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Degalla turns over in her sleep.
"Mmmph. I'd love to but I have some important work to do around the cave. YAAWWN. Gussy up the curtains and what-not. You know."
Tucking her nose under a wing, she resumes snoring.
"Mmmm. Halfling..."
Setting out into the afternoon heat, the adventurers soon find themselves soaked with sweat. Degalla's advice on the countryside proves correct as the banks of the Jalrune grow more steep and hilly. Soon enough the party is staring down cliffs to spot the river. The countryside is dry scrubland with a few brown and stunted bushes and trees to mark out the stripped land. Despite the rainstorm last night, Dayle easily keeps the party on the trail, heading east. Two hours from Degalla's cave, the party can see ghost towns in the distance to the north, most little more than clapboard ruins left over from a Qadiran offensive.
It is shortly afterward that you find your first corpse.
At first you might have mistaken it for a discarded heap of clothing or the remnants of a tent. But once you get closer, the sequined robes and feathers now dirty with the dust of the road make it disturbingly clear what you have found. It is the body of a man, perhaps in his late twenties. His bare feet are bruised and bloody, bird mask hanging askew. He's quite bruised, with a few serious slashing wounds.
You continue your march into the twilight, getting quite a few miles in before dusk falls. As the sun sets and masks the blighted landscape in purples and blues, you can see the silhouette of a broken-down border station looming nearby, just to the north of your path. The day has finally cooled and the sky is clear; the only reprieve you haven't gotten is from the insects.
Dayle merely nods in agreement - and turns his attention to the border station. He checks around - looking for any signs of activity in the trail leading up to it.
Perception:
Survival/Tracking:
"I agree that we need a break, but then we should press on."
At Addy's question, he points towards the cliffs and river behind them. "You're pretty much at it's doorstep...skip over the Jalrune and you're in Qadira. Although, I'd wager this stretch is pretty much no-man's land given the cliffs and little else around."
Herral sighs at the dragon's decision, but nevertheless leaves the sleepy Degalla a choice piece of cheese that somehow found its way into his pack from the Inn.
He pats the dragon again, "one day p'haps I'll get a friend like you who can breathe fire and stuff." The halfling sets off with the rest but is soon bored with the walking and walking and tracking and walking.
Herral starts to play I-spy with whoever feels the same way. Until they meet the body and that keeps him occupied for at least fifteen minutes as he tries to check the body for what caused it to die and work out who he was and what he did in life.
"I saw a watch captain do this once on a body in a dark alley, sequins means riches and finery .....or maybe a theatre person, an actor. He fell behind so he is weak and does not work hard, so a pampered second son of a noble, no ink stains or whatnot so not a scribe or a librarian. Not dead that long, but ..... what does he have in his pockets?"
Herral checks him thoroughly for goodies just in case there is a useful clue there.
Later he will try to piece the clues together. Probably when everyone else is noticing the station.
The waning light spoils Dayle's search for further tracks. The border station is a pretty standard example; Mal's seen (and helped destroy) a few during his tour with the sappers and Dayle's been in a few up North. It's a simple tower ringed by a heavy wall with an inner and outer portcullis: the idea was to shelter civilians in the courtyard while archers fired from the tower and the wall. Any foes trapped between the two portcullis would be easy prey for the murder holes in the turrets. They weren't built to outlast assaults much longer than a few days.
Perception DC 15:
Perceptions DC 20:
Addy:
Getting closer, the party sees large chunks of masonry and debris cluttering the field around the station. The twisted remnants of two portcullis lay in the path, heavily beaten and twisted in the center. Within the debris strewn courtyard is the tower, its wooden door hanging in pieces from the lintel. The ceiling seems to have given out, inverting itself into the top floor.
As the wind shifts, Addy holds up a bit, her nose wrinkling. "Whoa ... I think you may be right, Mal. Or at least, you were right. That's rotting meat I smell, or my name isn't ... well, you know what I mean. I have a feeling either our party-goers got a little frisky, or the Qadirans did. I know which I think." Addy slowly and quietly draws her shortbow as the group edges closer.
Dayle nods in agreement with Mal and Addy's statements. "Maybe the goblins decided to get rid of more stragglers..." he utters quietly.
He pulls his longbow, and moves laterally towards the garbage heap - looking for a potential exit/entrance in the wall while trying to keep himself in-sight with the others.
Will sniffs the air curiously at Addy's statement, then wrinkles his face up tight, obviously wishing he hadn't. Seeing the others get 'serious', he pulls out his own crossbow and readies it. Then takes a deep breath, and tries to find the calm place. The place where, sometimes, he can almost 'see' things JUST before they happen,...
