# Curse of Darkness III - An Italian Interlude



## Greenfield (May 8, 2012)

This was the tale of a short side trip in our adventures.  The next scheduled DM wasn't quite ready, and it was Halloween time, so this is what happened...

*******  
 "Excuse me,", asked the young lad in the bright red shirt, "I'm told that Vicomus Nedel is staying here?"

"I'm here.", answered Nedel, beckoning the boy over to the companions' table.

"Ah, excellent.", said the boy with a smile. "I bear a message from your father.", he explained, holding up a folded packet of parchment.

"How did he know I was here?", asked the Sorcerer. 

"He didn't.", the boy laughed. "He sent messages with many of the travelers, hoping one of our troops would find you." And without waiting for a reply, or even a bit of silver, he dashed away with the abandon that only children seem to have.

Nedel opened the package and found two letters inside. "The first is from my father, wondering why I haven't returned from the Olympics. He's worried." Nedel continued to read the rest, apparently private matters. He glanced at the second note, as well, then folded them both away, to be replied to later.

"Well, I think we have to reconsider our plans to spend the winter here.", Penn said, raising an uncomfortable subject. "Our bill at the inn is paid through the end of the week, courtesy of our sponsor. After that we're on our own, and frankly speaking I can't afford to live here for that long. It's a nice city, but it's expensive. Besides, I did promise that Seeburn would be leaving town."

"Can't afford to stay?", Apellenea asked in surprise. "We just got paid, how can you be that hard off?"

"Well, we did hire a certain sage to research the book.", the Half-Satyr began. "She has to be paid. Then there's a young lady who helped us find the book. I promised her payment as well, a fair dowry. So I'm planning on working the harvest festival over the next few days, to raise some traveling money, then perhaps heading south. Or north. Maybe east."

"Okay, we get the picture. There's an angry father or boyfriend after you."

"Not yet, but I'm hoping.", the Bard laughed.
***
The harvest festival was an annual event, a time for both business and pleasure, as farmers and merchants haggled over grain prices and people helped crush grapes to make the winter wines. 

Recent news had the farmers grumbling, for though their harvests had been a bit thin, they'd expected the shortage to raise prices. Instead word had arrived that a Roman emissary had secured an arrangement with Egypt, and that grain would be imported from there.

Still, the city commons were festooned with pennants and the sound of music and the aromas of good food promised fun and frolic for all.

At one end the caravan wagons of the Gypsies were pulled into a half circle, cupping an open area where girls danced on stage, jugglers played with fire, fortunes were told and curiously strong drink could be had.

Cassius decided to try and see what his future would hold, so he visited the small tent where an old woman sat behind a table, cards and rune-stones ready at hand.

"How much does it cost?", he asked, keeping his hand on his purse, for he knew the reputation of these people.

"You pay whatever you think it's worth.", the woman countered, as if money were of no importance. "I will take no gold though. Cross my palm with silver only, for the moon metal is long the friend of the Gypsy."

Cassius smiled, catching the old woman's meaning. She wasn't worried about gold, she just didn't want coppers. The silver coin rang as it bounced on the table, and he took his place.

"What would you know, the past, the present or the future?", she asked, "for all can be known."

"Tell me of my present, what's going on right now?"

She drew a handful of stones from the bowl and cast them onto the table.

"You are a man with enemies.", she began, indicating two of the stones. "Two men are angry with you, but they do not work together." She made a show of examining the remaining stones before she spoke again. "You also have friends, one of whom is not known to you, and they work to protect you.", she declared, indicating three more of the runes. "You should avoid sea travel, for on a ship there is no way to avoid these enemies." She paused and considered carefully before adding, "Avoid sea travel for the next four moons, and you will avoid this trouble."

She swept up the stones and returned them to the painted bowl, then sat up with an air of finality. The reading was finished.

Just outside the tent flap, Marcus smiled to himself. Cassius was a soldier and dressed like one. Anyone could tell he had enemies. The fact that he was still alive meant that he had friends, and nobody should travel by sea during the winter storm season. Yet the woman had carried it off well, and the southern warrior left the tent satisfied with what he had learned.

Marcus decided to enter the tent himself..

"I know that the gods give no predictions these days.", he said, tapping his own holy symbol for emphasis. "How can you see what the gods cannot?"

