Both Ark and Doon read the letter. As they do both get the feeling that they are not exactly themselves, like they are watching themselves act out things they would do, like the moment has turned into a memory you are entranced by, or are dreaming about. The details get fuzzy about what happens next, like when you wake from a dream and the details slowly slip away until all you are left with are memories of memories.
The merchant gave a warning. What did he say again? Something about an old alchemist... The rest of the memory is ripped away, torn from your mind. Leaving only a groggy awareness as you slowly wake up.
--------
In the north Nagual experienced the same sensation, while trekking through the unforgiving landscape. Monty and Belor, as they readied their horse and one of the orcs came to give them, a gift. What it was was lost to their minds. Izorshi and Gerald both experienced the same feeling as they camped for the night and raven was spouting off something about a shadowy group known in the area.
All of them realizing that they were just remembering, but the memories had began to fail, or had burned, or had been stolen. Each felt the loss, a great sense that something important had been forgotten.
Each woke up with a blinding headache. Each wore cloths they didn't recognize. A dark blue cloak, draped over the outfit they did.
Chapter 1: Out of sight-
Nagual and Belor wake up with blinding headaches and ringing in their ears, they can feel that they are shoulder to shoulder with others, and that they are groaning just like them. Their vision is slowly coming back but everything just looks like a damn blur right now and the world has a spin to it.
*Gurgle*
Izorshi opened her eyes, then shut them again. Her head was spinning too quickly to think. What happened?
Gradually, her head started to clear. Izorshi made a few more futile attempts to discern who was standing in front of her.
What just happened? How did I get here? There was a lantern, and then I was attacked, and then a wizard ran in, and then...something. And what was it the vampire referred to? The Whispering Way?
Finally, Izorshi managed to open her mouth:
"Who...who's there? Where...?"
"Belor Spearbreaker at your service, Miss umm sorry I forget your name, I seem to be missing some time." Belor starts muttering under his breath.
"By Dawn's Light, I haven't felt this bad since I went drinking with those tripplet priestess of Cayden Cailean, Calistria, and Shelyn who had just inheirtented their father's collection of rare texts including a printing of the holy text of Arshea... well at least this time I'm waking up with my pants on.... My pants are on right?... I'm speaking out loud aren't I?"
"You're wearin' somethin', brother," Ark groaned in return, "But can't say I know what. Rovagug hisself seems to have taken up residence in my skull -- whatever tavern we ended up at after getting away from those zombies, remind me never to go back."
The gnome squinted at Belor in the dim light. "But hold up a tick -- Belor, you say? That wasn't your name yesterday, was it? Are you even the same dwarf as yesterday?"
The gnome closed his eyes and slumped against the elbow next to him, trying to get his bearings. What in Shelyn's good name happened? Am I being hauled off by the constable and can't even remember what I did? 'Twould be a shame. Lessee -- do I still have my armor? sword? Where's that wolf? Always slinking off somewhere when the law shows up, he is; I'll need to have a talk with him.
"I...um..."
The surrounding group became clearer,
yet the situation did not.
"Forgive me, the Lady of Graves seems to have taken my memories of you. I am not sure if we have met."
Or how I got here.
Turning around slowly, Izorshi sighed in relief when she saw a familiar face. The wizard who broke the lantern.
"Except you...I remember you from yesterday. Or, was it earlier? How long was I unconscious for?"
As her surroundings became clear, Izorshi got a feeling that she wasn't the only one who was completely unaware of the situation.
"Did...did everyone here just feel like they lost some memories? Does anyone know how we got here?"
"Milady, I can assure you I've no clue where we are, but it seems we might expect trouble -- I usually come to with my head in my hands, not my sword." Ark replied, indicating his drawn scimitar. "I kin only guess that means we came together by some friendly means."
Peering around at the others, Ark caught sight of Doon, "Ah, there 'e is! Doon, I'm hopin' you can tell us how we got here, and--ha--where 'here' is?"
This is most illogical. We should get up
Monty tries getting up and to walk towards the sounds of the horses
Izorshi tried to follow Monty.
