Sanduro takes another shot at the Screamer, this time drawing back on his bow until the the tendons on his neck threaten to pop until he lets his arrow fly, sighing in relief.
"Oink oink, ya monstrosity of unnatural whatever! Next up, Beary McBearFace! Then Ol’ Bessie!"
Silvia continues pouring fire onto the monster, growing ever more furious.
Jando delivers another vicious blow that doesn't bite as deeply as it ought, and the party follows up with a vicious flurry of strikes both magical and mundane. Zsofia and Sanduro are unable land telling blows; even Silvia's volume of fire is having only a partial effect, distracting the beast enough for Ketra to draw blood with another well-placed slash after she dives into position.
Luckily Garret's magic proves effective, fire and force each leaving their mark, though Screamer's wounds continue to rapidly heal--though not as rapidly as new wounds are added!
Screamer retaliates with another vicious bite against Jando, then growls in frustrated confusion at the vines that keep trying to snare it again. With a lunge it clears the pit trap and fights free of the grasping plant-life! Jando's injuries must be telling, because his flurry of swings are swatted aside.
-ROUND FIVE-
Ketra
Silvia
Screamer (-70hp; Shaken II)
Jando (-24hp)
Garret
Sanduro
Zsofia
-ROUND SIX-
Ketra
Silvia
Screamer (-70hp; Shaken I)
Jando (-24hp)
Garret
Sanduro
Zsofia
The Screamer makes the mistake of turning away from Zsofia as it tries to move away from the phantom.
"Hey! Free punch at the pig face! Oink oink, piggy!"
”If it’s working, no reason to change,” thinks Garret. He moves the fiery sphere onto Screamer to continue burning it as he slings another trio of magic missiles!
Backing up and cursing profusely, Silvia tries to focus less on the enormous monster closing in on her and more about shooting it to death.
"Useless!" Sanduro shakes his head and mutters to himself as his arrow glances off the Screamer's tough hide. Taking a deep breath, he nocks another arrow and tries again.
Zsofia steps up next to Jando and tries another one-two punch combination at the pig face. "Stay put, you! We have had a totally crappy day, and no screaming pile of uncooked steak, bacon, and ... whatever the hell bear meat is called is gonna walk out on us!"
As Screamer bulls up to Silvia, another pelting fusillade of magical bolts from Garret stagger it--just long enough for a point-blank shot to its massive bear face. With an enormous sigh, the poor beast slumps over onto its side and expires.
Rolling the flaming sphere over Screamer’s remains just in case his warped metabolism was still trying to heal, Garret slumps a bit and says, ”I am weary and have precious little magic left. Can we rest now?”
Clutching at his bleeding arm, Jando huffs out a tired laugh. "Yeah, let's do that." Limping past the still-twitching corpse of Screamer, the half-orc pauses below the canopy and calls up.
"It's me, Mirhet. I found your Driscoll girl! Can you get to the ladder?" A soft scraping, like something dragged across wood, presages a crude rope ladder tumbling down from above.
Ketra delivers a final stab into the Screamer, then hops back and watches it for a while to ensure it's not about to get back up and keep fighting even after Garret's immolation. "Garret, I think that's way past due. We're in bad shape, Jando included."
With the threat of the Screamer gone, Ketra sheaths her blades and rushes over to the blind, weaving around the pit traps as she does. She clambers on up "Mirhet, ahendu rehasa hague ndejehegui upe niebla! Ombota ijyva, ¿ajépa?"
As Ketra's head pokes up into the blind, she immediately spies her old friend and mentor, leaned up against the trunk of the tree. Mirhet gives Ketra a pleased but strained smile--her skin is sallow, her left leg stretched out before her and tied off in a crude brace. She leans forward to help you up as best she can from her awkward position.
"Maitei, Jerokyhára. Che areko pe ganga paha ivaivéva, akyhyje. Avy'a rohechávo reikove, umi mba'e naiporãi ko'ápe."
[b]"Hello, Dancer. I got the worse end of the bargain, I'm afraid. I'm glad to see you alive, things are not well here."
Mirhet's injuries are no laughing matter--a combination of poisoning and a badly broken leg.
Garret lets the flaming sphere burn until its arcane power unravels, then moves towards the rope ladder. Climbing slowly and wearily, he finds a corner of the hideout to rest. Coiling up the hood of his cloak for a pillow, he curls up and watches the proceedings for awhile before he drifts off to sleep.
