Scene #3499: Of Graves and Hags

Owner	Pose
Geralt of Rivia	With the sun setting on the grasslands and marshes of Velen, it's time for the Witcher - Geralt - to move on to his next hamlet, his coinpurse just a bit heavier from his earnings at the card table. Roach, his horse, takes a gentle walk down the road. He makes polite conversation but is generally reserved. The Witcher is barely past the outskirts of the quiet town before someone - a peasant, his clothing flecked with mud and something darker and redder - comes tearing out of the woods, his face white with fear! "Witcher!" the man yells, "Witcher! There's a monster, digging up the graves of the dead! Someone has to stop it! It's not right, it's not!" Geralt pulls up on Roach's reins. "Hmm," he comments.
Ainsley	Since it's not long after that, and Ainsley was on her way out of Velen anyways, the lizard woman halts nearby the Witcher's horse. She turns her pale blue gaze on the panicked peasant, and looks him up and down. She's reading him. Checking for deceit, perhaps flaws in his body language. It's a brief look. She has been hanging around Geralt for a little while and it's this reason that means she can turn to him and say, "Would you like me to accompany you? I am quite curious about the way you work." She draws a dagger out from under her cloak, demonstrating it with a slow tilt to let the dim light shine against the metal, contrasting her dark clothing. She's prepared to stab some ghoulish creatures, if she needs to.
Dorian Pavus	Dorian had left the tavern alongside Geralt and Ainsley. And if Ainsley doesn't have means of traveling, Dorian will definitely offer to let her ride with him on the way out. There's plenty of room; Dorian's well-built but not huge. It's when the peasant comes up, covered in mud and Maker-knows-what else, that Dorian raises an eyebrow. See this is why he always carries his staff. He'll let Geralt decide if he's going to 'take the job or not'. For himself, Dorian inquires of the peasant, "What about you? Are you hurt?"
Geralt of Rivia	"No, sir," The peasant tells Dorian, "I'm not hurt. It's jus'- jus' Frederic's blood, sir. It cut him open from collar to belly, it did!" Well, that's not the best thing to hear. Geralt turns to Ainsley. He shrugs, leather armor creaking. "Fine." To the peasant, he says, "We'll check it out. It's probably just a ghoul problem. Head home," Geralt tells him, voice firm. "I'll be back for payment." The peasant nods, and scurries off back towards the town. Geralt leads the way, Roach's hooves churning up muddy ground. "Ghouls," Geralt begins, "Might look human but they're monsters. They'll want to eat the flesh from your bones - probably why they're digging up the corpses. Graves aren't deep enough to make the bodies anything but an easy meal. They'll be in a pack. So, be sure to watch your backs." The graveyard isn't far. It's hardly a mausoleum or city arrangment - just a number of shallow plots amongst a copse of trees, headstones made of wood and daubed with paint. It appears that many of the graves have been dug up as if by claws or hands, and corpses lie disturbed and gnawed upon. Geralt dismounts Roach, and takes in the scene.
Ainsley	Dorian's offer was easily accepted, of course. Ainsley wouldn't pass up the opportunity to keep her delicate feet from getting scuffed up or muddy. But soon she's climbing off the horse when everyone arrived at the graveyard. She hums a little song to herself while she looks around, apparently not worried about the ghoul problem in the slightest. She steps up to the corpses and casually pokes at them with her dagger, taking in the sight of the damage and easily enduring the awful smell of rotten flesh. It looks like she's using the sharp implement to examine the extent of the damage without touching the corpses with her hands. "They should have dug deeper. It is a wonder these corpses were not eaten by animals instead of ghouls," she observes, not really directing that to anyone. "Not that the ground here is very good for grave digging..." She stands, and scans her surroundings, pointedly distancing herself from the corpse when she realizes that the ghouls were not here when they arrived.
Dorian Pavus	Dorian nods upon hearing that the frightened man isn't hurt. He concurs with Geralt's assessment, also adding, "And clean up, too. You'll feel a little better." Well, that was a little odd to hear. But he's probably not wrong; having your buddy's blood on you is rarely a pleasant thing. As they head to the site, Dorian listens to the explanation of ghouls. Then he inquires, "Do these ghouls have weaknesses? Fire, bludgeoning about the head and face, anything of the sort?" Might as well be prepared. Besides, if fire or bludgeoning is a weakness he can definitely deliver! Once everyone dismounts at the graveyard, it's clear Dorian's not exactly as tolerant of the smell. He looks distinctly green for a moment -- metaphorically speaking -- and covers his mouth and nose with a hand. He looks utterly disgusted, what of his face can be seen over his gloved hand covering his mouth. It's fortunate, probably for everyone, that he's made of sterner stuff than to throw up at a bad smell. That said, though, he nods to Ainsley's statement. "Unfortunately, when all you have is a wooden hand spade, a few feet is usually all you can manage," he explains, his words muffled by his hand still over his face. He'll pull that hand away a few moments later, though he curls his lip in distaste at the smell. And then he unslings the staff from his back, keeping his eyes open. His magical senses too; he doesn't know if these ghouls are magically animated, or have some sort of dark magical aura or something of the sort.
