The sickly undead before Simon suddenly explodes, covering Balion, Simon, and Jamie in wretched slime. The rest of the undead shudder under Bolgrith’s channeled energy. Squall’s claws miss the zombie before him. The noble and the pit-fighter seem unaffected by the gross.
The ranger stabs his sword toward the undead filth in front of him aiming straight for its gaping mouth.
Balion's stab dings off of the zombie's raised shield.
Simon turns his attack to Balion's assailant, but the monster ducks away from the dangerous strike. He steps forward, and calls to the ranger, "Move to flank him!"
The knightly armored undead attacks Balion again, the filthy scimitar making a ragged cut.
The blinding zombie swings at Bolgrith.
As the grease is burned out, the zombie stands and walks toward Squall, as the other attacks the eidolon.
With the sound of shattering glass, Squall flickers from view.
"Here girl, let me see that" Bolgrith says as he grabs Jamie's weapon. Eyes flashing with a bright fire, the weapon begins to glow with a holy light as the dwarf chants ancient lines of text. As the spell is completed the weapon emanates a blue sheen that hurts the eyes to look at.
"There! Now take down the leader, the young sorcerer and I will hold these back!" The Priest points to the cackling zombie facing off against Simon and Balion. Raising his shield he prepares to weather another assault.
The ranger swiftly moves to flank the zombie knight. Once in position Balion swings his sword in an high arc in order to bring it down upon the collar bone of the undead.
"Simon! I can't see you. Where are you!?"
Rolg ears burn for Simon's response. How could he step away? I can't defend if I don't know where he is!
Aladdin starts cooking a spell behind Bolgrith and then steps beside the intrepid dwarf. A rainbow starts cycling in a ball in the sorcerer's hands, faster and faster. He tosses colorful vortex forward and it morphs, exploding outwards in blinding colors.
The zombies caught in the confusing cone seem to not even notice the arcana blasting from Aladdin’s hand.
Jamie nods as her eyes widen at the glow from the flail head, and she holds it almost reverently as she arcs it down onto the champion.
The flail whips directly into the face of the cackling zombie, crunching everything into the insides of the helmet. Jamie pulls away the weapon, and no jaws, teeth, or glowing blue eyes can be found in the rotten mash as the monster drops limply to the ground. The pit-fighter looks stunned at the weapon in her hands, and a wild, gappy grin slowly forms over her face. She turns to the remaining zombies, eager to join the fray.
Simon seems taken aback by the mighty blow, but quickly turns to aid Bolgrith.
“Rolg, I’m on your left!” he slaps one of the hobgoblin’s outstretched hands as he plants his feet and swings a sword at the blinding zombie.
In one clean stroke, he lops off its head.
The two remaining zombies attack Aladdin.
Moving as quickly as his short legs will take him the dwarven Priest moves opposite of Aladdin, dropping his shield in the process and doing his best to avoid the flailing of the creatures in front of him.
With the final step he pulls the long boarding pike from it's place on his back and swings at the zombie between himself and the sorcerer.
One of the undead lashes out as the dwarf passes.
The dwarf's boarding pike jabs at the chain shirt under the tabard, the zombie is unharmed.
Rolg assumes a defensive stance and waits to be told where to move.
Simon’s face looks wrought with worry. “Jamie! Rolg! Get Aladdin out of there!”
The lordling rushes to the dwarf’s side, stabbing at the zombie.
The blade drives into the undead mouth, and the wretched creature falls.
Annoyance flickers over Jamie’s face as she roughly grabs Rolg’s wrist, “Follow me.” Half guiding, half dragging the blind mercenary behind her, Rolg feels his hand pressed against an unarmored shoulder, presumably Aladdin’s.
“Pull him back, I’ll deal with the filth,” Jamie growls. She passes behind the wounded mage to wallop the last zombie.
The glowing heavy flail clobbers the zombie full in the chest, so hard that it scatters to pieces on the ground. The pit-fighter holds the shimmering weapon aloft, roaring.
“HEYWOHWOHYEEEEAAAAHH!!”
Rolg, sensing the danger is over, collapses to the ground in an existential upset.
From the normal and plague zombies: six grimy chain shirts, one necklace with a two gold beads.
From the one that blinded Rolg: a small, oblong pearl, and a foot-long yew stick.
From the skeletal champion: very dirty but well-crafted field plate armor, a helmet fixed with a golden Sarenrae symbol on the brow, a well-crafted shield, a very nice scimitar, a signal horn, five small phials varying in three colors (one dark grey, two deep crimson, and two creamy white), and small roll of leather tightly bound with a cord.
