Menra's eyes widen and he stumbles backwards half a foot. He twists his hands in quick jolting movements, and tries to splash a spray of acid at one of the wicked things. "I thought we checked this house thoroughly!"
Not thorough enough! Keska shouts at Menra, moving into position opposite of Grimdell and slashing at the rotting corpses with one of her sickles, I should have asked the spirits too!
Grimdell snaps at the zombie opposite him, but his attack is just a little too rushed, timed just wrong; it misses.
Unfortunately, this leaves him open to the undead creature's counterattack, and a powerful punch rattles his beak!
Serill chants his spell, and rancid grease wells up from the floorboards right in front of the lead zombie. Incredibly, the lifeless flesh-puppets both maintain their footing and continue on, gaping mouth constantly whispering 'Ourhouseourhouseourhouseourhouse'!
Brycen comes running into the corridor, hoping to present an alternate target, but Menra beats him to the punch; a gout of acid from the Wizard's hand takes the lead zombie in the face, and the foul stench of undead flesh dissolving in acid fills the corridor.
Keska follows up on Menra's spell, her sickle carving a wicked slash in the lead zombie's chest. Rotting organs come tumbling out - but the zombie is not dead yet! A bone-hard fist swipes at the nimble Fetchling, only barely missing her neck,
Grimdell shrieks in rage and lunges forward with his beak.
Brycen’s blade continues to flash, slicing a zombie twice to divide the corpse into four neat pieces which flop to the floor.
Serill loads his crossbow and fires but the close confines of the hallway hinder his aim.
Emboldened by the undead falling at the pace they are, Keska swings at the nearest opponent with her sickle, hoping for the satisfying tug of the rotting flesh catching the blade.
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Grimdell takes the zombie pestering him to task, dealing it another grievous wound! But the undead are known for their persistence; the creature claws at the Griffin Skald once more, with ... an unexpected amount of feeling, really.
Grimdell's head rings as the zombie punches him in the beak. As the Griffin is still staggering from the first blow, the undead punches him in the throat! Grimdell chokes -- he can't breathe ... Darkness claims the Griffin as he sags to the ground, blood leaking out of his mouth...
Brycen and Keska move in, blades flashing, carving arcs of light through air and necromancy-infused flesh!
The one zombie who had not yet taken any damage practically explodes as Brycen tears into it, gobbets of flesh flying every which way.
In contrast, Keska's attack is nearly surgical; a quick slice up the abdomen, the guts come piling out, and the zombie loses cohesion, falling down onto the ground.
Serill fires an arrow at the zombie standing over Grimdell, and while the bolt sticks in the closet's door frame instead of the monster's flesh, at least the attack serves to distract the creature from the unconscious Skald.
Whispering 'Ourhouseourhouseourhouseourhouseourhouse', completely disregarding the fate of its comrades, the animated corpse starts to shuffle around so it can move towards you next round...
Brycen picks his way through the grease and slashes at the remaining zombie. His precarious balance throws off his swing.
Grimdell does his best to stubbornly cling to life in spite of being unconscious.
Serill reloads and tries again, having slightly better results but only nicking the creature.
Menra's eyes go wide when he notices their dying Gryfin companion, and tries to refocus his magical might when aiming for the remaining zombie. But it's to no effect, he's just simply not used to trying to hit moving targets!
Grimdell! Keska shouts in dismay. She barely knew the gryphon, but having her companions die before the trip was over would be terribly inconvenient. But before she could attend to the injured, she would have to finish the threat.
She stepps into the grease, careful to pick her way across, but her haste betrays here as she loses her footing and has to catch herself from falling and struggles to once again gain her footing, cursing in Draconic as she does so.
Keska moves forward - and slips on the Grease, faceplanting. Menra's acid splash arcs just over the Fetchling and burns a neat little hole in the floor - right in front of her nose. Brycen manages to make it past the Grease upright, but misses the zombie on his swing!