Geralt of Rivia	The corpses have been obviously chewed on, with flesh stripped from their bones as if by sharp teeth or a very strong tongue. Some have been more eaten than others - perhaps the monsters are saving the rest as a stockpile. After all, winter can't be too far off... "Mm," Geralt grunts, agreeing with Ainsley. He reaches behind his back, drawing one of his blades - this one, it appears, is made from silver. To their weaknesses, Geralt tells Dorian: "Everything works. Silver weapons work best. Fire's a good choice, because they'll be diseased. Can't have anything spreading. Watch their claws, by the way. Same reason." There's no sense of any dark magics. That might be a relief to Dorian. "Thing is," Geralt is saying as he steps up to one of the corpses Ainsley had been poking at. "Ghouls don't leave slashing wounds. Not like he described happening to his friend. This's the work of a Grave Hag." And, just like that, something emerges from one of the shallow graves with a feral shriek. It looks like an aged, hunch-backed woman with leathery grey skin. It (she?) hisses and hurls a hand of mud and flesh at Ainsley, while her long prehensile tongue lashes out, as if seeking Dorian's eyes! Geralt frowns, readying his blade and stepping forwards. "Hate it when I'm right."
Ainsley	Hitting Ainsley with mud or flesh is, at best, going to just make the lizard woman unhappy. She moves to evade narrowly, though she's hardly superhuman about it she's clearly not easily blinded with such a cheap tactic when she's expecting a surprise. The creature's arrival marks a look of mild disappointment. She could deal with a handful of hungry dead, but this thing probably won't let her get close to it no matter how much she tries. And so she steps back and activates her Sight while she lets the other two handle keeping in mauling range of the creature. "It threw corpse chunks at me. What a rude thing to do to introduce itself," she remarks, not irreverent so much as unaffected by the shock of its arrival. She focuses keenly on the creature on the off chance that such a creature uses spoken magic of any sort. If it does, she can provide a rebuttal. Otherwise, she's a fifth wheel in this fight and her daggers are largely for self-defense purposes. "Have you got this, boys?" she wonders, confident that they do by the cheerful tone in her voice.
Dorian Pavus	It is indeed a relief that there's no dark magics here. So, as horrible as that sounds, these ghouls must be 'natural' creatures. Sort of. That's a horrible thought. ut at least there's nothing supernaturally magical. Dorian nods to Geralt's observation. "And these 'Grave Hags'... what do they --" Unfortunately he's interrupted by the object of their discussion leaping out of grave, very likely with intention to make THEM the next meal! Dorian's startled a little too much to deliver any of his usual witticism. "Kaffas!" he sputters. However what he does deliver is an instinctual lightning bolt from an upraised hand at the thing leaping at him. It's only once he's out of the thing's immediate reach, staff held at the ready, that he seems to get control of himself again. Frowning darkly he all but hisses himself, "Terribly sorry my dear. But I don't believe I know you well enough for that sort of thing. First date and all." Ainsley's remark about the creature's rudeness gets an agreement from Dorian. "That always seems to be the case with these sorts of things. Manners seem to be the first thing to go." As for whether they've got it or not, "I believe so. If you need to stand back, please do so. It wouldn't do to have you injured."
Geralt of Rivia	"Trying to blind you!" Geralt shouts to Ainsley. His silver blade sings as he swings for the Hag, but he is forced to duck back to just evade a swipe from its long, blood-encrusted claws. Luckily, Dorian's lightning bolt is there to hammer the monster and drive it back, leaving a nasty black scorch mark on the monster's chest. Over the repugnant air, there's the distinct smell of burnt flesh. The Hag scurries back, evidently hurt but refusing to stop fighting, and then lashes out with another strike from its tongue - the impossibly-long organ trying to lash at Ainsley's face! Not wasting a moment, however, Geralt steps in - and seizes the tongue in one gauntletted hand. Whether it has struck Ainsley or not, Geralt doesn't see, because he brings his silver sword down and severs the Hag's tongue! Tossing the tongue aside, Geralt remarks, "What now, you piece of filth!?" It doesn't appear to have any sort of magical ability - it hisses and screeches but doesn't seem to be able to communicate. It might look human but it never was, perhaps unlike a lot of ghoulish monsters from other worlds. Ainsley's Sight seems to indicate that it's naught but a monster, inhuman and terrible - yet, strangely, it doesn't seem to be native to Geralt's world...?
Ainsley	Ainsley moves her face out of the way, but the tongue slashes at her scales and leaves a stinging wound that makes her shut one of her eyes. She squeaks on reflex from the shock of pain, but it's soon after that when Geralt severs the offending appendage. It's then that she feels like pointing out, "Well, that was disgusting." "This thing looks more alien that I would've expected," she adds, "Even to my Sight. It's Name doesn't really... fit it surroundings." Not that the others are overly concerned about the minutiae of its origin right this second, so she turns her Sight off and digs in her clothing for a disinfectant to rub into the wound so she doesn't end up with a nasty infection later. Also, it really seemed to have grossed her out. "Eeeugh..."
Dorian Pavus	Dorian doesn't quite get to the creature in time to make sure it can't hurt Ainsley. Fortunately Geralt is there to grab the tongue and sever it. "Well, that's one less vector of attack," Dorian observed. Ainsley's mention of the thing not being native gets a blink. "It isn't?" He seems confused at the prospect. "It doesn't seem all that magical, either." Mind, he's saying all this as he's attempting to set the Grave Hag on fire with a gout of flames from his hands. He's apparently used to talking and fighting.
Geralt of Rivia	Geralt parries a blow from the beast's claws, and then slides his sword down the arm to the Hag's elbow - and severs the limb. From there, a quick riposte and Geralt has opened up the creature's belly. Seemingly impossibe, it still lives. But not for much longer, however, as Dorian's scorching blast of flames sets the creature on fire. Howling, the Hag retreats for the trees - but collapses before making three paces. It burns and Geralt watches the scene for a moment, before evidently deciding that the monster is down for good. He picks up the tongue. He's quick to explain, "Proof we've done the job." Remaking to Ainsley, he continues, "You were sayin' somethin' about not fitting in? I'll explain it on the way back to town."