Total number of gold bits from all the bodies: 300 gold bits.
Simon sheathes his sword and walks up to Rolg. He quietly waves his hand in front of the hobgoblin’s face, and his shoulders slump. He gives a hopeful look to Bolgrith. “Is there anything you can do for him?”
The Priest meets the young lord's eyes and does not smile. Moving to Rolg he reaches up and probes at the sightless orbs staring blankly outward. "If I may." he says quietly. Finishing his examination he speaks to the hobgoblin, "I am sorry my friend, this wound is beyond my power to heal." He pauses a moment before continuing. "But I promise you, I will do everything I can to find a cure."
Not being well versed in the art of consoling, he awkwardly moves away, gathering his shield and strapping everything into place. Stepping up to the pile of corpses and their gear he kneels down and examines the items, tapping a short beat on his chest he recipes an old word from memory and focuses again on the items.
At first, the dwarf is able to confirm that some of these items are indeed magical. As time passes, he is able to narrow down the sources and strengths of magic. The armor, helmet, shield, scimitar, and yew wand emit a faint magical aura. The gold-beaded necklace possesses a moderate magical aura, and a moderate aura is also found on the pearl. The other items appear to be mundane.
You recognize the Pearl of Power, type I immediately. The curved blade is a +1 scimitar (transmutation aura, +1 to attack rolls and damage). The ornamented helmet (abjuration aura) seems to grant a +2 Will save bonus against channeled negative energy. Since it is displaying a holy symbol, it can probably be used as a focus for worshippers of Sarenrae to channel positive energy. The yew wand (conjuration) is a wand of Cure Light Wounds, with 30 charges remaining.
The necklace with two gold beads gives off a moderate evocation aura, and the shield holds a faint transmutation aura, but is it unclear how these magics are in use.
The armor, while undoubtedly magical, gives you some trouble. After a moment, you recognize it to have similar magical signatures as the shield, but the actual effect is still obscure.
Also, golden Sarenrae holy symbols are found as pendants on each of the bodies, numbering eight total.
"Most of this seems safe enough, though I'm unsure about these." the Priest gestures to the armor, necklace, and shield. "Your opinion?" he asks Aladdin as he picks up the wand for a closer look.
The ranger walks up to the helmet and begins to clean it off, removing all the grime and filth of smiling undead. He begins a meticulous search of the battlefield looking for any sign as to whether this undead champion was the brother of the priest from Stonebit. Adorning his newly acquired helmet, Balion continues his search of the battlefield.
"Bolgrith, do you see a priest amongst the bodies?"
Turning to the party in general, "We should burn the bodies lest any necromancer resurrects them as some perverse monstrosity."
The ranger picks up his mace from the battle field and begins to pile the stripped bodies into a pile.
"Let's take a look."
Fitting the helmet, the ranger finds it offers a little more protection than the magical resistance against foul energies. Balion unrolls the corded leather to find a well-preserved piece of parchment. It appears to be a faded letter.
We pressed forward into the Barrowood to scour the undead, and sighted the source of the wickedness –a terrible witch with grey skin. Our blessed swords will end her tyranny on the morrow. Tonight, we must recover our strength.
If you are reading this, it means I fell in the purging of the forest, but some of us return victorious. Do not grieve my loss. Celebrate Sarenrae’s victory with those in Stonebit. Our border can rest easy, the land is cleansed, and our people are free from fear. If the victorious returned with my body, please burn it in the tradition of Sarenrae, and display the helmet in the temple to inspire the flock. I will see you in the Dawnflower’s nirvana, at a time not of our choosing.
Your loving brother in faith and blood,
-William
The zombies attacked from the depths of the Barrowood, deep from the mists that lingers between the trees. Undead have lurked in this forest for centuries; many suppose that the forest itself is cursed. Your knowledge of how pines ought to look tells you that these trees do appear to be malnourished for their age (which look to be centuries old), and possibly diseased. The trees you can see do not appear to be otherwise affected by the undead, but you can only guess if the forest grows fouler from wherever the undead originate (undoubtedly somewhere deep in the middle of the Barrowood). From Simon and Bolgrith’s map, you know the Barrowood spreads over fifty miles west to your location, its north edge meeting Blood Bay and the Saltbarrow peninsula. What’s more, you agree with Simon’s estimate that one or two days of steady travel would reach Mount Fireblood, but the going will be much slower if the blind hobgoblin accompanies the group. At best, the hobgoblin will take three days to reach the mountain, at worst, five.
The faint transmutation aura tells you the heavy armor is + 1 field plate.
