If he flees, she relaxes almost immediately, rage evaporating into nothing as the focus of her fury departs. "I'll take care of the bodies," she announces to her companions. "Would you two see that the other passengers are well? I fear I might elicit an undesired reaction." She takes the gutted thief and drags the body toward the car's nearest open-air exit, hopefully not leaving too much gore in her wake.
As you begin to tend to the passengers and the slain bandits, two of the railroad agents appear at the outside door. "What has happened here? We heard shots," one of them exclaims. When he sees the carnage, he grows even more alarmed. "Explain yourselves!"
Gregory seems almost pained to watch it, and then slumps to the floor in a daze, holding his head.
More surprising is what happens to the faithful dog. The beast begins to twitch and tremble. Before your eyes, the dog begins to transform - fur receding, flesh and bones moulding themselves into a new forms. In moments, the form of a naked halfling man lies curled on the floor.
He turns around to Caladrel, with a nod of thanks for the druids quick thinking and action. Then he lifts Gregory with a slight strain into the seat by the fire to recuperate.
'*sniff* Waking me up, to flaunt your victories. Silly humans.'
With a flick of her tail, Luce turns around and moves back towards the outside - however she decides to patrol rather than going straight back to sleep.
Sylvia pops her head back in from the livestock car and explains the situation in her inimitable fashion. "Trinia there just saved your train from a holdup. Which I assume was why the tracks were blocked. You can thank her with gold. That might help the hurt she incurred on your behalf. Or, you know, she could sue you for damages. You're lucky nobody was killed. Well, nobody but the robbers. The rest got away. All your stuff is still here and Chanticleer is unharmed. You're welcome. Really, you owe Trinia quite a lot. She took out the robbers very surgically. My solution to problems is generally to burn everything in the vicinity."
The former hostage speaks up, "It's true, sir. There were robbers. Four of them. These people came and stopped them. The robbers were going to kill me."
Satisfied, the agent addresses you, "We owe you a debt of gratitude, then. Still, we will need to take written statements for the railroad inquiry."
They show you to a private area of the train where they can take down your recollection of events.
Gregory seems less talkative, and looks about with some confusion. "What is going on? What happened to me? That... That thing... Is Elise?"
Caladrel goes over to Gregory to check if he is alright as well. "You have been under the spell of a hag. No fear, she is dead. What is the last thing either of you remember? Do you recall where you are from?"
Caladrel pulls out a wand of cure light wounds and heals and himself and Jerry.
Standing up, he bows to Gregory and the halfling; "I am Jeremiah Roberts, yes unfortunately she was Elise. A hag, or some such, she could change her appearance so as to not reflect her heart." He tries to comfort the injured folk with words, knowing few actions that could work.
Sylvia is more than happy to chatter away at her questioner with her version of accounts, ensuring them that her livestock is fine and that she won't be bringing any sort of lawsuit.
The halfling introduces himself. "Thank you, lords Caladrel and Roberts. I am Hendrin Pestlewit. She fed us those concoctions. Bent us to her will. She kept me as her plaything until she got bored and found another, and then kept me on as a faithful pet. There was one before me - he took his own life. Perhaps there were others, earlier still, but you have put a stop to it. Truly, you are heroes as of old."
Caladrel begins searching for the house.
He gets out a pouch from his saddlebag; "You may need this." Leaning in to the sobbing gentleman; "Your compassion does you proud sir, though take it not badly if your wife is upset - want me to pen a letter of explanation?"
With a whisper as Caladrel goes off to search the building; "We probably should tarry just long enough to ensure these two are safe - the bet be damned."
The train makes only a few stops before you near a station and hear an agent call, "Milton Station. Approaching Milton." The train comes to a halt, the brakes squealing with the sound of metal against metal. The doors open upon a quaint platform, sheltered by a wooden overhang.
Caladrel does not see any signs of previous victims, and Hendrin does not know of any others apart from the one who took his life many years ago.
The rain finally slows and then stops. A stillness settles over the cottage in the wake of the turbulent weather, and in time a rainbow appears in the sky. The two men are grateful for your assistance, but neither will let you accompany them when they reconnect with their people. As Gregory says, "This is something I must do myself. No one can do it for me."
Picking up his pack in agreement with Caladrel; "True, friend. We need to be going. I'll just take the corpse outside & lay it beneath a tree to nourish in death as she didn't in life." With some respect he takes the cloth wrapped body outside and lays it beneath a yew tree.
He subtly changes his stance as he starts intoning a melodic and fluid chant in a strange language. Luce picks up her ears at the tribal language and plods over the the scene, just as the strange ululation subsides.
Mounting up, he turns to the druid. "Alright I'm ready."
Following your delay, you are able to make relatively good time along the road.
You get as far as the village of Chesterbridge as the sun sets. The village is like so many others in this part of the country. It was once an important way-station for travelers along the post road. Visitors are fewer now that the railroad moves people about in a fraction of the time, and villages like this one seem to now exist outside of the passage of time. People here live much as they did a hundred years ago or more - tending their livestock and crops, practicing trades, and so on.
Caladrel looks for an inn that may house them for the night.
Patting Luces' flank as he bobs down towards the village
"Too many think progress is all about profit, developing lands unrealistically and exploiting them harshly. Though that's not to say these people couldn't have been exploited, just the consequences can be less dire." Jerry sighs.
