Cristiel looks across the fields toward the farmhouse, eyeing each scarecrow with deliberate scrutiny as she listens to the noise, "This smells of another ambush waiting to happen. We should move as a group, keeping the non-combatants corralled at our center. If an attack comes, possibly from those wheat fields or from some hidden corner of the property's buildings, it will probably attempt to drawn our focus to the initial point of contact. We should ware leaving our flank exposed in such a case for a second prong of foes from another direction to take advantage as they did at the sanitarium."
The elf draws her scimitar as she looks at the others, "Regardless, let us start at the Conrains' estate as it is the nearest."
Camillo draws his longsword and salutes.
After a few moments of coordinating the group agrees on a formation of sorts and works its way down the rough hewn trail to the Conrain house.
As the group approaches slowly the wind picks up and dies down, shuffling crops and the wheat in particular giving the area an odd edge of constant "noise" that does nothing to diminish the tension as the door *clack clack clacks* on the farm house as you approach.
The path is soft but quickly drying in the sun that has followed the storms of last night but as you come out of the fields proper to the house you can see that the smaller beds of garden herbs and flowers have been trampled as has the yard leading up to the front porch. Tracks criss cross the terrain with eruptions of mud and small splatters of blood evidenced on the steps of the house.
A few chicken and a dog corpse mar the outside area of the yard and the farmer starts to tremble and weep ever so slightly.
Nothing seems to stir as you stand in the front yard save the wind and the front door clacking against the frame. It is clear the door if no longer hung straight and has been damaged by weapons, though you would need to move closer to tell what kind.
In the back, Rullis grips the wooden leaf hanging from his neck and silently says a prayer to himself. He keeps his eyes moving between the fields on both sides of the farmhouse and behind as he waits for those in the front to approach the porch.
Not happy with what he can see of their destination, Camillo tries to focus on his side of the formation and behind them. He's got a bad feeling about this...
Sayniek reaches within herself and draws on the power of vengeance to determine whether the evil that performed these acts is still about.
Use Detect Evil and begin to scan the area including the home if we are close enough.
Cristiel remains alert with her weapon drawn as she scans the nearby fields. While her gaze sweeps across the vista, her voice is soft as if in a hushed conversation, "If we do find survivors, careful that is isn't a trap to lure us toward them. I'm sure you're all familiar with the ploy of wounding a comrade of your enemy and securing their struggling form over a pit-trap."
"This is almost too eerie...I imagine that an attack now would be frightening, but also cathartic as it would serve to release some of the tension building up in us at the moment."
The group pauses for a moment and looks about, each face of the formation taking in the scene. Little else seems to reveal itself though Cam is able to see that there does appear to be more discreet tracks on the other path that leads to the opposite crops/neighboring farm; deeper and better formed than what you see from your current position.
Sayniek, at least from her current position, sees nothing that appears evil.
Cristiel motions to the farmhouse, "I doubt we shall find much beyond carnage within but if there does remain enough unconsumed of the deceased, what funerary rites do you locals' prefer?" The elven woman, with hopefully the rest at her back, will edge closer to the house to try and peer in any windows or the ajar door.
"Master Stillman, it is my understanding that there are spells designed to detect the presence of the undead, does your god grant this spell?"
Sayniek looks to Vidar.
I can sense the presence of evil. Only the weakest of mindless undead are not evil to their cores. I should be able to sense them. But if it is a mindless undead or some unusual undead that is not evil, then I would not sense them.
Cristiel can see into the house and sees the looks of struggle; overturned furniture, household items laying about the floors, and a few marks, scratches gouges and dings along the walls doors and windows at various stages. It is clear a battle happened to some extent but there is little in the way of blood and no bodies at least to be seen from the front steps/porch.
Cristiel frowns at the sight that greets her, "They put up a struggle at the least. Plenty of evidence to that fact though little in the way of blood and I see no bodies. It means they might have escaped or the more likely scenario, they were dragged away to be eaten or converted into more ghouls."
"I wish we had an estimation of how long it takes for a person to turn, for all we know now, some of the ghouls who attacked us last night may have come from here..."
[spoiler=Kno:Religion DC 15] Turning happens usually at the stroke of midnight after the body has succumbed to the fever. This is usually slow, taking a few days but if the body has been ravaged or if multiple ghouls descend on the victim the fever can progress in hours.[/spolier]
Rullis stutters a bit in his reply as he stares off into the fields. "Uh, I, uh think so. I've never tried. I, uh, will be sure to pray tomorrow morning for Her to grant me such abilities. But I, um, cannot guarantee that He will approve of asking Him of such things." He keeps his face turned away and he focused on that which is behind him.
