Anton Vorgi cursed his poor luck under his breath as he entered the rickety ancient cottage, a building older than perhaps even himself, with such a flimsy looking structure that one might think a stiff breeze would knock it down. In truth the structure was not even wholly real, and he knew full well twas the foul sorcery of the witch Agatha. The hag was their best customer in the region, and a big part of his father's foul business, a key to their wealth. Voidstone was a greatly useful material to a coven such as they after all. This old cottage just north of Vorgistal, about a quarter of a night's ride, would only appear when the sisters wished it to, and was no cottage at all, but a manifestation of an entrance to their own abode, deep in the Brinwald Moors, some 70 or more miles as the crow would fly, north-west of Vorgistal. It was a region most with good sense avoided, and many were the stories of the moors. People gone missing, vicious beasts, faellen and even stories of an abomination, an apostate turned mutant wyrid. All of them were true, and Anton knew it all to well.

      The dwarf made sure the small pouch of materials that his father had given him was properly secured on his belt, and took a deep breath, cursing again in dwarven. But he found his courage and before he could further second guess himself, he pushed through the rickety door, it nearly coming off its hinges, and strode into the structure. When he did so, he felt his stomach twist, the structure and himself seeming to spin and stretch, a sensation he despised. Once it stopped and he opened his eyes, he found himself in a larger, seemingly more welcome homestead, at least at first glance. It was well lit, with flowers and fresh fruits, vegetables, and many an inviting seat visible. It was warm, bright, well lit, and a young woman of plain beauty by a fireplace, stirring what would seem to be a cauldron of lamb stew, the smell ever so inviting. Anton knew better blinking a few times and giving his head a stern shake, trying to see through the illusion.

       The smells changed first, becoming less inviting, and more sickly sweet, the smells of decay, putrefaction and toxic substances of all kinds. Next came the lighting and the view through the hut's main windows, which darkened and revealed the briar filled and overgrown moors, the dark swampy lands only adding to the smells, with peat and stagnate water, a damp, musty scent permeating over everything. Then the veneer of the homestead fell away, revealing the cute decorative knick-knacks and bits of fabric or lanterns to be far more macabre in nature. Blood lamps, skulls and petrified heads stuck in screaming position with candles affixed inside their palettes, creating a disturbing hooded lantern of sorts. All manner of esoteric charm, trophy, and talisman. Pickled bits in jars of all manner of creature. Finally of course the lady in the flowery dress stirring the cauldron changed as well, revealing a monstrous female humanoid esque figure, a corrupted form. Moss splotched skin, hair like stinking rotting brushtails and other water reeds, a body showing bulbous protrusions and mutative tearing and swelling. The creature was still stirring a cauldron, but the smell from it, as it wafted to Anton's nostrils, made his knees weak and his stomach rebel, nearly having even the stout dwarf on his knees gagging. Getting control of his innards took Anton a moment, but then the dwarf spoke gruffly. "Agatha, me father 'as need o' yer......unique talents and services in a matter o' mutual interest."

      The creature stirring the cauldron stopped, putting aside the large stir staff they'd been using, turning slowly, revealing further horror. Three misaligned eyes, each a different color, were present in her skull, her nose hooked and long, her mouth tilted, misaligned and showing a row of pointed, bear or wolf like teeth, less the larger incisors of course. One arm notably shorter than the other, but both ending in hands with not just five digits, but seven, all with woody toned hooked claws. The forest hag stared at Anton for a moment, then scrambled over to him with disturbing speed. Before he could react, she was basically up against the dwarf, all nearly eight feet of her, hunched down, holding his bearded chin and forcing him to meet her disgusting and disturbing gaze. "Oh perish the thought, but of course I'll help dearie." she replied, the voice coming from this foul creature being entirely disorienting and disturbing, sounding like the honeyed words and tone of a sweet old grandmother. "How can little old Agatha help you stout folk now? Speak and find cure to what ails ye." she whispered, cackling, her putrid breath causing Anton to wince.

