So it was that the group decided to help old Pachski find his horses, at least. "I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth," he said, surprised but grateful, "thank you for humoring an old man."<br/><br/>The horses' tracks led deep into the forest, where the trees clustered thickly and the canopy blocked the light of the scarlet moon, forcing the group to proceed by flickering torchlight. Shadowy figments of the imagination flitted between trees just beyond the reach of the light, or were they merely that... or something more substantial?<br/><br/>From far away the ringing of bells echoed. "Moonrise," Pachski hissed, tightening his grip on his crossbow. "It holds no authority out here, but the hour itself emboldens those that would hide during the day." Somewhere beyond the trees, a wolf howled at the red blood moon.<br/><br/>From much closer, a horse's frenzied neigh cut through the air... getting louder as the source of the sound got closer. Their horses, or the steed of a headless rider? The old man cocked and shouldered his weapon in the automatic, clockwork manner of a thousand repetitions in drill, aiming at where the sound came from.<br/><br/>Their carriage steeds tore through the underbrush, reins trailing behind them, their path taking them straight through the group! But that was not all, snapping at their heels was a mangy wolf driven berserk by hunger and the scent of prey, skin and sinew and bone behind a snarling mouthful of sharp teeth.<br/><br/>"Quick, catch the horses before they bolt!" Pachski shouted.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Knowledge (Nature or Religion) DC 20</div><div class="spoiler_body">You recognize the wolf is not a true wolf, but a werewolf.<br/></div></div><br/><br/>The horses/wolf are running by so both melee and ranged actions are possible. Attempting to catch the horses is a grapple action.