"I ask no gods, friend.", the woman cackled, flashing a gap-toothed grin. "The runes and the cards ask the fates, and your life was mapped in your palm long before the gods went silent. Sit, and I'll show you."

A handful of silver coins sang as they bounced on the table, and the woman smiled, leaving them where they lay. She reached for her cards, shuffling them with practiced ease.

"Cut the cards, please.", she instructed, nudging the deck towards Marcus.

He did, and she spread the lower half before him. "Those who seek to find the future must first find themselves.", she said, instructing him to draw a card.

He drew the Knave of Staves, and she swept up the rest of the cards and began to deal.

The first card she turned up was Death, but she quickly assured him that this meant change, not necessarily actual death, though she looked troubled.

Backing that card came the Moon, which made her frown. "Serious events will happen before the next full moon.", she said, still worried.

"That's tomorrow night.", Marcus pointed out. 

"Yes, so you must act quickly if you are to prevail." Then she reached to the other side of the spread and turned up a card there. It was the Knave of Swords, backed by Destruction. "You have an adversary, a rival who seeks chaos and destruction. A man who is your equal in many ways."

She turned more cards. "You know him, you've met him, but the destruction he seeks is not yours." 

More cards were exposed, and she continued. "You have both traveled by sea to reach this place, and he is close to you, closer than you think."

She sat back, all the cards in her pattern now turned up. "The cards don't tell me who prevails, but the conflict is nigh, and you had best move with both haste and care."

Marcus, to his surprise, found that he believed what the woman was saying.
***
Seeburn leaned against a tree, sipping his beer. He had two small casks of the brew loaded onto his mule, but he planned to make the current one last.

Not far away the lights of the festival set the evening sky aglow, but he made no move to join the festivities. The last thing he needed was to draw the ire of a magistrate.

"Friend?", asked a boy in a colorful shirt. "You are a companion of Vicomus Nedel? I saw you with him this morning."

Seeburn recognized the message runner and nodded pleasantly, but made no effort to rise.

"If you want to join the festival, you could keep your beast with ours.", the boy offered. "I'm on guard tonight, and a friend of Nedel's is a friend of ours."

"Thanks, but what I need right now is to use those bushes over there.", he explained, as he felt nature's call. He rose, drained the last dregs from his tankard, handed the mule's reins to the lad and set off.

Several minutes later he was stretching his legs, walking the perimeter of the Gypsy camp, when he saw something disturbing. A foot protruded from underneath a wagon skirt. A foot that had blood on it, and that didn't move.

He looked around, then headed back to the paddock where he had left the boy. His mule was there, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. Fretting, he headed towards the stage, looking for someone to tell.

Another Gypsy boy came between the wagons, headed for those same bushes Seeburn had used earlier, and the highlander called to him. 

"Here's a silver piece.", he began, which instantly got the boy's attention. "I need you to go to the stage and tell the Satyr there that he's needed here. I found a body."

"A body?", the boy asked in confusion.

"A dead body.", Seeburn emphasized. "I can't be involved, the magistrate will have my head if he even sees me."

Seeburn lead the boy to his discovery, and the lad lifted the canvas skirting to see. He paled, and fled to deliver the message as requested. Then he ran around the outside of the camp, headed for the tent at the far end.


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## Greenfield (May 8, 2012)

Marcus and the fortune teller were just finishing their discussion when a small boy came in, hopping up and down in fear and excitement. 

"What is it child?", she asked, waving him forward.  

Marcus strained to hear what the lad whispered, and caught a few troubling words. 

"Is something wrong?", he asked, concerned.  

"Oh, one of the children of the camp has gotten into some trouble. We'll take care of it." 

"I heard the word, 'Dead'.", Marcus countered pointedly.  

"We do not involve outsiders.", she replied stiffly. "We handle such matters ourselves." 

"I may already be involved.", Marcus said, tapping the cards which spoke of sudden, chaotic events involving him. "And I know how to keep my mouth shut."  
 ***
The companions' presence drew unhappy looks from the gathered Gypsies. Magda had sent the word to gather the traveling folk and see if anyone else was missing, and the presence of the outsiders was clearly unwelcome.

"They are here as friends.", the old woman pronounced firmly. "They are friends of our friend, Nedel, and they are already involved. The cards said so.", she added, as if that was the final word on the matter. 

"Bela, your grandson, is missing, and Charis is dead.", one of the men said, after finishing the head count. 