Wherever he is going, he cannot be more confused than I am!
"Grahhhh..... mmmmmm.... Pain builds strength" Nagual shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, but the dizziness that follows stops his actions.
"None of you look like you have come from the cold" Who are they and where am I? Best keep my cards close to the chest for the time being.. Turning to get the cut of his companions jib Nagual exclaims "I need a drink... Who's in? Firewine?"
The others groan and shuffle about finding their surroundings tiny. The room they are in is about 8'x4'. Monty pushes through the crowd to the sound of horses.
Pushing the canvas aside he can see the horses running in front of him. Except they are running in place... And the world around them is moving backwards.
The realization finally catches up to him that the horses are indeed moving and they are in the back of a covered wagon. Speeding along a switchback at night with rain thundering down all around him. The night has an inky blackness and the way is only lit by a bright lantern hanging from the front of the wagon.
Monty spots the driver, slumped into his seat, motionless. A dagger planted neatly between his neck and clavicle.
The Eight others still in the back start to feel a lurching in the stomachs as the horses round a corner and gravity, for those inside, unexpectedly shifts to the side.
"Wha-what do you see?"
Izorshi looked towards the strange cleric in front of her, and prepared herself for the worst.
"Horses? 'm good with horses -- Excuse me. Pardon me. So sorry."
The gnome sheathes his sword, shucks off his shield, and woozily attempts to wend his way around, through, over the larger folk to the front bench.
On reaching the bench, Ark glances quickly around for any sign of danger while grabbing for the reins, cooing to the horses, and attempting to bring them to a halt.
"Whoa there, m'pretties. Come on, settle now, there's a good girl."
Ark see the driver sitting silently, not noticing the dagger or lack of color in his complexion. In fact, with the cart banging around the man almost seems still in motion, still gripping the reigns tightly with an 'almost' rigor mortis grip.
The horses have a hard time hearing you. They are spooked and the lazy driver is doing nothing about it. What spooked them this bad is hard to tell.
Izorshi hustled forwards and examined the body. Carefully, she removed the dagger from his neck, and focused as she examined it for malicious magical energy . So I have no idea where I am or where I was going, and whoever was taking me there is dead! Was it one of the other passengers here who killed him?
Izorshi quickly turned her back to the deceased driver, and faced Monty and Ark. If one of them was the killer, she didn't want to be attacked from behind.
The magic is still thick and palpable around them, hanging like an acidic fog, concentrated around their heads, slowly evaporating. Gerald has a ting of dark magic around him but that may just be left over from the foul lantern. Others in the wagon have smaller assorted items that light up. Nothing of the magnitude that effected all of them.
The driver hasn't been dead long. In fact his blood may still be drinkable.
Izorshi pocketed the knife for later.
"Whoever has slain our driver did so recently. Either the killer just ran away, or is here now."
"Also, it appears most of us were incapacitated and brought here by magic."
What does not make sense is why the killer left us alone, despite everyone here being unconscious. Maybe the killer is here and was struck by the strange magical effect as well?
Gerald was -of course- the last to regain his senses. But in his defense, the second he came to he understood that he was sitting in a carriage and being driven somewhere. This realization immediately shook him out of his drowsiness.
"...incapacitated and brought here by magic.", he heard a familiar voice next to him, a woman's, and turned to see who it was.
It was the vampire lady he'd so recently met, currently in the process of putting a bloodied knife in her pockets.
Pale by nature, his face drew even whiter when he heard her say this.
"Buy why? I swear I didn't mean you any harm! I only meant to help! Save you from that... You didn't have t... Please! Don't..."
His hands reached for his neck, obviously feeling for bite marks, his eyes full of terror.
"Wait. Please tell me you didn't... I'm not..."
Izorshi sighed in relief. A familiar voice! Well, sort of familiar, at least.
"Be calm." Although, as she spoke, her voice trembled. Great Pharasma, calmness is easy when a killer is nearby. She made her way over to where Gerald was sitting, and lowered her voice to a whisper.
