The once great city-state of Methyis is overburdened. The only thing more terrifying than the steady stream of refugees pouring into the city over the past month was when it abruptly cut off. The local warlord, Granth, who ran the city has tried to maintain order within the walls, but everyone's nerves are frayed down to the bone. While food can still be scavenged safely during the twilight hours surrounding noon, sightings of the Shuffling Horde (DC 15 knowledge local or religion) have been reported less than 50 miles from the city. When it arrives, leaving for food will no longer be an option. Granth has requested every able bodied individual, especially those with superior vision, report for shifts of guard duty on the wall, as well as making note of those who enter the city, deputizing those who volunteer to do so. An important unspoken role of these deputies is to keep hope up amongst the populace. The last communication received from the southern city of Crel'ya was, "They've breached our defenses. Gods know how, but one got inside. Death before undeath." That was a week ago. Things seem grim.
Captain Rilathor, general to Granth before the end-times came to the cube, has called a meeting of the deputies, asking for volunteers willing to get supplies from one of the abandoned villages in the general area. He's an older human, who's seen better days. Down a leg and an eye from his glory days, he nonetheless still possess a keen mind. Horses and carts will be provided, but it will still be a day and a half journey away from the safety of the walls.
"I'll be honest with you, there's a good chance that you might not return. But without the efforts of brave souls like yourselves, we'll all turn on each other and be long dead before the necrotic legions get to us. You'd be doing us a great service. We'll give you some of our more perishable but tasty foods as a last service before you head out. It might not be the most glorious, but it needs to be done. So, who's willing to be the heroes we need?"
Kissich has gathered with the other potential volunteers and nods as Captain Rilathor speaks. The situation has been grim for a while, but it's about to get desperate and the small cavalier can clearly see the need to for action. When the captain is done, and after letting any who has an urgent need to speak their piece quickly go first, she squeezes through to the front of the group.
"Empty bellies are the worst thing we could add to an assault from the Shambling Horde, so you can count on my blade to help prevent that. Do we have any particular intelligence of a food store or is this a general scavenging mission?"
Mithias rubbed at weary eyes. Too much to do and not enough time to do it. It was getting harder and harder to remember what it was like before all this madness began. Taking a look around, he nods at the hardened, capable company he's in. The Captain wasn't quite recruiting for a milk run, but this crew looked like it could handle it.
"You know you can count on me Captain. What's the saying? We're only three missed meals from chaos? I'd rather not test to see if that's true."
Thurin took a deep breath and then nodded. "Aye. Can count me in. There's many a way to die, and I don't fancy it bein' starvin' to death. Me ratling friend here asks a good question. Gonna add to it, what do we know of deadites in the region? We're expectin' just zombies, or be there anythin' more mindful known in the area?" He stopped there, not wanting to overwhelm the captain with a barrage of questions from different sides.
"Good men and women, the lot of you. Village was a farming town, one of the many we used to rely upon to keep the city fed. When they came seeking refuge they brought a good amount of their livestock, but the grain stores are still mostly full. Or at least so they say." He takes a deep breath, and rubs his face. "We've got no idea what's out there. No one's reported seeing any boneies. Couple of rotters. Fast ones though, not the shamblers. We haven't seen almost anything though. We're pretty far off the beaten path, it's possible they might just pass us by." He sounds thoroughly unconvinced.
Glowing gently, Tarial considered. She had, herself, enough food to last another month of so if she was careful. But having additional food meant her own supplies would last longer, and others would be less likely to attack her for food...or, in truly dire straits, as food. Leaving was always an option, of course, but being behind well manned walls was a lot easier than living out there when a band did find you. A lot of the undead were slow, but if enough were in an area it didn't matter, and there were enough kinds that counting on them being slow was a fools game.
Glancing at the gathered people, she knew enough of them - or enough about them - to know they were not the desperate dregs who hoped to die bravely as much, or more than, completing the task. She might be in a minority but dying of hunger seemed much kinder than joining the undead.
Of course, that was another part of the problem. If the Horde was close enough then dying of anything - poison, hunger, bites or blade - would see you rise as an undead to join them. They might not even need to get close enough to attack for that effect to reach the town.
"I'll go," she said quietly. "Do we have anyone to serve as our guide, so we know best where to focus our efforts? And do we have some maps?" Knowing the best way in and all the ways out was essential. Standing and dying bravely was the very last thing she intended to do.
"It is in preparing for the worsst that we make ready for the besst outcome," Ssearfenth comments. With his semi-serpentine head and tongue, it seems no surprise that he emphasizes the more sibilant sounds of his words. "Thuss it is wise for uss to do all we can now before these perverssities againsst nature arrive."
He nods, his gaze distant. "Yess, in ssuch times we musst take risskss to ssurvive, while taking care to redusse the dangers of the risskss."