"I'm afraid this goes without saying, but there were tracks in the paths to the other farms. Less chaotic, more purposeful, I think, not like someone running away."
"Whomever is responsible for this...travesty, better hope that death comes slowly to them, for they will find no mercy in the afterlife..."
Vidar casts a baleful eye towards the prisoner.
Religion:
Kithian spits into the dirt at his feet as he draws his falchion and begins to walk towards the farm house. "Midnight. When they die from that cursed fever or get killed by them foul ... things, they turn at that midnight."
Vidar taps his chin with a finger as he considers that information.
"Midnight...the witching hour, somehow that seems quite fitting.
I also believe that is the time many dark rituals are practiced for extra power or to gain the notice of the dark gods."
Sayniek draws her blade and follows limping behind Kithian.
If they are not savable, then we shall have to put them down. Sadly not vengeance, just what must be done for one to become undead.
With Sayniek leading and Kithian close behind (otherwise how would the halfling, er I mean aasimar see anything?) the group enters the home.
A simple entry way leads to a common farmhouse with a family room, dining room, kitchen and stairs that leads up to bedrooms. A door in the back leads to a mostly enclosed porch. the door looks closes.
Each room features a narrow door to better close of sections of the house in colder weather and like it seemed outside, each room it littered with debris of a struggle but little in the way of gore or anything resembling a body.
Farmer Conrain begins to babble, I ran. It came on me from the field I could only go to the woods but Gods help me I ran. I thought they might lock a door or hide but there are nowhere and I ran!
He is clearly losing it and will probably get louder and more frantic without an intervention of some kind...
Survival:
Rullis puts a hand on the shoulder of the frantic farmer and softly chants. Then, once he has shut up, he tells him in a quiet, calm tone, "Calm yourself, we don't want to draw them back here. If you had stayed here, then you would have suffered them same fate as them and you wouldn't have been able to find us. You did what you had to."
<-- hey, I beat your 12
Sayniek looks around, but does not see anything of note, not that she has any real training in such searches.
"Oh dear...look here...a trail, they took someone with them, out the backdoor..."
With a gesture Vidar leads the group to the back porch and from there is becomes much more clear what he was referring to. A fetid and rotting corpse, adorned in overalls, a hat and with smalls stuffings of straw lays in the mud a butcher's knife embedded in its skull. It is clear this was a ghoul...dressed as a scarecrow?
The mud here is torn and dry from the sun and it is clear that at least one or more people were pulled along the dirt towards the path to the next house. What blood there is stains the mud but is dry and caked in many places making it hard to know just how long it has been here, though with the rain from last night it was here short enough to not be wash away but long enough to dry in the morning sun.
"Oh dear...oh my stars...
How many of the scarecrows in the fields are ghouls...or worse...soon to be ghouls?"
Vidar turns away and makes a revolted noise at the sheer horror of that thought.
The usually verbose and caustic Wizard appears quite unnerved by this point.
Quietly, "How many scarecrows are in these fields? It's going to take a month to check them all!"
"No...I think we walked right into a trap, because soon enough, THEY will come to us.
And we're in a farmhouse, SURROUNDED by fields..."
"Oh! Then we have where we want them! We should prepare for the party!"
Cristiel shakes her head at the dead scarecrow ghoul, "Simple tactics but effective. If we are surrounded, best we dictate the exact field of battle. Control the terrain, control the flow of the fighting." The elven woman looks at the hysterical farmer as she lays a hand against his shoulder, "You did as you had to do. There are no judgements placed upon you for the choices you made, only those judgements you impose upon yourself. If you had stood and fought, it may be that the outcome would not have differed over much. One more man against a legion does not equate to much."
The sight of another man's fear galvanizes Vidar, and once more he finds the steel in his spine.
"And besides, he says with grating harshness in his voice, it is within everyone to flee, but YOU came back...
And now there is nowhere to run, so if you feel guilty for doing the sensible thing...now is your chance to make up for it."
Farmer
Caster
Rullis
Cam
Kithian
Cristiel
Sayniek
Vidar
Guard
As the revelations of your situation come to bear the farer takes the information "poorly" at first seemingly bolstered by the groups words of encouragement but than paling, and falling unconscious at the notion of being in some sort of ghoul trap.
The prisoner in the mean time takes the moment to run screaming (at thetop of his lungs no less)Skinsaw will ruin it all! A warning! A warning! Many of you are not caught by surprise by the attempted escape...
"Oh for Desnas sake...Master Darlcok, please catch the moronic fool BEFORE he can be heard all the way to Sandpoint."
Vidar will check on the farmer instead.
"Wake up! Nobody here will be carrying you, so best get on your feet lest you want to spend the night outside..."