Ulciscor frowned at Kevkas. "Never heard of him before. I... wouldn't touch the white stuff." He indicated the bodies and the arrangement of the detritus. "It looks as though the dust is thickest at the center of town - around the statue."
"That statue doesn't look like it was any kind of explosive device for delivering poison, if that's what this stuff is," he says, careful not to stir any of the white powder with his boots. "This seems more like magic. Bad cult magic. I'd wager whatever it was hit suddenly, driving people from their homes and out into the streets, screaming. Maybe they never saw it coming."
Seeing Lioslan start to open a door, Innocent moves to his side and readies his blade in case of a threat.
"Neither orcs nor anyone else razed these buildings. I've seen razings. The intermittent burned buildings are purely incidental. Probably cooking fires gone untended after this massacre."
Dorn nods shakily.
"He's right. You can see it in the burn patterns."
The sorcerer, pretending-to-be-a-wizard, cleared his throat of as much of the leftover bile that he could. He looked green, but all the same, he followed Innocent and Lioslan, his crossbow clutched tightly.
He evoked three floating lanterns into being and prepared to send them into the gloom of the house once the door was opened.
Most of the houses you enter tell the same tale - bodies, in the same condition as those outside. Some seem like they were seeking shelter under beds, desks, but to no avail.
That one is the foreman's office and residence - we should check it out. Argentia heads toward an elevated brick structure near the north end of the town.
The foreman's residence is no more ostentatious than the rest of the village, though the furniture is quality, finished oak and the bed looks more comfortable than the bunks the average miner would sleep in. A thin wooden door leads to a separate office. Nedith's body isn't here - she's been the foreman the past seven months. Maybe she's still alive - I don't recall seeing any dwarven corpses out there. Let's look around, see if anything interesting is to be found.
"The powder's fallen thick in here. Unlike the ground outside, it would keep bootprints. No one's been up or down these stairs since whatever it was happened," Innocent points out as they ascend.
Once in Nedith's bedroom, Innocent goes straight for the desk and gingerly uses a scrap piece of paper to sweep a covering of dust from the ledger. He opens the ledger and turns it to the final page, pushing it towards either Ulciscor or Dorn, whomever is closer. Then, like a common thief, he starts throwing drawers open with abandon until he opens one, frowns, closes it, frowns again, opens it again, then shuffles it around, takes a dagger from his belt and jams it between the side and bottom of the drawer, prying the false bottom up with a satisfied little smile. The smile fades when he recognizes runes that don't make any sense to him.
"Rumblecask. Mean anything to you?" he asks, tossing the journal to him.
Lioslan nodded in (somewhat surprised) approval at Innocent's astute observations. He, too, prowled about the foreman's office, but found nothing less obvious than the locked safe. He didn't appear to take note of Innocent's rummaging through the desk until he heard the sound of the false bottom being pried up.
When Innocent threw the journal to Dargrim, Lioslan came over to look at it and the ledger. "There might be more information in the safe, if anyone has the ability to open it, but I doubt it. Chances are that we've learned what we can here, though it does raise the question: if the second shift never arrived here, where are they now? I think it is time we visited the mines."
Dorn scans around for magical signatures. Perhaps the Weave would reveal to him what his eyes would not.
Later, he looks over the ledger that Innocent showed him.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The big half-orc had ducked his head as they walked up the stairs and been careful to keep the pommel of his huge sword from bumping the walls as they moved through the building. Kevkas nodded at Lioslan. "I doubt whatever happened out there was caused in here."
The soldier shrugs at the mention of opening the safe. "If no one can break the combination, we can hope there's nothing fragile inside and throw it out the window."
If jesting, Innocent has a solid dragon ante face.
Ulciscor followed the others into the foreman's house. He'd been mostly silent throughout the searching, though he had pulled out his book once or twice, and made some notations in it.
He nodded when he saw Innocent's discovery of the journal, but still said nothing. His face, which almost always appeared slightly amused, was almost grim by comparison.
While the others looked through the books, he closed his eyes, centered himself in his faith, and brought forth the guidance of his God with a small, whispered prayer.
