RP:'Ware the Werebear

Part of the Something Wicked Arc

Summary: The great bear hunt continues! After recovering from their encounter with the ice trolls, Orikahn and Encara set out to resume their hunt, accompanied by fellow hunter and vixen, Aira. They retrace their steps, eventually coming upon a site of wanton destruction: a logger's camp in ruins and the woodsmen slaughtered in a gory bloodbath. On his dying breath, Aslfur, a victim of the attack and the one who posted the bounty for the bear, mentions the name of a solitary hunter to Encara... and the trio discover a trail of bear prints leading towards his isolated cabin.

Hunter's Lodge

Encara has largely kept to herself over the past few days… as much as one can in the lodge's single shared space, at any rate. The lack of privacy is something the solitary drow is neither entirely used to or comfortable with, and she's complained about it repeatedly; "Why couldn't you have built a mezzanine? Then I could sleep up there away from you two," is apparently one of her favourite gripes. At least with her leg on the mend, Encara has begun spending more time away from the outpost during the day, meaning Orikahn and Aira have only had to put up with her presence at night. Even then, she's hardly the most talkative of sorts, and has shared little of herself or the strange, tiny drider living in her satchel to the two hunters (Khova's been kept particularly close, as though Encara fears someone might try to squash him). Today, the drow awoke to find herself alone and has taken advantage of the peace and quiet to tend to her bow, making necessary repairs and sharpening the blades embedded into each of its long limbs. Khova is spinning a silvery web up in the eaves above her head, but Encara pays him no mind. Her motions are practiced, automatic, as she glides the whet stone smoothly along the metal, her expression darkened by a storm-cloud frown, scarlet eyes sharp as knives. She stares across the room without seeing - clearly, her thoughts are elsewhere.

Aira is not the most patient of creatures on her best days and she makes no attempt to hide her hostility towards the (perceived) unappreciative drow during her stay. Still they were meant to carry on a hunt and Aira wouldn’t give up on that, although truthfully she’d rather go it alone with the prime hunter. Still, last night’s incessant complaint about the lodge not having a mezzanine has prickled the huntress greatly. “Are you absolutely sure I can’t shoot her?” She asks Orikahn with a scowl as the pair make preparations outside, the vixen pulling jerky out of the smoker and helping herself to a strip while packing up the others. “If I have to hear her complain one more time about how the lodge isn’t up to her liking I’m going to do it, Kahn, I swear it,” she tells the feline with a huff, yanking off a piece of the jerky with her teeth.

Orikahn idly chaws a lump of moss as he works, carving a cured frostmare flank into strips and racking them for another round of smoke, eager to replenish the jerky they're taking along today. It's good to be up and moving again. Rest had made Kahn antsy, and he's eager to work any lingering soreness out of his shoulder and his calf. All things considered, the cat's quick to heal and should count himself lucky; troll bites are nothing to laugh about. As for mezzanines? Kahn's remained prudently silent and let Aira do the scowling for both of them. Strange guests don't need places to hide and sneak about, and secrets breed mistrust. Kahn keeps these reasons to himself and has indicated no plan whatsoever for changing the lodge's open interior. Food, grog, and a healthy berth will have to be enough. "If you shoot her, you have to eat her." Kahn wrestles with the springy jerky rack and manages, by some unseen grace, to get it into the smoker. "Hmph. She's dead set on this bear, and if we bring it in, well," the cat wipes his hands on his sleeves and licks his chops, "that's grease for a year. Between you and me, I hope that giant's already killed and dressed it. He'll be an easier kill than the bear, and we'll have none of the work. Just let the darkling lead the way." She's tracked it this far, after all. Finished with his outdoor chores, Orikahn doesn't waste much time getting back inside the lodge. "We're well off," he greets Encara abruptly, slipping inside and taking his bow down off the wall, "about to strike out."