      "Ach, get yer 'ands off me, witch woman. I've nae ailments, an' nae interest in any o' yer cures, nor do me father. Or does ye forget who yer in business wit'? We knows full well who ye are, what ye are, an' what ye an' them foul sibling's o' yers get up to! Nae, t'is be 'bout a complication, an' 'bout recent disruptions in supply t'at I'm sure ye an' them sisters o' yers 'ave noted."

      The hag fell back a step, hissing as Anton withdrew something from a separate belt pouch, a small box that was notably hefty, due to having lead lined walls. He opened it and withdrew a small cloudy green-black stone, about the size of a silver coin, a piece of pure obsidian. "Nae, ye keep yer damned 'ands off me, an' yer magicks ta yerself except ta send me 'ome when our business is concluded an' I've nary a reason ta ram this down yer gullet." he snarled. "Aye an' tell yer damn sisters ta come out, I 'ears em moving about just out o' me line of sight, nary think I won't rush ye wit' this. They be fast, but none of ye are that fast. Ye want the damned powder ta flow an' yer desired amounts ta start comin' yer way again, in return o' course for the notable amounts o' coin ye manage to muster up an' trade, aye?"

      Agatha fell back two more steps, hissing into the shadows to Anton's right and left, and two smaller hags, one with more oak leaf like hair, the other with thorny nettle vine like hair, both just as ugly and twisted of form besides, but almost a foot shorter in stature than their sister, came into view. Agatha nodded curtly, eyeing the obsidian shard with undisguised disgust. "Yes." she hissed "I wish that arrangement to continue, if I did not, we would never have conversed, I simply would have turned on you and be feasting on your bones right now for trespassing in my sanctuary. But you test our patience."

      Anton shook his head, spitting on the floor "Yer damnable existence tests mine, ye foul beasts, but I refuse ta turn on a client we've an arrangement with. We mades a deal wit' ye an' we'll see it through til all that damned void rock is mined out o' our quarry." The dwarf took a deep breath, moving to the other pouch, pulling forth the crystalline vial of blood and the bundled bit of smoky grey-white hair. "Seems our last shipment 'as come upon a new complication. See we nary heard anything via any means ta suggest it arrived, an' it been a couple days. Normally there would 'ave at least been a message from Evers via t'at sendin' charm ye made fer 'im an' me father. Me father reached out ta him through them means this mornin', an' was told in nae uncertain terms the wagons nae showed up. More concernin' 'owever, is that they did arrive in Spruce Point, Evers confirmed t'at an hour ago. They was pinched by the church an' local law enforcement. A templar an' a magister. The product was destroyed. Nae, ye need not worry about the drivers or their assistants, me father already got plans in motion ta deal with them loose ends. Nae, ye see our chemist was nae rounded up with the rest, an' so me father thinks she may 'ave went rogue, breachin' her agreement. He wants yerself ta find out where she's disappeared ta, and do what ye think is necessary ta deal with that loose end. Ta t'at end, a bit o' 'er 'air an' blood, as well as this."

       Anton reached into his cloak, to a carefully tucked away pocket, and pulled forth another small lockbox, this one with the key dangling from it, tied to it with some string. "Ye'll find 'bout 'alf an ounce o' purified Void-Dust in that. Consider it an apology fer delays, as well as a small token of gratitude an' a promise fer far more ta come soon."

      The three sisters stepped forward, Agatha swiping the small box from Anton eagerly, whilst the other two scooped up the blood and hair respectively. Agatha got the box open, dipping her finger in the sparkling and crackling substance within the lead lined lock box and placed it on her grotesque tongue, licking it clean, moaning with glee, her eyes seeming to almost roll back into her head. "But o' course, me dearie, we will absolutely help, you can leave it to us. After all, it is a fine and mutually beneficial arrangement we have, so we will be more than happy to help. Now shall I send you home?"