Suddenly he grins, showing small fangs. "All thiss to ssay, I alsso wish to know the ansswers to thiss one's quesstions." He points at Tarial.
"Not going to be the easiest, given the horde. But we should bring a cart with us, to carry the food." He said, running his fingers through his beard. "Get some local lads to drive the cart. They can be guides for us, to get us where we need to go. Leave them at village edge, while we go in with empty packs. Sneak in, get as much food as we can carry, and bring it back to the carts. It'll mean the lowest chance of losing the food to the horde. Lads can flee if need be if the undead find them. Ye all agree?"
Silent until this point, Lettu's face refrained. He had to constantly remind himself to even blink; yet, at this point, hunting undead had became second nature for someone who was created basically so someone else could cheat death.
I had not been to Crel'ya... - the Shabti finally broke his silence - Yet, of course you can count with me as well. I wonder if the path there is in the open - or if there's some sort of tunnel network, or teleportation means that we could try to benefit from.
The summoner at this point was just by himself - alone in his head, without his Eidolon. This wouldn't be for long, he knew - and considering the times they were living, such moments were a rarity. Moments like this he was particularly vulnerable; not only physically, but also spiritually and mentally. It was then that the fragments from other souls would conflict with his own, and his shattered psyche wasn't able to say who really owned his memories and thoughts.
"I think we're talking carts plural here. One wagon load ain't going to last with this many mouths to feed. We've got a bit of a window here to try to grab as much as we can and who know when we'll get another chance. We should try to make the most of it."
At Thurin's suggestion, Mithias shakes his head. "Too slow. I agree that we'll need to sweep the area first, but we need to back those wagons right up to the door. I don't want to be exposed for any longer than I have to, so I think speed is the name of the game here."
"We got some maps of the area from before the sun went dark. It's mostly out in the open, good sight lines. Cuts both ways of course. Some of the young men of the village are still willing to be your guides. They think they're invincible. It'll be up to you to make sure they don't get themselves eaten, or lead anything particularly nasty back here. If we send out more than 3 carts, you'll be too big a target to travel "safely." We can provide you with some oxen to drag the carts, but prioritize bringing yourself back first. Can't afford to lose any more good men even for some more grub, otherwise there'll be no one left to feed. Any further questions?"
Thurin shook his head. "I'd say that satisfies me questions. Let's go out and get us a wand to patch us up if we run into anythin' out there that gives us a bad case of the leaky wounds. Aside from that, I think we should get goin."
Kissich nods, "This is a task better accomplished sooner than later, yes. Let's equip and head to the village."
"We will no doubt all wish to gather ssome ssupplies. Perhapss we might agree to meet at the gate when the ssun is high, and our preparations are complete?" Ssearfenth suggests.
Thurin laughed. "HA! Heh...aye, when the sun is high. Good one." The dwarf said. "But aye. Let's meet then. I'll see ye all at the gates."
Ssearfenth looks upwards. Quietly he says, "Though we may not ssee them, the sstars sstill shine. That is the only hope we have left."
Tarial nodding, her fiery tattoos glowing warmly as she looked up. "The suns still there. I can feel it, sometimes, I think. It sings to my blood." Catching herself, she stopped, looking mildly embarrassed, and added, "Yes, I'll see you at the gates."
Lettu stops and looks around the group. He was comfortable in the shadows, it's true; even Wings itself was a creature surrounded by shadows, blending unto them as they fused and moved. Yet, at this point he was only by himself, and the darkness was still embracing him comfortably.
He shakes his head in agreement with the plan to meet the others at the gates. The maps would suffice; his question on tunnels or means of teleportation had been ignored, so he felt as if this was as good as they'd get.
It is now time to actually summon Wings and fuse - at least the outsider's voice in his head was louder and clearer than the others.
"Godspeed." Rilathor gives you all a salute. You are each rationed several pieces of fresh fruit as a pre-emptive reward for volunteering for the mission. The rest of your rations for the time you spend outside the walls is ordered by perishability, non-perishables being the highest priority to save. You have about 4 hours before the sun is at it's twilight zenith.
City supply gathering can be posted to discussion, unless there's a strong desire for random city encounters.
--
As you approach the gate, you see 2 large carts, each drawn by two oxen. Riding on the cart to the left is 2 young men, on the rightis a young man and woman. (Perception: DC 10) None of them seem to have any armor, but they each have a quarterstaff.
As you approach, one of the men hops off the left cart.
"Name's Jed. Used t' live in Icthy village, but me parents wanted us to leave instead of stayin' and fightin'. Fat lot o' good it did 'em." He spits. "Don't want to start anythin' so just follow my lead an' you'll be ok." His words are tough, but you can see in his eyes that he doesn't have the gumption to back them up.
