Wayne’s bullet strikes the shambling human-like figure and passes right out through the creature’s back, with a spray of rotting bits of gore, though it seems less effective than such an injury would be against a garden-variety human. As Torriki moves into position, Bastion strides up and swings his axe, but it fails to penetrate the strangely thick, pustule-riddled skin of the disgusting beast.
In reply, the thing lunges at Bastion, raising its long, clawed arms to strike and him and biting fiercely but in vain. One of its attacks nearly makes contact, but the half-orc’s massive shield counters the blow at the last second! Wayne is not so fortunate, as the shambling figure stumbles through the ashes of a long-dead fire and approaches him. It swings a rotting arm at the gunslinger, slamming him with a cold, dead fist!
As the sounds of combat spread, weary, frightened voices cry out from the far side of the camp, ”Help us! Help! Get us out of here!”
Torriki steps into position, waiting for Bastion to do the same, and drives his blade deep into the creature's side. It crumples to the ground and goes still. Unfortunately, a rapier seems tailor-made for lancing pustules and boils, and it does precisely that, and as the monster falls, a spray of pus-like fluids erupt into Torriki's face!
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Hearing the cries for help distracts Bastion so much that one of the monster's claws almost gets past his shield. "Help is on the way!" he shouts in promise.
Following Torriki's suggestion, the heavily armored hulk carefully steps into a better position. Once the rogue's messily dispatched the first undead, he swings his shield and his axe around to help Wayne with the other.
Bastion's blade cuts through bone and rotting flesh, and the combined stench of zombie innards and spraying pus is horrifying indeed. The figure turns to look at Bastion, its undead, emotionless face somehow managing to express puzzlement at what has happened before it lets out a low groan and crashes to the ground.
With their opponents felled, the Pathfinders once again hear cries from the far side of camp, "Help us! More of those things could come!" A distraught voice adds, "Oh, gods, they killed Troy!" and another responds, "That thing wasn't Troy anymore, Troy died days ago!" The sound of splintering wood echoes through the gorge, and the door of a small, wooden storage shed opens. A head cautiously emerges and looks around, then three people step out of the shed, looking haggard and hungry – but human.
The three people limp forward – they’re clearly all severely injured as well as suffering from both starvation and dehydration. ”We’re miners, work for Gold Crown,” grunts one of them, a broad-shouldered man with poorly-cut brown hair. ”Been holed up in that supply shed for almost a week. You got any water?” He takes a long swallow from the waterskin Bastion offers him, then continues speaking, ”Ah, that’s a whole lot better. Let’s see now, where to begin? I guess it was five or six days ago, a bunch of kobolds raided the camp, kidnapped ten or so of our crew and marched them off deeper into the hills. I’d guess they were headed to a big village of sorts they’ve got in a valley to the west, about fifteen miles from here.”
Another miner, having also drunk his fill from the proffered waterskin, wipes his mouth and chimes in, his eyes bright with excitement over their ordeal being over, ”And the kobold attack was the bes’ part of our week, it turns out! We were tryin’ to see who was still alive, who might be up to takin’ a message back to Fort Bandu, when them things with the warts all over – festrogs, someone called ‘em – showed up and came at us! We managed to block off the shed, an’ after a while they lost interest in us and started eatin’ the dead! And then Troy got back to his feet after bein’ dead for days, wanderin’ around after the festrog like some kind of horrible puppy! Til you all killed ‘im, of course – but I guess that were doin’ him a favor, more ‘n anything.”
The third miner, a younger, sandy-haired fellow, doesn’t speak a work, just silently accepts the waterskin when it’s handed to him, without even drinking from it. He stares off into space, until the dark-haired man lifts the skin to the younger man’s lips and gives it a squeeze, causing him to take a few quick, distracted sips.
This mining operation opens up two mutually exclusive opportunities for members of the Exchange faction. On one hand, the faction PCs can use their rescue of the miners to impress the Golden Crown Company, leveraging their heroism to secure a lucrative deal or contract. Even if all the miners are slain, returning the camp’s logbooks to a Golden Crown representative in Fort Bandu would be an important sign of goodwill.
Alternatively, the PCs could sell the mine’s location to the Deeptreasure Mining Company (a much more powerful, albeit less scrupulous operation). In doing so, the Exchange would gain an even more powerful friend in the region while sabotaging its competitor’s investments in the region.