"You are the last to wake. It seems we are in a horse-drawn carriage...the Lady of Graves has not revealed how anyone got here, the others all last remember being somewhere else. I do not recall ever meeting anyone in this carriage but you...perhaps you do?"
Lethander looked at the rest of the people in the carriage and recognizing none of the others, said so.
"No, I don't think so... Last I remember, I was with y... Runaway?"
He pushed himself to his feet and looked to the front, where he saw two small figures wrestling to gain control of the horses. No much room for him there, he decided to try the other direction.
"Running from what?", he asked, moving to raise the canvas that covered the rear.
"Running away? Or running too? Where the devil is this contraption taking us?" And can this contraption keep up with the this pace?
"Gnome, you seem to know something about horses, can you slow this damned thing down?"
Better safe than sorry... Casts Mage Armor on self.
IZorshi's eyes see a bright flash of light from directly above as if she can see deep into the night, it glows with an toxic green. This is not part of her normal sense, this is from the spell she cast to detect magic.
She can see the foul necromancy, but cannot discern what exactly is is going or how far away it is.
Trying desperately to remain calm, Izorshi answered the wizard's query.
"Oh, it appears the driver of the carriage was murdered. Stabbed in the neck with a knife. Recently. Though Pharasma has claimed him in death, she has not revealed his kille--wait."
She looked up, pointing, towards the source of the necromantic aura.
"There is something unsettling over there. I believe it is a necromancy effect. Can either of you mages properly discern what it is?"
Izorshi clutched her holy symbol birthmark, bracing for an attack. Great Lady of Graves, protect us.
"Murder? Necromancy? What foul things are...", Gerald cursed examining the direction Izorshi was pointing in.
Ark looks up, startled, at Izorshi's statement, noticing the state of the driver bouncing along on the bench next to him for the first time before Doon's urging brings him back to the task at hand and he resumes hauling at the reins.
"Murder? Who? What? ...Why, this man's dead! --Sorry, sorry, whoa there, slow up!"
Such frustrating creatures, horses -- this is why I try to have as little to do with them as possible! Never known reason to work on 'em before, arrogant fools, but desperate times...
The gnome begins whinnying and sputtering, trying to cast his voice over the clatter of hooves and wagon.
"Fine, majestic, brave brothers! Such bold specimens of horsedom! Prithee slow and tell us what has troubled you so--you are with friends who can help!" ...at least, so I would hope.
Looking at the magic being done Monty tries to understand it.
We need to stop this thing and figure out what is going on here
"Wh-what do you see?"
The horses nay loudly.
Monty and Gerald could see the spell but a half second after the thought connected it was already too late.
Objects start slamming into the canvas, hard to make out a number. Perhaps 6 or 8. A lightning flash sends a glow around the canvas, lighting up inhuman silhouettes.
One large figure slammed into the front bench.
Nagual's natural hunting reflexes take over. He shifts back, watching as the creature falling from the sky slams into the bench sending the corpse of the driver off the edge, and catching Ark and Monty in the splintery mess.
The creature peers out from the twisted crater where the driving bench used to be, now a pile of twisted wood and splinters. It's body looks rotten,discolored and falling off in many places. The flesh looks like a corpse found in a river where the skin adsorbs too much water and turns spongy, but the body is also covered in coral, wrapping around it like armor. The creature opens its mouth to roar bot nothing but water spills out.
Fleshless arms rake in, attacking from the canvas.
The undead omoniously make no sound but the flapping of great wings can be wear now above the wagon.
"Ughhblahhgh - It looks like my head feels!!" Nagual loads his crossbow to fire at the ... the ... whatever while keeping his eyes open for whatever is flapping!
"By all that's...", Gerald managed to exclaim before diving down on the wooden floor.
Defense. Defense first. Can't cast spells if I'm dead. Need to defend myself!
He cast uttered some arcane words and was suddenly surrounded by a shimmering force field.
Urk, well. Did not see *that* coming when I promised to help the horses. Now or never, though -- can't imagine any good coming of this...whatever it is.