Jamie helps the ranger pile the bodies, cringing at the stench. Still, she seems distracted by the untouched pile of gold bits and golden holy symbols. After some hesitation, she blurts, “Was anybody gonna take that?”
She points to pile of gold.
Simon busies himself, rifling through a pile of the chain shirts, his lips muttering calculations. He announces to the others, “Selling all this chainmail in town will fetch us a pretty penny, but there’s too much here for us to carry comfortably. Hmm…”
After removing any items of value from the undead the ranger collects wood, branches, and tinder from the area before placing them on the pile. Removing his nice fur hat the ranger places it upon the head of the cursed knight and places a candle in his hands atop the funeral pyre. Straightening the new helm upon his head the ranger stands before the pyre addressing the entire group.
"This letter I found clearly states these men were once apart of the crusade of Sarenrea who departed from Stonebit so that they may purify these lands. As you already know I am not one given to speeches. However..."
The ranger falters as if what he is about to say weighs heavily upon him. However, the new helm which he now bears upon his head lends him renewed courage and feeling of responsibility to his would be comrades in arms. Making up his mind his voice assumes a tone of absolute resoluteness before continuing.
"However, while realizing it is not the mission of this group to hunt down the witch who haunts these lands, I do believe we owe it to these men to try. They departed from their homes so that the people of Stonebit could be safe. They paid the ultimate price, but we may succeed where they failed."
"I agree with Greyhands. These men died trying to rid this wood of an evil scourge. One that has plagued the people of this land for quite some time it would seem." the Priest walks to the edge of the deeper wood and peers into it's shadows. "We should eradicate it. Such foulness must not be allowed free reign so near a lawful land."
Walking back into the midst of the group he taps a quick tattoo onto the seal of his shield and says a few quiet words. A warm healing flame forms and spreads out from his shield out to all the injuries of the company, mending them where possible.
"We should split the coin evenly, my share will go to Jamie, for her valiant efforts against our foes." He looks down at the holy symbols by the bodies. "It would be unjust for us to keep these, I think we should find a way to return them to the temple in Stonebit." Examining the armor near Simon he asks; "As for this lot, any ideas how to move it to market?"
Under Simon’s eye, Jamie eagerly counts out the gold, separating the wealth into five portions of 60 bits before clutching a share into a leather pouch. She flashes a greedy grin up at the dwarf, which shortly fades after she looks to Rolg. Her mouth twists in thought.
“Whatever you do, the wilderness is no place for the blind. I can try to keep him safe, but eventually he’ll slow us down.”
Simon nods absently, scratching his chin. “I don’t know. I agree with putting a stop to evil, but I am not a great knight like that man was,” he nods to the burning pyre, “Whatever killed him and his men, and necromanced their bodies is still out there.”
“Not to mention, we are this far north for a different purpose, to find that mysterious key. I doubt it will go anywhere if we took a detour, but the Barrowood is enormous. Ridding it of all the undead will take a long time.”
The lordling looks to Aladdin and Rolg, shifting his weight indecisively.
"We can't go and wipe out the infestation alone; that simply wasn't what we were hired for. We should stick to what we were paid for, and we need to get Rolg cured."
You recognize the Necklace of Fireballs, type I immediately. The shield seems to emit the same magics as the armor. Even if you can’t pinpoint the spell, you have good reason to believe it to be a +1 heavy steel shield.
“Should we see if the goblins in the hills will help him?” Jamie suggests.
"I do not deny that the task will not be easy. But I am not suggesting we clear out the wood, nay we must simply cut out the heart. Remove the cancer that festers in it's recesses before it infects the rest of the land." Addressing Simon he states, "You wanted for better relations between the people of Stonbit and House Wyldote. This might be the first step, you saw how the city suffered because of this affliction. To be part of it's remedy will bring honor to the Wyldotes, honor and the appreciation of the people of Stonebit."
Turning to Jamie, the dwarf looks up into the sellswords face. "Thank you girl, but no I don't think that would be a good idea. Goblins are not known for their... altruism. For immediate care our best bet for Rolg I believe is Stonebit. There may be a healer of sufficient power who can attend to his condition. I feel we either return there, or try to press on with him and his condition." Facing the hobgoblin directly his tone softens. "Though I do want to know your opinion on all of this, it is your fate we are discussing more so than our own."
Rolg speaks after a long silence. He does his best to retain his tone of authority.
"The zealous always meet the most grizzly ends. Look at your feet if you doubt me. This is not our fight as yet. I do not like any more than you Ballion, but we were hired to do a job, we must honor that above all else."
