2 The Beast

Maric woke with a start gasping for air and jumping up off the hardwood floor of the coffin, only to come crashing back down after cracking his head against the lid. He pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead, silently cursing under his breath, and kicked the lid as hard as he could muster out of frustration. To his surprise the lid flew off the top, easily tumbling over the side of the coffin's edge and falling to the ground next to his miniature prison cell. Unfortunately the frustrated kick brought all the aches and pains from the previous nights' battle to the fore. His right side screamed in protest, sending fresh jolts of agony across his torso. Even worse, however, was his dislocated shoulder, the pain from which stole the breath from his lungs.

For a while he just opted to lay there wallowing in his soreness, the very thought of moving practically triggering a fight or flight response in his head. As he lay there, meditating in pain, he finally realized that he wasn't in the forest anymore. The sky above was dark, filled with large black and grey clouds as far as he could see. The air was bitter and cold and bit at his sore bones. Even with the dim light he could see his breath rolling out of his lips and turning to mist.

Finally he was rustled from his pain meditation by the sound of wood splintering and grunts of exertion. He gritted his teeth once again and forced himself to sit up, sucking in air as if it would help him fight off the pain. He was in a large field, the grass coated with a fresh layer of morning frost. Around him were dozens upon dozens of coffins, some made of fresh oak and pine with others worn and decayed by the passage of time. The morning mists made it difficult for him to see much of his surroundings, though he was able to see the tall, imposing, silhouettes of mountains to the north and the south.

Another crack of wood drew his eyes from his surroundings. He looked in time to see the lid of a nearby coffin splinter and break apart, thrown a few feet into the air and falling on top of another. Duna emerged from within, her eyes wild with an odd mix of fear and fury. She wasted no time leaping out of the coffin only to turn back on it and begin ripping it apart piece by piece.

Maric stumbled out of his own coffin and made his way over to her, taking slow and careful steps to avoid irritating his injuries any further. He reached her just as she reached the halfway point, splinters flying through the air and showering the field like wooden rain. Maric hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder and she spun, fist first, with the clear intention of removing his jaw. Luckily he expected the blow and managed to take a clumsy step back though his heel collided with yet another coffin and sent him tumbling backwards, sending another wave of agony rushing through his body.

"Duna it's me!" He managed to grunt out through his gritted teeth.

She just stood there, breathing heavy, before wiping the sweat from her brow and letting out a long exhale. "Maric?" She managed after recovering from the frenzy. She looked down at the pile of splinters which used to be a coffin, delivering one more kick, before shrugging, "Don't like tight spaces."

"I get it." Maric groaned, staring up at the sky as he coped with the pain.

She turned and looked down at her fallen companion then, without warning, reached out and grabbed his dislocated arm by the wrist. Before he had a chance to give voice to his panicked protest, she placed a boot against his chest and pulled the arm, hard, towards her. Maric squealed as stars filled his vision and a fresh wave of pain spidered up his shoulder and down his arm. She pulled for a few seconds of concentrated torture before Maric felt a slight pop as the arm finally found its way back in his shoulder pocket. Maric blinked away tears as Duna tore off a piece of his tunic, tied a makeshift sling, and slipped it over his neck, arm inside.

"That…" Maric managed, swallowing a lump in his throat, "...was uncalled for."

"The longer you let it hang useless the worse it'd get." Duna patted him on the wounded shoulder, making him wince once again. "Now it's fixed!"

"First off," Maric raised his good arm, finger extended, "I'm not convinced you knew that'd work when you decided to do it." He took a deep breath, "And second…" he let out a slow, long, steadying, sigh, "...that hurt. Please give me fair warning next time you want to play doctor."

She clapped him once again on the wounded shoulder, further confirming his suspicions that she knew full damn well how much it hurt, "You'll survive." He started to speak but she turned away from him, squinting to try and see through the dense mist, "Where are we?"

"I don't know." He replied, taking the opportunity while her back was turned to pick himself up off the ground and taking some cautious steps away. "I'll venture a guess and say we're nowhere we want to be."