Besides the battered down gate in the wall, there's a breach on the western wall filled with rotting garbage and refuse, along with rubble. The door to the tower was broken down long ago and beyond arrow slits running in the non-ruined portions, it seems to be the only entrance.
Now that you're closer to the tower, the sickly sweet smell of putrescence is worse. No light comes from inside the tower.
Addy and Dayle:
Herral kicks something by accident as the party advances. The moonlight picks up specks and sparkles from the sequins covering a half mask made to resemble a moth. It must have lain there in the halfling's path, discarded.
Dayle glances at Addy and Mal - assuming they are the closest to the tower entrance to see if they heard anything further.
He makes a gesture of keeping quiet, hoping all can see him.
He whispers, "Inside - multiple voices - sounds like they're eating," at this he glances at the mask in the dirt to imply what's on the menu,"and...hissing noises."
"Unless anyone has a better suggestion, I'm going to see if I can get in via the hole in the wall with all the garbage near it."
Stealth:
Nodding at Dayle’s suggestion, Mal begins moving slowly and cautiously forward, his sword and shield at the ready, heading towards the gate. He does his best to move quietly but knows that a silent approach is nigh impossible in his armour. But if he can draw who ever – or whatever – is inside’s attention away from Dayle …
Will swallows nervously when Doyle glances at the mask. But he tightens his lips together and nods, hefting his readied crossbow up into position. He unsure at first, then seems to gain confidence and swings his crossbow to cover Mal, who is far more likely to draw attention in his armor than the stealthy Doyle.
Dayle and Addy break off from the group, disappearing into the shadows cast by the border station's stone walls. As Mal, Will, Herral and Zareby carefully enter through the tower's shattered door, the two half-elves slip over the pile of garbage in the tower's gaping hole.
Three emaciated forms crouch over a woman's corpse. The trio are clothed in the rotted scraps of Taldane phalanx uniforms, stained and dusty in the faint light. The three turn on the four adventurers as they enter, their eyes glittering in the party's light. Strips of human flesh swing from their cavernous mouths, blood dripping from their chins. They bare yellowed fangs at the four Pathfinders. Dayle kicks a stone by accident from the refuse pile and two swivel in his direction.
Ghoul perception checks:
The undead monstrosities drop their meal and advance on the adventurers.
Ghoul initiative:
Will turns obviously paler, even in the dim light, as the bloody-faced creatures turn to face the group.
"Oh, cr@p. Ghouls. Why'd it have ta be ghouls?" he mutters as he calmly raises his crossbow and fires at the nearest ghoul. His bolt, looking as if it is too wide, thuds home as the lead ghoul moves forward, and directly into the path of Will's shot.
"Oh, I see the future, and your dead. Oh, wait, that;s your past!" Will chortles nervously at his own joke at the ghoul's expense as he hastily winds the crossbow back up and reloads it.
Initiative
Addy- 20 (Attack with bow, hit)
Zareby- 17 (Critical hit with heavy crossbow)
Dayle- 10 (Attack with bow, hit)
Will- 8 (Attack with crossbow, hit)
Herral- 7 (Attack with heavy crossbow, hit)
Mal- 6 (Ready an attack)
Ghouls- 3 (Attack)
For a still moment, the combatants regard each other; eyes locked, each waiting for the other to act. Then an arrow streaks out of the shadows into the undead on the left flank. Though it's a grazing wound, Addy's arrow finds its way just under the creature's ribcage to a very sensitive spot. Startled by the creature's howl, Zareby looses a quarrel into the closest ghoul. Desna smiles on the sorcerer's wild attack and the heavy bolt goes straight into the creature's right eye socket, poking straight out the back. In a living opponent, it would have been a killing strike, but the monstrosity howls and continues its lunge toward the Pathfinders.
Dayle fires an arrow into the wounded ghoul's neck; it falls backward and thrashes its death throes on the filthy flagstones. As the other wounded ghoul flies screaming toward Mal, Herral fires it a kiss from his own sweet Bertha and Desna smiles on her servant: the missile punctures its ribcage cleanly and it dies again on its feet.
With the benefit of his magical foresight, Will adjusts his aim and hits the last ghoul standing cleanly in the torso as it leaps around its dead brethren. Taking advantage of his opponent's shock, Malatar Kane sweeps his broadsword in a wild and powerful strike, severing the creature's head cleanly from its neck. Turgid brown blood oozes from the wound; the headless ghoul slumps to the ground. The battle is over before it could scarcely begin.
The woman on the floor has been badly chewed, her costume clothing in tatters. If the stench of the ghouls wasn't enough to drive our heroes to nausea, the sight of their meal is enough.