Edvard and Gotavv begin to transform. It is not a painless process. Gotavv is the first to go, collapsing onto his knees and crying out. His hatchet snaps off his belt and clatters to the ground as his legs begin to grow and stretch. Looking down at his fingers curling into bristly paws, he tries to regain his balance. But his body’s frame has already shifted into a horizontal position. He takes one last gasp of air before his jaw lengthens into a snout. Staring through the open door on the side of the tavern is now a massive wolf, standing almost as tall on four legs as the rest of the party on two.
Seemingly all at once, Emmitt’s heart is pounding and his skin is beginning to sweat. Something in his body is kicking into overdrive. He looks down at his hand, where thin beams of light are intersecting with his fingers. He feels his arm tense up as hair begins to cover his palm. He pulls it out of the moonlight. After a pause, the hair retracts and he has retained control of his limb.
“C’est quoi cette putain de merde?” Alvyn points at Emmitt’s arm with panic in his eyes. “”
Leylin has a similar expression. “What just… your arm.”
“I have no idea.” Emmitt says, still feeling each of his fingers as though they might fall off.
Marco, meanwhile, has already drawn both of his swords, eyes fixed on the balcony. The wolf that was Gotavv is standing by the door, snarling at the four of them inside. Its eyes hold the permanent glare of the moonlight. Beside it, Edvard has begun to transform as well, grasping onto the railing and staring upwards with a panicked, sickly expression. Like his companion before him, his human features are rapidly disappearing as he is covered in fur.
“The weapons,” Emmitt says. “Where are the silver weapons?”
Marco gives him a grim look. “We left them in the carriage.”
Emmitt gives one desperate look at the large brass doors at the front of the tavern, still left partially open. The carriage is parked by the road, several yards out from the balcony at the front. In the space between is uninterrupted pale moonlight. The muskox is in a state of panic, bucking its head around and letting out a strained wail. Eventually it breaks free and clambers off into the woods.
“
But it is Edvard on its flank that attracts most of the horrible, morbid fascination. Still struggling on the floor of the balcony, still half-man and half-animal, he appears to be growing something out of the sides of his head. He tries to grab at them with his hands, but finds that he no longer has anything that resembles fingers.
Then, all at once, he turns into a moose.
No really.
Looks of horror turn to looks of bewilderment as the half-deformed creature practically into the form of a moose. Much like the gigantic wolf beside it, it stares over at the party with moonstruck eyes, reflecting the pale glow that comes from the sky.
“OH! YOU DIDN’T THINK IT TOOK THAT LONG, DID YOU?” The voice of the moon shakes the building as they stand there in shock. “WHAT KIND OF TWO-BIT GOD DID YOU TAKE ME FOR? NO, I JUST LIKE TO GO FOR THE DRAMATIC ENTRANCE, LIVEN THINGS UP A BIT. AND MORE THAN ANYTHING, I JUST LIKE TO WATCH THEM SQUIRM.”
Everyone holds their ground. The were-creatures are lining up by the door, ready to charge in at any moment.
“I HEARD WHISPERS IN MY DREAMS THAT SAID SOME PEOPLE COMING TO TRY TO KILL ME. SOME NUMBSKULLS FROM THE SOUTH WHO THOUGHT THEY WERE SPECIAL. I FIGURED I SHOULD MAKE AN ENTRANCE, LET YOU KNOW WHO YOU WERE DEALING WITH.”
Leylin looks around the building, trying to get any sense of where exactly the voice is coming from. The question is futile to answer, as the sound reverberates throughout the frame of the building. Marco and Emmitt, meanwhile, are still focused on the creatures in front of them, unmoved from their positions.
“AND I DON’T MEAN TO PULL RANK OR ANYTHING, BUT I THE MOON. CLEARLY I’M ABOVE YOU, IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE. NOT SURE WHY YOU EXPECTED YOU’D STAND ANY CHANCE.”
Alvyn, who was spinning his bolas in one hand, slowly loses momentum as the weight of the situation bears down on him. His attention shifts to the sickle, a simpler weapon for a more primal state of mind. It still seems miniscule compared to the expansive antlers of the moose or the rows of teeth on the wolf.
“LIKE SERIOUSLY, THE AUDACITY OF SOME PEOPLE. YOU COME HERE THINKING YOU CAN TAKE ON A GOD, DISRUPTING THE NATURAL ORDER. NO, THAT DOESN’T FLY. I’M GOING TO CRUSH YOU, LIKE I WOULD DO TO ANY BUG THAT CRAWLS ALONG MY PATH. AND I’M GOING TO DO IT SLOW.”
