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Surprisingly, the dwarf can actually whisper and does so as she steps back and turns halfway round to Myrah. She leans in as closely as she can. "You have got t'be kiddin' me! Surely we cannae leave that woman out there and live with ourselves..." At that moment she figures out just what exactly the woman has placed in her belt, and she pauses a moment as she finally begins to put two and two together. "Aye, you sly weasel! You are kiddin', ain't ye? Yer wantin' t'double back too, I reckon. So was I. Count me in. ...Cannae just change my mind though; make like we're arguing."

Between Thorin's speech and Nightfrost and Rae offers to help, the thegns, at least, appeared to be considering their chances against the beast anew with a few fellow combatants ready to lend their aid to the effort. "Perhaps..." started one. But the Jarl's hands clenched on his mount's reins, causing the horse to toss its head as he turned it back toward the waiting peasants and he let out a humorless laugh, "Then you would spare her life so others may be slaughtered. Believe me, dwarf, when the Hound descends on Hirot, it is rare it takes only one life." Finished with the delay, the Jarl, his thegns, and the slim man turn back toward the peasants and the trail that heads north from the King's Way, up a low craggy bluff.

The woman cries through her gag again as the crowd forces her onward, toward the Standing Stones at the top of the bluff.

Nightfrost sighed softly as she watched them go, 'I should hit the books then, or at least check with locals to see if anyone has ever survived any of these encounters or has more information on it.' Her curiosity was getting the better of her and she took some mental notes on what the Thegns had said. 'Large black hound with red eyes..... most likely a hellhound, possibly a werewolf or shapeshifter if it can hide so well.....'

Thorin looked supprised that his party ended up taking the quest, especaly since he couldn't even convince a rock to move, "Well then... I'd say that worked out quite well, wouldn't you guys agree?" He asked laughing. 'But in all seriousness, how are we going to fight against a creture that we don't even know exsist.' He thought to himself before speeking to the group, "We deffently need more info on this creture, or at least read up on what it could be. So, what do you think?" He asked them, wanting to consault the group before taking any more drastic mesures.

Nightfrost nodded in agreement, “Yes, we definitely need to read and look into this more if we plan to actually attempt going after this hound. Based on what he said, I think it may be some sort of shapeshifter like a werewolf, or it could be a hellhound or a dire wolf.”

Myrah peered after the milling throng with their captive from beneath the folds of her emeraldine hood. When they were clearly out of earshot she turned towards her fellows.

"First, I would like to congratulate you all, particularly our hearth-folk for their remarkable restraint," Myrah began, "I know every dwarf is born to the axe and mace but humans are of a different ilk and cutting a swathe through those peasants would have been ugly."

Gesturing vaguely in the direction the villagers of Hirot had gone, Myrah remarked to herself that a child could follow the tracks of a score of villagers and a half dozen horses shredding the landscape.

"May I suggest we pull off the road and head through the forest in the direction that crowd went. All musings to the nature of this fiend aside I would rather not be sawing through the sacrifice's bonds while being prayed upon by this hound. With some haste, we might be able to free the girl, get some answers from her about this hound and find a means of ending this curse.

"Do we have an accord?"

Rae grins widely and offers Myrah a wink, which was undoubtedly intended to be sly and somehow managed to be anything but. "You know I'm in! But it ain't like we ken just waltz into town with their 'sacrifice;' so where d'we plan on spendin' the night? And if'n we can't keep it out o' the village tonight, it'll be our necks tomorrow."

She turns to Nightfrost, "Without consultin' your books, whaddya know about these beasts you've mentioned? Can we keep 'im away for one night?"

Nightfrost nodded in agreement with Myrah. “That May be wise. And I agree as well, we do need a place to stay. There should be a town nearby if I remember correctly. And as for the beasts I have mentioned, I have never fought or killed one myself so most of what I have heard are things I found in books. But silver I’ve heard is a good tactical weapon against all of these creatures, and this sounds absolutely ridiculous but I’ve heard some people have tried using salt and demonic traps. Now like I said these are things I’ve only read about from an old library, these methods may be incorrect or dated. I think it’s be best if we look into some more recent knowledge on the matter if we can find any sources.”


She then thought for a moment, “Well, if it’s like any rational beast it will go after blood. If we can find a cow or some sort of butcher we can take the raw meat and tie it up so that it will eat the meat and not the girl, while possibly staying away from the villagers because it was still given a meal.....”

"The sooner the better," the cleric said, agreeing with Myrah. She looked at the faint sun, barely visible through the misty day. "I'd say we have less than a hour until dusk."