Only Serill manages to score a hit on the tattered-looking zombie, which swings at Brycen...
... and fortunately, it misses!
Brycen tries to end the zombie once and for all.
”Somebody save Grimdell. I’ll hold off this thing!”
Brycen does just that - by lopping the final zombie's head off!
Brycen makes his way over to Grimdell, letting his sword carelessly fall to the floor. He starts grabbing bleeders trying to staunch the flow.
Stablized.
When the final zombie falls Serill's mind actually takes in the situation and he tries to remember what he knows about zombies.
Apparently we didn't check the tower well enough, Keska grumbles as she kicks a corpse, looking for something to wipe her sickle clean with. Not sure what we could have do- DAGEAU! she panics as she takes off back down the hall, looking for their employer, you'd better not be dead you damned bird!
Dageau is still where you left him, still in one piece, and he looks highly affronted at your choice of words.
"In my day, the hired help did not talk that way to their employers," he says in an icy tone, "and as I am not dead yet, it is still my day."
Grimdell lays still, sides rising and falling slowly with his breath. If his unconscious mind has any thoughts in it, one is surely that being knocked out by such pathetic foes is hardly glorious.
Menra sighs, relieved that the danger has passed, and checks up on the two of their injured. "Next time, we make sure we check the entire location before settling in. I don't suppose any of you have a potion to or helpful magic that could get our friends back on their feet quicker?"
After some persuasion from Keska, Dageau grudgingly comes to join you on the first floor - carrying his precious box along for the 'fun'.
The Tengu clucks his tongue disparagingly at you all, and even more grudgingly presents a flask of syrupy, golden liquid. Grumbling under his breath, the bird-like merchant dribbles a drop into Grimdell's beak, and another one into Virro's mouth before he rams the stopper back home and puts the flask back in his jacket.
"There," he says as your companions start to feebly stir back to life and some of their wounds scab over. "I will be subtracting that from your wages. Now, then. What are you all standing around for? A round of applause? Go find out where those shamblers came from; I'll not have my night's rest disturbed by more of these malodorous flesh puppets. Get to work!"
Clucking and grumbling under his breath, Dageau lumbers back down the stairs, still cradling his precious cargo.
Damned bird... bird... Hmm. Serill watches Dageau as he doles out minuscule amounts of whatever restorative liquid he held in his flash. Nothing new from the miserly Tengu there.
He reloads his crossbow and enchants the bolt with an elvish phrase and a light appears on its tip, as if it were a torch. "Menra. Let us check this way." He nods to where it looks like the zombies came from and heads that way slowly.
"Illuminate my path"
"I wish for us to speak."
The elder teifling gives the griffin a pat on his shoulder, happy to see that Grimdell wasn't among the dead just yet. Menra's bat hangs from his horns, but she remains ever agitated about the recent events, wary and alert. After making sure he had his supplies on hand in case of another burst of magic, limited though it was, he accompanied the elf.
Glad that Menra agreed to follow, Serill waits until they are a bit further away before speaking. "I was dreaming a very disturbing dream before we came under attack and I believe you are the only one who can help me forget it as just an errant nightmare or figure its truth out. There was a woman talking to me in my dream. She sang a strange song about birds and one was being roasted over a fire. Have you ever heard of any such song? The bird has the word?" He reveals only a little about the dream, trying to notice any recognition on Menra's face, wondering if the dream was what he thought it might be and whether Menra was really having the same dream.
*Groan*
"Owww..."
Virro nurses the large gash on his neck.
"I'm not dead yet? Damnit. Guess I gotta follow animal boy's instructions..." This causes Virro to look around, realizing he said that out loud without considering who may have been close enough to hear it.
Shrugging, he mumbles a few words and painfully places his hand on his neck. Energy courses through his hand and into the wound, knitting it together.
"Ahhhh...."
Virro painfully gets up.
"Right, let's *ow* sweep this house again. Don't need to be waken up like that again."
”Perhaps you and Grimdell should stay and guard our compassionate and illustrious employer while the rest of us recheck the house?”
