<4 - Panic>

	"I saws 'em with my own eyes, I tells ya!" the nightgown-clad man pled as he dropped to his knees.  "They dragged away that poor girl, they had to!  Murdered her, they did!"

	A series of mixed whispers flooded the town hall in response, and they only grew louder the more the townsfolk dared to debate the issue.  Men and women in various states of undress had turned up to the meeting in the dead of night at the panicked man's request, but few were convinced that these wolf-men even existed.  As the din grew louder, the sharp sound of a rapping gavel silenced all but its wielder.  "Quiet down, all of you!" called out Mayor Genn Greymane as he hesitantly put down his gavel and adjusted his tie.  "There's no need for panic!  We have no reason to believe in these absurd, fantastical beasts Mr. Johnson claims to have seen."

	"I disagree!" someone cried in response.  The sea of peasants parted to give the gown-clad woman a chance to continue.  "Has anyone seen the Johnsons in the past week?  Carson and Rachel Johnson were supposed to be at the market yesterday, but no one saw hide or hair of them anywhere!"

	"Mrs. Johnson is right!" agreed a second woman the crowd allowed to speak, though she had attended the meeting in naught but a barrel with straps suspending it over her shoulders.  "Rachel wasn't with the other barrel-makers a few days ago either!  She [i]never[/i] misses a session!"

	More loud murmurs permeated the crowd before another cry silenced them.  "Laura Johnson has a point!"  Another part in the crowd brought a confident, old man to the front of the throng wearing only a high-cut nightshirt, leaving his weathered-looking genitals hanging down almost to his knees out in the open.  "Why, I was just out at their farm not two days ago, and the entire place was in shambles!  It was as if the wild beasts of the woods had devoured the place, wood and all!"

	Mayor Greymane shifted uncomfortably as he tried to keep his eyes away from the man's sagging balls.  "Mr. Johnson, please, that's impossible!  No creature in these woods is capable of such damage!  It's simply not possi-"

	Just then, the doors to the town hall burst open, and in ran a buck naked womman clutching a bedsheet to her torso for modesty.  "Genn!  They're gone!" she cried in a panic.

	The mayor rose up to look over his podium, his eyes going wide.  "What do you mean, sister!?"

	"Thora and Jexon!  They're gone!" she insisted.  "Beds empty!  Nowhere in town!"

	The whispers almost instantly turned fearful and much louder.

	[i]"That was the girl!  It had to be Thora!"[/i]

	[i]"Don't tell her that!  You'll panic the woman to death!"[/i]

	[i]"Does anyone have an extra pair of pants?"[/i]

	[i]*BANG BANG BANG*[/i]

	"SILENCE!" cried Mayor Greymane as his gavel rapped the podium again and again.  "I will not tolerate discord!  If this is indeed a threat, then panic will lead to even more victims!"  The din quieted to a dull roar, allowing him to speak a bit more formally despite the quiver in his voice.  "Now... if this is all indeed true, we must first determine [i]what[/i] it is we are up against!  Damn it, we are Gilneans, are we not!?  We can conquer this threat!"

	More whispers, many filled with doubt, flooded the town hall, until yet another voice caused one and all to fall dead silent.  "We know of what threatens you!"

	Yet another shift in the crowd opened a path straight down the center of the hall.  Along the very back wall, to the surprise of everyone in sight, sat a pair of short-statured gnomes.  The female of the couple wore a pair of tidy-looking suspenders over a white undershirt that strained to keep her massive bust in place, and a belt at her waist appeared to contain a motley assortment of foreign-looking tools and gadgets.  Her vibrant, pink hair was hard to miss, however, and many had to wonder where these two could have come from without being spotted.  Her gaze was turned down toward a gadget she was nonchalantly tinkering with, for she was not the one who spoke.  Next to her, a clearly older gnome male stood, but there was nothing ordinary about him either.  A shock of faded pink hair was covered by a wide-brimmed bolero that hid his downturned eyes, but it couldn't hide the matching beard that drifted down his chest.  A thick jacket, denim leggings, and steel-toe boots hid much of his body, but his most jarring feature was his four-fingered hands that shined like metal and clicked and whirred like machines.  Greymane's look soured as he sized the couple up and down.  "And who might you two be?"

	The male gnome grinned as he tipped his hat upward to look back at Genn, revealing one icy blue eye.  His other eye glowed blue as well, however it, too, clicked and whirred, closing like the shutter of a camera to focus in on the mayor.  "Fizzer Sparkworth's my name," he chirped in all seriousness.  "And this is my daughter, Alyseira.  We were just passing through this morning and heard whispers of your plight, so we thought we'd stay the night to assess your situation.  It would appear you have a serious case of... the curse of the worgen."