Sanduro climbs into the blind and introduces himself to Mirhet but turns to address her leg as quickly as he can without being rude.
Pulling out the healer's satchel, counting on Ketra and Jando to translate if needed, he asks, "May I look to your injury?"
Sanduro frowns. "It isn't just the broken leg, you have been poisoned, too. That was the fog when you entered the village?"
After checking Mirhet's brace and asking a few questions about the course of the poison, Sanduro nods in approval. "Jando did a good job setting your leg. I think I have some materials here that will let me make some improvements to your brace, and some herbs that will speed your healing if you take them overnight - I can brew them into a tea, if you'd like. I'll stay up with you to help you drink it, and to change your dressings. I can check on Jando, Ketra, and our friends at the same time. Then tomorrow we'll have the energy for more magical healing. If all goes well, we'll get you back on your feet in a day or two at most."
Sanduro works on bandaging up Ketra, Silvia, Zsofia, and Jando, and then will provide 8 hours of long-term care overnight to the entire group while Zsofia keeps watch.
Once the long night is over, after a final check on his patients, Sanduro collapses into his bedroll and falls asleep almost immediately. Zsofia disappears when he does, her bracers and cloak collapsing in a pile next to him.
3rd—cure moderate wounds, greater magic fang, neutralize poison
2nd—crypt burning sands, eagle eye[APG], lesser restoration (2)
1st—cure light wounds (2), entangle (DC 14), longstrider
0 (at will)—detect magic, guidance, read magic, stabilize
Ketra rushes over and gives Mirhet a hug before stepping back and offering a more formal bow, touching her forehead in the process. "Allin hamusqa kay hermana. Chiqamanta mana allinchu imapas kachkan. Aylluy... Suyachkani mana watasqa qipaqkunapa espiritunta allichananchikta."
She steps to the side as Sanduro approaches to try to address the injury, but hovers around anxiously as he does his inspection. When he seems satisfied that the affliction is on the mend, she gives a relieved nod. "Good. We'll need everyone if this Mister Quietus is what they described him as." She turns to Mirhet while Sanduro is working and asks in Common "What's going on in the outside world? Jando was already inside when the mist came up, from what he explained. We've seen nothing since we got back. Nothing except all the terrible fates of the people and animals that were left behind."
Though she's eager to ask questions and hear from Mirhet, she's soon finding herself nodding off. It had been a long day.
: "...My family... I hope we'll be able to settle the spirits of those who remain untethered."
Mirhet nods once and reaches over to squeeze Ketra's hand. She allows Sanduro to examine her leg while introductions are made, answering your questions in accented common. "The fog...whatever magic powers it, it is strong. Not just the poison, I used magic to shield myself...it does something to your mind. I saw phantoms, shadows, I stumbled like one caught in a waking dream. It was luck that I stumbled out of the fog just as my protections wore off--the few breaths I took were nearly enough to kill me. Jando found me, but not before Screamer. I am sorry for its suffering, but death is surely a mercy." Jando grunts softly in agreement.
As your group tiredly makes yourselves as comfortable as you can manage in the blind's cramped confines, Mirhet studies you all intently while Ketra asks about the outside world.
"Outside? Outside is...ordinary. The sun shines, the birds fly, the last two villages I passed did not seem amiss. Even when I saw this prison of poison I did not realize how bad things were--I saw what Screamer has become, and Jando has told me some of the rest. I do not know of any Master Quietus, but sleep now Dancer. There is much to be done still."
You awaken with a start, not sure what caused it. Looking around, you find yourself staring at a pair of eyes glinting in the darkness just outside the blind. A long black tail swishes back and forth before curling around as Moggie the cat stares at you from her perch on a long bare branch.
"The lightning-scarred elm, look inside it. It will help," the cat whispers is a faintly feminine voice.
Even as you reach out, Moggie is shaking her head in denial. "It's no use talking to me, I'm just the messenger. The elm killed by lightning, don't forget." The darkness seems to deepen around the cat until just her gleaming eyes are visible--you cannot see the blind, or your companions; all is darkness save for those gleaming eyes. "Just let me help you, you little fool. Look in the elm."
Silvia experiences the unsettling sensation of startling awake when she hadn't realized she was sleeping. She's still in the blind, faint streams of moonlight faintly illuminating the blind around her, but there's no cat this time.
