Guy recalls his training, remembering that undead such as the one addressing the group are resistant to weapon strikes but don't fare so well when set ablaze.
He also remembers that the skeletons are likely to be resistant to being cut or stabbed and that they're also immune to the effects of cold. They don't have any weaknesses that he can recall.
But while he can recall all manner of practical and esoteric knowledge about the creatures that stand expectant, awaiting an answer, Guy can't for the (un)life of him manage to get any words out.
Luckily, the Ghost Writer is quick to step in and boldly addresses the creature - a mummy, most of you suspect - with an explanation that's both convincing and well thought out.
"Tch," the mummy grunts, disgusted. "These quick grow bolder by the day! Just a week or so ago, a raiding team attacked Corpselight, killed several of the dead and stole a herd of chattel. Those fools playing at court games in Mechitar ought to be put to work guarding our borders, instead!"
It seems that he's accepted the answer given by the Ghost Writer as he relaxes a bit. "These fine fellows," he gestures at the numerous chained skeletons and zombies behind him, "were just wandering bones and lumps but now they'll replace those that fell in the raid."
"Normally, I would add you to my stock...but just between us, we've been marching all night and I'm eager to get this lot to Corpselight without any further delays - or I'll never hear the end of it. If there's another bunch of quickies out here tonight...well, hunting them down wasn't in the orders. So better you than me."
Seems that malicious compliance transcends even the mortal coil!
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Aiden waits until the undead chain gang has left. "Good work, Ghost Writer. That could have gotten nasty if he wanted to chain us up. But we might run into them in Corpselight again. At least we know there are raids happening into Corpselight. Hopefully we won't get caught up in it, but it could also make for useful cover for taking the text."
"So should we follow them discreetly to the town? Or maybe try to find a way to loop around and come in from another direction?"
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Apparently Frankie 'The Flash' wasn't so quick with his feet or tongue this time, barely getting out of the brush before the white lie was given. "Yes Mummy!" He responds to the order before letting his wee little brain churn to process the information they'd been given.
"So what happened to those quicks that attacked last week? Have they been eaten up already or is there any leftovers?" Bubba asks, smiling to show his sharp little teeth.
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It takes several seconds for Guy to catch his breath, his heart rate gradually slowing but not so slowly that his next words don't come out as fairly a gasp.
"That was a mummy and skeletal champions. nasty customers. Though my fire magic would have made quick work of the mummy, those skeletons would have made most weapons less effective as skeletons do. You do know that the best weapons for skeletons are blunt weapons that smash their bones. And forget using cold as a weapon. They don't care a bit about being cold."
At this point Guy realizes that with the fight averted he is just being pendantic in his nervousness and he shuts up after changing the subject.
"Anyone know what they mean by 'the quick'?
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"So what happened to those quicks that attacked last week? Have they been eaten up already or is there any leftovers?"
"Fled, back over the border. The ones that got away, anyway. As for the rest..." the mummy pauses to chuckle, "...rumor has it they were quite delicious. Save your hunger for your own quarry."
Satisfied to leave you unbothered and un-conscripted, the mummy raises a wrapped hand once again and the group begins their march once more.
"Good luck to you in your hunt! If you pass by or through Corpselight we may meet again. Ask for Corvalos, if you wish assistance...or if you want to join our fine army after all, haha!"
And with that, the mummy, his skeleton minions, and their conscripted cargo shuffle off into the night. Once you're all certain that they're well and truly out of sight and earshot, you're able to relax, drop your charade, and plan your next move...although there's not really much to plan other than to continue your own trek to Corpselight.
Guy wonders aloud what Corvalos meant by 'quick' and 'quickies' but it doesn't seem too difficult to guess given the context - it's what the undead call the living. He's also able to impart some useful information to the rest of you should you end up having to tangle with Corvalos and his minions - or similar nasties - after all.
But you've been lucky so far. Hopefully, that luck will hold...
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After a bit of thought you resume your journey towards Corpselight but opt to take Aiden's advice and approach in a more circuitous manner than you'd initially planned so as to give Corvalos and his group time to get there first. The moon continues to shine silently down upon you as you trek through the swamp and eventually emerge into lush, fertile fields and farmland. Those of you with a passing knowledge of geography recall that Geb's climate combined with warm winds from the nearby Obari Ocean creates an environment well-suited for growing all manner of crops.
