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Kajetan manages to shake off the fear he feels at least enough to cast a spell, although fear still clouds his mind somewhat. Kajetan: Spoiler:
All you can really be sure of is that it is undead and of a worldly, rather than an extra-planar origin. You are fairly certain it is not a type of undead that can be commonly raised or created through a spell – it would be ‘naturally’ occurring (for want of a better word). Although this thing bears many physical similarities to a common zombie, it’s clearly something more than that. For one, it moves and strikes far more quickly than even a fast zombie, almost preternaturally fast. Secondly, it can talk and seems to exhibit other signs of at least rudimentary intelligence – and that scream was no zombie moan. It is not a zombie, but given that Laithe’s bite didn’t seem to cause it much damage, you wonder whether it might share a zombie’s partial resistance to piercing and bludgeoning attacks? Swords and axes might better hack through its undead flesh.
Allustan is a reasonably accomplished wizard, but he is a sage and scholar, not an adventurer; Boland can’t imagine him crawling around in the depths of a mine looking for undead. He also tends to take a rather cautious approach to things, advising planning, conservation of resources and research. As such he’s unlikely to provide much assistance at this stage – maybe if he is truly satisfied there is a real threat and exactly what it is ... to add to this, he really dislikes necromancy (even the ‘white’ necromancy practised by his apprentice) and doesn’t know much about undead, so he’s unlikely to be able to provide much assistance.
While Kajetan continues to gibber in fear, Bernadino tries to shuffle away from the point of Keildrithe’s sword. “It was an accident,” he mumbles. “We never meant … and I did nothing to Gugliemo. Please, help me – save me from that.” He points a quivering hand at the menacing undead form of Brother Abel as he continues to back away and tries to stand.
“Bernadino, what have you done?” breathes the abbot, still in shock. “What do you have to confess?” The old man then turns to look at the advancing form of Abel, his monks robes smeared with clay. “Brother Abel, do not do this, remember who you were, you were amongst the best of us!”
Andolphas, Brashen and Boland share what they know of Balabar Smenk. The man owns five mines in the region of Diamond Lake and it is common knowledge that he has designs on more – the mine managers Gelch Tilgast and Luzane Parrin appear to be his main two targets currently, or so the rumour mill has it. Smenk lives in a sodden old mansion a century past its prime. There are usually several local thugs loitering in the streets around the home – obviously in the pay of Smenk, they keep an eye on anyone who gets close, and have been known to warn away likely trouble-makers with sneers and the brandishing of lead pipes. Local lore has it that Smenk’s front door is always wide open, fulfilling an old promise that his doors would always be open to his miners. Few are brave enough to take up this offer, given the rumour that the halls of the ground floor are inhabited by huge, bestial apes that Smenk uses to discourage visitors. Whenever Smenk goes out about the town he is sure to be surrounded by a coven of sycophants and hired goons, who ensure that no one gets too close. If there is trouble in town, or Smenk believes he might be in danger, he makes sure his right hand man and head of security, a reputably very dangerous man named Vetchen Tor is nearby. It’s also a near certainty that Smenk has Sheriff Cubbin in his pocket. --- Harrigan, although relatively new in town, spent a lot of time studying up on Smenk after being given a task by his uncle Ragnolian, and knows a thing or two more. The rumour about the apes is true – Smenk keeps three of the ill tempered beasts chained up in his house on a series of chains that give them free run of almost the entire ground floor. One of the side entrances gives safe passage inside to parts of the house the apes can’t get to, but Harrigan has been unable to learn exactly which one. Vetchen Tor was involved with the criminal underworld of the Free City, some say he is a former assassin. The good news is that he hasn’t been seen around in a week or two, word is he’s out of town on some business for Smenk. One place that Smenk might be found without his usual entourage in tow is Zalamandra’s Emporium. Smenk is known to frequent the place several nights of the week, partaking of either the delights of the Veiled Corridor or the gaming hall or club on the third floor. Despite being one of the richest men in Diamond Lake, Smenk is too cheap to pay the upper floor entry fee for his entourage, and tends to take only a bodyguard or two.
Brother Abel hisses at Laithe and slashes at the wolf’s throat with first one sharp clawed hand, then the other. Laithe steps aside from the first attack – straight into the second. The sharp claws penetrate the wolf’s thick fur and deep into the flesh beneath Laithe manages to pull away before the fingers close around his neck. Abel then seems to lose interest in Laithe and steps away, his eyes fixed firmly on where Bernadino lies on the floor under Keildrithe’s blade.