"Doom hath been brought to these people, in a way unknown unto us. Father of Justice, if we are to by Thy instruments, show unto us what we need know to bring about the appropriately flavored Retribution unto those who have earned it."
Eyes still closed, Ulciscor began reviewing all of the bodies he'd seen in the camp so far, bringing each to mind, individually, and comparing them.
After a moment, his eyes opened, and Ulciscor focused his attention on the white powder. He had his suspicions, but there was more investigations to do.
Outside, Dargrim only manages to frown wordlessly at the strange scene. He does recall their scuffle with the orcs outside of the village, however, particularly the orc shaman who bore strange holy symbols. Still frowning, he says gruffly, "This Moander o' yers. . . th'orcs what were put t'steel an' dweomer in th'refugee camp carried such symbols. Might be they've a hand in th'foul-deedin' after all."
In the foreman's office, he nods to Innocent at the proffered journal. He thumbs through the journal quickly, seeing if any of the writing within makes sense to him.
Kevkas nods appreciatively at Dargrim. "Good eye. But if those orcs are Moander worshippers why isn't there any orc-sign here?"
He laughs at Innocent's suggestion about the safe. "Throwing things out windows to open them! That's the kind of idea I can get behind!"
The safe looks heavy and solid - dwarven make - a little trip out the window and a drop of 20 feet or so isn't likely to open it. You can certainly try, of course....
"Success! The boys uncovered some sort of ruin at the end of their dig. Creepy place, to be sure, with all sorts of odd growth and the ever-present smell of death and rot. Still, the robed ones seem happy and they've paid up. They've asked that Zenex be sealed off to everyone but themselves. That won't be an issue."
-Posted with Wayfinder
The safe looks heavy and solid - dwarven make - a little trip out the window and a drop of 20 feet or so isn't likely to open it. You can certainly try, of course....
Dorn dismisses the journal when he realizes he can't read it. Instead he concentrates on magical signatures again. He feels a faint humming - an aura -- and follows it to a floorboard underneath the bed. It takes some work, but he manages to pry it up with his fingertips.
In the small space he sees a pouch. He opens it to find a small cache of gold lions, a pair of rubies and dagger that glitters like a diamond. It positively hums with magic.
"I found something here."
***
- 25gp
- 2 small rubies
- magic dagger
Kevkas looks over at Dorn's dagger. "Pretty. Little small for my taste."
Lioslan eyed Innocent after his statement, unsure whether he was joking or not. How unusual for a human to be so difficult to read. Usually their thoughts and emotions are pinned to their sleeves, so to speak.
Looking back down at the journal he was examining over Dargrim's shoulder, he said, "Whatever you find here, I doubt the dead will want."
Evidence suggesting that the foreman was crooked made him frown slightly. A shame upon his kin and clan. Perhaps it is better to allow Dargrim to bear this news.
"I believe we have a lead on what happened here," he noted, gathering attention for Dargrim to speak.
Dargrim spends much time poring over the small journal in his meaty hands. He mutters to himself unintelligibly all the while as the room is further ransacked. Finally, he clears his throat and glances up briefly to the others.
"Best ye be bendin' yer ears. Yer mines be fore-manned by a thief what deals wi'unsavories. But they'd kindness enough t'commit scrawl t'book fer us. Listen ye t'this. . ." Dargrim's eyes and a stubby index finger on his right hand follow along the pertinent information as he reads them aloud for everyone to hear.
After concluding, Dargrim grumbles, "Ah be hopin' we find th'snivelin' s#+$e what wrote this alive. Lullaby's got a song fit fer traitors."
Kevkas nods. "They uncovered a lost temple to Moander. I wonder if they were human or something else." He shakes his head and looks at Argentia. "Looks like your lost miners probably got killed covering up his lost production. Don't know if that accounts for all the missing, though."
"Anybody see a map that might tell us where the Zenex complex is?
After a few minutes of effort, Dargrim is able to open the safe - it uses an advanced combination lock, the likes of which few humans would have seen. Inside are over a dozen electrum trade bars. Unstamped by kingdom, city or trade coster, they still represent significant wealth.
