_{Chapter 3 – return to list}

Ador is on top of the owe list. He has settled down, and grew an added significance to his particular strength:

A warrior who settled down with a foul tempered werewolf of a wife. Ridden with second thoughts.

Lethal Swordsmanship: Directly. Consequential for myself. Far reaching.

Bo picks the oracle of Blood and Sex, and a single card. The rest of the players pull random cards.

• Husband: Ador
• Woman:

Bad tempered ex werewolf chieftain, now proud businesswoman and mother to the twins Pasha and Fenris.

Unleash the beast: Covertly. Far־reaching. Consequential to Violence.

• Housekeeper
• A hunchback servant:

A broken werewolf that became an ass kissing servant with tragicomic aspirations.

Go unnoticed: Self protection. Potent.

• Giant gopher־rabbit (codename CHAFARNAV) laying waste to the strawberries – temporary owner of a lucky gopher־rabbit's foot
• A visiting relative:

Warner's werewolf cousin, to whom she was once engaged. Bandit. Cultist.

• The local lord: Lordus Abu־Beth

• Local lord:

Worships the bull and his only daughter.

Demagoguery: Maneuvering. Potent.

• The daughter: Beth (got the hots for Ador, among others)
• her chaperon
• The demon possessing her: Ataratheh (taking her shape)
• The crazy ass strawberry grower: Ador

• The warrior priestess:

A skin walker garbed with scraps of skin taken from many victims, able to assume the form of any of them.

The Garb: Covertly. Unique. Consequential to love.

• The cult leader: Ataratheh
• Her jealous brother: Alby
• A victim waiting to be sacrificed, or still at large: Beth
• Just some guy seeking revenge:

A werewolf hunter seeking vengeance.

Durability: Self protection. Potent. Broad for action.

• The insulted: Ador
• The insulter:

Ronin secretary to the Crane.

Favoured by a god: For myself. Far Reaching. Potent.

When he is in great need, the most unlikely (yet completely possible) things will conspire to help him

• The original composer of the (simple!) insult, to be in trouble if found out
• The person who actually did the thing described by the insult, which is probably why it hurt so much
• Someone caught between them, needing to bring them together despite the insult: Warner
• A guest overhearing the insult at a party

The free city of Romrama, on the sea, west of the citadel of the winds, built high upon the hills with a sheer cliff dropping into the ocean. Has a long tradition of winemaking, and a budding strawberry industry.

In a wicked age, amidst produce laden carts, in the colorful marketplace of Romrama, a baby־faced foreigner approaches a woman surrounded by strawberries. He introduces himself as Tzao־Lin, here with the Danite invasion that took the neighbouring realm by storm, and tells her is now in search of something deeper. More profound. He adds that he is new in town, eager to experience everything, dazzled by the lusty primitive culture and lustful in regards to dazzling strawberry־ladys. Warner – being an awesome werewolf, a serious business woman, a mother and a wife – barely notices him; even after he preforms some lingual acrobatics on her goods, for which he pays in gold out of a well endowed wallet; but when he touches her hand, something in the butterfly quality of his touch sets fire to her heart, or to a somewhat lower organ, and she takes him by the hand and leads him to her home. Much to the amazement of her husband and owner of said home, Ador, who is jawdroppedly watching the entire thing from across the street.

In a wicked age, on a quiet farm, Beth, the lord's daughter, is tramping after strawberries. Her short skirt flutters as her feet go hippety־hop. After her, like a shadow, her chaperon. The call of a crane is heard from the distance. The chaperon patiently waits until Beth swoons, and then leads her to the humble hut of Gugel, the hunchback servant. Gugel grovels before them, eager to please, and when the chaperon explains that the lord's daughter is tired (never mentioning the milk of poppies with which she spiked her drink) he takes her to the finest approximation of a bed he can find. “Keep her secret”, the chaperon orders. “Keep her safe”. And the she hurries outside, and her clothes start reshaping on her skin, and she shapeshifts. She becomes leaner, younger. Her skirt shortens, and flutters as her feet go hippety־hop, on the path to the castle.