"The murderer must have left a trail.", Sylus suggested. "I'm a skilled tracker, perhaps we can find him. But the longer we wait..." 

"We also have good trackers.", Magda said, "But your aid is welcome. Theobold, bring your friend. We have need of him tonight." 


 ***
"Poor lad. Someone hit him hard, nearly took his head off.", Marcus said, as he examined the body.

"I'm not so sure.", Apellenea said thoughtfully. "See how the skin is cut here", she said, indicating the edge of the wound. "The blade was being drawn back sharply, not swung heavily. This was a Rogue's strike, a sharp blade slicing the right side of the neck, starting at the throat."

Marcus pursed his lips in dismay. Not merely because he had misread the wound, but because he was beginning to think he really did know the killer.

Theobold arrived then, a burly man with pock-marked skin and a long scar on one side of his face. Accompanying him was a large brown dog, sharp of face and eye. The dog sniffed the area, but too many people had passed through. 

"Bring me something of Bela's.", Theobold ordered. "If they took him with them, then his scent will work."

This was done, and the dog was off, nose in the air.

"That isn't a dog, is it?", asked Seeburn quietly.

"Brown wolf.", Apellenea confirmed. "But if they want to keep wolves as friends, I'm not in a position to complain."

The wolf lead them around to the right and into the camp itself. The trail went beneath the low stage, then wove out to the festival area outside the Gypsy camp. After that the scent trail was lost.

"Scour the streets!", Magda commanded. "Work in pairs and watch each others back, but find him."

Clothes were quickly found for Seeburn, who didn't want to be recognized in town, and he joined the search as well.

"We should tell the guard.", Cassius suggested.

"No!", Magda replied sharply. "We do not involve outsiders. We have nothing but trouble from them. These were our people taken and killed, their attackers will face our justice."
***
The Gypsies wandered the city through the night, always in pairs. If asked, sometimes they would tell fortunes, sometimes they said they were looking for an address, or a lost dog, but they went everywhere.

Sometime around midnight the word filtered back that Bela had been found. He was hurt, and appeared to have been beaten, but he was alive.

Quickly the travelers returned to their camp, where the unconscious boy lay resting.

"Who could have done this?", demanded Theo.

"Let us simply thank the stars that he's alive.", responded Magda. "Vengeance will not bring Charis back. If we find the murderer he will be dealt with, but we will not bring more trouble upon our people."

"We could ask the boy.", suggested Marcus. "Let me try to wake him."

"_Vitai_", he murmured softly, invoking the blessings of his father. The boy began to stir, and a moment later his eyes opened.

He looked around, frightened. "Who are you?", he demanded, alarmed at seeing a stranger's face over him.

"Be at peace, Bela.", interjected Magda. "He is a friend, a healer. I know you still need rest, but can you tell us what happened?"

"I was taken, a bag over my head.", he began. "They drugged me with something, then they beat me. I... ", he looked at the outsiders, suddenly afraid again.

"It's all right child.", assured Magda. "These are friends of Nedel, whose family has always been a friend of our people."

The boy still looked unsure, but continued. "I lost control somehow. I fought back. I think I bit someone."

A murmur of shock rolled through the gathered Gypsies, and Magda paled.

"The moon gift runs strong in our bloodline", she explained. "But when blood is shed, that gift can be passed to others as a curse. We need to find this person."

"What does that mean?", Cassius asked, confused.

"It means that they have werewolves in the family, and that the kid shouldn't have bitten anyone.", came the short answer.

"They forced the change.", the boy cried. "I didn't want to, but it's so close to the full moon, and the drug..."

"It's all right. Can you tell us who did this to you?"

"They called him Partha.  Or was it Parthenos?", the boy said, struggling to recall the memories of the wolf. "But that's not a name. It just means that he's from Athens."

Now it was Marcus turn to pale, for now he knew who this was. A certain street thief, one who had been all too ready to help start a civil war. One who had been far too good at his job for just a street thief.

"Do you remember where they took you?", Theo asked urgently.

"I remember where I escaped from.", the boy replied. "I think they were planning to kill me."
***
"It was this way.", Bela said, turning left at the end of an alley. The gypsies followed, along with the companions, as he lead them through the streets of a lower class neighborhood. He paused at times, trying to get his bearings in the dark, but ultimately directed them to a small house packed among other small houses. One window remained unshuttered, small, but enough for a wiry child to worm through.