“Then just do it already!” Leylin blurts out, unable to hide the tension in her voice as she shouts at the ceiling of the tavern. Her blade and shield are both shaking in her arms. More than anything she wants to dash forward and leap into the fight, but she can’t. Not with the sickly moonlight sweeping over the balcony.
The jovial sadism in the omnipresent voice turns to one of impetuous rage. “YOU DON’T TELL ME WHEN I DO THINGS! TINY STUPID INSECT. STUPID TINY ANT PERSON.”
There is a pause. Still, the party stands waiting, weapons raised. For a moment, the moon is silent.
“ALRIGHT NOW WE START.”
And with that, the animals charge forward. The wolf is through the door first, claws skittering across the hardwood floor. Leylin steps forward with her shield before it can complete its collision course with the rest of the party. Though the creature strikes the shield with a mighty crash, it is only sent back a few feet, quickly regaining its footing.
Marco leaps into the air, raising an arm to stop himself from hitting the ceiling. He drops down onto the back of the giant wolf, which immediately is doing its best to buck him off. Marco struggles to hold onto one leg with his left arm as he slashes at its hide with the other. His sword makes minimal headway through the thick layers of fur, and he continues to hack at it continually. With one last desperate swing, the sword cuts into its body, slicing through at least a few inches. When he tugs the blade back out, it shines with a familiar red tint. The wolf is bleeding.
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“The sword works!” Marco calls out. “We don’t need the silver, they’re still vulnerable.
A look of relief crosses over Emmitt’s face, but it is short-lived in the heat of battle. “Don’t kill him, we might be able to turn them back.”
Now in a greater state of rage, the wolf is writhing around to remove its attacker from its back, turning and trying to bite over its shoulder.
“I think we’re beyond that now.” Leylin slashes at the wolf as it charges towards them. The blades cut across the legs, drawing blood but doing little to slow it down.
“I’m serious, we don’t know how this works,” Emmitt yells. “We can’t just kill them if they’re still in their somewhere.”
Now hanging off of the side of the wolf, Marco shouts over as he continues to slash at its side. “That’s a beautiful sentiment.”
Emmitt sighs. It isn’t for very long he is able to maintain his humanitarian focus. The moose that was Edvard has finally forced its antlers through the door, snapping off the side of the frame, and is now charging towards him. Emmitt raises his invisible sword and shuffles his feet in preparation.
The moose struggles with its hooves on the hardwood, and quickly looses control of its momentum. As it clampers towards the back of the tavern, Alvyn starts to throw his bolas at the creature’s legs. Most of them bounce off the floor nearby, completely missing their target. Alvyn starts to back up behind the bar as the moose turns its attention towards him. “”
Emmitt takes several steps towards the creature, weapon raised, but is unable to make the attack against his former ally. Instead, after some hesitation, he raises his forearm up like a shield, and bashes the invisible shape upwards against the moose. It does little to shift its massive frame.
Undeterred by Emmitt’s attack, the moose continues its assault on Alvyn, jabbing its head into the bar. Alvyn stumbles back onto one of the barstools, grabbing on with one hand and flinging his final bola with the other. The bolas wrap around moose’s antlers and gets stuck. The only thing that actually slows the beast down is the invisible barrier that has formed halfway over the bar.
Still pushing his unseen shield against the body of the moose, Emmitt grabs another intangible object with his free hand. He swings this arm past the creature’s legs, and its shin is struck with blunt force. The front of the moose collapses to one side, and it swings its head back with a wild fury, antlers striking Emmitt’s invisible shield.
Emmitt steps back and points his open palms forward. The moose continues to charge towards him, but comes up against an invisible wall. Frustrated and confused, it turns to the side to go around, and finds that it cannot move in that direction either. Or any direction. Emmitt has it trapped in inside a cube of invisible walls.
“
“It requires some concentration.” Emmitt calls back. He keeps his eyes on the raving moose, slamming its head up against the invisible walls with little thought to the bleeding from its nose or the cracks in its antlers. Its eyes, still taken by the light of the moon, continue to glare at him with an indescribable determination.
“
Emmitt looks at Leylin with a hesitant look, then back to the moose, then over to the wolf, whom Marco has just jabbed in the side. The wolf in particular is looking very beaten and is bleeding from several locations.