Encara is oblivious to the talk outside, still lost in contemplative silence, her thoughts flowing to the unconscious rhythm of whet stone skating over metal. None of it sits right with her, even now. For days the image of that patch of churned snow has lingered at the forefront of the drow's mind - her dagger torn out and discarded, a bear's footprints leading in, yet only a man's leaving. No further trace of the bear could be found from there; no blood on the ground, no hair caught on branches, nothing. Orikahn thinks it dead but Encara remains unconvinced. Call her suspicious, but she won't rest until she sees the beast's lifeless body with her own two eyes or brings it down herself. "Hmph." She's snapped back to reality when Orikahn enters the lodge, the feline earning himself a brief glare before Encara pushes herself to her feet, dropping the stone and slinging her bow over her back. "Then let's go." Without a glance back, the drow stalks out into the cold, leaving Khova to spin his webs in the warmth, alone.

Aira arches her brow at Kahn, and scoffs. “Do you think I’m above it?” She asks the feline with a smirk. “Think about who my main influence has been these past few years.” Aira pushes herself away from the smoker, gnawing on her strip of jerky before she trudges along after Kahn and back into the lodge. She grabs her bag from the corner without glancing Encara’s way, and does a mental inventory of her items inside and tying it shut once more. She slips her own bow off the wall and pulls it over her body while slinging the bag and quiver alike on her back. Aira’s hands flex and ball into fists as Encara tells them to go and makes her way out of the lodge. The vixen closes her eyes and sighs, taking a moment to compose herself before following the drow. “I hope you’re right about this,” she mutters to the feline, pulling her hood up over her head.

Orikahn finds himself still smirking at the macabre notion as he outfits his own person with bow, quiver, and supplies. Dressed for the weather, equipped for the journey, and spoiling for a hunt, Orikahn tightens the bindings of his fur braces and throws his hood up. If he shares in Aira's indignation, he doesn't show it, and the copper-eyed elf might know the cat well enough to sense he's impressed by the half-drow's demeanor--unimpressed perhaps by the bizarre spidertaur making a mess of his rafters. Kahn watches Khova with disdain, but it's a fleeting distraction. "We're eating something, or someone, no matter what," he reassures Aira before slipping out the flap after her. Luckily for all parties, the air is still today with no wind to bite them or eddies to cover old tracks with drifts. The feline's eagerly fills his lungs and presses into the woods.

Encara huffs a misty cloud of air, snapping back at the two hunters over her shoulder, "Will you stop talking about -eating- me." Those long elven ears are quite adept at picking up soft words, after all - they're twitching agitatedly as she marches into the trees, scowling. And they scoffed at her wanting her own space; it's hardly surprising, really! While she half-entertains the idea of simply running off and ditching them, the ranger knows better than to think they won't be able to track her down, and keeps walking, leading them on a meandering path that'll take them back up an onto the open ridge, the shadowed valley visible in the distance. Encara's kind are better suited to living beneath the mountains, rather than traipsing across them. Despite her years of experience living in Frostmaw, the drow has never quite adapted to the bitter cold, nor come to enjoy the prickles of numbness in her fingertips - thus, she's heavily protected under her usual layers of leather and woollen clothing, thick winter-green cloak pulled close about her shoulders. Pausing to survey the surrounding mountains, the way the sun makes them glow and burn, light reflecting off the waters of a narrow river far below, Encara turns to her companions and points toward the valley she and Orikahn met the ice trolls on. "That's where we encountered the ice trolls, on the hillside there," she explains with a look to Aira, "We'll pick up the trail there, if there's anything left." The animal track had been largely protected from the winds by the surrounding forest, but it has been days and Encara is not holding out much hope that the footprints remain intact.