The cowled figure suddenly lurches forward, beginning with an awkward gait, but then speeding up, moving with surprising haste and agility, weaving its way between the wooden pews into the main aisle of the church, then moving with horrifying swiftness towards the knot of people standing before the alter. As it hastens forward, it lifts a pale hand to its cowl. The hands appear human, except at the tips of the fingers, where the skin has been shredded or peeled away, tattered skin, dried blood and scabs giving way to exposed, jagged finger bones. The thing throws back the hood, revealing a drawn, sunken face beneath a bald head, lolling to the side, the neck twisted at an impossible angle, the skin pale and showing faint signs of decay. Dark, sunken eyes blaze with fury. Brothers Anselm and Bernadino both gasp with shock and horror. “Abel!” exclaims the abbot. “How..?” A hollow voice rattles from the creature’s chest as it advances, pointing at Brother Bernadino. “Confess your sins,” it intones. Reaching the cowering monk standing before Bernadino, it smashes the poor man aside, sending him crashing to the hard stone floor. “Or be condemned to burn in the pits of Hell,” the late Brother Abel continues, its attention not wavering from the older monk.
Keildrithe, peering through the crack of the barely open door, you can see a shadow shrouded figure near the far end of the church. It appears human – or at least humanoid in form – and is dressed in what appears to be a brown monk’s robe with a ragged dark cloak or blanket over the top of it. Beneath the cowl you see a hint of a very pale face with a dark hole of an open mouth, but can’t make out much more, nor do you recognize what manner of creature this might be. Laithe, you can spot the thing too
The vast majority of the monks in the place collapse in fear, or begin gibbering in mindless terror. A handful have the presence of mind to look for the nearest exits and get ready to run. Only Anselm and Bernadino show any strength of will, although both men are clearly shaken – pale and staring in horror at the shadowy apparition.
Harrigan: Ragnolian stares at you for a moment, then lets out a deep chuckle. “Sounds like a plan lad. Gain his confidence, then feed him false information. Go with it. But I don’t want him to trace you back to me, understand? You’d best not be seen around here while the plan is in action – got somewhere else you can stay for a bit?”
Andolphas: Spoiler:
Amariss frowns. “You were chosen because I believe you are ready. Has not the Ruby Sorceress seen fit to gift you with especial powers to destroy the undead? Andolphas, this is a task for you, using whatever resources you command, be those your own powers or strong allies that you have gathered. Should you discover that the threat is greater than you can handle, you may find it prudent to ask for additional aid … but know what you face before you decide you cannot face it. Do not make me doubt my choice in you Andolphas.”
Here is a map of the church and surrounds. The abbot, Brother Anselm, is at J12, Brother Bernadino is beside him at K12. Novice Plutarch is at I13, Brother Horatio is at L15. Other monks are inside the church at K4, K5, I12, L12, J13, K13, L13, I14, M14, O14, H16, J17, N17, L18, Q18, I20, M20 and K21, and outside the church at Z3, Y4, S13, T17, U19 and X21. Nicolai entered via the back door (J4) and is now talking to the abbot and Bernadino, so should be somewhere north of them but nearby (probably around J or K11). Kajetan also entered via the back door and would have positioned himself to best scan the room with his spell, so should be somewhere from H8 through to M11. Alton entered via the back door and hid in the shadows in the church, he should be somewhere near a wall or column no more than halfway down the church (from the top of the page). Laithe is in wolf form somewhere in the cloister or the courtyard within, so can position himself anywhere to the right of grid S (outside the church). Keildrithe was making his way to the church and can position himself anywhere outside the church on the map. Please call positions when you give me your initiative rolls.