Well, that was aggressive. Tarial wasn't shocked - she suspected that the young man was hiding his fear, pain and sadness under the anger and bravado - so she simply smiled and stepped forward, offering her hand - the one that wasn't glowing, since some people didn't like the warmth. "Thank you, Jed. We'll be happy to listen to you. Is there anything you can tell us about the enviroment that might not be on the maps, anything we might want to be wary of"?"
Engage, ask for advice, make sure they felt included and needed. Hopefully it would improve the man's mood and opinion of them...but the information would also be useful.
Thurin didn't deign to respond. He understood the young man's fear and bravado. The undead were nothing to trifle with. He couldn't help but shudder as the memory of rifling through a house came to his mind. He was hungry and was searching for food. A person in the home the door over had a similar idea, only that house was occupied by homeowners turned zombies. Thurin had sheltered in place, the would-be forager's screams echoing through the day, a clarion call for other nearby zombies to come and eat. Naturally he had snuck away, not wanting to risk his life for someone already as good as dead. But the screams haunted his dreams. The idea that they were going back into such an environment was a sobering one.
"We... used t' get some bears from time to time. Sometimes if it rained hard 'n long enough, it'd get sorta marshy. On the rain years, we'd grow rice. This should be a dry year, so kinda dusty I reckon... although not as much sun to dry the area out."
Ssearfenth spends his time gathering his things and getting Hssrath ready. The small dinosaur is eager to stretch his legs, having already grown tired of being cooped up within walls--much as Ssearfenth himself was feeling. The druid's enthusiasm was dampened by the knowledge of both the danger without and the surety of the sickness of nature he would find outside, but he keeps these sorrows quiet, instead doing his best to cheer those he passes along the way.
"I am ssertain you shall lead uss sswift and true," Ssearfenth says to Jed, giving him a close-lipped smile. "We shall make sure the path is ssafe."
Mithias looks over the volunteers. "Thank you for helping. Any advice you provide regarding your village or the handling the wagons will be taken into consideration."
His assessment finds them wanting,
"Do you only have the quarterstaffs? I hope that none of the deadites get within spitting distance of wagons, but those won't do much against a zombie. If don't have any, let's see about getting you all some knives. They'll do better in a pinch against the fleshy dead and if, heavens forbid, we get overrun, you can prevent yourselves from being eaten alive."
Zombie bears could be unplasant. Then again, so were zombies cows, sheep and horses - they had powerful jaws and enough mass to cause issues. Bears just had so much more of both. "Bears, alive or undead, should probably be avoided. Thank you for the warning."
"We got utility knives, but nothin' I'd go as far as to call a dagger. I reckon I can give a zam-bo a pretty solid whack with this here though." He gestures meaningfully with his quarterstaff.
Knowledge of what damage reduction undead have is unfortunately not particularly common to the average individual!
Kissich nods at the lad's plan. "That's a good plan if you run into one of them out there which is just bones. The meatier ones tend to shrug that off though which is where some sort of dagger comes in. But you know where we're going and we're going to get in and out fast, so hopefully it won't come up at all."
"Stab the squishy ones. Got it." He takes a deep breath. "This is my partner, Hes. The lad and lass over there is Bod and Tor. We'll be spending a bit of time together, so let's try and be friendly-like." He hops onto a wagon, and gestures for the party to load up. The gates open, and you leave the relative safety of the walls.
Out beyond the safety of the walls, Mithias walk slowly beside the lumbering wagons, eyes constantly scanning for any sign of movement.
Once the journey starts Kissich does keep an eye out, but also tries to strike up a conversation with Bod and Tor whose wagon he walks beside. Trying to judge their experience since the Eternal Night started, where they're from and how likely they are to panic if the unexpected happens.
"Friendly sounds ideal. And it's lovely to meet you, Hes, Bod and Tor." Perhaps the village used to have a tradition of only using three letters when naming there children? It wasn't the oddest quirk she'd ever heard of. "I'm Tarial."
Tarial chattered away in a low, cheerful tone as they travelled, making sure to keep things friendly and seeing what information such chatter could gently shake free. Her eyes flickered around the the environment, however, and she stayed near the cart - the artificial high ground would be an excellent place to cast from.
"I am Ssearfenth, and thiss is Hssarth," the druid says to the cart drivers. Hssarth, for his part, is well-behaved enough to stay away from the horses and not look at them hungrily. For the most part.
Ssearfenth is happy to be without the walls, even as he mourns the damage the long twilight times have done to, well, just about everything in nature. He keeps the mourning from his face, however, doing his best to present a cheerful front to those around him. A wounded animal that gives up is as good as dead. Keeping their spirits up was as vital to their survival as the food they hoped to gather.