Aira should probably learn to temper her annoyance at others, to swallow her pride and carry herself with more dignity and grace like she did in her life back in Rynvale. But that’s not a lesson currently on the plan and this is Frostmaw, so when Encara makes her heated demand, the vixen is quick to retort. “I don’t know. Will you -stop- turning your haughty nose up at free room and board to the people who are willing to help you with this beast?” Aira’s angry words hang as heavy as her breath in cold air and she turns to narrow her eyes at Kahn, as if this is all his fault. Still, the huntress continues to follow the androgynous drow, pausing when she does to survey the mountains. When Encara recounts the tale of the ice trolls Aira nods her head and flourishes her hand towards the trail. “Well after you, Cantankerous One."

Orikahn trudges steadily along, letting the other two set the pace. He's perfectly content to bring up the rear. "I wouldn't worry," much, "if I were you," Orikahn reassures Encara, muttering through an amused smirk. There's a drift in the path, and Kahn takes a high step over it, incidentally rattling his trophy skulls in the process. The sight of the valley brings back fresh memories. Kahn preemptively unshoulders his bow and knocks and arrow at half-draw. "Yes, after you, darkling." His eyes sweep for any sign of their own tracks from days prior. Could that be them there? Snow against snow was terrible on one's depth perception, and the feline squints in the glare. "I think that's where we went down last time," he remarks, "those prints there. Maybe good juju." Maybe, but he'll keep his bow at the ready nonetheless, mindful that the forces of fate prefer *not* to be tested unnecessarily.

"I didn't ask you to help; you just assumed I needed it," Encara shoots back gruffly, though she makes a point of not bringing up their generosity in giving her a warm place to sleep while she recovered, or the fact that her previous encounters with the bear did -not- end with its death. Orikahn gets an irritated click of the tongue for his attempt at reassurance, which the drow does not think means much when he's equally guilty. With a sigh, she skirts along the edge of the ridge, scanning the snow, eyes narrowed against the glare - their tracks are likely all but blown away up here, but there are traces of disturbed ground further down the incline where the trees begin to cluster together, thick and dark, their boughs laden with snow. Encara begins to make her way down towards the forest proper, carefully positioning her feet to avoid slipping. Her bow stays on her back until they reach the trees and pass under the shadowed canopy; Encara uses it to nudge some low branches aside, exposing a patch of tar-black blood staining the dusted white. "Looks like the track we found those trolls on," she murmurs, slipping out of the brush. The forest is silent around them.

Aira is already formulating a snarky response back but for the sake of getting things civil and their minds sharp on the task at hand she quite literally bites the inside of her cheek, keeping silent. Still, as they move further along the path, the vixen pulls her own bow from around her body and knocks an arrow into place, just on the off chance that they meet a beastie along the way. Aira’s nose wrinkles slightly at the black tar-like blood before looking up into the trees and then back to the pair who had been here before. “Well, hopefully they won’t bother us this time."

Orikahn snoops after the two elves, doing his best to spot anything either of them may have missed but, alas, the eyes of the fae are keen and leave little unnoticed in their passing. "There," Kahn indicates with a nod, stepping around the tarry snow, as though it were not patently obvious to all parties that, yes, this was where the trolls tried to eat them. "I spilled that blood with my own teeth," he points to a black blot in the snow, "and that, with my hatchet," yes, another indistinguishable Rorschach blot, thank you Kahn, "and that one with my teeth as well. Then we took our weapons and went around to the fallen trolls..." This bland recollection could have gone on for some time, but perhaps, while Kahn is too busy to notice, one of the elves might catch a faint sound on the shock-still air. It's a roaring, very distant and faint, but not unlike that of a bear. Of a very large, agitated bear, just at the very edge of hearing.

Encara is just glad not to find half a jawbone still wriggling around unclaimed - the drow has a strong stomach, but it'd be a disturbing sight all the same. "Seems quiet," she answers Aira in quiet tones, casting her gaze around at the remnants of the fight that occurred the other night while Kahn recounts each mark. Encara pauses, then, body going stock-still as she lifts her head, pointed ears perking up. "…Or it seemed? Could've sworn I heard something." There's a trace of uncertainty in the drow's voice and she wonders briefly if it's only a case of her mind playing tricks on her, giving her what she's been hoping to hear. She spends a moment staring down the path that winds further into the valley before, with a glance back to Aira and Orikahn, Encara ventures onward, intent on confirming her doubts… or proving them wrong.