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Bastion takes the offered wand and then tends to the injured miners before healing Wayne.
"That is... grim", Bastion says. "We should destroy any remaining bodies before we leave. Could you draw us a map of where you believe the kobold's camp is? With any luck we'll be able to bring the rest of those men home."
"Was Sharrowsmith with those the kobolds took for captives?"
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"Can you make it back to Bandu? I'll tell you, your rescue is no accident. I don't like your competition, and I'm sure we can leverage a pretty solid deal out of this. You good? If so, I've got some people to hook you up...." Torriki gives him to lowdown.
Once that's taken care of, he looks over the party, "That was fun, aside form the gross parts. Shall we push on? I don't much care for kobolds, but we're not getting any closer here."
The miners are beyond grateful for the healing provided, and are clearly starving as well. ”Yeah, now that you’ve patched us up,” the sandy-haired fellow says, looking a bit daunted at the prospect of making the journey, ”we can make it back, I think - we’re sure not stayin’ here. But it sure would help if you had something to eat, haven’t really eaten anything in almost a week.”
The dark-haired man replies to Bastion, ”Sharrowsmith? Yeah, he was here, really just passed through, but before the kobolds attacked. He left, and some say the kobold troubles are all his doing. I can tell you how to get to the kobold settlement, but I sure wouldn’t go there myself. I’m ready to get back to the fort and find somewhere else to make a living, I’ll tell ya. Maybe we could find a spot a ways away to camp for the night, then we all go our separate ways in the morning?”
Without turning to look at the Instrument, the silent youth answers his question in a monotone voice, ”It walked in from the forest, kilt my Uncle Gint.” He then drops out of the conversation again.
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"I can provide a day of rations as well. If each of us can provide these good folk with a day of our rations they'll be able to make it back to Fort Bandu. Anyone else have a day they can spare?" Blayne asks.
"The young man seems quite disturbed - perhaps by the death of his uncle... I think I'll examine him more closely."
"I'm sorry for your loss!" Blayne says as he steps over to the youth and looks him over.
The miners hungrily gobble down the food that's offered, even the youth visibly relaxing a bit as it dawns on him that his ordeal is over, and he might not meet his end at the hands of an undead carrion-eater.
"I think there were just the one," sandy-hair replies between mouthfuls, "but wounded as we was, we dint have a chance to stop 'em, so we locked ourselves in 'at shed."
In reply to Blayne's kindness, the youngest one nods a bit, a little color coming back into his cheeks.
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The Taldan produces a day's ration as well and provides it to the miners. "May you remember Aroden's benevolence," he intones with total seriousness.
"I say we give these men some company, so that they may feel secure to begin their journey tomorrow," he disagrees. "We must take the time to do things right, not to rush as Sharrowsmith may have done."
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Less about rush,ore that I would rather travel at night. "would that I have a Skald to call upon to give us the marching song."
-Posted with Wayfinder
The fifteen-mile journey from the Gold Crown mining camp follows a twisting, treacherous route through much wilder portions of the Bandu Hills than the party has seen before. There is little to distinguish one forested, rocky hill from another, and it is clear that the kobolds have established their settlement in a place where few travelers will pass through by accident. Travelling by night means it is much cooler than during the day, but it does make it more challenging to follow the directions provided by the rescued miners.
Torriki, Wayne and Blayne stride boldly forth, following the moonlit glow of Blayne’s shiny new wayfinder. On multiple occasions, as they’re about to head exactly the wrong direction or find their way to an overlook that, in daylight, might provide a glorious vista, but at no time would take them towards their destination, Bastion coughs politely and points them along the proper trail. Thus, despite the best efforts of the majority of the Pathfinders present, the party manages to not get too badly lost, and the early morning finds them looking down a steep precipice into the valley where the kobolds are thought to live.
This ancient valley nestled in the Bandu Hills is well hidden, being almost impossible to spot from more than a mile away. Ancient megalithic stones—most of which are toppled and partly buried—ring the border of this deep valley. These stones, long since weathered by time and encrusted with vegetation, serve as the only indication that humanoids may have at one time settled this region. The thick forest canopy of the valley below hides any sign of civilization—ancient or otherwise— from outside observers.