       Before Anton could fully respond to the question, he felt the sudden pitching and twisting in his stomach, as the world spun and stretched, before he found himself back in the small hilly clearing, the ramshackle hut fading around him, revealing the night sky. Rising to his feet, he fought with his churning stomach for a few moments until it calmed. "Damnable mutants," he muttered, shaking his head. "But they 'ave their uses."

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      The cackling followed her as she ran through the swamp and overgrowth, fear and panick consuming her, roiling in her stomach, making her heart race. She knew not entirely what she was running from, only knowing that she had to run, had to get away if she wanted to live. The swamplands behind her were consumed by a black smoke, the cackling deep within it growing more excited, more disconcerting. "Why are we running, small kin? We wish to give you gifts, dearie. We wish to help you, to befriend you."

      Even as she heard the words, the terrain around Tuli began to writhe and shift. She felt creepers and vines attempting to wrap and grab at her ankles and legs. She felt the fear and panic rising within her, seeing visions through the smoke. Her father's rotting corpse, dancing a jig, smiling with no lips and rotting teeth. Her mother's face, partially melted, as if burned in a fire, giggling madly "Dearie, dearie, you look so tired, why do you flee. Join us, we've missed you so. Join us, join us." Beyond these nightmarish visions were the other cooks, their burned and mutated bodies, rotting and twisted, dancing macabrely. "Join us, join us, join us!"

       Tuli cried out in fear and panic, as the hand of her father's corpse opened, glittering with a pile of void dust, and began lifting it towards her face. The world was shaking, she couldn't move, she couldn't scream, even as the smoke surrounded her.......

      Tuli's eyes snapped open, her body shaking, feeling hands upon her. "Goodness me, there we go, breathe Tuli, breathe, gave me a bit of a fright with that. It was just a nightmare, a bad dream." Tuli blinked, shaking, trying to clear her head as she looked up to see Fredwick kneeling above her, obvious concern upon the halfman's face even under the minimal light of the moon and the flickering embers of what had been their campfire.

       It took Tuli some moments to compose and reorient herself. They were not in a swamp, and were in fact nowhere near any such place. They were in the White Fir Hills, close to the Irontip Peaks mountain range. There were no disembodied voices, evil swamp mist or smoke, no corpses macabre, and no Void Dust being forced unto her. It was all just a passing nightmare. "Is it my watch?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady and find her calm.

      Fredwick nodded slowly, but she could see the deep concern on his face. "Are you alright to take it? You look like you slept not a wink, and you are pale as a ghost. I can do double duty, it isn't a hardship." He was of course lying, and had no doubt Tuli could see that, he wasn't making an effort to hide it, however the offer was genuine. Fredwick felt terrible for her, she'd been tossing and turning, muttering and shaking the whole night, clearly not able to get a properly restful sleep thus far.

      Tuli shook her head, forcing herself to her feet. "I'm fine, just need to shake it off, it was a very vivid dream. Besides you too need rest. I'll manage Fredwick, it was just a nightmare, I'm not a child any longer, I'll be fine." Tuli was not entirely certain she believed that, unable to shake some sort of creeping doubts, after all by now the Vorgi had to have at least some idea that things had been disrupted, their product had not made it. So some part of her couldn't help but think this was more than just a bad dream. After all, they had a bit of her hair and blood, supposedly for ensuring her compliance. The threat of that had been obvious, and also esoteric enough in its nature that she had to consider the possibility. After all she didn't really have a great understanding of the arcane arts, and certainly not the darker forbidden types, but she had to presume with a bit of someone's blood and hair you could easily locate them, if not also contact them or inflict all manner of terrible, unpleasant or otherwise unwelcome magickal effects upon them. It did not help or relieve her concerns to remember just how vividly real the whole thing had felt. She'd even awoken out of breath, her legs sore and tired, burning as if she'd been running for some time, not sleeping. An involuntary shudder ran through her body then, as she got the sudden and unpleasant sensation that she was being watched. It passed almost as swiftly as it started, but the discomfort remained.