Aira’s copper eyes swivel to each spot as Orikahn recalls the fight him and Encara had found themselves in only a few days prior. She resists the urge to reach out and pat his shoulder and say ‘good job’, as she carefully moves amongst the area when the that sound reaches her ears. The huntress goes still, lifting her hands to lower her hood to reveal vulpine ears which have flattened atop her head. “I heard it, too,” she says quietly, assuring the drow that she wasn’t hearing things in her own mind. This time the elf doesn’t hesitate to follow Encara down the path to the valley, tightening her grip on her bow.

Orikahn stops short when the others seem to hear something, and he gives his head a couple quick tosses, trying to throw his hood back and, ultimately, only getting it down past one ear that immediately stands and swivels to try and pinpoint... something? Nothing? With narrowed eyes and bated breath, Kahn listens only to hear, alas, the receding footfalls of his companions. Not about to be left in the dust, Kahn ducks his head once, twice to get the hood thrown back over himself then hurries after the two, weaving between what feel like ever tightening trees. He'll welcome a break back out into the open, if it ever comes.

Deeper Into the Woods

Encara appears slightly relieved to know she isn't the only one hearing things, despite what that implies is lurking in the valley somewhere ahead of them. Most would be frozen in terror at the notion of facing a giant bear - perhaps Encara ought to be, but she's out for vengeance and has never been one to back down from a challenge. The scents of chopped wood, smoke, and a distinctly iron tang reach her before all at once, the trees part and the underbrush grows thin, and Encara bursts out of the forest with a curse at the sight before her: a logging camp, or the remains of one at least. Several large tents lie in torn heaps; one of them is burning. The mammoth paddock is empty, the beasts having broken free, and slabs of cut wood lie scattered thoughtlessly around. A cooking spit once placed over the campfire in the centre of the clearing has been knocked over, spilling steaming stew and glowing embers across the packed snow. It mixes with the blood - great pools and smears of dark red stain the ground, already congealing from the cold. "Delisha's eyes," Encara exclaims softly, for strewn about the ruined camp like rag dolls are the bodies of six frost giants, most bearing multiple scored wounds from massive claws the size of swords, two almost ripped limb from limb, all of them dead— wait. Once again, Encara's ears pick up a sound - the wet gasps of a dying man. One of the supposed corpses is still breathing, if only just, his torso torn open below the ribs, guts spilling across his lap as he sits slumped against a pile of wood near the fire. Carefully, Encara approaches him, realising with a faint flinch that she recognises his bloody face. "Aslfur." One of the men who had lost friends to the bear and posted the bounty for its head, now claimed by it himself, by the looks of things. "Aslfur," she repeats, stepping in front of his face in an attempt to catch his attention. The big giant struggles to focus on her, ice-blue eyes dim and glazing over. "'Cara." His voice is barely there, a weak gurgle half-drowned in his own blood. "It… north. Tovald…" He chokes on the name, then goes still.

Aira is quick to follow Encara’s lead, her fingers tightening over her weapon as the trio continue walking into the valley and suddenly burst from the brush only to pull up short at the sight. Aira frowns at the carnage that appears before her. The trampled tents, the spilled stew, the blood painted ground. The huntress wrinkles her nose slightly at the overwhelming stench of iron as she carefully walks around the encampment, her bow still drawn lest this bear reappear, though she doubts it. As Encara moves off towards a familiar frost giant who lay dying, the vixen shakes her head. “If he doesn’t go soon it would be kinder to finish him ourselves,” she mumbles towards Kahn (if he were near enough). Copper eyes stay on the ground as she walks around, looking for some clue, some hint of where the great beast had gone. Edging towards the outskirts of the camp, Aira sees them—the deep indents in the snow that are bigger than any prints she’d ever seen before. “Um, you guys? I think it went this way…” she say, relaxing the grip on her bow and pointing towards the tracks.