"Can't sleep?" Jando asks softly from his spot by the ladder.
The story of Mirhet's entrance through the fog makes Ketra queasy, idle thoughts inevitably sliding to "What if we can't find a way out?". She does her best to set them aside and at least feel reassured that there's still a world outside the fog that's moving along like usual.
---
Unlike Silvia, Ketra sleeps straight through any dreams.
"Not quite," Silvia replies, laying her head back down onto the pack serving as her pillow and staring up into the sky. "There was a stray that would sometimes hang around my workshop. Keep having dreams about her."
Sanduro is awake through the night. He focuses most of his attention on Mirhet, waking her briefly every few hours to drink some medicinal tea or change position to avoid bedsores. He checks on his friends as well, but if they're sleeping, he leaves them alone except to quietly adjust or add a blanket.
At dawn, he looks at each of his patients once more before collapsing onto his bedroll until early afternoon.
Sleeping soundly and recovering well, Garret feels a new sense of power unlocked within. He says to Sanduro, “Thanks for checking on us overnight. You know that flaming sphere I use DM during combat? I think I may be able to use it in a slightly different, explosive form! Hopefully I’ll be able to test that—but not too soon.”
As the others awake, he asks hopefully, ”Some of us need more rest and/or healing. Do we have enough people to go work on setting the graveyard the rest of the way to rights this morning?”
Jando stretches his and grunts. "I'm feeling mostly myself again. I'm not from your town, but I understand paying your respects; you've got my help if you want it." Mirhet asks you to help her up and tests her leg. She doesn't say anything, but the tightness in her jaw and shoulders clearly conveys her pain.
"I wish to accompany you, but I would slow you down badly," she assesses bluntly, clearly frustrated. "I will stay here. It is enough for now that you live, but Ketra, I wish to find the home of Jonnar Windrider--he was Tamiir-Quah, but left his tribe for a woman here. He kept an eye on your for me...I would pay my respects, if he didn't survive."
”Let us go back to the graveyard today and finish what we started in giving the bodies of the fallen a proper burial. Jando, if you will watch our backs as we do so, we will hopefully be done before nightfall and can return here to rest and see how your healing has progressed, Mirhet,” suggests Garret, the task before them seeming too large to delay any longer.
Ketra nods to Mirhet, thinking back to those times when she'd noticed the older Windrider looking out for her. There'd been a time when she'd gotten the wrong idea and held it against him. But eventually the pieces had fallen into place. "It won't be a problem. I think I remember where he lives, or lived." She tries to recall if Jonnar was among the crowd in the duplicate Roslar's Coffer in the Boneyard, but her memories of the place are already getting foggy. "We'll check in. You just stay here and recover, alright? We'll need everyone up and fighting if this necromancer is as bad as people have been saying."
She turns to Jando and Garret "All together? Is there anything we can do to disguise this place so no one stumbles on Mirhet while we're gone?"
Sanduro stretches groggily sometime after the sun, somewhere above the poison mist, must have passed midday. He sees the others getting ready to head to the graveyard and yawns. "Hang on, I'll be ready in a few minutes." He splashes some water on his face, then meditates for a minute to recall Zsofia.
While she puts on her bracers and cloak and shoulders Sanduro's pack (muttering something that sounds like "stupid wimpy kid" under her breath), he approaches Mirhet and examines the progress of her recovery from the broken leg and poison.
"That's not bad, I think. But if you'll give me a few seconds more, I think I can do a little more for you."
Then he casts eagle eye and spends several minutes viewing the town from on high through the magical sensor. He describes what he sees to his friends so they can map what remains of the town, while turning his focus in a slow circle and keeping a watchful eye out for potential allies and threats -- particularly humanoids who might be part of the gang with the black skull tattoos.
"One of us should probably stay with Mirhet. We don't want another of those things wandering by while she's unable to defend herself."
Mirhet gasps as there is a audible clicking and creaking from her leg, but some of the color returns to her face and her sigh is a relieved one. "That is...better. I thank you, Sanduro--your accent, it is Varisian. I did not realize the caravans came this far east, are your people well?"
When Silvia suggests one of your group remaining behind, Jando shrugs and Mirhet frowns. "You have slain Screamer, and many of those looters. I am safer here than I was yesterday. Go, honor the fallen, I will be fine."