Come to think of it, Geb would actually be a rather nice place to live...if not for all of the undead, of course.
You continue your moonlit trek across the fields and note an increasing number of buildings dotting the countryside, which means that you must be getting close. Roughly two hours (you'd guess) after materializing in the swamp you top a small rise and finally behold your destination nestled in a small valley before you - Corpselight. From your vantage point and number of buildings that you can see you'd estimate Corpselight to be bigger than a village or hamlet but obviously much smaller than a city or even most towns.
As you carefully and cautiously make your way into the outskirts you're relieved to find it almost completely devoid of activity, its residents likely sleeping or going about their business in their homes, given the late hour. And at first, it seems as though this could be nearly any small town one might find in the Inner Sea...until you spot the pens.
Numerous pens and corrals line the streets here but they do not contain the livestock one might expect. Instead of pigs, sheep, or cattle they contain ragged, shackled humans in dirty rags that sit and stand in pools of their own filth. Their eyes are dull and glazed and they offer no response to your presence, as though having long given up all hope of deliverance from their sad existence.
Except for one. As you pass near a pen, a young and obviously malnourished woman weakly calls out to you in a voice that's dry and raspy from disuse and dehydration. "Food...w-water...please, just a sip...anything..."
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Frankie Ho-tep slides up near the edge of the pen and looks the chattel over. On the outside he leers and licks his lips at the snacks. On the inside his heart breaks! I don't know how to save all these people here...
"I got something for ya, don't want the meat to be all dried n tough!" He licks his lips and chomps his teeth, looking the woman, and those around her, over for signs they could have been from the lost crew.
Without drawing attention to himself from anyone but the woman, he slides his precious 'waterskin' to the ground on the edge of the fence, near the woman.
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Guy looks on with horror as they pass cage after cage of human chattel, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the evil the land produces. His earlier feelings of well being at seeing the lush abundance of the land completely replaced.
Inwardly he fantasies about freeing them all and destroying the captors in sheets of flame, all to the roaring approval of the freed slaves.
He is too much of a coward to actually do anything about it, though, and continues his march through the streets, one mechanically placed foot after the other.
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The Ghostwriter stares at the people in the pens through the black lens in his mask. He ignores the cold chill through his spine and passes by the begging woman.
These people are already doomed. We need to make sure we that we complete our mission and if we are successful maybe it will keep others from suffering their fate.
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Aiden stares at the woman, the thought of how easily his claws and fangs could rip her throat out coming to his mind. He looks her up and down to see if there's anything that might speak to her having been a Pathfinder.
"Get back, you miserable piece of meat. How pathetic. Can't even survive without food or water. It's a wonder your kind make it in the world at all." He kicks dirt and debris, including Frankie's waterskin, at her.
Then he grabs Frankie Ho-tep by the back of the neck and hauls him away. "No playing with your food."
The woman shrinks back as Bubba stares at her and licks her lips...but then her eyes widen in surprise as he surreptitiously slides his waterskin into the corral towards her. She reaches out for it and then recoils as Aiden snarls and kicks dirt - and the waterskin - in her general direction. As she finally grabs hold of it she tucks it close, staring at Bubba and Aiden. None of the other humans in the corral react at all.
"Heh...he's right...w-won't taste good if we're s-sick and dried out..." she laughs, darkly. "At least one of you h-has sense...thank you..."
During this little exchange Frankie tries to study the woman, wondering if she's one of the quickies from a recent raid or even one of Joktan Heth's people but she looks too thin, too ragged to have only been a prisoner for a few days or even a week. Clearly she and the other humans here have been prisoners for much, much longer.
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The Ghostwriter turns on his heels abruptly and walks back to the cages. "Yes, you have a point there. We wouldn't want you to starve to death, now would we? How would you like to earn a little food today?" He reaches into his backpack and pulls out some of his rations. Holding it at the edge of the cage he says, "We are looking for some other humans who passed through here recently. Their leader was some kind of wizard. Have you seen or heard of any unusual quickened passing through this way recently?"
