A wolf snarled, and then another, fangs glinting in the dim light. A worg, towering over them, barked a command - and my blood ran cold. Talking beasts... this world just got a whole lot weirder. The worg demanded our prisoners, and my suggestion to leave a corpse as tribute felt pathetic.
Then Spoon whipped out some vial and powder concoction. He wasn't blinding a wolf... he was turning its face into a firework! I tried to cast a sleep spell, painting three creatures with unconsciousness. In the chaos, Cassius, finally wise for once, grabbed the corpse and flung it as wolf bait.
But a wolf had me - its teeth clamped down, pain exploding through my leg. My spell failed. I staggered back, dazing it, but I was bleeding, badly. Gornak roared, a whirlwind of fury even as wolf bites tore into him. Cassius was a one-man legion, batting the creatures back. Where was Spoon? Ah, there – a berserker goblin shape disappearing into the fray.
Desperation made my mind race. I smacked the cart, a bid to distract the wolves. Two doomed prisoners might die… but they'd been torturing a goblin… My stomach churned. Was I better than them?
Spoon, crazed with bloodlust, howled and charged after the fleeing cart. He ignored my shouts, so I did what I had to - I dazed him. Better knocked out than torn to shreds. Cassius, meanwhile, was an unstoppable force of nature, barely scratched.
Finally, the worg and his pack retreated, leaving a trail of blood and whimpers. Gornak blamed us, conveniently forgetting he'd started this whole mess. Spoon, roused from his unconsciousness, was furious with me. Ungrateful little... Well, he was alive.
His fury faded fast as we stumbled upon what remained of the cart – a scene of carnage, and astoundingly, Rip, alive and unharmed. Then came the operatic owl, its hooting almost comically out of place in this horror show. Spoon nearly had a breakdown, convinced it would summon some new nightmare.
Finally, the "hamlet" – more like a handful of rundown shacks. A villager, barely able to hide his pity at our state, offered ale and beds. Maraguin, when she met us, seemed far too cheerful considering the problems here: aggressive beasts, emboldened goblins... just another day in the life of a hero for hire.
Afterward, as Roschana and I scrubbed the goblin-stink off Spoon, he quizzed me about magic with the fervor of a scholar. I felt like a fraud, unable to explain even my own powers. This journey was messing with his head, and likely, with all of ours.