May 25th 1066.
Your packs are thrown into the hut along with you. It seems the Bugbears have little interest in your supplies and trinkets, just taking the weapons away.
Druid Clive listens to Dalin's tale and gives you a cursory inspection, checking the areas where the Mummy Rot has a visible effect. He agrees that the resurgent cults are probably behind a number of threats, certainly the Red Fang Bugbears have been enthralled by the cultic Set theology.
Coughing, he suspects the greater damage is internally. "It is certainly a distressing affliction but not one without hope. A disease, however baneful has natural causes. The remedies can be found though nature is a fickle mistress, moreso now challenged by the pestilence that corrupts.
Prayer and fasting can address this and if left unharmed I could minister to your needs."
He gives you hope but it is short lived. Hunnicot announces guards approaching and they unbar the door, summoning you outside or roughly fetching you if you resist. The captured trio are marched along, through the village to a barrage of abuse. In a clearing on the edge you see a large wooden figure. A tall jackal headed cage made of wood and surrounded by a stockade of sharpened stakes. At the foot of the figure, several Bugbears cut long grasses and logs, piling them up to build into a bonfire.
Clive and Hunnicot are roughly pushed forward at the point of many spears. Bound, they are carried up a small ladder and placed inside the torso of the 'Wicker Man' effigy.
"You may watch the sun go down today and as the sun goes down tomorrow, your bodies will burn and flesh shall melt. Your cries will honour Set who will take your souls as your die, a good death, 24 hours from now." Katka says to the merry cheering of the converted Bugbears.
As the pair are shut in to their apparent doom, he salutes, "May that which is dead never die.", he then turns to Dalin.
"A diseased dwarf is not a worthy offering. A good death will be taken from you. You are free to go." he says and takes your crossbow. He points it to the west, triggering the release and sending the shaft hundreds of yards away to thud into the root of a large tree of the edge of the forest. Your pack is returned, your belt of weapons, a heavy wineskin of clean water placed over your shoulders and the crossbow thrown into your chest for you to catch.
Behind you, several young adolescent Bugbears gather behind a drawn line in the ground. They are barefoot and unarmoured but each have a number of javelins and eagerly anticipate running you down. It seems you are free to go, but your doom may quickly follow. Perhaps slaying you is a rite of passage. But you have a head start, at least until you reach the crossbow bolt.
"Godspeed Dalin, walk now, don't run. Then run, run for your life." shouts the ranger as he grips the wooden cage and presses his face to the frame and encourages you to make good your escape.
Dalin, actions please .