The back door proved to be unlocked, and they entered.

Within they found a small room, with the rest of the house beyond. There was a smear of blood on the floor.

"This was the place.", the boy confirmed. "This was where they beat me until I fought back."

Penn picked up a small flask that had been cast aside and sniffed at the unstoppered opening. "I know this drug. Favored among the Vandals, it gives fury in battle. They call it the Red Rage."

"Check the rest of the house.", Nedel suggested. And quickly, they did.

"There's a body in here.", Cassius called as he checked the first bedroom. "Stuffed under the bed, throat cut like the other."

"Another one in here.", Seeburn added sadly. "A child, stabbed as he slept."

"Now we tell the guard.", said Cassius firmly. "It's outside of your family now, and they need to be told."

The Gypsies looked at each other, then nodded. "But we shouldn't be here when they arrive.", said Theobold firmly. "They will blame us. They always do."

"I shouldn't be here either.", Seeburn added, remembering his run in with the magistrate.

And quickly, quietly, they left.


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## Greenfield (May 8, 2012)

***
"This house? Are you sure?", asked the guard. "Antonio the Baker lives here. You won't find a more honest, harder working man in the city. Who could have wanted to kill him?"

"It wasn't him.", Cassius explained. "We found a woman and a child, but no man." 

"And what were you doing in his house in the dark of the night?", asked the second guard, suddenly suspicious.  

Sylus and Euphemia smiled at each other and quietly slid out the back door. This was a matter for others to explain. 
*** 
"Will this help?", Seeburn asked, looking at the potion Penn supplied.

"If he takes it before the first full moon, it will stop the change.", the Fey assured his friend. "Of course, Wolfsbane is a poison, so it might kill him too, so be careful with it." 

"If you don't find him before moonrise, it will be much more difficult.", Magda cautioned. "And if he tastes heart's blood he may be beyond hope. The curse could be with him forever." 

Seeburn nodded his understanding. Once the man had changed one time, it would take the intervention of the church, and a lot of luck, to save the man. 

Parthas' plan had become evident. He'd hoped to spread a plague of lycanthropy through the city, with the wolf leaving a trail of carnage behind him every full moon. Most would die, but even those who survived would simply spread the curse with the next cycle of the moon. And the ones responsible would awaken the next morning, dirty and exhausted, but unaware that they were the ones responsible. 

They had to stop this. But time was definitely not on their side. 

***  
"Okay, one more time. What were you doing in Antonio's house, and what's your connection to the Gypsies?", repeated the sergeant of the guard.

"We found a Gypsy boy who had been kidnapped, and backtracked him to the house he escaped from.", Marcus responded. "They boy had been beaten, and collapsed from exhaustion after escaping." 

"So it was the boy who killed Antonio's family?", demanded the officer. "That seems unlikely. He had to have had help." 

The other constable finished rifling through a stack of papers. "This other person you mentioned, the Athenian? The only thing we have on him is a report that he supposedly hired the assassins who tried to kill General Calvinus. No name, but a report of an associate named Marcus who apparently worked with him. He's missing as well. For all we know this 'Marcus' may be the Athenian." 

Marcus head dropped to his hands, and he nearly sobbed with frustration. 

"Can I go now?", he asked quietly, his head aching with a pain no Cure spell could banish. 

"Yes, but stay where we can reach you. Where are you lodging?", asked the guard. 

"Um, the, um, Johnson's place, by the river.", Marcus sputtered, desperately trying to come up with a name. 

"Uh, huh. Yeah, well, stay where we can reach you, Citizen...?" 

"Gaius.", Marcus answered, completing the constable's sentence for him. Under the circumstances his second name seemed best. 
*** 
Seeburn and Penn had finished their discussion and stepped outside the small tent just in time to see a dejected Marcus trudging back to the camp.

"We need to get out of this city, as soon as possible.", the Cleric said in defeat.  

"Who's your friend?", Seeburn asked by way of reply, pointing behind the Jovian priest. 

Marcus turned just in time to see one of the constables he'd been talking to ducking behind a wagon. 

"Oh great, that's all we need.", he groaned. "Now they think I'm with the Gypsies. As soon as this mess is sorted out, we're leaving." 
*** 
It had taken several hours, but Cassius and Euphemia had located the bakery where Antonio worked. Everyone knew and liked the man, but they were wary of strangers.