Orikahn can already feel it, a foreboding that burns in his intuition and nose alike, the sheer raw weight of real, fresh carnage. It pads the sheer brutality he encounters upon entering the scene. Kahn is no stranger to gore would not be considered, by any measure, a creature of delicate sensibilities, but even this is excessive. For the first time since they set on this dire errand, genuine concern bends his fuzzy brow, and perhaps he begins to grasp just how dire it all really, truly is. While Encara goes to Aslfur's side, Orikahn wanders from one body to the next. He's careful not to step in anything that would leave a track, though this is difficult through the grislier patches of ground. "A real mangler," he muses aloud, audibly perplexed. If this massacre is the work of a single beast, the three of them could be in for a rough time. "If someone did this to *look* like a bear, they've been very thorough." Orikahn stoops beside an unrecognizable giblet of some kind, recently torn, not sliced or hacked or even bludgeoned free, but forcibly torn from its rightful owner.

Encara's jaw tenses as she watches the last breath leave the body of the dying giant. While Aira and Orikahn cautiously inspect the scene of the attack for clues, the drow remains by Aslfur, arms stiff by her sides and fingers curled into tight fists. The last time they'd spoken, he'd admitted he was becoming fearful of the woods and reluctant to go out and work - her insistence that she would be able to handle the beast must have convinced him and his fellows they'd be safe enough to return here. This is her fault. "Aramoth better have raised you to his side, or I'll fight him myself," she mutters before turning away; the words half a prayer. Loping across the camp to the others, keeping clear of the pooling blood as her eyes dart to and fro over the frozen ground, Encara shakes her head exasperatedly at Orikahn's speculations. He's still not convinced it's a bear, huh. Then Aira calls to them both - Encara's focus snaps to her and the drow jogs quietly to her side, casting the vixen a sidelong look as they stand facing the large prints tracking out of camp, heading north and deeper into the valley. "Aslfur mentioned Tovald," she says, "He's a hunter, mostly, but he's worked with the loggers here before. He… keeps to himself, I've heard - has a cabin a ways north of here. If the bear is on a rampage, it's likely heading there next."

Aira's eyes shift towards Encara when she approaches before the two look back towards the massive prints. The huntress shifts uneasily before looking back towards Kahn, assuming he has likewise come to join the pair at her call. Aira nips at her bottom lip, looking at the tracks in the snow once more as Encara explains what she heard from the fallen giant and gives a curt nod. “I guess that means that’s where we go.” Aira is not someone who sits and formulates plans nor does she waste any time. So without another word, the vixen grips her bow and begins to trudge north, following the tracks, her vulpine ears twitching atop her head as if attempting to pick up any slight sound that might indicated the massive bear is near. Whether the two follow, well, that’s up to them.

Orikahn looks up from his grisly inspection and hesitates. There must be something here that the sabercat wants, but, alas, his companions likely won't linger. With a resigned snort, Orikahn follows, though not without a few subtly longing glances behind himself. About Tovald. "Never bothered me, no. Didn't know the loggers *had* a hunter." The admission of ignorance should come as little surprise. The logging crew and Kahn have each agreed to keep their respectful distance. "This Tovald must know something. He isn't a trapper, is he?" The very thought draws Kahn's eyes downward, and he walks with a lighter step.