"Doon, I hope this is your nightmare, and will ask you kindly to wake up!"
Momentarily rocked back by the impact, Ark draws his scimitar, leveling the tip at the corpse-thing before lunging at it with a two-handed slice,
"Urgathoan spawn, my goddess has a message for yours!"
Still not entirely sure of what was going on, Izorshi allowed positive energy to flow out of her symbolic birthmark:
Looking around at her apparent allies, she called out
"Can any of you tell where they came from!?"
Belor tries to figure out what the creature attacking them is and where they are. Since he has his weapon in his hand he takes a swing at the creature on the bench because he can see it clearly.
"Until we figure it all lets go with bad thing from the bad place and it doesn't like us so lets hurt it until it stops moving!"
for
Monty shakes off the attack wincing lightly, but trying hard to hide the fact that it hurts very much.
Trying to bring all his knowledge to himself at once to understand how to attack, Monty takes a step back and pulls his morning star. Taking a full defensive position.
Nagual will ready an action to fire his crossbow at whatever is flapping about.
,
Ark Drive his blade deep into the undead's chest, getting between two sections of coral. From there he is able to bring the blade out cutting up and to the right, exiting the right shoulder. From inside the open wound you can see a mass of rotten spongy flesh.
Doon, pushing his way to the front. Brings his hammer down square in the center mass of the creature crashing the coral, and momentarily bringing it to one knee.
The creature wheels around for another attack when there is suddenly the business side of a glaive in its mouth, separating the top part of its head from the lower part. Belor wielding it from in the wagon.
The bottom and the rest of the body slashes off, leaving only the top of the head balanced on the end of the glaives blade. The eyes look angry and then a bit fearful as they begin turning to look up. The rest of the creature fades away like mist.
The canvas is tearing away from the relentless attacks, revealing the rainy night sky to everyone.
The rain lets up, and the clouds clear just enough for the moon to shine in. Flying above is a massive black bird of some sort, though what it is exactly is hard to figure out. Riding on top of it is a figure in long flowing robes, with some ornate pattern on it.
One of the few stories that has been proven happened 80 years ago when a prince from a small kingdom, was proven to have committed a crime while visiting a neighboring kingdom. His home country refused to give him up for trail, they claimed ignorance and hid him, send body-guards and used enchantment to hid his movements. Le'Rose, found him, incapacitated all of his protectors and drug him back alive to stand trial.
Le'Rose, a bounty hunter of legends. He has no code but to complete his contracts. Many stories are spread of him few are ever backed up with any evidence. He has been hunting contracts for 400 years. Some say he has achieved immortality while others just assume he is an elf or from another long-lived race.
The magic he is wielding is impressive. Many story have attested to this talent, though there are also stories of how he is a master chess player, swordsman savant, and can lift 600lb. Though it's impossible that it could all be true, the stories all tend to have wild inconsistencies.
Le'Rose, a bounty hunter of legends. He has no code but to complete his contracts. Many stories are spread of him few are ever backed up with any evidence. He has been hunting contracts for 300 years. Some say he has achieved immortality while others just assume he is an elf or from another long-lived race.
One of the few stories that has been proven happened 90 years ago when a prince from a small kingdom, was proven to have committed a crime while visiting a neighboring kingdom. His home country refused to give him up for trail. Le'Rose, found him, incapacitated all of his protectors and drug him back alive to stand trial.
Gerald notices something about this persons magical aura, something similar to his. He can feel the pressure in the air, the same pressure he exerts when bending space for teleportation, except on a scale several times his in magnitude.
The rocking of the wagon makes it hard for the skeletons to land blows but one catches Ark staring at whats left of the undead creatures head and Gerald while he transfixed by the gigantic raven in the air.
Diving for cover on the floor between the benches and casting a protecting barrier proved insufficient to prevent Gerald from being struck again.
Blackness slowly surrounded him... Sleeping, it seemed to Gerald as he closed his eyes, is a much more pleasant thing to do then fighting skeletons. At least the pain would go away.