staff. She was followed by a very large snake, which looked as though it were even larger than Frostmane. If I had to take a guess, this would be the village’s blacksmith, and a resident druid.

The blacksmith was the first to speak. “Damn, Aldeth, I thought your little messenger was pulling my leg about someone actually making it through. And a crazy-looking lot they are. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, so they say. Good to have any new faces around here.”

The Halfling looked back at us, and said, “Well, adventurers, allow me to introduce myself. I am Aldeth Sweetling, Captain of the Guard. The man who smells of fire and smoke is Umfrey Darkhammer, the village blacksmith. And the elf is Celaena Gensandoral, a druid who has lived in the Moonwood for longer than many can remember. We’re what is left of the Council, until the new election is held to replace poor Keira Brownlock, the priestess of Selune whose death heralded the start of these troubles.”

“Now, who might you be, travelers?”