The ranger is appreciative of the cleric for support in this debate and nods in his direction giving a quaint smile. Seeking to further his argument he looks about the party to sum up their stance. Unmoved by the resistance given by the lordling Balion directly challenges Simon. "I understand it is important to you to chase after your childhood dreams of some folklore hero. However, you are searching for a pipe dream, that you and you alone have faith in. Bolgrith notwithstanding, the rest of us are here because of the generous amount of gold we have received. We were not born into nobility. Nor can we do whatever we please because it suits us at the time."
Balion lowers his voice and takes on a less severe tone.
"You say you are not a great knight, and as of yet this is true. But if you want to be a great knight saving the people of Stonebit and vanquishing this witch will allow you to do so."
His brow furrowed beneath the rim of his helm the ranger looks squarely into the eyes of the sellsword.
"As for you Jamie, you may have my share of the gold. I only ask that you guide Rolg wherever he decides to go."
Simon bites back an angry retort, and then studies the ranger, choosing his words. He cracks a light-hearted grin and his posture eases.
“That’s probably the most I’ve ever heard you say, Balion. It is clear to me that you feel strongly about destroying this witch. I cannot deny the points made; if the Stonebit house learns that I took part in making their border safe, perhaps that will be the start of some reconciliation.
“And I will readily admit to my foolishness of taking orders and coin from a mysterious character, but now, my interest is piqued. I want to find out who is operating under this false ‘Kharajhin’, who is giving these unusual orders. This Hamonreld term you use, ‘pipe dream’, I am not familiar with, but I can guess that you mean this quest to be a lost cause.”
His tone grows steadily more serious. “Remember, it was Kharajhin who knew of you four across the Far Sea, living in a land I thought to be only in stories. He was the one that I represented in that dirty dockside inn over a month ago. The gold you’ve received from that point on did not come from my coffers –do you remember the hidden chest at the Lord’s Landing in Hagglesport? That was not my doing. Likewise, I expect to be receiving more gold when we uncover this ‘Key of Honfogalas’. It is my hope that the key will serve as a clue to unveil who we are actually dealing with. I can understand if you think this is a waste of your time –these are not your lands, nor your concern. Being as I was not the one who singled you out half a world away, I cannot rightfully demand that you continue on this quest. The fact they knew about your homeland, and you specifically, is baffling enough. I must find out what this is about.”
Simon stares at Balion for a moment, before taking a deep breath. His stance relaxes once more, and addresses the others with a tired voice.
“If this is how everyone feels, I will not force you to accompany me. Heh, in the least, if I find the key by myself, more gold for me.”
An unconvincing smile is forced over Simon’s face.
Jamie gapes at Balion’s offer and remains silent during the exchange, until the mention of Hamonreld, at which she sniggers.
“Right,” she sarcastically mutters to herself, “Hamonrelders. Here with their grumpkins, snarks, and unicorn farts.”
She cuts her mockery short when she notices no one else is laughing.
"Where is he? Where is Ballion."
Rolg waits for an indication to the ranger's whereabouts. Once appeased, the sellsword turns his sightless gaze on the young man.
"You mask your lack of honor with bravery and conviction, but the fact remains that you are a flake of a man to turn aside from your employ so easily. You gave your word to accept this venture and you knew from the start that we would not have all the pieces."
"Again, I agree that this witch needs dealing with, but I can tell you this 'Kharajhin' person knows where we are and that we are discussing this very thing. No doubt he will know of your zealous dream from glory, and perhaps he will oblige you with time to go 'a slaying. But the time has not come."
"I have been doing this long enough to tell you that glory fades and gold tarnishes. The honor of your word will keep your belly full. Keep it. And that is an order."
The old sell-sword stands, his shield in hand as he grips a tourney sword.
"We are all going with Simon. If you doubt me, ask my sword."
The ranger clearly has had enough of the hobgoblins attitude and draws his sword. He looks to the priest and speaks dwarven, "Ich will bilder das Erdmannchen nicht lange. Forumsdiskussionen mit den Wörtern, den ich will morden sich."
Stealing himself for a fight, the ranger grips his sword and faces the goblin. "Not once did I speak of 'glory' goblin. I swore an oath to a priest of Sarenrea to kill this witch, nothing more. We all know that any glory associated with this will go to Simon and his household. No one will remember his companions from a foreign land. So do not presume to know my intentions."
Simon’s eyes widen at Balion’s dwarven remark and he throws up his hands. “Whoa, everybody calm down! Balion, how’s this: after we find this key for Kharajhin, we go back to these wretched woods to hunt the witch. Agreeable, yes?”
The lordling glances nervously between the mercenary and woodsman.