The inside was piled high with baked goods, and Antonio could be seen puttering about, cleaning up from the morning's work. 

"Is it my imagination, or is that man favoring his left side?", Euphemia asked quietly. 

"Yeah, almost like he got bitten there.", Cassius agreed. Together they entered. 

"Are you Antonio the Baker?", Euphemia asked. 

"Why yes, little girl... Oh, I'm sorry, we don't see many of your people in here.", the man said, quickly catching his own mistake. 

"What happened to your side? You seem to be hurt.", she asked, feigning concern. 

"Oh, I must have scraped myself. It's nothing.", he laughed, brushing off her inquiry. 

"Has anyone told you about your family?", Cassius asked. 

"What about them?", the baker countered as he re-stoked the fires of his oven. 

"They were killed last night.", the warrior stated bluntly. "Your wife and daughter are dead." 

"That's impossible.", said the man, suddenly upset. "I don't have a daughter. You must be talking about someone else." 

Euphemia wanted to kick the southerner for his clumsy tongue. He'd only heard that a child was killed, and had neither asked nor checked if ti was a boy or girl. 

"When did you last see them?", she asked. 

"Why, I saw them... I saw them...", he muttered, his eyes going glassy as he realized something was wrong with him. "I came home from work last night, had my supper, then... I was here this morning, making the bread. And where is little Anthony? He should be here to deliver the bread. " 

"I'm sorry, but you were drugged, and bitten by a werewolf. Your family is dead." 

"No! You're wrong!", the man insisted, raising his voice and growing more upset by the moment. "Get out of my shop! Get out!", he began to shout. He seized a long curving knife from the board and advanced, springing over the counter with a surprising lightness. "Get out! Get out!", he roared, the madness in his eyes growing with each second. 

Cassius tried to contain the man, but suddenly found himself staring at his own blood on the baker's knife. Antonio had buried it to the hilt in the warrior's side. 

Euphemia backed out of the cramped space so her larger companion could maneuver, and began to do something she never thought she would have to do. She began to call for the guard. 

Cassius blade swung free in an instant, the instinct for survival driving his actions. At the last moment he twisted the blade, so the baker was struck with the flat of it. He wasn't trying to kill the man, and the blow he delivered would fell most men instantly. 

But the maddened shopworker was barely affected by the blow, and swung his own blade again, leaving a long bloody slice in the warrior's midsection. 

Cassius swung again, harder, and was again rewarded with the shock of a solid blow, but again the baker shrugged it off. Cassius could see the purple bruise on the man's head, and he watched it fade almost instantly. He realized that he was indeed facing a werewolf, and that he was far more evenly matched than he had thought. 

He tried to grapple with the man, to wrestle him to the floor, but was driven back by the flashing, slashing blade of the baker. He began to back away. 

By this time others were arriving. Sylus had finally convinced one of the constables to take him to the baker's shop, and the pair had heard Euphemia's cries for help. 

He and the guard rushed past the crowd of onlookers and tried to deal with the man, but the baker was beyond reason. He kept screaming for them to leave his shop and bellowing for the guard, even though all were outside, and there was a member of the guard at hand.  

The constable raised his truncheon and delivered a sharp crack to the back of Antonio's skull, a blow that had stopped many a rowdy, but the impact barely registered and the enraged baker spun in a quick circle, driving everyone away with his long, slashing knife. 

Euphemia took advantage of the moment and slid her own light sword up under the man's guard, twisting the blade as she did. The sight of blood was oddly gratifying, for it meant that the madman could be hurt. 

The guard timed his next move well, waiting for the baker to turn back towards the Halfling, then pouncing on his back. He grappled with the baker, pinning his right arm and bringing them down in a tangle of arms and feet. 

Cassius, though sorely wounded, jumped in as well, pinning the man's wildly kicking legs, and Sylus moved quickly to wrest the knife from his grip. Euphemia had a short cord in her hands and deftly bound his feet. 

And it was over. Antonio lay sobbing on the ground as his arms were secured, and he was carried off to the nearest Hall of the Watch.


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## Greenfield (May 8, 2012)

*** 
"Trouble coming.", Sylus called as he moved to where he'd left his gear, behind the wagons.

There was a quick scramble among the celebrants as they made way for the angry mob. 

"Murderers!", came the cry from amid the torch bearers. 

"They killed Antonio!", came another voice. 