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      Agatha let out a calming exhale, the excitement of the cursed dream-walk tingling all throughout her body. The hag held up the bit of solid voidstone she'd been using to empower her for the task, pleased to see the palm sized piece was still shimmering with plentiful chaotic energy, only a tiny spot upon it was greying and now crumbling to dust in her hand, like limestone or sandstone, with no power left in it. She blew the dust away. The gnomish doctor was delicious, her fears and psyche like fine wine, having fermented for some time since she entered into her fool deal with Vorgi. It was arguably unprofessional for Agatha to toy with this Tulint in this fashion, however such was the nature of her magick and her appetites. Suffering and fear were her bread and wine, and the hag would not allow some dwarf's fool mistakes to rob her of such a fine buffet. What was a few days, after all. Besides, she'd read the bones, and to her distinct amusement, the fates had plans for Vorgi, regardless of this gnomish medicine woman. So why not savor the cuisine, the intoxicant of it all for a few nights at least. 

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      The friends moved through the hilly terrain, continuing to follow sign and trail that had been left by the greenskin raiding band. The air was chillier still than it had been even the day previous, and the morning had even started with a light flurry, nothing substantial enough to stick, but enough to warn of the coming winter. Fenna could feel it in muscle and bone, she'd be shocked if in but a week or two there wasn't at least a fine dusting layer of snow that would stick around. The air was crisp and the wind in the early part of the day bitter. Fenna could tell from the thickening of Wvota's hair, and the denseness of this winter growth, she would bet all she owned it was going to be a long and hard winter this year, if she was the gambling sort.

      Moving through the hill-lands, Fenna kept her wits about here. They were in real frontier territory now, perhaps only a half day or less from being amongst the Irontip Range proper like. As Wvota ascended another hill amongst the firs and pines, Fenna felt her tense up, and heard the boar's breathing change, snorting with some aggression, an edge of ferocity. She'd caught scent of something. As they crested the hill, Fenna held up her gauntleted fist so her companions could see, informing them to hold. Then she reached down, rubbing Wvota's muscular shoulder and neck. "W'at is it lass, ye smell them damned greenskins? We close ta somethin', I can tell."

      Wvota let out a low snort, and shook her head, seeming to understand the question. Fenna could feel the boar shifting her weight a little, could feel the tenseness in her muscles. "Aye nae greenskins then, ye would nae be t'is on edge ov'r a few rat goblins. What got ye worked up then?" Wvota let out a low sort of sigh almost, and moved down the hill slowly, her snout in the icy soil, rooting about as they did so. Moving into a small gathering of fir trees, the boar began rooting around the dirt more aggressively. Fenna waiting for a time, trusting her instincts and her nose. A few moments passed, and Fenna took up the reins, about to call Wvota off. Perhaps it was old sign, a lingering scent that had fooled her. But then as she glanced down at where the boar was rucking through the needles and foliage, she caught sight of something reflective. Grey steel, polished not shined. She watched as Wvota continued and eventually uncovered a man, a human, in a simple grey iron breastplate with ocean blue trim. The tower and ax heraldry of the Suranthi Military emblazoned on it.

      Fenna swore under her breath, dismounting carefully as she moved about the small cluster of trees. Quickly enough she found what she was looking for by the hillside. Signs of a struggle, a small encampment, likely a Suranthi foot patrol, so five soldiers, had made a camp here. There were signs of greenskins and worgs, and obviously signs of a fight. Fenna sighed, moving away from the barest remains of an the encampment to where Wvota was still rooting about the dirt. She'd revealed four bodies thus far, three soldiers and a hobgoblin, and was working on a fifth that looked to be a worg likely. Fenna moved to the first soldier they'd uncovered. Clearly, just from looking at his remains she could tell he wasn't killed a day or two ago. It was likely a week, perhaps more. There were signs of the beginning of decomposition. Fenna moved to remount, getting Wvota back under command, and rode off back up the hill where her companions awaited her.

