Gotavv’s estimation proves to be prescient. The last rays of sunlight are just starting to fade as they return to their original path. From there, they still have quite a distance to travel.
Evening turns to dusk, and they watch through the windows as the environment turns over into a new ecosystem. Reflective, cat-like eyes can be seen through the bushes. A breeze passes through the carriage, and this time it carries a legitimate chill.
Finally they arrive at a small tavern to the side of the path, at the very edge of a ridge overlooking the ocean. The carriage pulls to a stop. The sun is gone, and the stars are beginning to emerge. The light from the building is the primary source of visibility in the surrounding area. Emmitt looks up at the sky, trying to see if he can catch a glimpse of the moon. Right now it’s obscured behind a cluster of pine trees.
“Everyone stay back!”
A tall, gaunt man is standing on the balcony that surrounds the tavern, pointing an odd device. It looks like a crossbow, only the middle section is a large, thick tube. He holds the barrel directed at the group as they climb out of the carriage.
“Who are you? What is your business?”
Gotavv approaches with his hands in the air. “It’s us, Edvard.”
The man lowers the weapon and heaves an exasperated sigh. “Gotavv, you were supposed to do the signal.”
“I said it was us, is that not a signal?” Gotavv steps onto the balcony and gives Edvard a hearty slap on the back. He gestures for the others to follow him inside.
“Is Gabriel here?” Emmitt asks as they step through the massive doors. The tavern is a small, homely place, with a bar across the room and a balcony to the side overlooking the water. A fireplace illuminates the enclosed space, flickering across their faces.
“She left a few hours ago, after it became clear you weren’t going to arrive on time,” Edvard explains. “Travelled along the coast to see if she could find some weapons before sundown.
“That’s funny.” Leylin eyes the array of liquor bottles on the nearby shelf. “We have some silver weapons in the carriage right here.”
“I’m not sure that’s quite what she had in mind.” Edvard carefully places his bizarre weapon onto the bar nearby, as though it might explode. He carries over a small barrel and places it down on a table in the center of the room. The top of the barrel is a large dial, like a combination lock, which he turns while reading off of a piece of paper. With the final turn the top comes open, and he gestures to the others to take a look. “She did leave a few things behind, however.”
Alvyn is the first over, hopping off of a chair and pulling himself onto the table. He reaches into the barrel and pulls out a large, crimson-colored book labeled . “”
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“No idea, buddy.” Leylin peers over him to see into the barrel. Several small pots with tufts of fabric sticking out are lying next to a crossbow with a grappling hook for an arrowhead, which is attached to a series of ropes and levers on the device. A folded-up map is tucked to one side. A larger scroll is tucked into the other, squished up against the crossbow. Leylin removes several fireworks from the container and examines them with fascination.
As the rest of them examine the items that Gabriel has left behind, Gotavv and Edvard step onto the balcony and look up at the sky. The area is now illuminated with the full glow of the moon, seemingly appearing all at once. The two of them exchange a look. Something is off, but neither can quite describe why.
Inside, Emmitt unties the scroll in the barrel and reads the message aloud.
“Skarann?” Marco asks.
“Alvyn says.”
The humans all give him blank looks, unable to understand. Frustrated, Alvyn waves the book in his hands, indicating for someone to take it. Leylin reaches over to take it.
“”
“Alright, alright, let’s take a look.” She flips through the pages to where the bound bookmark has been placed. One of the sections is encircled in ink.
Skarann
Minor god of lycanthropy and wild savagery. Preaches hatred of civilization and a return to a more violent and chaotic world. Though some have described him as a large, shadowy beast, there is no recorded confirmation that this is true. Natives to the region of Skaoin (comprised largely of the Republic of Copenholm and the Kingdom of Finmark) believe that Skarann is more of an all-seeing force of nature, and that anything touched by the moonlight falls under his watchful eye. This view often harkens back to the tale of the endless night, a time of indefinite darkness directly preceding the earliest known historical records in the region.
Leylin’s expression grows increasingly concerned as she reaches the end of the paragraph. She glances up to Emmitt and Marco with a hesitant look. They are focused elsewhere, now facing the balcony outside. Something is happening with the moonlight.
The vast array of stars is shifting around in one coherent motion, like an embroidered curtain pulled across a ceiling. As the sky shifts, the bright, full moon takes is place above the tavern. Gotavv and Edvard stand rooted in place, staring up in wonder at the image above. It greets them with a pale, sickly glow, lighting up both of their faces.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Gotavv says.
Then, laughter. A booming, earth-shaking laugh that seems to be coming from everywhere at once. Slowly, the moon begins to turn, revealing a twisted visage. Two humanoid eyes fit behind eyelids carved out of rock, and a wide, grinning mouth opens into a dark abyss. It smiles down at them with a cruel, gleeful nature. “ALRIGHT YOU LITTLE SHITS, WHO’S READY TO HAVE SOME FUN?”
Edvard and Gotavv begin to transform.