Brycen wants to check the rooms that the zombies came from, looking for hidden passages.
Grimdell slowly opens his eyes, a pounding headache and the feeling that his beak might be cracked meeting him as consciousness slowly returns. He can't quite surpress a deep groan as slowly gets to his feet, but he says nothing. A warrior does not complain about his wounds.
He can, however, heal them, if he happens to have the talent for magical song.
His odd, screeching song is surprisingly effective at healing him. Grimdell's eyes regain their predatory focus as the injuries to his head fade.
"No, I will come!" he declares firmly, and follows after Brycen, keen eyes going over his surroundings, searching for more foes.
Menra frowns as he examines a recently disturbed pile of dust, "Our lady of madness and magic, Vexat. I had my suspicions that it wasn't as simple a dream as I would've liked, but to hear it confirmed brings me no great joy. I wonder if it's our proximity to the circle which has led her to us."
He shakes his head, causing Nelly to screech in mild irritation as she was swung too and fro, standing up to face Serill. "The song is one wholly unfamiliar to me. I can't even begin to contemplate the meaning those words have been laced with at this time."
As you make your way through the rooms again, you soon discover where the zombies came from; in each of the room that yielded up an undead shambler, a panel on the side of the bed has been opened. Slides lead down into the dark, and a faint smell of formaldehyde and blood rises up to you ... that, and a faint moan of pain.
Grimdell looks warily down one of the slides, wondering if the zombies had crawled up them. When the darkness denies him sight of more below, he grabs a piece of detritus from the room, croons a spell at it that makes it glow, and throws it down the slide.
Grimdell's glowing pebble tumbles maybe twenty feet down the shallow incline, illuminating convenient handholds along the way. Bits of rotting flesh confirm the Griffin's suspicion that the zombies came up from below.
When the pebble comes to a stop, it is just barely possible to see a small, hexagonal room. Six tables stand against the walls, shackles attached at both head and foot.
Five stand empty ... but on the sixth lies a living person!
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The man who was shackled to the sixth table was a half-elf of considerable stature, tall enough that his feet stuck out over the edge of the table and brawny enough that he might not stay there very long. He had tan skin and silvery hair that hung to his shoulder, though he wasn't aged. He had a stubbly beard but he was a young man, just a strange hair color from his elfin parent.
Nearby seemed to be his gear left in a pile; a set of full-plate armor, a heavy crossbow, a hand axe, a longsword and a heavy steel shield. He also had a backpack nearby, presumably full of adventuring gear.
Yenneiros woke to the sound of stone clacking against stone, and the faint light of a spell-lit pebble rolling across the floor. He blinked at it, groaned again, and tried to reach his aching head. When his arm met resistance in the chains that held him, he jerked hard against his restraints. A slight bit of panic made him want to shout for help, but that seemed foolish; the owner of that spell-lit pebble might not be friendly. So he worked in haste, attempting to break the shackles or the chains by tugging with all his might.
"Someone is moving down there!" Grimdell exclaims. He starts making his way down the incline, walking cautiously to make sure he doesn't slip.
”Don’t panic, friend. We have come to assist you,” Brycen calls down the chute.
He will follow Grimdell.
Virro was slow to follow, mostly clutching the side of his neck, which was still a mass of scabs, dried blood, and scar tissue.
He let the group climb down the shafts, not entirely eager to go down. Until Grimdell called out.
"Someone is moving down there!"
"More of these things? Dagnabit!" Virro readies his sword.
”Don’t panic, friend. We have come to assist you,”
"Wait, what? You mean somebody not dead!?"
Ignoring his wound, Virro hastily clambers down the shaft.
"Well, piss on the dirt and call it rain, somebody IS alive down here. Who the hell are you? And how'd you end up down in this shithole without being zombie chow?"
Just as Brycen, Grimdell and Virro arrive in the hexagonal chamber, the stranger puts forth a desperate surge of strength and breaks open his manacles. As he lies there, still panting with exhaustion, those who have gone down into the little room can have a look around.
