The faun kicks Baros in the neck reopening his wound and he slumps to the ground in a pool of his own blood.
Hund lunges at one of the shamblemen, slashing with his newfound claws. But the boon from that mysterious voice granting him his claws and fangs would prove to not he enough - battle was a measure of both skill and luck, and luck wasn't with him at the moment.
"Baros!" Silas shouts as the undead faun catches the poor halfling in the neck and takes him down. Stepping in closer, he brings the axe up once more.
"I liked that little guy, you piece of s!!@!" Silas growls as the axe comes down hard and fast, hoping to split the undead apart.
Seeing his attack success, the orc follows through with another swing of the club.
Attack:
Damage:
Mok and HUIVD narrowly miss the Templar, and it swings back at Mok but Mok manages to dance out of the way.
Silas, however, lands a solid blow o the Faun. It still stands, but there is a bloody wound in it.
Both the Farmer and the Faun bend down and pick up the person they've just downed. and both try to talk off, the farmer beating at the window but cannot
the Faun cannot reach the windows herself, so contents herself with moving over to where the templar, Mok, and HUIVD sit.
Hund doesn't let an opportunity like this escape him, and he immediately slashes.
The undead go for the downed individuals, bringing a loud growl from Silas as he swings for the damaged faun.
But, then a figure stands before you, in whatever void this is. It is tall, taller than Silas or Mok, with skin the dark brown of oak bark, but with black splits in it, like there are infected wounds. at it's crown is a wreath of maple leaves, already changed for autumn. He smiles as he sees you. You know who this is.
You're delicious, all of you. this has been the best equinox in years, ever since those damndable priests chained me. but they are all dead now. and I shall have my yearly feast once more... thank you, my sweet morsel. he gloats.
Hund charges at the farmer zombie, not wanting them to escape with Baros. He rips and slashes as he gets near.
Silas charges the undead faun, desperate to rescue his little comrade before the undead take him out of the inn and to the hungry horde awaiting outside.
"We shall see..." Baros says glaring at the being before him.
"There is still time." he continues with a hint of defiance in his voice.
Seeing the creature easily dodge his clumsy strike, the young orc chokes-up on the weapon and swings again.
Attack:
Damage:
The stick-man named Rusko lays on the floor, doing a reasonable imitation of a bundle of sticks and bone and twine...hard to imagine he...it?...had just been swinging a spear around wildly at the encroaching undead...
Hund goes after the Farmer!
HUIVD'S claws rake down the farmers back, and muscles sever from bone, bringing down the farmer like a puppet with it's strings cut. Rusco drops like a sack of flour, the werelight of his eyes slowly going dim.
Grommok, meanwhile, brings his club down on the templars skull, and pops it like a grape., The zombie-Slayer club strikes once more.
The Faun, last Zombie standing, tries once more to break on through and leave with it's prize. and it's headbutt rattles the Boards, but does not get through.
Hund turns on the last zombie, trying to prevent it from leaving. His claws swipe out, but hit the wood next to it instead, leaving behind deep gashes.
Only one zombie remains within and it desperately is trying to escape with its prize. Grommok had dropped his foe and with Hund at his side, Silas would bring up the axe again and try to cleave through the undead once more.
Grommok wipes the gruesome gore from his face from the squashed zombie. Seeing the final creature still trying to escape, the orc moves over and swings.
Attack:
Damage:
HUIVD and Silas fail to land a solid blow on the Faun, but Mok manages to snap bones with his club.
The Fun, however, and busts open the door, still carrying their cargo. as dawns light spreads, the other dead begin to follow it towards the woods.
Hund takes a swipe at the retreating zombie.
Seeing the monster escaping with it's 'prize', Mok winds up and throws his club at the creature's retreating form.
Attack:
Damage:
The undead begins to retreat with its prize and Silas swings one last time, the axe coming down with all of his might.