Encara, likewise, is more inclined towards action, reaction, and thinking on her feet, rather than wasting hours coming up with a plan that could go wrong in seconds. It's partly why she prefers to work alone. Still, she falls into step near Aira and, with Orikahn bringing up the rear, the trio continue their hunt. Following the bear prints isn't difficult here where the snow is deep, and the drow speaks to the sabre-cat as they walk. "I've never met him," she tells Orikahn honestly. "I only know what Aslfur and the others told me - he's big, quiet, kind of strange. Keeps predators away from the logging camp." Not that he's done a very good job of it this time, she muses sourly. Whether or not he's a trapper, Encara does not know, but she keeps a sharp eye on the ground after that, just in case. Several minutes of trekking leads them to a sight that Orikahn, like Encara, should find starkly familiar: a large patch of bloodied snow disturbed as though by some scuffle between the bear and another. The ground is churned into an unreadable mess, the nearest trees marked with scores of claw marks and stray clumps of dark, coarse hair. And, just like before… "Oh, look," Encara says with a gesture to the tracks - a bear's leading in, but only a giant's leaving, "another magical giant has captured our beast." She slants Orikahn an unamused look.

Aira continues to walk through the snow, keeping close to the tracks, her ears working overtime while those metallic hued eyes stay hyper-focused on the group as the trio continues their hunt. She’s mostly quiet though, being the ‘new link’ to this bear hunt, having no previous experiences to share with the group. Still, when they come upon the patch of bloodied snow, Aira pulls up short, her nose wrinkling at the carnage. She carefully makes her way over to the marred tree, fingers tracing over the claw marks before grasping the coarse hair and looking at it intensely. Her attention is pulled up by Encara’s voice and she huffs out loud exhale which hangs heavy in the cool air. “So now what?"

Orikahn grins darkly and scratches his whiskers. "Looks like he's out of a job, then." Any lingering, smug amusement evaporates at the sight of the familiar, trampled clearing. "Well now!" His gaze widens in surprise, though only to wilt dryly at Encara's sarcasm. Though he'd never admit it out loud, Kahn knows his clever-giant-walks-off-with-mundane-bear hypothesis has been soundly upended by this most recent discovery. "Yes, now what?" Kahn straightens to stow the arrow he'd drawn and lays his bow across his shoulders to rest his arms upon it like a yoke. All eyes are on the half-drow.

Encara snorts, but she doesn't grace Orikahn's initial remark with a reply. Eyes on the scene laid out before them, the drow skirts the patches of trampled snow, searching for answers among the chaos yet finding little she can make sense of. This whole mess is perplexing but her heart is set on finding that bear before anyone else ends up like Aslfur and his fellows. "Have you ever seen anything like this? Either of you?" Encara's gaze lifts to regard Aira and Orikahn with fierce intensity. Are there beasts out here that she has yet to meet or even hear of? The thought unsettles her - for several years, this frigid wilderness has served as her home, and it's disturbing to think that something like this has escaped her notice for all that time. "I— I know Underdark creatures," she starts, frowning, reluctant to admit her possible ignorance. "I grew up there - I spent half a century exploring the Dead Caves. The years I've lived in Frostmaw pale in comparison, so… maybe there's something I'm unaware of."

Aira allows the clump of hair to fall through her fingers before she scoops up a handful of clean snow and brushes her hands through it before wiping it on her thighs. Her expression doesn’t exactly soften at Encara’s words but perhaps it is less scowl-ly. Aira knew nothing of the Underdark but that didn’t mean she didn’t hear stories about what it was like down there. Aira likewise sheathes her arrow, picking up her bow and slinging it over her body. “I haven’t lived in Frostmaw as long as some of us. We’ve hunted plenty together, fought many beasts, but I can’t say this is something that I recognize. I don’t even know how to make sense of this.” Aira’s eyes swivel towards the prime hunter. "What about you, Kahn?"

Orikahn looks to the sky, looks to his feet, and shakes his head. "Bah, no good. No good." His nose wrinkles, and he spits into one of the big, bloody footprints. "It's a magic beast, or it's no beast at all. Evil wizard. Juju trickster." His eye slide up to Aira, as though he might find some hint in her familiar face. Her ears. Her tail. As though drawn by some lopsided shift of weight, his head gradually rolls to one side. He blinks. His center eye winks. Somewhere, in the feline recesses of his mind, a storm of intuition crackles and blusters. He looks to the bloody bear prints. "A bear walks in..." He looks to the giant's footprints. "...And a giant walks out." Again, his eyes land on Aira's tail, and his own tail give a broad, fluffy swish.

