Black Blood, Red Blood

[damien the 3rd]

Randorr Tigerfang, gnomish weretiger, slept happlily in his tent, with dreams of chasing humanoids flowing through his head. He was about bite into an elvces chest when a sharp kick in his stomach awoke him from his pleasant slumber. Growling, Rondorr opened his eyes to the unpleasant image of Shadoweye the werewolf, his hated clan superior.

"Get up, fresh meat," he snarled. "Scouts gotta scent of humans and the Bloodmaster's ordered the clan to assemble."

The werewolf sneered at the gnome, and shifted to his hybrid form. Intrigued by the scent of humans, Rondarr got up, grabbed his spear Malrazor, and slapped some deer hide on, then emegerd to the sight of the clan gathered before the Temple of Malar. Yahach, the clan's Bloodmaster stood at the entrance of the ruined tower, in the hybrid form of the rat, surrounded by his several of his guards and his mate Schnazza.

"Shut yer yappin' mouths,"snarled the Wererat. "We got meat and trophy's on the way. A caravan from Waterdeep's been sighted near here an' they appear to got no need to hurry 'cause they're movin' as slow as a tired slug. To top the package off they're escortin' a noble family somewhere er another. They got smilin' faces an' it's our Malar givin' right to replace those with bloody screams. Now move yer furry hides out to the pass to the caravan routes."

With a loud roar, the clan almost simultaneously turned to the form of animal or hybrid. Rondorr switched his tiger form and galloped away to his place behind the Bloodmaster. The Clan speeded down the familiar hunting paths with utter stealth. Rondorr deftly dodged and moved through the brush to the caravan road moving through the Ardeep Forest. The Clan halted with as much quietness as they had when moving, not a single of the lycanthropes clumsily stubling into one another.

With a nod from Yuhach, Rondorr returned to his gnomish form and said: Alright as they're going slowly so shall we. Woves go in front to keep survivors from escaping, tigers follow me at the back against the guards, and rats take the ones with cargo, spoil what we dont need, never mind the stuff we do. Now get out."

Rondorr shifted to tiger form and moved with his feline brethren towards the rear of the caravan. The faster ones moved to the other side of the path, unnoticed by the stupid humans. Rondorr heard faint snoring coming from the carriage. The guards looked forward, seemingly more of a show of wealth than for any real purpose. The ranger also noticed that a young woman had slipped out of the carriage, apparently using whatever useless attempt a human could use at stealth. She was of no concern, but the guards certainly looked appetizing and would put at least a half decent trophy on his shelf. But Rondarr was concernmed about a tall man in shining armor, grey haired but clearly wise and strong, not tomention carrying a sword of great length at his hip. He would have to come down first, thought Rondorr, and prepared to pounce.