HUIVD's claws rake at the Faun, and it drops to the ground, where Mok and Silas finish it with a club to the head and an axe to the good arm.
the other dead are retreating, a veritable wave of Corpses shambling toward the forest. Some drop where they are, as the magic that animates them becomes undone. Old Nock's power is waning as the rays of dawn show onto the fields and forest. The sun will not show itself for an hour yet, but whatever horrors this night had are over. at least Silas, Mok, and HUIVD have survived.
And with that, the clockwork's key stops turning and he settles into a dog shaped object.
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Mok moves back and bends over the wounded, trying to stabilize the dying.
Baros:
Rusco:
Mok and Hund head over to the wounded halfling, looking the small man over and doing their best to bring him back up. It left Silas looking down at the strange, scarecrow-like creature before him. He lets out a sigh, only vaguely considering letting the strange thing pass.
"Fair is fair. He fought for us. We fight for him." Silas knelt down, trying to work on Rusko's injuries. They were strange injuries for certain to fix; broken sticks and strange oozing. He tried to realign what he could, bandage together what was broken, and stem the flow of strangeness that left the changeling's body.
Silas watches as the strange stick creature seems to draw a more stable breath and a wide grin spread across his face. His eyes light up as he falls back on his haunches, laughing loudly and almost maniacally.
"You didn't get me this time, you bastards! I escaped again! I LIVED!" The excitement coming from him was almost too much as he grabbed the body he had used to soak and clean the wounds and drunk straight from the it. The alcohol burned his dry throat and sent warmth through his whole frame as he stumbled back up onto his feet.
"We need to grab whatever we can carry; foods, coins, supplies, and make our way to the next town. Warn them about this place and get the word out. Goatshead is finished and home only to the dead." Silas grumbled as he looked out the window, watching the horde disappear into the trees.
Bester falls to his knees in exhaustion as the dead disappear, tears steaking his face as he half-laugh-half-sobs. I'm alive. We're all alive. he says. He takes hold of Baros' shirt as he shakes with the dregs of adrenaline. I could kiss someone! he pauses, looking over at the guests., and gestures at Silas and Baros. Well, one of you anyway.. then something seems to hit him, like a bolt from the blue skies, and he blanches. I'm alive. I'll have to go through with all those promises. Name my first child Robin. Marry Anna... damn it all, the zombies couldn't have eaten me... he moans.
So it were you what got Anna with-
Of course it were him. 'taint many lads round here, and the blacksmith's 'prentice is too simple to be beddin' anyone on the sly. Gelda chimes in. You all, see to yer wounds. 'Nandy an' I Will fix something to eat, and we'll lie in 'til noon. that'll give us time to get away from the damned forest, without running us ragged on no sleep.
All of us 'cept Bester. 'E managed to pass out, slept through half the night, so 'e gets ta round up any townsfolk what survived. she says acusingly. 'Sides, sounds like ya need to see to yer Betrothed she half laughs
Baros stood before the creature in the land of darkness and shadow, the seconds dragged on forever and he began to feel his connection to the world of the living slipping away. He reaches for where his dagger would be kept and to his surprise he could feel it, it was colder than normal and something didn't feel quite right. "Time is almost...," he says, it was painful to speak, like there was no air in his lungs and he couldn't take in breath. With his vision fading Baros grips the dagger and charges Old Barkface, his lungs and heart burning with rage. Nearing his foe he raises the dagger...
...Baros gasps violently as his body forces air back into his lungs. His eyes open and he stares at the rafters of the inn as he lies on his back drenched in his own blood and sweat. "Are.. are we alive?" he asks, his head whirling as he attempts to sit up but promptly falls back supine on the floor. Baros's head clears and he is able to get up after a minute, "actually, he mentioned the equinox. So hopefully this is just a once a year thing, although, I agree we should all bugger off."
Silas grinned widely at the commotion coming from the locals, like most of their town hadn't been claimed by the undead that had hammered them all night. The brevity was needed though. As Baros began to wake up and stir from his close brush with Father Death, he would find the mostly empty bottle of whiskey being passed to him as Silas nodded and grinned.