She finished her cursory inspection of their surroundings, before reaching down into her coffin and picking up her warhammer, asking, "Where's Sandy and Rio?"

As if on cue a tiny, muffled, voice cried out, "Anyone out there?! Help!" from somewhere in the mist. Both Maric and Duna ran over to the source of the plea just as the voice called out again, "Whoever you are know that I am a powerful master of the arcane! I can obliterate you with a single thought! With a mere twitch of my finger I can scatter your entrails from here to the Spine of the World! If you release me I'll spare you and your ilk the terrible reckoning that's coming your way!" Duna ripped off the coffin's lid with ease revealing Sandy balled up in the fetal position, covering his eyes with one hand, while pointing the other straight up in the air. There was a quiet thwip as a small bolt of fire leapt from the halfling wizard's fingers and spiralled up into the overcast sky before fizzling.

Even in this glum setting Maric found Sandy comedical. The halfling was short, even for a halfling, barely managing to squeak out at two and a half feet tall. Presumably to compensate for his small stature Sandy preferred to clothe himself in flamboyant colors and fine fabrics. He wore a set of violet silk robes adorned with fine gold filigree around the collar and cuffs. A matching violet cape was balled and crumpled up under his body, strapped to him by a fine gold chain. Normally on his head he liked to wear a pointed wizards hat, which had been sold to him by a toothless merchant in Baldur's Gate for two coppers. The merchant had told Sandy that it made the halfling look like a true sophisticate, but in actuality it was a bit too big for his head so that when he put it on he had to support it with one hand otherwise it'd fall down over his head. Still the hat added a bit of height to his profile so that, with it on, the tip rose almost to the middle of Maric's chest, so Sandy considered it a worthwhile expenditure.

The halfling squealed, "Please don't! Please I…" but when imminent death didn't descend on him he bravely spread the fingers over his eyes so he could peek through the cracks in between. Upon seeing Maric's half amused and half disgusted face, the halfling bolted up out of the coffin to give Maric a hug. Maric, for his part, groaned as the halfling's small, yet surprisingly strong, arms squeezed his sore ribs. Sandy quickly collected himself, dropping back down to the ground and nonchalantly dusting off his grime covered robes and cape. He cleared his throat and asked, adding some gruff to his voice, "What took you two so long?"

"Good to see you too master Goldcreek." Maric said while invoking a bit of a bitter tone as he patted Sandy on the head a little too hard, if only to claim some kind of vengeance for his sore ribs.

"Facing death with dignity as always." Duna snorted.

The halfling twisted around to punch the dwarf's knee in a way that resembled a mouse punching an elephant, "'Twas a ruse and nothing more! If one is to catch his opponents off guard, the first step must be to present oneself as insignificant as possible! That way the enemy lowers their guard and is unprepared for their demise!" He reached up to tip his hat, then let out a panicked squeak once he realized its absence. He dove back into the coffin, scrambling around, before withdrawing his trusty hat from within. The once fine, fake silk, wizard cap was now soiled and covered with dirt and dust. In his panicked scrambling Sandy had apparently stomped on it a few times as there were halfling sized footprints all across the fabric. Undeterred the halfling shook the hat off and placed it on his head, the tip sitting crooked and creased.

Duna loosed a short chortle while Maric did his best to straighten the hat out. Sandy huffed and waved Maric off, "Leave it be!"

"Well I'm just trying to help!"

"Don't help!"

Maric raised his hand in surrender, "Fine I'll leave you be." He turned around, "Let's find Rio and get out of here."

He looked around for any more signs of disturbance among the coffins but nothing stood out. He scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of their companion, but the mist was too thick to see farther than twenty or so yards away. He chose a direction at random and started walking, kicking at coffins as he went but not finding anyone within. Eventually he was able to find something through the fog. About thirty yards away stood the silhouettes of six coffins, all standing on end in a circle. As he got closer he could make out a figure standing in the circle. He was a tall elf with shoulder length black hair that was matted down by sweat. One arm was cradled in his tunic like a makeshift sling, the other held a shortsword. He favored one leg as the other was bleeding out from a gash in the thigh. It was Riordan.