      "Well found somethin', but nothin' good. Tuli how well can ye date dead bodies?" Fenna asked gruffly.

      "Well it isn't my primary discipline but I am a doctor, so I have some hand to it." she replied, a look of clear confusion and concern on her face. "Why do you ask?"

       "Soldiers, likely a missin' patrol meself and Friya 'eard 'bout a a little ov'r a week ago. No danger or nothin' down t'ere, what Wvota caught scent o' was the dead bodies." Fenna explained. "So I'd like ta get a better idea o' when they died."

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      Tuli got up from the third soldier, sighing, as she carefully removed her thin leather gloves, placing them in the small pot of boiling water that Fredwick had prepared over a small fire at her request. "Based on the state of decay overall of the bodies, the breaking down of the edges of the wounds, as well as the overall loss of rigidity of the corpses, I'd say they are between a week or two weeks old. Likely closer to two weeks, but I can't really date them better than that in these conditions."

      Fenna nodded solemnly. "I understands lass, we're in the field, nary a hospice or morgue. I appreciate yer expertise and yer honesty. What killed 'em?" she asked the gnome.

      "Exactly what you think, unfortunately. A variety of wounds, but consistent with cruder weaponry, and the sort of savagery one would expect from goblins, as well as a some notable bite marks from some sort of canine, likely the worgs. Although one of them, the one with the breastplate, has some interesting injuries, those patches of his flesh that seem like stretched wax and slurry." Tuli shuddered as she glanced at the corpse again, "Those sorts of injuries are unique, only thing I can think of is chemical burns, like from some sort of acid or other corrosive agent. So maybe the greenskins have some kind of crude alchemist or some such?"

      "Alchemy or some sort o' damned shaman, though t'at nae normally be the style o' such beasties. Their fell god, well he nae like magick very much, unless its for emboldin' ones self in a fight or tappin' in ta some sort o' blood crazed madness." Fenna replied, shaking her head. "Well, nae matter much, we'll find out soon 'nough when we finds where they holin' up, aye? But first, I gots ta give these three some proper burial rites. I realize tis only midafternoon, but me thinks we should make camp 'ere and get a start early in the mornin'. With any luck we should be able ta more or less catch 'em tomorrow."

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      Tuli looked around in the dark and fog, unsure of her surroundings. She remembered making camp, she'd taken first watch. But she wasn't sure when that had been. The sun wasn't up, she assumed it was still late at night, yet something was off. Something felt wrong, and as she rose to at least her knees, trying to blink free from the grogginess that gripped her, she took in her surroundings with feelings of deep concern and confusion. No one was on watch, the small fire they'd had crackling and that they'd promised to keep fed when on watch one after the other was out, long burned out, only ash and grey charcoaled remnants remaining. No sign of any of her traveling companions that she could see close by. Even Wvota, the massive boar, she could not see or hear. Tuli rose, a deep fear welling up in the pit of her stomach. She could hear....things, beyond the edge of her sight, beyond the mist and the edges of the darkness. Moaning, shambling shuffling steps, shapes moving about the mist. She could feel the dark presence at the edge of her mind, latched onto her, that dreadful creeping feeling of being watched crawling all about her.

      Tuli called out as loud as she dared, barely a whisper, "Fredwick? Fenna? are you there? Friya? You are all scaring me, what's going on?" She rose to her feet, trying to be quiet, keep silent, as she looked all around in every direction. She felt the fear bubbling now, panic trying to rise and take over, and she did her best to control herself. "Think, Tulint, think, what is going on. Are you even awake?" she tried to tell herself, growing increasingly more scared and uncomfortable. At that moment, she thought she saw something, a large shape in the mist. Bulky, four legged, it had to be Wvota.

