I bowed to the councilors, and said, “We are adventurers from Northport. I am Melinda Eriksdaughter, Twiceborn of Auril Frostmaiden. With me are Frostmane, of the Worldspine Mountains, and Vestele and Siora Faydark, in service of the Queen of the Succubi.” Each nodded as I pointed them out in turn.

“The church of Selune in Nortport grew worried at the silence coming from the Moonwood after the death of their sister. Their divinations and ours suggested the involvement of werewolves in what was happening here, but the agents they would normally send have all been drawn off to other matters, and it would be some time before they could send aid of their own. Instead, they put out a call for adventurers, to come and put an end to the troubles, or at least buy time for the village. For reasons of our own, we accepted this task, and traveled here, encountering several foes upon the way.”

Captain Sweetling frowned at that. “Foes? I take it you do not mean the normal bandits and the like, yes? The woods have always been dangerous, as it always is when magic and nature intersect, but the roads are normally patrolled enough that no monsters make dens near it.”

“Yes, we had three encounters upon the road. First was what looked to be a merchant and his retainer, limping back along the road, despite their injuries. The merchant did not speak, or perhaps, upon reflection, was unable to speak. The swordsman, however, said his name was Sergeant Jackson, and mentioned you by name, Captain Sweetling, asking us to seek you out when we arrived at Moonwater.”

The halfling’s face grew pale. “That… that can’t be possible! Jackson’s dead, been dead. We fought the Necromancer Lord of the Stone Spire together, and he fell in that final battle!”

I nodded, and said, “In that case, some other things we found make more sense. After bidding farewell to the swordsman, we encountered bodies of goblins and other monsters on the roadside, slain by the caravan guards the swordsman claimed to be part of. We also encountered a flock of cockatrice, which we had to be careful in putting down. But it was when we arrived at the crossroads between the road to Moonwater and the one to Chantresville, that we knew we had been deceived.”

“There, we found, not the remains of two wagons, and the trolls that had waylaid them, but three, along with the bodies of man and beast, drained of life. From beneath the carts, shadows emerged, and attempted to add our bodies to the ones that had fallen. But we had with us a priestess who had the power of her goddess with us, and because of that we were able to strike down the shadows with little effort.”

I reached into Frostmane’s pack, and pulled out the box with Kelemvor’s symbol upon it. “The only clue we had to the shadows’ presence was this box, which was on a wagon that had been coming from the Moonwood. Does it have something to do with this, Captain?”

Captain Sweetling sighed, and shook her head. “Damn it all, I sent the box away so that it might be kept safe! That is a relic from when my comrades and I fought our way through the Stone Spire to defeat Ixius, the Necromancer Lord.”

“The Necromancer had defiled a sanctuary of Kelemvor in order to become a lich. I was part of the army that rose to fight his hordes. As the army kept the undead at bay, a group of heroes made their way inside the Stone Spire to confront the Necromancer, with my squad and another following, to help keep the Necromancer’s minions from interfering in their battle.”

“We all expected to die in the battle, of course. We were half the level of the heroes, and Ixius’s power was greater than theirs. But we did our duty, and we fought. The Heroes managed to succeed in driving back the lich to his phylactery, but four of the five perished in the attempt, and the last was suffering from the magical afflictions the Necromancer unleashed. She died unsealing the vault that held the phylactery.”

“It was Jackson that destroyed the phylactery, a crystal vial containing the soul of the Necromancer. But the magical backlash from the phylactery’s wards killed him. Worse, a priest of Kelemvor said that, if steps were not taken, he would rise as an undead. So, we burnt his body, and gathered his ashes into that box, sealed with Kelemvor’s might against the powers of undeath, to give his soul a chance at rest. For twenty years, I have guarded the box, in honor of his sacrifice, but when the wolves began attacking, I paid the last merchants to make it to Moonwater to take the reliquary to the temple of Kelemvor in Chantresville for safekeeping. This is grievous news.”

Melinda’s Diplomacy check: 1d20+14 = 19

I nodded, and said, “Though the information is far from ideal, it is not all bad, Captain.” She looked up at me, eyebrow raised. “For the first part, it appears that the undead upon the road and the werewolves in the forest are not working in common cause, which is cause for hope. A force that could unite undead, werewolves, and other evils to its banner is a far more deadly threat than werewolves alone.”

“And your friend, if he did become an undead, is clearly not a mindless wretch like a zombie or the like. While the transition to undeath often affects one’s personality, to some degree, there may still be something of your friend remaining. After all, why send you that message, if he did not wish for you to know? He may attempt to hold true to his former ideals, but if not, you now know he is out in the world, so you may be able to send him to his rest if he does not.”

The Captain sighed, and nodded. “Thank you, Twice-born, for your words. Jackson was a good man, and a good friend. I hope it is as you say, and I will not have to watch him die a second time. But you did not come to Moonwater to deal with undead. Jackson’s fate can be considered after the wolves are dealt with.”