Across from Riordan stood a wolf. It was larger than any wolf and most dire wolves standing nearly four feet off the ground and was over six feet long. Its fur was black as midnight and teeth were stained red. The wolf paced back and forth, keeping five feet between it and Riordan. Each time the wolf took a step closer Riordan shouted something in elvish and swung his sword to stave it off. Each time the wolf would abate, but was still one step closer to its prey.

"Rio!" Maric shouted. He started to run as fast as his wounded body would let him towards the ring. Rio turned for just a second to look at Maric, it was then that Maric was able to see the desperation and fear in his friends' eyes.

The wolf seized the opportunity while Riordan was distracted and attacked. In a split second the beast crossed the gap between the two and lunged for Riordan's wounded leg. Riordan, to his credit, managed to bring his focus back to the battle and bring his sword down to ward off the attack on his wounded leg. Unfortunately for him, however, just as his blade came down to defend against the attack the wolf shifted, moving faster than Maric could rightly see, and attacking the elf's unwounded, and undefended, leg. The beasts' jaws clamped down on Riordan's calf and ripped, tearing muscle from bone and spilling fresh blood onto the grass. Riordan let out a chilling howl of pain as he collapsed to the ground, steam beginning to rise from the pool of blood.

Tears streamed down Riordan's face as he desperately tried to crawl away from the dire wolf. The wolf, rather than pursue his hobbled opponent, took a moment to bow its head and lick up a portion of the pooled blood as if drinking from a fresh spring. "Rio!" Maric heard Sandy cry out from behind. The wolf looked up from the blood and towards Sandy, Maric, and Duna who were all running towards it. It cocked its head to the side, as if taking a moment to ponder the three opponents, then looked down at the elf who had managed to crawl a few feet away. Sandy shouted something again, this time in an arcane language that Maric didn't understand, and loosed a four inch sphere of multicolored energy at the wolf. The chromatic sphere hurled through the air, changing to a poisonous green color just moments before exploding over the wolf's nose. Green poison splashed over the beast's head and trickled down its neck, with residual magical energy crackling as the other potential elements of the spell dissipated. A second passed, then another, and another, and the wolf didn't react to the attack. Instead it blinked, cocked its head to the other side, before letting out a series of rumbling growls and barks. It was, for a lack of better words, laughing at them.

Sandy froze staring at the wolf and then down at his open hands, mouth agape. Maric didn't wait, outstretching his free hands and calling forth the well of eldritch energy within him to lose another blast. He felt an electric tingle as the energy built in his fingers, then died away. He felt his jaw drop slightly as he threw his hand out again and the energy fizzled and died in his palm. He tried summoning his blade, willing it to existence, but just as with his blast the blade failed to appear as well.

He gritted his teeth and charged, drawing the spare dagger he kept on his belt. Duna was five feet ahead of him and twenty feet away from the wolf. The beast paced over to Riordan and placed one paw on his back, like a conqueror planting a flag, and forcefully pushing him down to the ground while staring out at the three companions as they continued to close the distance. Duna continued her advance until, at ten feet away, the wolf bent its head down and closed its jaws around Riordan's neck. It didn't bite down hard, only just enough to begin to draw blood.

Duna stopped short, and Maric fell in line next to her. The wolf, in response, opened its mouth and lifted its head to stare at the two of them. It's eyes danced over each of them, as if it was studying each and every detail of their being. Riordan coughed up blood and shouted, "Just go on and get out of here!" When the two of them hesitated he continued, "Go! Before it's friends show up!"

"We can't leave you!" Sandy shouted, catching up with the other two. At this point he'd dropped the archwizard bravado and looked up to Maric, "Whatever this thing is we can take it!"

"He's right!" Duna grunted.

Maric stared at the bloodshot eyes of the wolf, and for a brief second caught a brief glimpse of the intelligence behind those eyes. Whatever this thing was it was smarter, and tougher, than a dire wolf. It was toying with them.