      Tuli moved towards it rapidly, laughing, speaking in a relieved tone, "There you are, the lot of you gave me a proper fright, why by the Ascended did you leave me he-!" The words choked and died in her throat as a sudden shriek of terror tore from her throat, for as she moved closer, what came out of the mist to greet her was not Wvota, but was instead the disease ridden corpse of the worg, teeth bared, jaws wide, as it bore her to the ground. As she felt the monster's weight crash against and overwhelm her, Tuli heard the same strange cackling, and as she fell back, screaming, thinking she was going to die, suddenly.....

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       Agatha leaned back, letting the euphoric sweetness of the fear from the gnome wash over her even as the piece of Voidstone crumpled further. Her fellow hags, her younger and weaker sisters seemed equally as satisfied with their little taste. This was good, for it meant the coven as a whole would grow stronger off this endeavor. A valuable thing indeed. Agatha rolled the piece of Voidstone, between the misshapen fingers of her right hand. "A fine little tasting for you sisters, I think? A worthwhile little project for us yes?"

      Nettles and Vieri, her two subordinates, nodded with excitement, "Yes Mistress Agatha, absolutely, her fears are strong, with much depth and power. A worthwhile project and mark. She may only last another night or three if we all work her like this, but that will still be wonderfully nourishing and empowering."

      Agatha did not disagree with them, however she shook her head, " You are correct sisters, but only if we are so greedy and so swift. Vorgi is not our friend, merely an ally of convenience. If not him, another, or by other means we'd acquire our share of the gift beneath that city. Besides the beginning of winter is upon us, a time of power of a different vein and we have much to do to be ready for when the border between the Void and reality is thinnest, and short time left to do it before the equinox. I think we shall give our morsel a break from direct influence. She will find no gains to rest, but no more lose either, just the edge of exhaustion fraying slowly on her mind. We shall let her stew for some time, days, perhaps a week. Let her fears and dread ferment, and then perhaps let her begin to believe the worst is over. Only then shall we dream walk with her again."

      Nettles and Vieri glanced at each other, a bit of the thought of rebellion in their eyes. Agatha did not miss it but took no offense. Such was good, it kept the coven strong, for such was how order was formed amongst the beautiful madness of the Void. Should she stumble, they should seek to take advantage and oust her, slaying her and perhaps kidnapping a new young thing from a nearby village to raise and hone into their next sister. Such was the way of the hags. However Agatha feared not, nor did she ignore it. She noted it with slight approval, and a lack of concern. "They should harbor such thoughts, but are fools to believe this choice might present opportunity. Should they try, I shall be in the market for two new sisters."  she thought to herself, with a soft cackle as she waved them away, dismissing them from their ritual chambers.

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      "Tuli, ach damn it, Tuli, wake lass, Kartheart damn it all, wake up!" Fenna slapped the convulsing gnome, not really knowing what else to do. She groaned, but stopped shaking and screaming, her eyes fluttering open her facial expression a three way mix of pain, terror and confusion. "I'm sorry ta slap ye lass, I nae had any idea what else ta do. Ye were screaming bloody murder, I'll be surprised if every beastie and bird within a mile didn't 'ear ye. T'was bloodcurdlin', sounded like ye were dyin'!"

      "I thought I was dying." Tuli replied, gasping for breath. "You were all gone, it was dark and foggy, with no sign or trace, the fire gone cold. There were shapes in the mist, it was the middle of the night. The sounds were confusing, disorienting and then I thought I saw Wvota through the mist. However once I got closer the worg leapt out at me, bearing me to the ground and getting jaws around my throat. That's when you woke me."