“Indeed,” the elven druid said. She placed one hand upon the Captain’s shoulder, and said, “I know the fate of your friend troubles you, young Sweetling, but, for now, we must think to those in our charge. Then, we can see to other things.”

She turned to us, and said, “As the Captain said, I am Celaena of the Moonlit Grove. Though I admit I’ve not been able to enjoy the moonlight as often. Especially with the unnatural hue it has taken due to the foul magics taking place in the woods.”

“There have always been wolves in the Moonwood, but because Selune graced this area during the Troubles, we have never had to worry about those cursed by lycanthropy before. I fear that the werewolf which began this trouble came from outside our borders. That, no doubt, is why poor Keira, our priestess to Selune, was the first to be killed, as she would have been the bulwark in any defense against the creatures.”

“On the full moon after Keira’s death, the moon became red as blood, and the wolves became stronger and more vicious than even the curse of lycanthropy should make them. And every day since then, the moon hangs in the sky, appearing full and dyed the color of blood, despite the passage of time. Some powerful force is at work in the woods, and it is deeply troubling to me.”

The elf sighed. “While I have some talent with animals, my true skill lies with plants and trees. I have been using my powers to help reinforce the walls of Moonwater each day, and helping to tend to any militia wounded in the fighting. Between that, and using my magic to help provide food for the town despite the people not being able to go out and work fields or hunt and fish for fresh supplies, I have little power left for seeking out the cause of this trouble.”

Vestele nodded. “What have the attacks been like? Do you know what the wolves may be after? I cannot believe that they are simply attacking the town for no reason.”

Sweetling grunted. “Every night is a bit different from before, understand, but they’ve been sending attacks against the walls at night, both with wolves and with bowmen. Only one or two bowmen a night, but they keep to the trees, rather than approaching the walls, sniping at our militia. At least one of them as a bow that inflicts the werewolf curse on those it hits. Each night, we’ve had one or two come down with the affliction. If it weren’t for Celaena’s healing gifts, and her being able to grow herbs with her magic, then half the guard or more would have been turned by now.”

Vestele frowned. “And they’ve been doing this for, what, almost two months, now? And they still haven’t changed their tactics?”

Siora sighed, clearly seeing the thread her sister was following. “That means they don’t care so much about the town, so much as keeping the townsfolk contained. The militia is stuck in place, since without them the town would no doubt be overrun, and while the Captain and Celaena are strong, their responsibilities to the town and its people are keeping them bottled up. Captain Sweetling has to lead her people, and Celaena is stuck healing the militia and providing food for the citizens, not to mention repairing any damage to the walls. Which means that the power behind the werewolves is doing something in the forest that it doesn’t want anyone to know about.”

Umphrey the Blacksmith nodded, and said, “Aye, we thought as much, but there was nothing we could do about it, thanks to the constant attacks. However, if’n y’er here to help, mayhap ye can find out what the mangy mutts are up to, and put a stop to it. At the very least, ye might give the militia a couple nights’ rest from the constant attacks, which I know they’ll thank ye for, and me and the other crafters in town would be glad to not have to keep repairing the same gear day after day.”

Captain Sweetling nodded. “Indeed. If you could venture beyond the town, and figure out what the werewolves are up to, and where they’re coming from, we might have a chance of actually ending this, instead of just enduring until they finish whatever it is that they are up to, or manage to overwhelm us. I don’t care for simply waiting for the end like that, but to this point we haven’t had much choice otherwise.”

Celaena tapped her staff to the ground once, to get everyone’s attention. “In that case, if you adventurers are to accomplish the task you came here for, then you should venture outside the walls and speak to Magdalin, who still lives outside. She is a witch and an herbalist, and has, for lack of a better word, bound herself to the land she lives in. While she is on that land, little can harm her, and her magic can keep the wolves at bay, but she is limited in what she can do off her land.”

Umphrey spoke again, “You all be lookin’ to have the tools of your trade well enough in hand, but if y’er needing anything made or repaired, come and find me, and we’ll work something out. I can’t promise much, with the lack of materials, but we’re more than happy to contribute to ending the threat to the town.”

I looked at the others, before turning back to the councilors. “In that case, how far from the walls is it to this Magdalin’s house? If we can meet her and return before nightfall, then it would probably be best to have as much information as we can, so we can plan how to find the wolves.”

Celaena smiled at that. “Oh, on foot it takes the normal person less than an hour to reach her home. Though I do not think she’ll take kindly to unannounced visitors, given the circumstances. Aldeth, perhaps one of your militia can show the way, and make the introductions? It seems these four are eager to be about their business.”

The Captain nodded. “I’ll have one of my people go with them. There’s still five or six hours until nightfall, so we have time. Thankfully, the old witch was still healthy as can be when we checked in on her this morning after sunup.”