Argentia lifts her head as Kevkas speaks. I know where it is, and I can take us there. Let me know when you want to leave.
Ulciscor finally looked up from where he'd seemed to be fascinated with the white powder.
"It's pollen," he said, with a shrug, as if he had been completely unaware of another conversation going on around him. "The statue definitely had something to do with its disbursement, but I haven't figured out any more than that."
Then, showing that the priest had been listening, he shrugged again. "If they discovered some sort of unholy crypt, and what was in it caused their deaths, it sounds as though the Doombringer has already evened their slate. Though the deaths of innocents is not easily balanced by a single death. And who knows what has been released into the world now. Let us go."
Dorn had often pondered why sorcerers were regarded with such high contempt and disdain by wizards, and he had long concluded that it was simple jealousy. After all, a wizard could spend a lifetime pouring over dusty tomes and ancient scrolls and still never "feel" the Weave as intimately as a sorcerer could.
And it was with this fundamental, intimate understanding that Dorn regarded the dagger. In many ways it was a typical magical dagger -- if such a thing could ever be seen as "typical". But looking beyond its surface level magic to its ties to the Weave he felt another force at work. Fate perhaps? Maybe a god's machinations? There was no way to tell.
But the dagger was special. There was no denying it.
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Does anyone know who this M person might be? A local noble? An underworld figure?"
Dorn admired the dagger a moment longer.
"By the way, this dagger is magical."
-Posted with Wayfinder
I know upon whom my suspicion falls. Argentia says this, darkly, in response to Dorn's question. But for the time being there is nothing else we can do here. Shall we head to the mines, as the priest suggested?
"We may as well. Rot and death are all that is here."
"To the mines. Yes. Might find some interesting or useful metals... besides the fights!" he grinned
-Posted with Wayfinder
The road to the mines proper is wide and well-trod, and the sun is still high in the sky, giving a more hopeful air to the afternoon. The feeling quickly dissipates, however, as you come upon a grisly scene - perhaps a dozen bodies, all but one of them a human male, lay scattered at the side of the road. Most are in a state of decomposition and smell horrible. Worse, they seem infested with some sort of plant growth, like a weed with fleshy, thorny vines, green leaves and serrated edges, and grotesque polyps cover their flesh.
To your horror, one of the bodies emits a low pitched moaning sound, before staggering to his feet. He makes no attempt to approach, just standing there, arms swaying, as his mouth, already distended from plant growth emerging from inside him, attempts to form words. Others begin standing as well, until six bodies altogether are upright and facing you.
The encounter map is here. Please place your characters anywhere on line 20 or below. No initiative yet, unless you intend to declare hostile actions.
"Sweet mercy of the Seldarine," Lioslan hissed. He nocked an arrow, but didn't raise his bow just yet. "More of Moander's doing, no doubt. Can anything be done for them, or are they...?" He glanced at Ulciscor, doubt that anything could be done to save the fungus-riddled men plain on his face.
In a lower voice, one which didn't carry, he added, "Have they risen to bar our way? Or do they seek to tell us something of import? I must admit, I am not keen to approach, but if they are a threat, we cannot leave them for others to stumble into."
Ulciscor returned Lioslan's look of concern - which spoke volumes, given that even during the fighting with the Orcs, he hadn't varied much from his usual, mildly amused expression.
"I am not sure what these things may want of us," he said. "But I doubt they wish us well."
"I feel the same about them," Innocent echoes Ulciscor, drawing his blade with a hiss of steel and imposing himself between the cleric and the risen man trying to "speak" through a mouthful of foul foliage. Though he makes no effort to attack otherwise, content to learn something of a possible threat before trying to cut it down.
"Cannae say it be a way ah'd choose tae go. 'Twere it me, ah'd beg th'killer's axe fer mercy's sake." Dargrim somberly adds to the alarmed and disgusted remarks.
"Perhaps they can be reasoned with."
When the others look back at him skeptically, "Well, it's worth a shot a at least."
