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6/10/2025, 10:10:06 AM
>> “Let us observe, then. Nothing rash. If they’re a small group, we may be able to drive them off with no harm either way. If not small, well…” [Wit, 5d6]
Success!
Nobody contests the plan and you feel some validation from Herlu - whether it’s because of your measured logic, or the fact that a bit of blooding isn’t yet off the table, you can’t tell.
You spend the next several days watching from the rocky slopes above the iron vein, our of sight from the den and in a position where you’re hopefully any fire smoke you make will drift up into the mountains and now down to the den. The wolves below go about their patterns with little concern for your presence, though you are sure they know you’re near.
They are not a vast pack.
Eight wolves in all, as best as you can tell. Five grown, including a large matriarch with a very grey snout, and three long-legged pups who wrestle and whine just outside the den's shadow. They barely approach the iron cleft at all, and only on the first day do they linger there for long enough to pick up your scent. Gyda, ever watchful, muses that the smell of your party alone might have put the fright into the beasts. They are cautious in everything they do.
Around the fire one evening, after a long reflective silence, Herlu speaks his mind in a low tone, having clearly dwelled on the thought for some time. “We could strike now. Take the fight to them while they’re not expecting it. Or drive them off with fire, smoke them out. They’ll not want to face flame, especially with pups.”
Gyda frowns at this. “We don’t need to kill unless we must. They’re as much a part of this wild as we are, and they haven't done us harm yet. If we watch a little longer, time may push them off on its own. Hunger will bite harder than our blades, and if those pups are growing fast then the whole pack might want to migrate somewhere else soon.”
You weigh their words as the night grows still. Nobody else says a word. You feel the rest of the band’s eyes resting on you, probing for some indication of what the right choice is.
>> “We strike at dawn. Better now than when the pups grow strong.” You’ll spend the rest of the evening discussing with Herlu the best way to rid yourselves of the beasts with minimal wounds. [Vigor, 4d6]
>> “Smoke and fire will move them along.” You gather the group together and begin planning to ambush the creatures with flames in the early hours, to ward them off. [Mind, 3d6]
>> “We wait. However long it takes.” You send one of the group back to town to report the news, and settle in the observe the den for a few more days - or weeks. Maybe they’ll move along on their own. [Mind, 3d6]
>> “We build a false trail tomorrow with lures and fresh meat. Then we destroy the den. Leave them with no choice but toleave this place.” You set about a large hunt in the morning to gather meat enough to lure the wolves away. [Vigor, 4d6]
Success!
Nobody contests the plan and you feel some validation from Herlu - whether it’s because of your measured logic, or the fact that a bit of blooding isn’t yet off the table, you can’t tell.
You spend the next several days watching from the rocky slopes above the iron vein, our of sight from the den and in a position where you’re hopefully any fire smoke you make will drift up into the mountains and now down to the den. The wolves below go about their patterns with little concern for your presence, though you are sure they know you’re near.
They are not a vast pack.
Eight wolves in all, as best as you can tell. Five grown, including a large matriarch with a very grey snout, and three long-legged pups who wrestle and whine just outside the den's shadow. They barely approach the iron cleft at all, and only on the first day do they linger there for long enough to pick up your scent. Gyda, ever watchful, muses that the smell of your party alone might have put the fright into the beasts. They are cautious in everything they do.
Around the fire one evening, after a long reflective silence, Herlu speaks his mind in a low tone, having clearly dwelled on the thought for some time. “We could strike now. Take the fight to them while they’re not expecting it. Or drive them off with fire, smoke them out. They’ll not want to face flame, especially with pups.”
Gyda frowns at this. “We don’t need to kill unless we must. They’re as much a part of this wild as we are, and they haven't done us harm yet. If we watch a little longer, time may push them off on its own. Hunger will bite harder than our blades, and if those pups are growing fast then the whole pack might want to migrate somewhere else soon.”
You weigh their words as the night grows still. Nobody else says a word. You feel the rest of the band’s eyes resting on you, probing for some indication of what the right choice is.
>> “We strike at dawn. Better now than when the pups grow strong.” You’ll spend the rest of the evening discussing with Herlu the best way to rid yourselves of the beasts with minimal wounds. [Vigor, 4d6]
>> “Smoke and fire will move them along.” You gather the group together and begin planning to ambush the creatures with flames in the early hours, to ward them off. [Mind, 3d6]
>> “We wait. However long it takes.” You send one of the group back to town to report the news, and settle in the observe the den for a few more days - or weeks. Maybe they’ll move along on their own. [Mind, 3d6]
>> “We build a false trail tomorrow with lures and fresh meat. Then we destroy the den. Leave them with no choice but toleave this place.” You set about a large hunt in the morning to gather meat enough to lure the wolves away. [Vigor, 4d6]
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