Climbing down one by one from the blind, you pick your way across your ruined homedown with all of its unsettling wreckage and equally unsettling verdancy. The graveyard is just as you left it--it doesn't even look like anything has tried to pick at the bodies. The lar greets you with a wordless, empathic sense of welcoming admiration; picking up your tools you set to work.
It's a long and difficult labor, hours go by as you finish sorting bones, filling in graves, and scraping or burning away the Chorus' foul goop. Given your early start and previous work the day before, though, it's only an hour or two after noon (you think) when the last shovelful of dirt is filled in. It's not pretty, certainly, but it is respectable--and far better than how you'd found it.
"I'm not really sure how these things work," Jando starts, leaning his shovel against the shed and wiping at some of the sweat and dirt on his brow. "Do we...say a prayer?"
Ketra grins at Mirhet's assurances, though hides her smile from her mentor. With that tone, there was going to be no arguing with her. Ketra clears her throat "Alright, we'll be back soon."
---
The long hours of labor leave Ketra sweating and groaning. She'd had plenty of work of all sorts before, but shoveling like this was something else. She pats the top of one of the graves with her shovel and then sets it aside. After Jando's comment, she frowns for a moment and then raises her head.
"For the people buried here, their spirits were long gone. The creature just used their bones to do its horrible thing. So, I guess..." She shrugs "It just seemed right to put them back where they below." She looks to the others in case they feel otherwise.
”We have seen the dead of Roslar’s Coffer at peace in the Boneyard. We have laid their remains to rest—at least those here at the graveyard. We treat their remains with respect and honor the journey of their spirits,” says Garret.
”We should take a rest, then maybe try and clean up around the well,” he adds, though Garret looks to be pretty worn out already.
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Mirhet gasps as there is a audible clicking and creaking from her leg, but some of the color returns to her face and her sigh is a relieved one. "That is...better. I thank you, Sanduro--your accent, it is Varisian. I did not realize the caravans came this far east, are your people well?"
Sanduro's expression changes from satisfaction with Mirhet's healing to worry.
"I don't really know. We have seen no sign that they were caught within the explosion or its effect, and from what I knew of their plans, they should still have been a couple of days away even they were traveling in a straight path. But I last spoke with them several months ago, and they could as easily have been ahead of schedule as behind. I won't rest easily until I know for certain."
Sanduro looks his comrades in the eye one by one, then gazes into the distance and begins a prayer.
"This is the prayer my Grandmother Túnde taught me for restoring a desecrated grave.
"All points along a spiral lead to the center. At death, each soul begins its own journey along the spiral of the River of Souls to the Boneyard and Pharasma's Spire at the true center of their journey as a petitioner. The souls of those we have reinterred here today have long departed for their journey and care little for what is done with their remains, but we do not reconsecrate this site for the dead. We do so for the living, to show that when it is their time to die, they may begin their own journey in peace, that their body and their memory will be treated with dignity and respect, just as the Lady of Graves and her servitors treat all souls with dignity and respect when they reach their journey's end. Each soul will be sent to their reward, their punishment, their final home based solely on their beliefs and actions in this life. Her judgment is made without fear, for no other may judge the Lady who judges the gods themselves. Her judgment is made without mercy, for mercy implies a beneficence beyond that which the petitioner on the scales has earned in life.
"And so we did our work here today without regard for the identities of those whose remains we have returned to the earth. Commoner, noble, criminal, we have done all we can for each. Let this cemetery stand as a reminder to the living that all who live will face her judgment. We all will get exactly what we deserve when we reach the center of the spiral."
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"We all will get exactly what we deserve when we reach the center of the spiral."
"That's...that's very well said, Sanduro," Silvia says. She stares down at the product of their labors, unsure of what else to say, if anything.
Ketra looks a little relieved that Sanduro took over. She'd learned about the Pharasman faith herself, but she wasn't really any good at memorizing prayers or rites. She nods as he completes the prayer "Right. That's exactly right. And maybe one day people will come back to live in Roslar's Coffer, and they'll see everything here is as it should be."
She calls out for the lar as well "Lar, what will you do now? Will you stay here and watch over this place, or are you moving on?"
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The area around Jando's blind is clear--it seems Screamer kept away any lesser threats. The same seemingly went for the graveyard, between the lar and the Chorus. Though the rampant overgrowth twitches and writhes in a way that unsettles your druidic heart, it doesn't seem truly ambulatory. The glow around the Sagely Goat stands out quite clearly to you, and you shy away from the outright shredded ruins of Cofferkeep.