Andolphas: “Kyuss,” muses Amariss. “Little is known of him. He apparently lived many thousands of years ago, rising from obscure beginnings to rule an empire amongst the jungles of the distant south. What he was – a man, an elf, a fiend, a lich, a mage, a priest – is not clear, although by all reports he was a powerful magic user and necromancer, commanding and creating legions of the undead, including the creatures known as the Spawn or Sons of Kyuss. “Then, at the height of his power, he apparently vanished. Through what cause I do not know, but the empire he had ruled was left in disarray, and soon enough only a small and scattered cult of worshippers and the undead that bear his name were left to show that he had ever been. “But it seems that he did not die. About a thousand years ago Kyuss – the same entity, or another bearing his name, it is unclear – marched forth from the great Rift Canyon to the north at the head of a legion of undead, strange worm-like monsters and dragons. It is said that a great undead dragon stood at his side as the general of this force. There was a great battle, or war, and Kyuss was eventually defeated, either killed or driven off back into darkness. It is strange … a thousand years is a long time, and the Rift Canyon a long way off … but not so far ago or far away that so little should be recorded. And yet, the history books are very vague on Kyuss, and the story seems little more than a myth … almost as if the details have been deliberately obscured. For good or ill I cannot say. “There is one more thing known of Kyuss though – his title, or one of them; Harbinger of the Age of Worms … can it be that Kyuss has something to do with my dread dreams? “You asked also of the Spawn of Kyuss. Thankfully, they are rare, sometimes encountered in the far southern lands, and sometimes near the Rift Canyon to the north, but rarely in the lands in between. They resemble zombies – walking, rotted corpses, crawling with worms – but are much more difficult to destroy, and bear a rudimentary intelligence that allows them to plan and use strategy. It is said that damage inflicted to them heals quickly, and ordinary weapons barely affect them, though magic and divine power should. What one must be most wary of are the green worms that infest their flesh. The worms can quickly move onto the skin of those that the Spawn attacks, sometimes even jumping to new hosts. They quickly burrow into flesh, and if not quickly cut out or otherwise destroyed, they make their way to their victim’s brain, where they breed and multiply, and transform the poor unfortunate into a new Spawn. “It had not occurred to me before now, as they are so rare, but the rumours of unkillable zombies in the hills … they could be the Spawn of Kyuss. Andolphas, if you have heard anything about this, if you have reason to believe there is an infestation, you must act quickly to cleanse it. Those killed by a Spawn, or infested by its worms, will rise as another, enough of the creatures could quickly overrun Diamond Lake.”
Laithe, meanwhile, in wolf form, has raced back into the cloister to the side door of the church. There are a number of monks in the cloister now, some near the entrance to the dining hall and others near the church door. Upon seeing the rugged grey wolf racing towards them, monks shriek, call out to Arton for help, and scatter, a number of them running back into the church, some running away. While Laithe doesn’t see anyone who doesn’t look like a monk, he can’t be sure that the killer hasn’t used the panic to get away.
Keildrithe had spent the last few minutes trying to rouse Pharris to action, but the elven woman seems to have sunk into a deep fit of melancholy – something about this place has had a profoundly negative emotional effect on her. While the bard is confident that he could bring her around given time, he’s not sure that he has that time – the others might need him. So he leaves Pharris curled up on her bed and heads back out through the snow, following Alton.
Harrigan: At the mention of green worms, you are sure that Ragnolian looks scared for a moment; blink and you’d miss it, and most would, but he is family and you can read him well enough. He recovers quickly though. “Good work then,” he says with a nonchalant sounding grunt. “Killed Kullen did you? The town’ll be better off, but watch your back – if Smenk traces it back to you I don’t want him to trace you back to me, understand? So ... this necromancer was studying some sort of green worms you say? Reckon you must have been mistaken about where they came from ... likely Smenk was wanting to introduce them into my mine, make the workers sick or something.” He fixes you with a steely glare. “That sounds about right, doesn’t it lad?”
Harrigan: At your yell, there is a crash from upstairs as if something has been dropped or knocked over. Jankins pokes his head into the kitchen, sees you with your feet up on a chair and with a cold chicken leg in one hand, sighs in a long-suffering sort of way and retreats back to his room. A moment later comes an answering shout; “HARRIGAN?” and you hear Ragnolian’s heavy tread on the stair. Your uncle, your mother’s younger brother, is only a few decades older than yourself, but the top of his head is mostly bald, with a fringe of brown hair around the sides and back. Always an odd coot, his chin is clean shaven beyond a layer of stubble, but he wears a grandly long and thick moustache that hangs down to almost his mid chest. At the moment, his austere clothes are wrinkled and unkept, and his eyes are bloodshot. “Harrigan! Where have you been lad? Well? What of the tower? What treachery does Smenk plan?” He speaks urgently, glancing about as he does so as if he fears being watched.
All attention in the church is diverted to Nicolai at his display of theatrics. The nearby monks recoil and cry out in shock or horror at the audacious if harmless pyrotechnics display, except the abbot who initially looks a little shocked, then simply seems to wait to see what will happen next. Quite a different reaction to that of Brother Bernadino, who cries out “Blasphemer!” and reaches for his side as if grasping for a sword – a warrior’s gesture. Fortunately for Nicolai he is a monk, and carries no weapon. Nicolai: Spoiler:
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