The baron hears the accusations of his people. It saddens him that this once vibrant community has turned on itself like this. Though the votes are close... one name is heard more than the others.
Quietly, the Baron orders his knights to drag that villager to the front. The villager goes quietly, having said nothing nor even accusing others. At the last second, he makes a break for freedom, feral growls coming from his throat, but the silver lined swords of the knights hem him in.
Dwarf Puffer was a werewolf.
His body lies, steaming on the cold ground. A partially completed change left him vulnerable.
The night passes. Everyone trembles in their hovels. The baron sleeps soundly in his castle walls. Howls are heard throughout the land. It is a chilling sound... one that gets into the very souls of men.
Dawn breaks over the snow capped mountains. The first touch of light drives off the slight frost. The villagers gather in the town square. There are wolf tracks all over the ground. Gouges in the wooden beams of huts and the grainery. A chicken coup has been destroyed. Nothing left, but a few tattered feathers and the echo of a frightened chick.
Eighteen villagers went to sleep. Eighteen villagers are in the square in the morning.
What could have happened to the werewolves? They were in the town. Was someone protected... or did something more sinister occur?
It is morning... make of the day what you will... for tonight is another full moon.
Nightfall will be at 8:30PM Monday.