      Fenna's eyes went a bit wide, for as she'd spoken, Tuli had moved her hand up to her neck, shifting her bedroll, and revealed her neckline. She was bruised, not deeply, but enough that Fenna could see it. The bruises were distinctly canine jaw shaped. "Ye had nae ordinary nightmare lass." Fenna growled, confused and concerned. "Yer neck's bruised like ye was bitten by some kind of o' large canine. There be mud and soil under yer finger nails, an' nae that ye mention it, I did get a whiff o' drenched dog when shakin' ye awake."

      Tuli was shaking again now, a deep fear welling in her. "It didn't feel like an ordinary dream." she replied hesitantly. "Felt just as real as this moment, if I tell you the truth." Just then a sound reached both their ears and Tuli began to rise immediately, panic obvious in her eyes. A low canine snarl came from beyond their sight, out into the darkness, towards where they'd found the bodies. "That noise, am I still dreaming, please tell me I'm still dreaming?" she pleaded to Fenna, fear and terror obvious even in her half whispered tone.

      Fenna shook her head, grabbing Tuli by the collar. and holding her tight and steady, not mincing words, nor trying to keep quiet, trying to exude the confidence of Kartheart with her. "Ye need ta get a grip lass!" she growled, "That be an order. This nary a Kartheart be damned dream! Nae go wake the other two swiftly, whilst I wake Wyota an' mount up. Go, nae!"

      Fenna moved swiftly towards Wvota, thankful that she'd been on watch, so at least in her breastplate, with both shield and her sword belt on her, as well as boots at least. Her layer of mail and greaves were off, she was merely in leggings and tunic however, and for combat, she felt naked and vulnerable. Her helmet was on the other side of the fire as well, by her pack and bedroll. She didn't have time to loop around to pick that up and get to Wvota though, so she made a choice and committed. However she pulled loose her hammer from amidst Wvota's tack and saddle as she passed it by, thinking to mount up regardless. Riding without the saddle and reins was a dangerous proposition, but Fenna was a much better mounted combatant than on foot, and she didn't know what she was up against, so the risk was worth the mobility in her mind.

       But she realized nearly immediately the error in judgement she had made. Wvota stirred rapidly to her calls, the boar coming awake with an obvious alertness, pushing her considerable bulk to her feet with a sudden and violent swiftness, snorting and huffing aggressively. However Fenna didn't quite make it to her, that second or two pulling her hammer loose costing her, as something dark furred and decaying, smelling truly foul, crashed into her, trying to bear her to the ground. Canine jaws crunched down on her shoulder and upper arm, where her breastplate ended, teeth piercing and tearing flesh as she spun and pulled away, cursing and letting out a pained scream as she did so. She knew enough to know you didn't want to let worgs get a clean grip and hold on, they could lock their jaws, and once they did that, they'd use their size and neck muscles to bear you to the ground and tear you apart. As she was bitten, she felt some sort of wave of illness, some dark presence or magick, her muscles all tightening, her body crying out in agony.

      As she pulled away, swiftly loosing her shield straps to let it fall to the ground to take up her hammer in both hands, she got a better look at her assailant. The gaunt form of the worg, the patched fur, the way the corpse moved so fast, and seemed now the corpse of a beast that starved to death, the ribcage countable and visible, told her what they were dealing with. "Ghoul, the damned thing be a ghoul!!!" she yelled to her companions. "Ware its jaws, they carry a plague o' their kind!" Fenna hoped her dwarven heritage was enough to keep her safe, her kind were notoriously resistant to most any illness, 'tough as mountain stone and twice as hardy' was a common saying about dwarven folk. However she couldn't let herself worry about that just now, she needed to focus on the task at hand.

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      Tuli got out of her bedroll rapidly at Fenna's instruction, grabbing her cloak to keep wrapped around her for extra warmth as she scrambled through the small encampment in naught but her thin nightgown of sorts. She moved swiftly around the encampment, kicking both Friya and Fredwick in their bedrolls calling out a panicked warning. "The worg, its a zombie or some such, its attacking Fenna, wake up, wake up!!!"