Encara gnaws at her lower lip in a mixture of bemusement and annoyance as both Aira and Orikahn come up with no concrete explanation. The cat's words earn him a faintly curious glance, if only for his use of terms she isn't quite clear on. "'Juju,'" she repeats, pursing her lips together. At least the rest makes some sense to her, though she can't help a roll of the eyes at his continued insistence that the bear is not a bear. Her birthplace is home to numerous horrific magical creatures that would terrorize the surface and Trist'oth if given half a chance - she's seen some weird stuff in the Underdark, and other things she'd prefer to forget, but this matches up with none of the beasts Encara has encountered. Once more, the drow takes a moment to study the carnage, then steps swiftly through it with a jerk of her head towards the giant footprints. "Whatever's going on, these tracks are still leading toward Tovald's cabin. We find him, we find our answers… if he's still alive." Perhaps the man who's made his home out here will be able to shed light on what stalks his valley.

Further downhill and to the north, a lazy trail of smoke curls above distant, white-capped trees. Secluded in the safety of shaded forest thickets, a log cabin has been erected - small by frost giant standards yet towering to the three approaching hunters, the isolated building is clearly home to a solitary sort. A broad tree stump utilised as a chopping block lies alongside one wall, the axe resting against it almost the height of a human woman, while a shoddy lean-to nearby is stacked with a winter's worth of cut fuel. Signs the owner is a hunter himself are everywhere: a pile of steel jaw traps half-buried in snow, a smokehouse, and several well-used tanning racks are set up around the cabin. Of stranger note are the moose antlers, wolf jaws, and ice wyvern vertebrae suspended by rope from trees surrounding the area, bone chimes dangling in the still air. There's no logical explanation behind the placement of each artefact and the pieces appear to have been chosen at random, but with closer inspection it's clear they share one similarity: rough carvings have been inscribed upon their smooth ivory surfaces, most of them runes commonly used by frost giants to ward against evil spirits, monsters, and general ill-meaning creatures. Unsettling is a mild way to describe the charms. The cabin's gargantuan door is closed, but even from afar it's easy to see that its hinges barely hold and it's shoved at an awkward angle against the frame, allowing slivers of firelight to escape from gaps along the bottom and sides. The large, humanoid footprints that Aira, Encara, and Orikahn have been tracking lead directly to the door. A shadow passes intermittently in front of the rough square windows, blocking out the light. Looks like somebody's home.

Aira adopts a most pensive look at Orikahn’s words. “Magic beast…” she whispers under her breath as she exhales out of her nose. The huntress is all to familiar with Juju (mostly the bad kind) and she’s aware that Orikahn keeps looking her way. Suddenly, her ears flatten atop her head and her tail swishes and she looks down—something had brushed through her legs. There’s nothing there, though, and Aira is left to suspect that a certain spectral ermine has accompanied them on their journey. Encara seems ready to keep following the prints and without much of an idea coming from Aira and Kahn, they have little choice but to follow. Still, something isn’t sitting right with Aira and despite the need to stay focused on the trail they are walking, her mind can’t help wandering to -what- the beast actually is. All too soon, the tracks lead up to a cottage, similarly set up to their own lodge. Clearly a hunter, just as they are. Aira’s tail flicks and she reaches up to scratch the tip of her vulpine ear. Suddenly her eyes fly open and she reaches out to grasp Kahn’s arm. “Bear prints in… giant prints out. Fox prints in… elf prints out. What… what if it’s a shifter?"