At Nightfrost's words, she looked at the druid. "This is silver," she said, holding up her holy symbol that had been forged into the shape of a dove. "I wonder if the beast can be turned?" She had not expected her faith to be tested so soon and sent a short, silent prayer to Ulesh, suspecting she would need his strength in this matter.

While they debated and hypothesized, the good's trader guided his two-mule team onto a narrow side trail where the brush was thick and the wagon would not be easily seen from the road. "I dunno," he said. "I ain't too keen on staying out here tonight. But I can't in good faith leave that girl neither. So I'll go 'long with whatever you lot decide."

Rae hurries after the merchant as he goes to hide his wagon. In a low tone she says, "That's real gallant of ya, sir, t'gae with us up there. I wonder if'n you'd be willin' ta give up one o' yer mules, there... could be the savin' of us all, if the lady knows what she's saying. Supposin' you don't though, I ain't gonna make ya nor say nothin' t' the rest."

The trader scrunched his brow uncertainly as he climbed down off his wagon. "You think there's another way maybe? I've had ol' Frick and ol' Frack since they was barely a year old, trained 'em up both together... nearly 10 years ago now."

((If Rae tries to persuade him, roll a d20 with Charisma modifier))

"Aye, that would be unfortunate... They're a good pairing; lots o' work for such fine animals, for sure, for sure. How many more years o' good service do they got in 'em?" Rae reaches up to scratch the nose of one; she has no idea which is which. Then she continues thoughtfully, "...But maybe you would know: how far is it into Hirot to the butcher, could one make it there an' back in time? We ain't got much o' that, one thing's for sure." She honestly hopes that there's time but doubts that to be the case and hopes he'll see the logic of her idea too.

The trader pulled his hat off his head, wringing it in his hands as he considered the truth in Rae's words and remembers the terrified young woman being led to her death...

He nods, then slams his hat back on his head. "Dammit, you're right..." He unbuckles the harness straps from the mule on the left, shooing away any help offered by the others. "I'm sorry, good 'ol Frick..." he scratches the mule's neck as his voice catches in his throat and he hands the lead rope to the dwarf. "Here, you take him up... I don't think I can look him in the eye..."

---

The party makes their way through the woods. In the distance, they can see the mob returning via the road, hurrying back to the relative safety of Hirot. They continue on to the standing stones atop a low, craggy bluff. At the center of the stones is a squat stone block. Four holes are bored into the stone, and thick coils of rope are looped through the stone to make crude shackles for the raven-haired woman left there, gag still in her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks and struggling futility against the restraints.

Nightfrost nodded, following silently to the crude sacrificial stand. She looked around the place and wondered to herself if there was anything hinting to the beast around the area of if there was something of interest. She decided to do a quick search.

((I’m guessing if I’m allowed to do this I roll for perception?))

Nightfrost almost immediately spots bits of gore and blood on the squat stone block where the woman is bound, as well as around the ground here, evidence of other sacrifices being recently violently killed.

The druid also recognizes the altar stones as the remnants of the druidic tradition once practiced on the high moors, long, long ago, when the savage tribes worshipped chaos spirits.


((Sure! Just a straight 1d20 roll to see what she discovers if she keeps looking... ))

((Alright!))

Nightfrost looked at the gore and blood and figured it was from pass sacrafices. Once she recognized the altar stones and the traditions she had slightly grim look appeared on her face. 'If only the one in my home even had remnants....... but feeding a beast upon this land? Idiots......'

Rae takes the lead line from the trader with a twinge of regret. Her eyes begin to "sweat" at his obvious pain in the decision he's made. "Sure," she answers quietly, "You already done more than should be 'spected o' anyone."

Once atop the hill, Rae's ire starts to rise again. A loud "Harumph!" escapes her throat as she takes in the sight of the poor woman. She marches toward the stone with purpose while complaining something about "...that horrid man - authority? Ha! Shoulda been the first ta lie up here..." As she gets close to the stone, she drops her hammer to the ground and reaches for the dagger that was placed in her belt earlier.

The bound and gagged woman strains her neck, trying to see Rae as she approaches the stone. Her eyes widen in near panic as the dwarf draws the dagger, every muscle in her body tense, but ultimately helpless to stop what she perceives as her imminent demise.

The woman struggles and tries to draw away from Rae's approach, but it takes a few seconds for the livid dwarf to realize that the poor woman is afraid of her. "Augh, no, not that, miss. We're meanin' t'get ya out o' here. But we can't have ya squealin' 'n lettin' the others know. So, do a favor 'n be still for a minute."

Rae leaves the gag in the woman's mouth for now and inspects one of the ropes at her feet to decide whether to cut or unknot it. If they're going to strap down a mule, they'll need as much length as they can get.