What you don't see are any more herds of undead elk, mutated cows, or roving looters. For the moment, at least, it appears that the scariest thing under the dome is your little band. How long will that last?
As Sanduro invokes his prayers, you all feel the lar's presence in a gentle sense of warmth on your skin and a sense of solemn approval. At Ketra's question the feeling of presence briefly becomes stronger. We will remain...We have been here for many years, and would not to wish to leave upon a dark note...
Jando, whose head had been bowed in acknowledgement of Sanduro's prayer, shakes his head. "Like something from a story, he murmurs, then looks around. "So, what's our next move?"
Sanduro fills in the others on what his spell showed him. "It should be safe to go into town. At least safe from wandering horrors, including more of Quietus's gang. Should we try to put the spirits at the Sagely Goat to rest next, if we can?"
"As good a place as any," Silvia agrees, rubbing at her neck.
”Less manual labor than the overgrown well. Sounds good to me too,” agrees Garret.
The solemn work of reinterring the town's dead now done, you return the tools to that ramshackle shed and quietly file out of the gate. Though the rustling and twitching of the undergrowth keeps you wary, and the sun still can't be fully seen though the hazy dome overhead, just a little bit of the oppressive grimness has lifted.
As you approach the Sagely Goat, the glowing light has grown even more intense--but the pale blue color flashes occasionally with half-seen tendrils of black, disappearing when you try to focus on them. You feel the hairs on your neck rise as you step through the threshold.
The ghostly celebrants are still cheering and stomping, swinging spectral tankards and badly working through yet another drinking song. Yet even a day later there's a manic edge beginning to shine through, their eyes gleaming fever-bright. Darcy stands in the middle of a cheering ring, spinning around in a dance and laughing wildly. She stretches her hands out towards you as she spins.
"Ketra! Ketra, come dance with us! The fairies like the dancing!"
Garret says, ”Something new is going on here. I don’t like the sound of these ‘fairies’.“
Casting Detect Magic, he looks around the room for the source of this new effect.
"Definitely a change, Garret, and not for the better."
Sanduro listens for any cheering or singing in the language of the First World.
"Darcy?" Ketra, heart tugging hard, is almost tempted to step up for at least a moment. "Where are these faeries? We'd like to meet them."
Afterward, she steps back to the others "The last time we were here, Sanduro I think you worked out we needed to play out the rest of the festival to bring the spirits here full circle. To take them from celebrating to remembering. This place is so loud and crazy right now that I've got no idea how we're going to do that. Any ideas? Can we maybe silence things for a moment somehow?"
Somehow, Silvia's frown deepens even further. She takes a deep breath, focusing, and surveys the area with more than just her eyes.
"They're everywhere! All around, up and down, spinning, spinning round and round!" Darcy laughs and twirls again, ghostly hair flying out behind her.
As Silvia's eyes flare with golden light, she sees clearly spiritual ripples of wickedness--something malevolent is present.
"Darcy?" Ketra, heart tugging hard, is almost tempted to step up for at least a moment. "Where are these faeries? We'd like to meet them."
Afterward, she steps back to the others "The last time we were here, Sanduro I think you worked out we needed to play out the rest of the festival to bring the spirits here full circle. To take them from celebrating to remembering. This place is so loud and crazy right now that I've got no idea how we're going to do that. Any ideas? Can we maybe silence things for a moment somehow?"
Sanduro thinks for a moment, peering at the ceiling where Darcy had pointed out "faerie nobles" the day before. "I don't know about silence, but I think we can make some noise. Maybe that will get their attention, and let us lead them back to the cemetery. If there isn't anything here preventing them from leaving."
He reaches over and pulls the goblin fire drum out of his pack, which Zsofia is carrying. "Would you please light some torches and stick them in the ground outside? Meantime, I'll get Zsofia to look around for troublemakers. And does anyone know how to play this thing?"
Zsofia?
The phantom nods and thinks back, Yeah, I'll do it. Sanduro concentrates and Zsofia fades to translucence.
OK, kid, I'm ready to punch anyone who looks like they're out of place right in the face. Or anyone who just looks like they need a good face-punching. Do you see any ghost paladins? Asking for a friend.
Once she is fully incorporeal, she starts weaving around the dancing spirits, indeed looking for anyone who seems out of place -- or in need of a punch to the face.