The woman eyes the rations greedily but seems to have enough sense to not try and make a blind grab for them. Instead, she tips up Bubba's waterskin and takes a long drink, water trickling out the sides of her mouth and leaving tracks in the grime that covers her face.
"Haven't seen anyone calling themselves a wizard," she finally responds, her voice now a little stronger after quenching her thirst. "But you must be fresh out of the grave if you haven't heard..."
She can't help but chuckle again, softly.
"Supposedly there's been lots of raids in the area lately, least that's what I overheard some of the deaders say. They say it's the Lady's flock, come to send back what's rightfully hers."
Given the context you can guess that the 'Lady' refers to Pharasma, the Lady of Graves.
"There haven't been any raids here, though. Probably too small to bother with..."
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Aiden growls. "I told you those Pharasmins were causing trouble around here." He lowers his voice. "We ought to be prepared if they do attack. Might be a good time to find our prize. Hell, they might help us find it if we can convince them." He doesn't seem very concerned about the plight of the woman during the attack.
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Bubba Frankie is glad the woman enjoyed his cocoa, even though he knows he can't show it. If anyone can stay in character its Frankie the Flash! "Best we steer clear of those raids then, my skin is still baby fresh and supple. I don't want those bright lights burning it!" He hisses dramatically.
Assuming that the Ghost Writer doesn't pull it away, the woman hesitates a moment longer and then finally reaches out to snatch the rations out of his hand. She quickly scuttles back again and when it becomes apparent that she no longer holds your interest she fixes you all with a smile that, rather noticeably, doesn't reach her eyes.
"Thank you for your kindness, sirs, and try to watch out for those Pharasmins," she says before she turns away and begins to rip into the rations.
"Hope you choke on my bones..."
The lot of you also begin to turn your attention elsewhere, realizing that there's little to be done but to return to the task at hand. Guy fidgets anxiously and looks around to make sure that no one has noticed them lingering next to the corral but as best as he can tell, there doesn't seem to be anyone else around. So far, so good.
As Bubba begins to head off towards the east, with the rest of you presumably in tow, Molos pauses long enough at the corral's gate to casually unlatch it...and then all hell breaks loose! You hear shouts and battle cries and the sound of steel being drawn as a number of humans suddenly emerge from the nearby fields and launch an attack on the town - another raid!
Before you have the time to gather your wits and make yourselves scarce a heavily armored man strides into view, his heavy mace dripping with undead splatter and his large shield bearing a spiral symbol beneath its many dents and scrapes. At his heels are two warriors, both armored in breast plates and shields and wielding morning stars. The leader lifts his mace and points to the corral where you are standing and calls out, "There! Slay those abominations and free the prisoners!"
Hey, the symbol on the leader's shield is that of Pharasma! What timing!
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Molos
‘Bubba’
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Acolytes
Leader
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The Ghost Writer
Tiera
Guy
Aiden
Active Conditions:
Environmental Conditions:
Molos and Bubba are UP!
Molos tries to blind the three with his Glitterdust spell, and hopefully the others could incapacitate them somehow without giving too much of their true natures away.
Though both of the acolytes manage to avoid getting Molos' glitter in their eyes the leader isn't quite so lucky!
"Damn! They've got mages among them!" he exclaims as he awkwardly tries to rub his face against his arm to clear the glitter.
'Bubba' hesitates and suggests that the group simply bug out while the gettin' is good, especially with the leader now temporarily blinded by Molos' razzle-dazzle!
But it seems that these guys aren't ready to give up quite so easily. Both acolytes hop the fence into the corral and approach, drawing morningstars as they go. Their armor and their caution slow them down, however, and they don't quite move into melee range - yet.
Meanwhile the leader calls out, "I don't need eyes to battle with the likes of you!" as he begins to cast a spell...
...and tries once again to clear his eyes of the glitter, which he does.
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Molos
‘Bubba’
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Acolytes
Leader
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The Ghost Writer
Tiera
Guy
Aiden
Active Conditions:
Environmental Conditions:
The Ghost Writer, Tier, Guy, Aiden are UP at the bottom of Round 1 and Molos, ‘Bubba’ are UP at the top of Round 2!
