Continued Adventure

Vennok felt moving closer would risk being spotted, and with his clumsy footwork, that's a gamble he's not willing to take.

He keeps perfectly still, golden eyes locked on the scene unfolding ahead; the woman calling out about her son Balik, the man standing silent and watchful, and that writhing form on the ground. Every muscle is tense, every sense alert.

His bow remains drawn, ready to loose at the first sign of danger.

Elspaeth keeps her position, glancing forward and behind to see, if anything, the others are doing.

Marev keeps his hands open, his gaze softening just enough to seem sincere, though his boots are planted firmly. He acknowledges the woman’s question but keeps his focus on the immediate situation.

"Didn't mean to startle you" he says quietly, his voice steady. "What happened to Balik?"

Vennok's eyes go wide as the figure rises from the ground. The back of its head; no, not its head; that writhing mass of black tar and seeping eyes, those horrible little mouths opening and closing in unison...

His breath catches in his throat. The slack faces of the man and woman turning toward Marev snap something into focus. This is wrong. All of it is wrong. "AMBUSH!" Vennok's cry cuts through the forest; a sharp, chittering shriek that echoes off the trees. He doesn't hesitate. His bow arm snaps forward, releasing the arrow he's had nocked all this time.

The arrow streaks true, punching deep into the writhing mass of the creature's head with a thwack that even Vennok can hear from this distance. The impact is solid, devastating; the arrow sinks in and something dark sprays from the wound.

"Sssomething isss WRONG! WRONG!" His voice climbs higher, scales bristling with pure reptilian terror mixed with adrenaline.

He'd already started nocking another arrow before the first one had reached its target, his small frame shaking but his aim still true.

As his companions began attracting the attention of the horrid trio, and as soon as the strange mind-bending gibbering began, Borgo let loose an arrow pointed at its head, hoping to down this aberration that had taken his former comrade.

The Dwarven acolyte is visibly disgusted by the site of this abomination. He spits on the ground in disgust.

What is this vile creature!?

He holds his holy symbol high. Terragnis protect me!You don't notice anything happening as a result of his evocation of his god. The Dwarf lowers his hand whispers something harsh under his breath and advances on the abomination mace and shield in hand.

Swearing under her breath, Berith starts rushing forward toward Marev as the mood of the group changes. Berith sees the creature rise, and her stomach clenches as she recognizes it. She is still far back, but thankfully Vennok's arrow hits.

The sight of the tar and the empty, puppet-like stares of the couple is enough. Before the gibbering can take hold of his mind, Marev’s instincts take over. He knows he’s too close to something that shouldn't exist, and he wouldn't stand a chance in melee combat with this abomination

He backpedals hard, putting a solid thirty feet of forest floor between him and those reaching mouths. As he finds his footing, he snaps his bow up, eyes locked on the writhing center of the mass.

"Back! Get back!" he shouts, his voice straining against the drone in the air as he draws his string to his ear.

Happy that his shot took out the blob of animated matter mid-flight, he still fell back towards the group, hoping to evade the two remaining humanoids: what were they, anyway?!

Elspaeth levels her crossbow and takes a shot at the hag.

Now that the abomination is slain Nord looks hesitant, unsure how to proceed.

My lady, please! I do not want to hurt you!

What is wrong with them!?

Nord looks around for his companions who have already been to the temple for guidance.

Marev winces as his shoulder throbs, the horror of the situation finally sinking in. Seeing the man's face flicker between hollow emptiness and pure terror makes his stomach turn. He doesn't want to kill an innocent, but the unnatural strength behind those blows tells him the villagers might already be gone.

"Nord, look at them!" Marev calls out, his voice heavy with dread. "I don't want to do this... but I don't think there's anything left of them to save."

He scrambles back, putting thirty feet of forest between himself and the reaching hands. He levels his bow, the arrow head tracking the man's chest. He’s holding his breath, hoping for another way out, but his grip is firm.

"Please," he mutters. "Don't make me do it!"

Vennok's second arrow flies from his bowstring with far less precision than the first. It whistles past the hunched woman's head, missing entirely, and disappears into the forest beyond.

"No, no, NO!" he chitters in frustration, his scales bristling. He's already reaching for a third arrow, his small frame trembling as he processes what's happening; these aren't monsters, they're people. Or they were. The fear and emptiness flickering across their faces...

He hesitates for just a fraction of a second, arrow half-nocked, watching the slack-jawed horror of their movements. His low wisdom wars with his instinct to help his companions.

"What isss wrong with them?! What isss WRONG?!" he calls out, his voice cracking with a mixture of fear and confusion.

But he keeps his bow up, keeps his arrow ready, waiting to see what Marev and Nord will do next.