Dawn broke over the forest, sending bloody red rays of sunlight across the village, which once again roused itself to continue the terrible business of hunting out the wolves .
Soon, the village square was once again filled with the roar of arguing voices. Several key members of the village undertook long-winded rants about who the wolves could possibly be, and for some reason, instead of going after the suspects from the day before, the villagers decided to go searching among everyone else. For whatever reason, suspicion fell upon two people; Sir Rendap von Rabenstrange, and Mayor King, mainly for suspected involvement in the murder of Kash… the boy had, after all, publicly denounced the mayor , and after a strenuous and extremely vocal shouting match, during which the village very nearly decided on lynching them both, it was finally decided that they would kill Rendap. The man was a stranger to the village after all, and had arrived just before all the trouble had started… so he could easily be to blame, could he not?
“No!” roared Rendap, drawing the great two-handed sword he from behind his back, “I refuse to go down like this!”
He made an impressive figure, and this defiance gave the villagers pause. Six feet tall and massive in burnished plate, no one was quite sure what to make of him. The hesitation lasted but a few moments, until Pelinal Whitestrake, his savagely scarred visage twisted with rage, stepped forward, a burnished and well-cared for hand-and-a-half sword in his right hand.
“What are you waiting for,” he growled harshly, “get the bastard!”
At that Rendap let out a howl of unholy rage, and threw his sword down at Whitestrake’s feet.
“Enough of this charade,” he growled, and began to… transform. Larger he grew, sprouting white fur, black claws and savage fangs. His eyes turned a savage yellow, and before long his armor and clothing lay scattered around the square while where the proud, noble knight had stood, now stood a wolf of purest white fur, standing taller than a plough horse at the withers. With a growl, the wolf threw itself forwards… and spitted itself on Whitestrake’s bastard sword. With a violent twist, Whitestrake pulled the blade free and wiped it on the corpse, leaving a red stain streaked across the snow-white fur.
White with shock, most of the villagers soon dispersed… except for one, Boris, who hung back to watch over the corpse of the wolf. From the stains, it appeared he had been hiding in the hedge that walled the village square, and the wolves had stumbled across him merely by accident. But discover him they had, and they had dragged him, kicking and screaming, into the center of the square, and then torn him apart in the goriest fashion available. Before fleeing the scene, they had used his entrails to adorn the gibbet, and the innocent villager who still hung there.
Rendap, the White Wherewolf, is lynched by the villagers.
Boris ze Spider, the Innocent Villager, is hunted by the wolves.