"Good man, glad you're not dead. You're an angry, little s~$% aren't you?" Silas leaned his head against one of the tipped over tables, sighing softly as he stared up at the ceiling. "Father Death didn't think it was your time yet. Not any of us, really. Hell, he certainly did give us a passing look though, didn't he.". Standing up, he'd brush off any more offers from the the others before stretching firmly.
"I'm getting some f~%%ing sleep now. If all the undead come back, just let them have me." He would wave to his comrades now and saunter himself up to the room farthest from the stairs. Closing the door and looking it behind him, he slowly stripped off his clothing and the beautiful chain shirt. Unlike his dirty, blood-soaked clothing, the armor was pristine and almost glittered in the light. His hand, worn and tired, ran over the priceless and unaging metal as his mind drifted back to the darker times in those neverending woods.
"Give him the armor. It'll make it more sporting."
His hand clutched at it like it was his lifeline, his whole form shivering before he took a sobering breath. Tears welled at his eyes as emotions he fought to keep back surged through him; regret, anger, loneliness. He swallowed them down again, folding the lightweight armor before putting it away in a drawer.
"We're still alive. We escaped. We're still alive. We escaped." He mumbles to himself as he tucks himself into bed and lets exhaustion carry him to a hopefully black abyss of sleep. Dreams no longer held comfort for him.
Rusko blinked eyelids made of scraps of birchbark, looking up at the man named Silas...with eyes that were mere recesses, a dark cavity holding a soft amber glow.
Looking down , he could see that his original patchwork body had being additionally patched by the kind man, some twine replaced with torn strips of cloth, what looked like a spindle from the chair he'd
broken...incorporated into his leg.
Then Rusko realized that Silas has patched him up despite seeing what he was. He glanced at the floor, where his 'blood' lay in pools...looking like sap , pitch and even he knew what else. He then looked back at Silas and spoke, his voice a rasp, as air was passed through thin wooden vocal chords, "I thank you for saving me...though perhaps it t'were a mercy to let me die..."
Getting himself to his feet, he says, "Pardon the surprise, I try not to show what I am...most would try to do to me what we did to the shamblers..."
He then rubs the back of his neck, an assemblage of corks and thread spindles, "I'll have to take on a more agreeable form..."
Silas glanced down at the patchwork shape of a man, those amber glows sending a chill down his spine. It brought back too many memories of that year amidst their kind. He stood up and forced a grin to his face as he nodded.
"I won't lie, the thought was there." It really was. Just a slit of the dagger would've sent the changeling to whatever laid for them afterwards. "You fought to keep us alive though so fair is fair. We all got secrets, right? Yours is just easier to find out is all." Silas would pat him gently on the back, shaking his head as he made his way towards the stairs. A halfling, a metal dog, an orc, a walking scarecrow, and his own dumb ass. What a walking circus they were.
Baros takes a swig from the bottle offered to him by Silas then wishes him a good rest when he heads to bed, "Sweet dreams, but if they come back I am waking your ass, you're not getting out of this that easily."
Rusco finds a faun, young and wiry, with small curling horns, amid the dead, whose wounds are not so severe as to stop him stealing her appearance. After all, she's not using it.
Rusko moves among the wreckage of the Inn, hoping for a suitably non-smashe, flayed or otherwise destroyed body to emulate.
He finally chances upon a faun, buried under parts of one of the walls. Kneeling down, he whispers, "I hope you don't mind, wherever you are, if I carry on your likeness. I promise to do honor to it and you while I do...". Such words has been his habit whenever he's needed to take on a new appearance. He doesn't like to steal...and someone's likeness is precious thing.
Placing a single finger on the cold body, he starts a process he doesn't even understand. A soft nimbus of light, an extension of the glow of his eyes, surrounds him...after a few moments it fades and in his place is a perfect replica of the dead faun.
Usually he'd have done so in private, but he wanted his new companions to know who he was, and so did so in the open so all could see.
They key turned. Hund didn't know who turned it - he wasn't aware during the time he was shut down, but someone did. Likely Mok, as the young orc was sitting next to him when he awoke.