In a wicked age, in the marketplace, Ador is grimly surprised to see his wife holding hands with a rich foreigner, but just as he is about to launch a protest two city guards demand his attention by walking into his personal space. He attempts to bribe them with strawberries, but they already consider the fruit their own and demand to see his licence (which he has just renewed). Then they demand a quarter of his stock. Not wishing to kill anyone, he gives them the quarter, accepting the loss as payment for their lives, but instead of thanking their good fortune they start to smash the cart and vandalize the shit out of everything they can lay their hands on. Ador understands that they are determined to cause trouble, and were probably sent by Lordus, the local lord, who would like nothing better than Ador in prison, but he is pretty determined himself to stay out of trouble, so he repeats, half to himself, “I'm a farmer. I'm a farmer. I'm a farmer”. Warner, hearing the racket behind her, turns and hurries back to assist her husband, dragging the puppy־eyed Tzao־Lin behind her. When she gets to the guards she uses her divine gift (“unleashing the beast”, the werewolves call it), turns her charm up to 11, raises her skirt and gives the guards – and the awe inspired Tzao־Lin – a peek and a whiff. The guards lose it, their minds melt and they begin to slobber, waiving their swords to and fro; but Tzao־Lin, ever refined, manages to maintain the semblance of a civilized human being. “What a lovely bouquet”, he gently exclaims, and something within Ador snaps.

In a wicked age, behind thick wooden doors, a young lady is sitting at a table when her father, lord Lordus Abu־Beth, enters the room. A big strawberry hued scar crosses his face diagonally. “Where is your chaperon?”, he demands. “In my room”, she stammers. “My dress. Torn. She fixes”. Lordus grunts. “No mind. I have contacted an important priest visiting our town, a holy man. He will come cleanse your soul of the foul deeds you've done”. She cries, and pleas her innocence, and bangs her little fists on his chest, and for a moment he is entranced by the flow of her chestnut hair, but then his face harden and he takes her to her room. She pulls his hair, childishly, and manages to grab a handful (hurting him quite a bit in the process) before he locks her in and goes to fetch the priest.

In a wicked age, in a small hut in a prosperous farm manor on the lands of lord Lordus Abu־Beth, the lord's real daughter is sleeping soundly, drugged, under the watchful eyes of a hunchbacked servant, when the door creakily opens, and in comes – uninvited – Alby, the bandit werewolf formerly engaged to the lady of the manor.

In a wicked age, at the marketplace, rage consumes Ador's mind and he decides to kill everyone around. Except for Warner. Maybe. And certainly starting with the offensive Dannite. Quick as lightning he draws a sword. Not his – for he is but a humble farmer – but that of one of the guards. The blade sings through the air, and then through countless layers of silk, but Tzao־Lin stands. Either Ador is really out of practice, or the foreigner is exceptionally lucky. Either way, Tzao־Lin is slightly wounded, but unimpressed, merely lamenting the ruined silk. As more guards show up, Warner uses the mayhem to sneak away, and the lovestruck (and swordstruck) Tzao follows her, leaving Ador to face the guards on his own. Fortunately (for the guards), John – a tinkerer and a friend of the Ador's – shows up with a magical doohickey that pulls the guard's swords from their hands, at which point they all run away.

In a wicked age, the night before, in a tavern, Tzao־Lin is savouring a sumptuous meal. The tables are made of repurposed carts, the shafts and axles still showing. Before him sits another traveler, lean, ascetic and wearing little more than a diaper, who seems to never blink. A conversation is sparked, about truth and higher causes, and the two retire quickly to a private room. The diapered man is a wandering priest (who probably came here on the tracks of the demon Ugurnaszir, whom he failed to destroy in the previous chapter) in the service of the Divine Bull, and having more than a bit of the missionary in him seems to find Tzao a lucrative mark for conversion. He shows Tzao some of his scriptures (from which Tzao mostly makes out the lovely illustrations full of bulls and phalluses), and Tzao – who just lost his god in the most literal way – finds the whole thing terribly exciting. He even tries to show the priest some of his own scriptures, which are admittedly more subtle, but the priest politely and sternly refuses to even glance at them (“yes that's very interesting”, he says, while shoveling the book aside with his arm). Tzao, ever the anthropologist, suspects he has committed some cultural faux pas, but eventually, after much reading, deliberation and sexual innuendoes, Tzao opens himself up to the worship of specific parts of the bull. Bull cult porn FTW.

In a wicked age, a heavy wooden door is opened on Ataratheh, currently wearing the shape of the Lord's daughter, as the lord himself walks in with the priest. A half made weave, depicting a man quartered by bulls, is hanging from a loom by the window. The priest insists the lord leave, which he does after much protest. Once alone, Ataratheh starts spitting and throwing stuff at the priest, but he does not budge. Then he starts his ritual, in which he disperses some powder in the air and chants a little chant before he grabs Ataratheh and starts shaking her in an attempts to see into her soul. The shapeshifter fights like a wild animal and pushes him away and into the loom, which injures him quite a bit. But as he lies there, wounded, he sees her morph into a grey haired, wild haired, wild eyed shape, more in line with the ferociousness with which she fought. And her Garb is visible, like a tallit katan from scraps of skin, sewn roughly together.