With one last anxious glance over at the moose, Emmitt turns to face the front of the tavern, where the wolf is caught between Leylin on one side and Marco on the other. Taking a deep breath of the cold, evening air, he raises both hands towards the wolf. Then, something else happens.
“WHAT IN THE BLACK HELLS IS TAKING SO LONG? WHEN I SAID I WANTED YOU TO DIE SLOW I DIDN’T MEAN WE’D MAKE A WHOLE NIGHT OF IT.” Once again the voice of the moon reverberates throughout the whole building, overwhelming all other sensations with its omnipresent nature. “
Suddenly the tavern is shaking with a violent temper. Tables are overturned. Glasses fall from the shelves and shatter. Alvyn shields his eyes from the bits that land behind the bar beside him. The frame of the building creaks as it is strained against this force from above. Outside, there are flashes of red light that correspond to the worst of the tremors. With one last terrible shake, it all comes to a stop.
“SALT THE EARTH! DAMNED BUILDING.”
Emmitt, now lying on the ground, quickly pulls himself back to his feet and assesses the situation. The wolf has wasted no time in charging at Marco, who stays on the floor and kicks off against the wall to slide under the creature. It quickly turns to continue its assault. The moose, meanwhile, has broken free, and is already running towards Emmitt. The bolas dangle from its antlers as it jabs them forward. He reacts just in time to put up another barrier.
“THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN LAST TIME. I WAS SUPPOSED TO BLOW THE BUILDING DOWN. THIS IS ALL A MOUND OF SHIT!”
This time, Emmitt takes the offensive. He forms another invisible bat in one hand and swings it into the moose, over and over, as he maintains a shield with his other arm. Gradually, the moose starts to shuffle backwards. This continues until it reaches the door to the balcony, at which point it manages to hold its ground.
“On your right!” Leylin shouts.
Emmitt glances over his shoulder as Leylin runs up behind him. Without slowing down she leaps into the air and crashes into the moose. All three of them are sent flying opposite directions. Emmitt lands on the floor once again, his head pounding and an intense ringing in his ears. A small price to pay. The moose, completely launched into the air, smashes through both the doorframe and the railing of the balcony, rapidly tumbling down the hill towards the water.
Emmitt pulls himself to his feet, rubbing his temples and taking short, shallow breaths. He looks over the broken railing in amazement, still somewhat dazed. It is a moment before the ringing finally starts to fade. He looks to Leylin, who was much less affected. “Good job, Leylin.”
“Thank you. I’m pretty great.”
“Heads up!” Marco calls over as the wolf, limping from one leg, makes one last desperate clammer across the room.
The beast bolts past Emmitt and Leylin and into the bar area, trying to snatch up Alvyn in its snarling jaws. Alvyn, now hidden at the back of the bar, is using all of his strength to hold up the nearby barstool between himself and the enormous creature. “Gahhhhh!”
That is one word that they are all able to understand. Emmitt turns and raises a hand. The barstool splits apart and the lupine snout strikes against an invisible barrier. Unrelenting, it continues to swipe and bite at the gnome in front of it, unable to pass through.
“Alright I got it, I got it,” Emmitt says.
“Can he get out?” Leylin asks. “Alvyn, I mean. Can we get him out?”
Emmitt is not so sure. He walks up to the bar and leans over to investigate. As he does so, the wolf diverts its attention towards him and makes several snaps at his neck, all of which are unable to pass over the bar. Alvyn has been driven into the corner, the wolf’s head directly above him. There doesn’t seem to be any room to set him free. Not without freeing the wolf, that is.
“” Alvyn yells. “”
Emmitt’s expression gradually turns to somber remorse. He looks at the wolf that was Gotavv with a dazed look in his eyes. The ringing still echoes in his ears from before, and his head is still throbbing with pain.
“He’s stuck,” Emmitt says.
“”
The three of them exchange uncertain looks. Marco regards him with a tired look in his eyes, nodding his head.
“I think we need to do it,” Marco says.
Leylin nods. “He’s right.”
Emmitt nods his head, over and over, trying to reassure himself more than anyone. After a moment of delay, he raises both hands together like he’s holding a broadsword, and points it towards the wolf. As quickly as he can, he pushes his hands forward, and a wound opens through the wolf’s head. It slumps to the ground, dead.