This is clearly where the zombies were animated - and the people they once were died. A magic circle has been painted on the floor with white paint, dried blood staining the floor inside its lines. A seventh, smaller table of gruesome "medical instruments" still caked with gore stands waiting. Three shelves have been nailed against the wall above the "tool rack"; on the topmost stand five bottles of black liquid; on the middle stand five bottles of green liquid; on the bottom shelf lies a single, black gem, sparkling in the light of Grimdell's magic pebble.
"I almost hoped that it was just a regular dream but you are right. I felt something from the circle earlier when I was bringing in Dageau's animals to the stable. I think she was telling us something, maddeningly unintelligible though it was to our minds. I think it has something to do with Dageau and whatever is in that box of his. What does she want with it though?" Serill is interrupted by his inspection of the smelly slide when he hears the shouts from below. "I don't feel like jumping down this. Perhaps we should see if someone else found an easier way down?"
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Yenneiros sat up from the table with a spinning head, and gave his rescuers a confused look. A griffon, a nobleman and a bleeding elf with a really foul mouth... Motley though they were, they were a sight for sore eyes.
"I... I'm Yenneiros. Yenneiros Shieldhart. I, I came here days ago-- weeks ago? I'm not sure anymore... I was traveling alone, and t-the people who... who owned this house invited me in for a meal. They had another guest, a woman. I blacked out, and when I woke up we were all chained to these tables, except for the woman."
The half-elfin man tried to slide off of the table, but looked disoriented and seemed more likely to fall. Yenneiros also sounded quite upset about the rest of the tale he shared. And also looked a bit like he might throw up.
"She-- she was a cleric of Kebal. She p-poisoned us, poisoned the family over the course of days and reanimated them as zombies! I was sure to be next... I don't know where she has gone, I woke alone this morning."
Grimdell growls deep in his chest. "Where is this betrayer?" he demands. "I shall rend her limb from limb!"
"Murderous psycho still around? Now we REALLY need to go through this house again."
After giving Yenneiros a one-over to make sure he isn't seriously wounded, Virro begins searching the room they're currently in.
"Oh, I suppose introductions are in order. Name's Virro. Mercenary. Drunk," Virro replies, matter-of-factly, with no shame.
He finally finds his way down to the others and where they have found this living specimen instead of more zombies. "It looks like today is your lucky day. If we hadn't come along you'd be just like them." He speaks some arcane words and seems to trace a large eye in the air in front of him.
"See through the Dragon's Eye."
Serill can detect a faint shimmer of Necromancy throughout the room, centered on the magic circle; whoever worked here was working steadily and over a prolonged period of time.
The potion bottles emit low-level auras; Conjuration from the green, Necromancy from the black. The gemstone is non-magical.
Virro can easily tell Yenneiros needs a square meal or two, but is otherwise in decent condition.
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Yenneiros looked between the three heroes, nodding, "Have you come hunting the cleric? If so, I wish to join you. She must be brought to justice. These kind people did not deserve what was done to them, I wish to avenge them."
The half-elf slid from the table finally, landing on his feet wobbily. He reached down and began to don his armor, a process that took a good five minutes considering the amount of metal he was putting on his body. When he finished, he was in full plate with a heavy steel shield in one hand, and a longsword in the other. His tabard and various other religious iconography on his armor marked him as a Paladin of Petty-Boon, the last of the kindly gods of Rue.
Feeling a proper tin can once again, Yenneiros shouldered his pack and looked at his rescuers through his visor in a 'point me at it and I'll bash it' sort of way.
"We had not known there was such a foe here when we arrived, but now that we do we should not leave her to continue her work!" Grimdell declares.
He hesitates then adds, "Though... we saw no sign of her when we arrived."
”We saw no sign of the zombies either. Where there is one secret chamber, there most likely is a second. Does this area of basement seem the same size as the house above us?”