"I'm not so sure…" Maric mumbled.

Riordan turned to look at Sandy, his face stained by dirt and blood, "Sandy." He coughed, "I'm sorry pal." Sandy's eyes widened as Riordan drew a dagger from his belt with his free hand and swiped out at one of the wolf's legs. The blade was just long enough that he managed to slice across the wolf's wrist. The cut wasn't deep, but had surprised the wolf enough to warrant a short yelp. Before the trio could react the beast snarled and clamped its jaws down once more on Riordan's throat and ripping the flesh away.

The world slowed to a crawl as Maric watched the scene unfold. Duna charged, froth foaming from the corners of her mouth, towards the wolf. Sandy let out a mournful cry, pulling a healing potion from a pouch on his belt and running up to Riordan. Their elf companion flailed on the ground, turning on his back and clawing at his throat as he drowned in his own blood.

Suddenly Maric saw a pair of small, round, clay pots sail overhead from behind. He'd just enough time to see the symbol of a flame carved into the side of one of the pots before they collided with the wolf at the shoulder. The clay broke into dozens of tiny pieces, releasing a viscous sticky fluid that instantaneously burst into bright white flame all across the wolf's back. Duna stopped short as the wolf released a powerful, bestial, roar that shook all three of them to the bone. It reared backwards, rolling on the ground to try and wipe off the flammable liquid, but whatever it was stuck fast.

Then Maric saw a streak of grey fur rush in from behind the wolf, moving so fast that he wasn't able to discern any specific features, and tackle the massive beast. Maric felt a tap on his shoulder and he spun, dagger ready, but fell short when he saw a half elf woman standing behind him. She was wearing a thick leather jacket adorned with multiple multicolored vials and potions. Her dirty blonde hair was tied up into a bun and a pair of goggles were pushed up on her forehead. In her hand was another clay pot similar to the two which had been thrown at the wolf.

"Come with me!" She nodded to Maric before shouting the same thing to Duna. The barbarian looked from the woman to the wolf then back. The half elf woman shouted, "There's no time! He can't hold it for long! We have to get out of here!"

Maric looked back over to the wolf and saw that it was wrestling with another creature. It shared similar features to the wolf, with large powerful jaws full of razor sharp teeth, muscle clad arms and legs, and similar bloodthirsty eyes and silver fur. However it stood on two legs and was clad in studded leather armor. The silver wolf swiped at the larger black wolf with its claws, tearing large gashes in the black wolf's hide and spraying blood across the ground. The black wolf barked in pain and leaped at Silver, it's jaws locking down on the werewolf's chest and ripping away a layer of flesh.

Maric managed to tear his eyes away from the feral battle to Sandy, who was cradling Riordan's lifeless head in his lap, trying to pour a health potion down his fallen friend's lips. Maric looked back to the half elf woman, then to his friend. He ran forward and grabbed Sandy by the arm, "Sandy he's gone!"

"No!" The halfling tried breaking free of Maric's grasp, "We can fix him!"

The black wolf twisted his head and threw the werewolf. The silver haired beast crashed through a coffin, sending splinters flying. The werewolf recovered quickly, shifting around and running on all fours before leaping on the black wolf's back and biting down on the back of its neck.

Maric swore under his breath before wrapping his arm around Sandy's waist and pulling him up off the ground. The halfling screamed in protest, trying to break free of Maric's grapple but to no avail. Maric shouted, "Duna let's go!" The dwarf nodded and fell in line alongside him.

"Follow me and move quickly!" She started to run towards the treeline, the three others following behind her, leaving their fallen comrade behind.

A/N: I hope you've enjoyed this far. I don't plan on doing a breakdown on every little change I did while running the game, however in this instance I'll break my rule. I tweaked this opening as a substitute hook and intro encounter for the Death House. I have a personal distaste for the House as I think it's a bit of a TPK factory, so I figured I'd use the snatchers to get players here and then give them a subsequent first taste on how miserable Barovia really is.

Anyway next part should be coming up soon. I hope you enjoy!