How to deal with Werewolves

Merril's body fell from the vine, blood still pouring out of his open mouth.  The hair subsided and the size of the creature wilted down to reveal a small  elf.  Fox recognized the elf.  He had sequestered Blossom in the wee hours of the night while he and Jend waited quietly in their tree.  There was something odd and unsavory about the fellow.  He was angry at the thought that he would not be able to question him further.  A dead werewolf did not help them in this situation, however a live werewolf wouldn't be of much use either.
     Pas moved in and began working on the corpse, he knew that werewolves did not always stay dead and it could soon come back to bite them in the...   Pas skillfully removed the head and lodged a silver coin deep into the still warm neck-hole.  Auren and Raddick stood watching and wincing at the grotesqueness of it all.  Pas stopped and looked back over his shoulder.
     "If you want to be a "made" man, you can't be afraid to get your hands dirty,"  he smiled and flashed another silver coin.  He rolled the corpse over, removed it's tattered breeches and jammed the coin up the elf's rear.  He moved closer and sniffed the corpse.
     "There are many types of Lycanthropes," Pas started, "the type decides the form they take.  If you get bit, you turn.  You will most likely need silver weapons if you plan on doing any serious damage to them.  And forget tracking them, they will always have the drop on you."
     Pas described more in-depth knowledge as he stood above the corpse sniffing his fingers.  Fox shook his head in disgust and noticed a pack laying near by.  I must have belonged to Merril. 

Pack contents:

Wax
Cooked Pheasant
1 Garnet
26 Gold
Old paper with writing

Fox held the tattered paper up, light pouring through caused it to look like a flap of skin riddled with veins.
     "The sun comes up in the morning"
     "The moon comes out at night"
     "The wind blows at noon"


Who keeps complaining about getting healed?

Where the Wolves Were.

Our heroes found themselves in a lethal predicament.  They were completely surrounded by a werewolf (Merril), a Winter Wolf and four dire wolves, all of which carried a ravenous thirst for blood.  Phae tossed a fire-ball into the apple trees to draw out any more would-be enemies. 
     "Looks like we've come across some bad apples." growled Groth as he readied his steel for action.  He charged with ferocity towards a cluster of wolves.  In his excitement he misses the targets. 
     Without wasting any time Merril leaped from the fallen log.  Striking for Raddick he lost his footing.  Raddick dodged.  At once the dire wolves choreographed an attack tripping both Raddick and Groth. 
     Fox couldn't help but ponder the worst of outcomes.  The Winter Wolf stared at him with glowing eyes.  Icy bursts came forth with every exhale.  He knew that something drastic had to be done, and it had to be done soon.  Pulling out the bean pouch he prayed for a good outcome. 
     Holding the bean between his thumb and index finger the jammed it into the earth. 

Where to place the fire...

     The blast forced him back five paces.  The ground shuddered as the ground swelled all around them.  Slithering our of the forest floor rose close to two dozen thick black tentacles.  Wrapping up everything in their path, the tentacles isolated Merril and two of his dire wolves.  They gnashed their teeth and thrashed about; causing the tentacles grip to tighten. 
     The Winter Wolf let out a growl as it breathed frost onto Raddick and Groth who have yet to get back to their feet.  They writhe with the pain of a thousand frozen needles.  Phae rewards the creature with a fatal fireball which spreads it's flames to encompass the tangled Werewolf.  
     Groth slashes through two more dire wolves dropping them both while above, a tentacle, squeezed the life out of a third. 
     High above Merril howls in frustration.  Raddick turns to attack and nothing happens.  Merril laughed.
     "If you critical fail, your turn is done!" he boasted.
     With the flick of his wrist Auren unleashes his whip-dagger, catching Merril in the throat.  The creatures smile disappears.  A small amount of blood dripped out of the corner of his mouth.  The tentacle tightened causing the wolf-man to gurgle and spew forth dark red blood.  Phae and Fox dispatch the last of the wolves.  The party can now breathe.


GIMME DAT LOOT!