Guy decides that discretion is the better part of valor and decides to advance in the opposite direction from this guy and his two goons!
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Molos
‘Bubba’
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Acolytes
Leader
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The Ghost Writer
Tiera
Guy
Aiden
Active Conditions:
Environmental Conditions:
The Ghost Writer, Tier, Aiden are UP at the bottom of Round 1 and Molos, ‘Bubba’ are UP at the top of Round 2!
As several of you opt to simply fall back rather than engage the Pharasmin priests, the leader gets a funny look on his face.
The two acolytes look at each other and cautiously adopt defensive stances rather than continue to engage you in combat.
"The living dead are not known to give up their prey so easily," the leader calls out, now addressing you directly. "Who - or what - are you?"
Though you can hear the continuing sounds of battle from elsewhere in the town it seems to just be you and these three Pharasmins, at least for the moment.
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Aiden slowly digs through his pack to pull out the wayfinder he had hidden. He shows his Inherited Discerning Wayfinder, activating it to shed light and detect magic, though he's sure that's something anyone could do. "He's right. We're here to find some missing Pathfinders. Have you heard of any here?"
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The woman gawps, looking back and forth between you and the Pharasmins and quickly shakes her head. The other humans in the corral simply cower in fear; it seems that they've been here so long that they've reverted to an almost feral, animal-like state.
"N-no, I don't know anything! We've been prisoners here for ages, cattle for the slaughter! B-but...them, they did give me food and drink, mister...ain't no deader ever done that. Maybe they're tellin' you the truth?"
While his two acolytes maintain a defensive stance the lead priest dismisses his spell and approaches, peering at the wayfinder that Aiden holds out. Between that, the woman's words, and your own explanation he finally nods.
"No doubt in my mind - I believe you. I'm Kuryn Jexel, third battalion of the Nexian Parish, Church of Pharasma, Militant. As you can see we're here to save these poor souls from being devoured by the undead. The Nexians are setting up a portal for everyone we're able to liberate. We've been scouting the area for a few weeks, testing their defenses, in preparation for this raid," he explains.
Kuryn's expression shifts to one of intense regret. "As for your missing Pathfinders...I'm afraid I bear ill tidings. We encountered them maybe two weeks ago. Thinking they were undead abominations, we...dispatched them. Only after did the magic shrouding them fade and their bodies become that of normal, formerly living men and women. I was able to use a spell to speak to the spirit of their leader and find out what I could, but I didn't have the ability nor the resources to raise them from the dead. And for that, I am truly sorry."
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The 'brainz' whispering fades and is soon replaced by quiet sobbing as Bubba Ho-tep mourns the loss of the other group of Pathfinders. Killed by people that should have helped them, how horrible!
Frankie comes out from behind Aiden, tear streaks marring his grubby face "Did he tell you about their family? Friends? And maybe a book they were looking for?" He pulls up a tattered shirt sleeve and blows his nose on it, his undead rouse now completely dropped.
"We b-buried them where we encountered them, which was about a mile s-south of town," Kuryn answers, clearly unnerved by the appearance of Frankie who now simply looks like a crying ghoul-thing even if he isn't currently acting like one. "The ground was consecrated, as well. It was the best we could do for them and I pray to the Lady that it was enough."
"And he did mention a book, now that you ask. When I spoke to his spirit he told me his goal had been an Urgathoan temple atop the hill south of the city, where some manner of tome supposedly lies. It was on a path through the swamp, on the way to the temple, that we encountered him. I haven't been able to deviate from my own mission to investigate any further, though."
Kuryn pauses. "His spirit was...understandably agitated at what befell him and his companions, but he did ask that I send word of what happened to your Pathfinder Society. We've been out here in the field all this time so I haven't been able to fulfill that promise - but I suppose if you're here looking for him then passing his message along to you might be enough."
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"I'm glad that we didn't end up meeting the same fate that they did," the Ghostwriter quips.
With a new lead to follow, the masked tengu is anxious to follow it. "The sooner we find that book the faster we can leave this cursed place. Perhaps we should also investigate that Urgathoan temple while we're at it, but that is something we can decide upon after the book is safely in our possession."