      Fredwick swore as he came awake, nearly naked but for thin linen leggings. He rose swiftly, the cold not bothering him at the moment, adrenaline and fear keeping him warm as he moved to his pack and gear, pulling free his small crossbow pistol, loading it swiftly whilst wincing as he watched Fenna get jumped.

      At the same time Friya rose naked, and seemed unbothered by the cold, the topaz energy around her making clear she had bigger concerns. Handaxe and targe were swift to hand, but even as she was cinching the strap on the shield, she was chanting and as she did so, her right hand made some complex gestures, and a ripple of Domhan moved through the earth. Friya felt the surge of manna with her surge of emotion, strong, but controlled, as hard as that was, from hearing Fenna's pained scream. She let it loose, feeling the power, the surging of her spell, before suddenly the stone and soil below the worg-ghoul crack and ruptured, a vicious tremor sending stone and soil flying into a small cloud, as the ground below the creature heaved and cracked with violent force, pummeling it with stone and soil. The thunderous cracking and rumbling was audible and echoing, leaving a mild ringing even in her own ears, and the undead creature howled out in agony. Friya moved forward to get to Fenna, her worry still aching her heart. "Fenna!" she cried out in concern losing sight of the dwarf in the dust cloud for a moment. "Damn it, m'heart ye worry me so." she muttered, moving forward to join the fray.

      As the sudden surge of magick, clearly a spell from Friya, nearly toppled the creature, Wvota surged forward, one of her tusks puncturing the creature's rear flank. Similarly to the worg, Wvota tried to use this, trying to force the leg out from under the beast, and use her considerable bulk to force it to ground, but to no avail, tearing her tusk free instead, the worg-ghoul able to keep its footing. However that moment presented all the opening Fenna needed as the dust cloud was settling, her hammer in both hands, with a prayer to Sir Kartheart on her lips, focusing her fervor and anger into her connection with her weapon. The head of the hammer flashed, a sun like radiance coming briefly to the steel as she smashed the weapon into the undead monster's neck and jaw. There was a resounding impact to the blow, the sound of bone fracturing, followed by the briefest of pulses of Lobhadh, as the Amethyst manna that had been trapped holding on to life, to not decaying within the beast, was released, fading whilst seeming to change color, back into the Aether. The worg's once again lifeless, and now divinely branded corpse collapsed to the earth, unmoving amongst the cracked and ruptured stone and displaced soil. Fenna listened and peered out into the dark intently, doing her best to block out the pain in her shoulder. After a few moments, she allowed herself to breath a sigh of relief. "Its over." she called out to her fellows, "Seems it was just t'e worg, nae any o' t'e other bodies."

      Fenna let her hammer drop, trying to move her shoulder, and get a better look at it herself, turning her head, trying to lean her head back whilst like forcing her shoulder forward, wincing uncomfortably as she did. So focused was she that she didn't realize Friya was approaching, not until the human woman was along side her, kneeling to put her arms around her. Fenna also at that moment, after initially doing her best to hug back, realized Friya was naked. The sorts of feelings she felt with that knowledge confused her further. She wanted to hold on, she was blushing, she didn't know how to act. Friya let go, still seemingly unbothered at her own nudity, and rose back to her feet. "Damn I thought ye were worg food, ye scared t'e daylights out o' me!" Friya felt her own cheeks flushing as she realized the way Fenna was looking at her, and furthermore, she realized she kind of liked it. Suddenly being flustered, she turned to head back to her gear and blanket, a little embarrassed. "I'm glad ye nay be worg food!" she called over her shoulder, and then yelled out "Tuli, Fenna needs ye, she's got an ugly bite on 'er shoulder!! Fix 'er up an' then get some rest."

      Fredwick watched the whole exchange between the two amused, but he didn't say anything for anyone to hear, just giggling to himself. "Oh just kiss already, you pair of lovesick puppies." he whispered, chortling to himself, taking a bit of humor where he could find it after that brief high of emotion and panic.