Seeburn stepped to a place behind the stage, bow in hand. Sylus took the other side of the stage, similarly armed, as Magda stepped up into the torchlight. 

"Who dares accuse me of murder?", she began. "You know it well, for you have murder in your own hearts, even now." She continued, and amazingly, the crowd stopped to listen. Even their dour leader was enthralled by the old woman's tirade. She called, she bullied, she lambasted them for the violence they bore with them, and they listened and took it all in. 

Cassius strode forward to a point in front of the stage and planted his sword in the ground, a stern warning to any who would try to reach the old woman. But then he felt her words penetrating his resolve, and he found himself half turned so he could listen better. 

Marcus went to the man at the mob's head, the preacher with the empty hourglass, to warn him off, but he too found himself caught up in Magda's words. 

About the camp Gypsies were moving, buckets in hand, soaking as many of the tents and wagons as they could while the old fortune teller kept the mob entranced. She couldn't hold the crowd forever, but they could make good use of whatever time she could buy. 

Nedel and Penn stood to the side, ready to play their part should an opportunity arise. 

"I've never seen anyone hold a crowd like that.", Nedel remarked. 

"I have.", the Half Satyr replied. "It's a spell, usually used by preachers. They'll keep listening so long as she keeps talking. She won't change their minds much, but she can buy time." 

Then Sylus made a decision. He changed arrows, selecting one with a blunt arrowhead of hard gum, then fired at the mob's leader, striking him squarely in the head. 

The man dropped like a sack, but the act of violence had broken the crowd's reverie, ending the extended moment of inaction. 

Marcus recovered quickly. "Penn, I need another bucket!', he called." 

The Bard moved quickly and took a bucket of water from one of the Gypsies. A sip from a flask and a few chanted words, and he was ready. 

Marcus moved to him and took the bucket, even as the crowd was still shaking off the effects of Magda's speech. A quick spin, a broad splash, and the camp's central fire became a towering pillar of flame. 

"Jupiter, king of the gods, is unhappy with you!", the Cleric thundered, suddenly in his element. "You pursue emptiness and hopelessness, and that is all you find. And tonight you come here, with that emptiness in your hearts, seeking to spread that moral vacuum to others, when you should be at the temples praying for the gods to fill your hearts with hope once more." 

As he went on, the words sprang fresh from his lips and found a place in the minds of the disheartened. The flames roared and danced at his back, and the crowd stood stunned before him. And from someplace, the songs of the heavens could be heard, an angelic chorus, faint and distant, but definitely there, lending power to the Jovian's words. 

And in the shadows an Athenian assassin cursed, then turned and fled. 
*** 
"That was a nice touch, adding the Celestial choir.", Penn laughed.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time.", Nedel agreed. "I was just hoping I didn't over do it. The spell is a minor one, and can't get very loud, so I had to make them sound distant. And so long as I didn't try to make them sing any actual words, I could get away with it." 

"Well, give credit where it's due.", Seeburn chuckled. "When it comes to preaching a sermon, Marcus really delivered. I didn't know he had it in him. Bet the Temples are busy tonight." 

Marcus smiled at the kind words. "I'm worried about Partha. He's still here, and he's still going to cause trouble." 

"Yes, but with the Gypsies gone, he won't be able to pursue that plan again.", Apellenea noted. "And we have to leave as well, so we can't go after him. But now we know he's out there, and next time we'll know to go looking for the cause, instead of just dealing with the problem." 
(finis)


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## Greenfield (May 8, 2012)

*Epilogue*

Yes, I know that Lycanthropy doesn't work that way.  An infected person can't spread the curse.

The characters, however, didn't know that, and neither did the bad guys.  

We also allowed the _Enthrall_ spell to be semi-directional, which it normally isn't.  So sue me.

The fortune telling scene should have given the players an important clue:  The deities of the world can't see the future, but Clerics (and Adepts, in this case) don't actually have to worship a deity.  They can be followers of a philosophy, and thus gain divine spells without actually depending on a divinity as a source of power or guidance.

In short, I gave them a short cut around the limitation on Divination spells in our campaign.  They didn't even notice, nor take any advantage.

As a Halloween adventure it ran pretty well.  I reversed the classic Werewolf story.  In this one Bela the Gypsy wasn't the adult Werewolf, out of control, who infected Lawrence Talbot.  In this version he was the boy, and relatively speaking the victim of the tale.

A fun twist, and one I hope you enjoyed.


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