You were pretty handy there in that fight, Mok said to the robotic dog. I don't know how you managed to grow claws like that, but it was sorely needed. Thank the gods it happened when it did.
Hund looked at Mok, head tilted slightly. Voice. Spoke. Give me power.
Mok looked a bit surprised, A voice, huh? I think I know who. They spoke to me as well. The Old Gods, Hund. They helped us survive the night. Come on, boy, help me get things fixed up around here. We've got a lot of work to do before we can rest.
Hund, along with everyone else in the room, spent the day trying to clean up. Body removal. Rebuilding parts of the inn. Washing blood off the floor. Anything that could be done. By the end, everyone was exhausted and ready to relax for the rest of the day - hopefully get good uninterrupted sleep that night.
Hund kept guard the entire time, looking out beyond the doorway into the wilderness beyond. Even though it was unlikely to happen again this night, he was still concerned. And as the only being in the inn who didn't need sleep, he could easily stay up all night.
The next day, Mok seemed excited. Hund! I've got an idea! I found this interesting ball that seems to hover above the ground when you let go - I ran some tests last night and I think it can be a sort of focus. A way to channel energy through to you. Come here. I want to try something.
Hund obeyed, and the entire next day Mok worked on Hund. You're really rusty, you know that, Hund? Let's start with cleaning as much of you as I can. Maybe Gelda has some good cleaning supplies. Your joints could use some oil, too. And what's this? You've got some sort of broken metal bar blocking your hind legs. Let's just toss that, shall we? There we go. You should be able to move a bit better with that. Ok, next, I'm going to place this strange metal ball in the middle of your frame. Ha! It worked! It's just floating there. I can see some magical lines connecting spreading out from it and connecting to your frame. That ought to do quite nicely.
Now, let's focus some power into it. This is all power that the Old Gods grant, Hund. The one that gave you claws, I think that was the Horned King. Making people more animalistic is kind of his thing. I'm going to try and channel his energy through that metallic sphere. Ok, it looks like it's going to work.
Now, you have to understand, I'm not very good at this. It's not infinite. It's not permanent. You'll need some sort of focus to help you channel the power and activate it. And once you activate it, it won't last forever. I'm not entirely sure how long it will last, but be aware that you could lose it at any time. But, with all that said, let's give this a try. Let's see what you can do, Hund.
Over the next several weeks, Hund spent much of his time with Mok, practicing the new talents his friend had given him. The hound had chosen to use his medal, awarded for bravery, self sacrifice, and valor during his time in the war. Awarded by an army that no longer existed; the empires soldiers had ensured that. But Hund still kept that medal around his neck. It was an easy location for him to reach up and grab to channel his new powers and activate them.
As the days passed, Hund quickly understood his new abilities. Every night Mok spent channeling more Primal power into the clockwork hound, but beyond that Mok only had to make a few physical adjustments here and there. All in all, the plan worked.
The few hours sleep is lovely, but by noon, You all wake well enough to get moving, at least until dusk. you pack what you can from the Goathorne and Goatshead, enough food to get you a week, and enough booze that you could not remember a single detail of that week, if you chose.
Bester has been busy. He'd found an old man who introduces himself as Connor, who had spent the night in his attic, another youth, A goblin named Dickswizzle, who spent the night atop a barn. and a young lady, brown of hair and slight, who introduces herself as Anna, and by the leaves in her hair, spent the night treed. The livestock did not make the night, except a few goats and a handful of hens. the ragtag group gather what they can as well, and you're off.
It is almost nightfall when you come around a bend, and find, behind a rock that would have given a large group shelter, the remains of a massacre. A group of bandits were camping here, and the dead took them in the night. clubs, broken bows, and knives are strewn about. Nothing worth having remains.
HUIVD and anyone else on watch sees a large bear pass close to the camp. It sniffs closer, but is well fed, and decides the food isn't worth the humans. It lumbers away.
Everybody make a Perception Challenge roll.