Padding down the road, Jerry keeps his eyes out for lodgings as well. "Anyway, hopefully we shall have an enjoyable evening and an early start tomorrow?"
You lodge for the night and awaken to the smell of bacon and fresh eggs. A spread has been laid out of these, plus the usual muffins, tomatoes, and blood pudding.
"Oh, Trin, there's so much to see and do at the University!" Sylvia cries enthusiastically, giving Chanticleer's lead a tug while she holds her free hand out to the tiefling, "We should probably start right away! I could talk to my old Alchemy profs. They probably won't know anything but they might be able to point us to scholars who do. Of course, getting them to admit that they know nothing could be an exercise in futility! They all think they know everything. But there is the library, where we could research those star-things. But getting a handle on a good starting point could take some time without one of the experts to point us in the direction of the correct volume."
She continues talking breezily as she leads Chanticleer from the station, heedless of who might hear, taking a rather crazed, zig-zaggy course as she allows the mule to pull her off to examine interesting flower gardens, or drifts off to peek into the odd shop window herself. "The village is a lot of nothing, really. It's only here because of the Uni. There's not much to explore and they seem to object to explosions and strange fumes that turn the vegetation orange and furry. I don't know why. Just not friendly. But... oh, I almost forgot. The University doesn't allow mules except at the stables, and Chanticleer hates it there. So maybe we should find a place to put him up before we go there. I had a place in town but moved out a few weeks ago. I use "moved" loosely, of course. I was more the object of the verb than the subject. Guess we'll need to find an inn, or at least a livery stable. Follow me; I know where the inns are. Do you think we should get a room for the others? I wonder if we'll ever see them again. Maybe they were killed on the way. They should have taken the train with us. You were magnificent against those bandits, Trinia! I would have just set the whole thing on fire and walked away. "Walk" being the operative word -- we wouldn't have been able to ride to town and we'd have been no better off than the others. So I guess fire isn't the solution to every problem. Go figure."
Sylvia's drunkard's walk takes them to the nearest inn, where she pauses doubtfully. "Hmm. Think this one will work? Maybe the others are already in town and got rooms for us somewhere else? Guh. Decisions."
"I'm sorry you had to witness that. Are you lot looking for lodging? I've just had a room open up."
It is not easy to find anyone interested in talking about the strange lady. Decent folk don't trust her, but regard her as an unsavory figure and seducer of men. One particularly gossipy housewife gladly tells the tale of how a man named Gregory left his family for that slattern of a woman, and now mothers and wives do not let their menfolk go anywhere near the place.
Jerry tells the gossip that the situation has been resolved, "even if it's not in the most desirous of ways", with the knowledge that it'll spread around soon.
Then Jerry partakes of the solid hearty breakfast, glad of the nourishment. "Very fine meal, though do you partake of meat?" He asks Caladrel.
Caladrel waits for Jerry and Luce to join him outside. When they appear ready to depart, he transforms again into a cheetah and takes off at a swift trot.
After paying for their lodgings, he saddles up Luce and rides out to join Caladrel outside.
"One room?" Sylvia exclaims in dismay, "But we'll need more than that. If we stay. And a stable. We have, um... three, four, five, six... I think six. And a "mule"." She actually uses finger quotes around "mule".
She decides it's best not to mention the lion at all.
Sylvia raises her eyebrows at Trina. "A day or two? You really think it will take them that long? I thought they were fast or something. Why didn't they just take the train with us? Silly fossils. I'm glad that we are sensible people, at least, even if there were robbers. Heck, I bet that lion would have scared them off by itself."
"That sounds good to me," she replies, glancing toward Sylvia.
"Outstanding!" Sylvia beams, then her face falls. "I suppose Chanticleer has to stay in the stable? Can I bring him in the room instead?"
When the stop to quench their thirst, Jerry sees the playful and joyous mood of his companion falter. "Don't worry, I'm sure Gregory and Hendrin will be fine. This place reminds me of my fathers estate, so peaceful - but then you can find peace and what have you, with the right frame of mind."
'Progress isn't bad, just a pity it's applied to the fertile rather than helping tame the more violent lands.' he inwardly shrugs to himself.
"Stable? I s'pose," Sylvia hmphs softly, "He's been cooped up in the train all day, though. Maybe we should take a walk to the road leading out of town - or into town, from their point of view - and see if we can meet up with the rest of the group, 'cause they won't know where we've gone. That'll give Chanty a chance to stretch his wi--... legs, and us, too." She scrutinizes her companions to see if they agree.
"Well... right then." Sylvia seems a bit confused that somebody agrees with her - or is at least not opposing her - and forks over the required gold to the landlady to reserve the room. She insists on stopping at the stables to inspect the place and reserve a stall for Chanticleer that night.
Then she drags the hapless mule, who seems more interested in browsing around the street than in walking, down to the main road that leads to the estate, picking up a couple of meat pies to munch along the way.
Sylvia presses her extra meat pies on her traveling companions, munching happily on her own pasty and apparently oblivious to the discomfort of her comrades. When they arrive at the road, she scans the traffic and, bored after about ninety seconds of such activity, begins to fidget.
Finally, she bursts out with, "Say, do you think we could put up a sign telling them where we went? I mean, no point us standing here wasting all this skill and brainpower when a dumb post could do the job every bit as well."