Orikahn reaches the end of his patience and abandons intuiting. After all, he can't be dividing his attention if they're heading into danger. He gives his arms a minute longer to rest, letting them dangle on either end of his bow until they spot the cabin. "Good fellow," Orikahn mutters, clearly admiring what he sees as a scaled-up version of his own homestead. "Yes, this Tolvir will be the perfect man to ask. Good thinking." Kahn walks up to the axe, studies the handle, then weighs his own tomahawk in his grasp for a profound comparison. Aira's touch earns Kahn's abrupt and full attention. "Hmm?! Prints in. Prints out. Shifter. Shifter. Ho!" His eyes widen. "But that would mean he's..." Kahn's own ears flatten beneath his hood, and he looks again to the footprints leading... right to the cabin. "...a man killer?" He laughs and grins broadly. "Savage! Darkling, what do you think of that?" Kahn throws a glance around to spot her, resting his knuckles on his hips and looking pleasantly dumbfounded.

Encara has heard very little of shifters and never run across one herself; drow who succumb to a wild beast's curse are often killed by the attack itself, or by their own House when they first turn. Such outsiders have no place within Underdark society, which is as xenophobic as it gets… something Encara, as another who never quite fitted in, knows well. As they come upon the cabin, her focus moves to the curious charms hanging about the area and she lifts a hand to trace the runes cut into an antler, soft frown crossing her elven features before Orikahn's laugh rings out. A crash from inside the cabin prompts a flinch from the drow, her pointed ears flicking up in sudden alarm and her scarlet eyes going sharp with the threat of danger - muffled grunts and curses precede the sound of the door being wrenched open with a squeak of bent hinges. Despite the size of the door, the giant that ducks his head out of it is somehow of even larger stature. His head is crowned with shaggy, unkempt dark hair, a matching beard with uneven braids sprouting from his wide jaw, and his eyes are unnaturally bright with the sort of light that hints at some inner madness. Encara casts the wonky door a surreptitious glance. The home matches the owner, she supposes. The giant's gaze shifts between the three of them in confusion before he speaks in a booming voice, clapping hands like concrete blocks together. "Aramoth's arse, what're you doin' out here? Sneak'n around like a buncha wee mice… didn't yer mothers ever teach you 'bout knockin'?" Tovald pauses, eyes lifting to study the surrounding forest and flick anxiously between each of his bone charms. He whispers, or tries to, "'Sides, there's evil out there right now. It ain't safe. You little ones oughta get inside where it's safe." Encara, for her part, lets nothing show in her expression as she nods to the giant. "What I -think-," she hisses to Orikahn, belatedly answering his question as she sidles up by the feline and Aira, "is that he's unaware." And likely unhinged.

Aira’s fingers tighten slightly on Orikahn’s arm as he lets out a raucous laugh, copper eyes darting towards the the cabin anxiously. “It would make sense…” she continues. Yes, Aira knows all about shifting. The movement inside the homestead startles the huntress and she quickly releases the prime hunter’s arm in order to grab her bow. Soon the door squeaks open and the shaggy head of a giant emerges. Aira stills her movements, ready to shoot if necessary, but the man does nothing but chastise them for sneaking around which only causes the little vixen to wrinkle her nose slightly, her tail giving an agitated swish. Aira's eyes widen slightly when Torvald tells them they should be inside and Encara nods her head. “He doesn’t know he’s the one doing this, you mean?” She hisses back to the androgynous drow when she sidles up beside the pair. “What are we supposed to do now? Hold an intervention?!"

Orikahn looks startled by the giant's arrival, then offended by giant's assessment. "Wee mice!?" Typically, Kahn's bass voice booms with alpha authority, but it sounds rather anemic compared to Tovald. Hmm. "You caught us on our way to the door." He calls up to the giant, trying to buy a little time while the elves decide what's to be done with an unawarebear. "Good sturdy house you have. Sturdy axe. Sturdy traps. Hmm! Good!" Orikahn slaps his own bicep in some vague fraternal show of approval. "Evil, yes. Bad juju. Nasty beast in the woods. Man-killer." Quickly, he corrects himself. "GIANT killer. Horrible sight. Blood, gore, everywhere. Awful. Bah!" Kahn's jovial tone doesn't quite match the description of the carnage. "Terrible sight."