Dorn clears his throat before saying, "Er, greetings, friends! We here are representatives of the interests of the good people of, um -- blast it -- oh, yes, Leilon. If it is at all pleasing to you, perhaps we could begin a dialog, or parley of sorts. After all, not all dealings need end in bloodshed. What say you?"
Kevkas drew his huge greatsword and positioned himself between the others and the plant-inhabited corpses. "They don't look like the chatty sort, Dorn."
Gyro decides to keep quiet. Talking qas not his strong point. So he simply watches
-Posted with Wayfinder
@ Lioslan: most appear to be miners or commoners, though a couple wear the leather armor of guards or light infantry.
@ Ulciscor: while the people are certainly dead, they don't appear to be undead in the traditional sense - there is no glow behind the eyes, for example. Moander is certainly not above using the dead - or the undead - for it's malignant purposes, however.
@ Dorn: despite your exceedingly moving words, none of the bodies react, or act like they have heard you at all.
Ulciscor frowned.
"They're not undead," he said. "They are dead," he clarified, "the bodies, I mean. I suspect the plants are somehow animating the corpses. I do not know why or how. Be very careful, but those people deserve Justice."
Ulciscor stepped forward and, a prayer of Justice upon his lips, rested one hand on Innocent's shoulder.
"When those who would take from a poor man all that he hath - yea, even his life, and make mockery of him, lo, He shall stand to right what hath been set wrong. By His hand, or by the hand of His servants, it is the same."
"Well, clearly diplomacy is lost on them. So I suppose we cut them down then?"
Dorn hefted his crossbow and took aim.
"I have a feeling my spells won't do much against these."
-Posted with Wayfinder
"No glory to be had in fighting shambling dead men, but if they're in our way they need to get put down." Kevkas hefts his greatsword and moves slowly toward the nearest corpse to see if it would attack him.
Initiative time!
Ulciscor:
Dargrim Rumblecask:
Dorn Kindleheart:
Gyro Titanblade:
Innocent:
Lioslan Shaelara:
Kevkas:
Shambling corpses:
Horrid looking plant:
Initiative groups:
Tranche #1: Innocent, Lioslan
Tranche #2: Shambling corpses
Tranche #3: Dargrim, Dorn
Tranche #4: Horrid looking plant
Tranche #5: Ulciscor, Gyro, Kevkas
Round One - Tranche #1, is up! That's Innocent and Lioslan. Front page has been updated to include the combat map, as well.
Lioslan raised his bow. Kevkas might be a half-orc, but he was on their side. Lioslan wouldn't suffer anyone in their party to be attacked and have their attackers go unpunished.
Blowing a strand of pale hair from his eyes, he sighted down the arrow, ready to shoot the first corpse - or plant - that made a hostile move.
"So sayeth the Doombringer," Innocent echoes Ulciscor, and any who observed him during his morning rehearsal recognize the flattened palm gesture that is now the casting of a spell rather than a rote and mundane gesticulation. Once the spell is cast, he advances warily. As he moves, he flicks the blade and it gleams with menace.
"So sayeth the Doombringer," Innocent echoes Ulciscor, and any who observed him during his morning rehearsal recognize the flattened palm gesture that is now the casting of a spell rather than a rote and mundane gesticulation. Once the spell is cast, he advances warily. As he moves, he flicks the blade and it gleams with menace.
Actions for Tranche #2, the shambling corpses:
Corpse A advances 30', to E13.
Corpse B advances 30', to E16.
Corpse C advances 30', to F19.
Corpse D advances 30', to F17.
Corpse E advances 30', to F20.
Corpse F advances 30;, to H20.
Corpses C and E both threaten Kevkas, triggering Lioslan's attack, which is a clean miss.
Tranche #3 - Dargrim and Dorn, is up next. In answer to Dorn's earlier question, no, none appear to be bearing weapons of any kind, save their fists.
Dorn felt momentarily overwhelmed when the shambling horde moved in, but he sighted his crossbow carefully and fired at one of the lone creatures. His aim was true, so he smiled and began reloading the crossbow.