In a wicked alley, not far from the market, Tzao and Ador converge on the track of Warner's scent. Ador – perhaps feeling bad about his previous outburst – decides to extend his hospitality and let his wife choose “between the dagger and the broadsword” (Dannites having such a bad reputation in this regard, that Ador doesn't even suspect how favoured by the gods Tzao really is). John joins them, takes Ador aside and offers him a most marvelous sword, designed especially for the slaying of werewolves, in return for him using it on a quest – to which he must go without his wife.

Wolf's Bane Blade: For others. Far reaching.

Still in the same alley, framed by laundry lines and nets and ropes hanging from windows, Warner and Tzao notice each other, and Tzao makes his move. After unwrapping a gallon of silk he manages to show her his wound, and when she help him dress it he starts babbling about fine bathing salts and apricot oils. Warner, in an attempt to keep things fresh in the bedroom, blindfolds him, and then grabs the cheapest, filthiest, rowdiest and loosest syphilitic whore she can find and pays her to do the Dannite. Tzao does not notice, but is greatly disappointed, and his passion wanes a bit.

In a wicked age, Warner, Ador, John, John's cart, and on it the disillusioned Tzao, arrive at Ador manor and are welcomed by Gugel, the hunchback servant. Five minutes later, the lord shows up, outraged. “Where is my daughter?”, he demands. “A wolf came”, stutters Gugel. Ador falls back into his just־a־humble־farmer routine, but Lordus is unimpressed. As far as he is concerned, his daughter was kidnapped on Ador's property and he is responsible. Ador apologizes and stresses that this has never happened to them before, and agrees to join the search party, but the wandering cleric stops them and demands to search Ador's house. Ador explains that his wife is breastfeeding, but the cleric is strangely undeterred and starts stepping towards the house. There is evil in the house, and he will uncover it. Lordus stops him, physically, demanding that they first find his daughter, and they have a bit of a stare down, until the cleric cedes, demanding that they come back later. Inside, babies at her breast, Warner hears him muttering in the lord's ear, suggesting that they burn the entire house down. She get an uncomfortable feeling. Almost violated. Someone is sniffing her hole, and she will not stand for it.

In a wicked age, Ataratheh crosses a stream to lose the dogs chasing her, and makes it to Gugel's hut, only to find that Beth is no longer there, and that the whole place is thick with her brother's scent. So she hurries to the camp (of her blood thirsy cult), where she finds him, wearing a sweater over his own patched fur (including one bald patch, near his shoulder blade), There are dark offers and dark rituals, and eventually she leaves carrying the unconscious Beth.

In a wicked age, in the prosperous manor, the strawberry wolf lady has had enough. She opens the door, looks at the crowd and roars: “who is interrupting my breastfeeding?”. Ador orders her to get her ass back in the house, and when she does not comply he pushes her back inside and closes the door after her, adding a stern “go in the house, wife”. At which point she goes postal, climbs unto the roof with two crossbows in her hands, and threatens to shoot the lot of them if they don't leave right about now.

The priest tells Lordus that they must burn the house down at once and execute Ador as a traitor, but the Lord is in a hurry, and decides that the search will provide Ador with one last chance to prove his loyalty and worth.

As Warner watches them ride off, Tzao lin looks at the twins. So perfect. So innocent. The perfect sacrifice: one for the Crane, and one for the Bull.

In a wicked forest, on a moonless night, the search party encounters the werewolves. The dogs go wild. Blood. Death. Ador is badly injured and Tzao־Lin is captured. Lordus and the priest reach a large clearing they hear Beth screaming.

Beth is on the ground, her father, Lordus, is right above her. “We must hurry, daughter, give me your hand”. And she runs with him, the branches above her head reaching towards her like skeletal fingers. And then they make it to the clearing, in which they see Lordus and the priest. And suddenly there are two girls. Both scream.

The priest rushes them, spreading his holy powder and demanding to kill both, but Lordus stops him. They all shout and argue, and eventually one of the Beths strikes the priest's head with a rock. He goes down, and Lordus is left with two daughters. And he is suspicious of the wrong one, because she has the scent of wolves upon her.