	A series of shocked gasps flooded the room, and a few cries of fainting women and men both rang out, while their nearby peers caught them before they could hit the floor.  Again, Genn banged his gavel angrily.  "Enough!  The curse of the worgen is naught but a fairy tale, and I should cast you out for giving such folly any kind of merit!"

	Fizzer let out a condescending chuckle.  "You do that, and you doom your entire town to the curse.  [i]But[/i], if you just listen for once in your life and give us a chance, we may be able to spare you all a... gruesome fate."

	Another round of whispers, these sounding much more convinced of Fizzer's claim.  "C'mon, Genn, at least hear 'em out!" cried a man in the crowd wielding a pitchfork.  "We gotta do [i]something[/i]!"

	The mayor gritted his teeth angrily.  "Very well, Mr. Johnson."  He looked back to the gnomes.  "Mr. Sparkworth... ugh... continue."

	Fizzer simply smiled and gave his daughter a light nudge, who in turn tossed her doodad onto the floor and smiled as it projected a hologram of a white-furred, naked worgen.  All eyes focused on the strikingly beautiful wolf woman, and many of the men in the crowd had to find anything they could to cover their unexpected erections.  "We have reason to believe that [i]this[/i] here is your culprit: The Worgen Queen," Alyseria said.  "See, my dad and I have been hunting worgen for years now all over the land, and most recently we caught a rumor that she'd been sighted heading your way.  We have reason to believe that she's... converted the Johnson family, and it sounds like the Ashton siblings have been her latest acquisitions."

	"What do you mean, converted!?" another man echoed as he struggled to poke his erection into a stray hole along the side of Mrs. Johnson's barrel.

	Fizzer chuckled softly.  "Why, they've become worgen, too.  All it takes is a little scratch for the curse to spread, and it's game over.  They have a half dozen of your people already at least.  How many more shall it take for you to do something about it?"

	Greymane's face went red with rage.  "How DARE you!?"

	"I [i]dare[/i] because I feel for your people, good sir," Fizzer returned calmly.  "But if you don't want my help...."

	"No, wait!" interjected Genn's sister, who boldly approached them as she struggled to keep her sheet aloft.  The crowd eyed her buck naked backside as she dropped to her knees before the gnomes.  "Please... you must help us!  Can you save them!?"

	Fizzer scratched his chin as he looked at the woman and smiled.  "I wouldn't be here if I couldn't."

	Another round of whispers and mutterings filled the room, and Genn's sister's eyes lit up.  "Truly!?  How!?"

	It was Alyseira's turn to smile.  "Oh, we have plenty of weapons for fending off attackers.  For worgen, however, we have a special secret weapon.  You're just gonna have to trust us that we can handle them... and promise us a reward for when we do."

	Genn's rage turned into an angry scowl.  "What is it you want?"

	"Oh, only a measly hundred gold for each victim we rescue," Alyseira returned innocently.

	"And if you still doubt our capabilities," Fizzer added, "I assure you, worgen have nothing on me."  The short gnome slowly got up from his seat, and his mechanical hands reached for his belt.  The clasp flicked open and the trousers dropped, beneath which laid an incredibly complex-looking series of whirring gears that made up his legs.  Between them, however, flopped a veritable cannon of a penis whose shiny metal head grazed the floor as it was freed from its prison.  "The creatures are known well for their lust, but there's little they can do against mechanical appendages!"

	It was the ladies in the crowd's turn to blush profusely, many of which had to clench their thighs as they eyed the monstrous mechanical manhood.  The ensuing chatter seemed overwhelmingly in support of Fizzer and Alyseira, forcing the mayor to shift uncomfortably before his podium.  "V-very well, [i]gnomes[/i].  You go and take care of them, but if you kill even [i]one[/i] of our townsfolk, you get [i]nothing[/i]!"

	Fizzer and Alyseira exchanged grins as the latter looked up to speak.  "We accept.  The worgen only hunt at night, so feel free to carry on with your lives at daybreak.  When the night returns, we encourage you all to return here with your weapons and fortify the town hall, y'know, just in case we fail.  We aren't gonna, but it'll keep y'all out of our hair while we work."

	Fizzer nodded in agreement.  "Our secret weapon is foolproof, Mr. Greymane.  We'll get your people back for you."

	Genn stared daggers at the couple and sighed.  "You had better."