Bimbur listens intently as Maidie explains about Tanglefoot.
His existence had been a lonely one for the most part. Maybe Bimbur could befriend an animal like Maidie or buy a domesticated pet like others had done?
There had been a question about whether or not one of the monks was a cat person a dog person. While they are sitting around, Bimbur just speaks quietly: "I think I am a dog person."
Bimbur listens intently as Maidie explains about Tanglefoot.
His existence had been a lonely one for the most part. Maybe Bimbur could befriend an animal like Maidie or buy a domesticated pet like others had done?
There had been a question about whether or not one of the monks was a cat person a dog person. While they are sitting around, Bimbur just speaks quietly: "I think I am a dog person."
"I like dogs too. Cats are okay. Keep vermin out of grain." Though unbidden, he does decide to respond to Bimbur, "Thought about getting a dog to help protect mother. Or maybe even guide her around. I've heard some dogs know how to do that. As a druid I more have a gift with plants than animals though." A thought and a chuckle, "Course, a lot of dogs appreciate trees too. Just not in the same way."
"That was your old tribe. Nobody here called you dumb, right?"
Meep shakes her head.
"No, new tribe nice to Meep," She says before glancing out the door where Roldare is. "New tribe has one meanie, though."
Meep listens to Maidie and is able to follow the young wizard's tale for the most part.
"He talk," Meep starts to ask before shaking her head and trying again. "C-can he talk? L-like Maid-- Like you or Meep-- or me?"
Then she hears Bimbur's comment about being a dog person.
"Dog person," she asks as she cranes her neck to get a better angle on Bimbur's rear. "D-do you have tail like dog?" She looks up at Grobradon as he mentions cats. "Cats? Meep--" She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head again. "I-- I d-do not know what cat is. Not hear-- heard of cats."
”Not quite like you and I are talking, Meep.” Maidie responds, doing her best to convey the unique bond between wizard and familiar in simple terms the goblin can understand.
”Right now, we can sense each others emotions. If he feels scared, angry or hungry, so do I. At the moment, he’s happy and a little sleepy.” she explains, gently stroking Tanglefoot’s spiny back.
”As my mastery of magic grows, so does our bond. One day, he and I will be able to talk, but in a special language that only the two of us will understand. Tanglefoot will also be able to talk to other hedgehogs, and let me know what they say.”
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Casina ate her dinner in silence only occasionally contributing a grunt at something said. She did her best to pay attention to her meal but her eyes kept drifting back to Roldare.
“Stop stewing over it,” she told herself.
But a short while later she was still arguing internally.
”No one thinks you killed her dad,” Casina thought as she pulled a bit of gristle from her teeth. She eyes the chewy bit of meat, rolled it between her finger and thumb, and tossed it into the dirt.
“No, they just think you pushed him to it,” that little voice said.
Casina tossed her bowl to the side, splattering the rest of her meal and jumped to her feet.
“Ya know what?” She shouted at Roldare. “You would think that someone who lost their parents would have shown a bit more compassion when it happens to someone else!” Casina glared at the man and she struggled to keep tears from rolling down her cheeks. “Your sister tried. Gods knows she tried. You know she made me a dress?” A sad smile formed on Casina’s lips.
“‘Your mom ordered this for you,’ she said, ‘before she left. I thought it might be nice if you finally got it,’” Casina wiped a tear with the heel of her hand. “It was stupid. I hate dresses. But she tried! And what did you do, Roldare? You made jokes. You and your friends. You all talked about how terrible of a person Lionel was that his wife left and how his coldhearted daughter will probably be close behind.
Well f**k you, Roldare!” Casina paused. When she spoke again, her voice was calm again. “I’m going to go into that damned crypt and I’m going to finish this challenge on top of whatever else is going on in there! And when we’re done, we’ll deal with the warband for you too. And when that’s done, I’ll leave this godsforsaken town and find a place where I can make a difference!”
She grabbed her bowl and kicked dirt over her spilled meal before heading into the tent.
Moon's eyes go noticeably wider at Casina's explosion. She didn't know the paladin at all really. And town gossip rarely made it past her father's front door... so she had no idea of the other girl's history.
They say still waters run deep. There should be an adage about turbulent waters laying just below the surface!
After Casina storms off, Moon looks to see if she was the only person in town to whom that was a surprise. When her eyes fall on Roldare, she offers understated advice, "I'd suggest you give her a wide berth until you leave tomorrow. You glance at her wrong and she's likely to tear your arm off and beat you to death with it... and it sounds like you probably earned it."
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Betzolte obliges translating Maidie's conversation with Meep, until Casina gives Roldare a tongue-lashing that startles her and makes her sit up straight at attention. These were things she'd seen roiling behind Casina's frustrated face before, things she'd wanted to ask about but didn't quite know how. It wasn't like the arguments she'd had with her father where they'd rail at each other until they tired each other out and hugged at the end having come to an understanding (unless her mother gave them "the look" that made both of them almost immediately shut up).
Her eyes dart from one member of the party to the next, wondering who'd break the awkward silence first...
: Don't know if it got missed, but Gerol was asking if you could explain how y'all ran across Meep.
"Sorry, Geral, didn't hear you ... we met her in a raid. The raid. She was conscripted and...."
Then Casina explodes. And he looks over at Roldare, "There are people that are wiser to offend, Roldare."
THen back to Gerol, "Others can tell you more about it than I could. I mostly scared her, then we found out the truth and the others took over."
Betzolte nods at Grobradon's words.
"She was part of the attack on our camp led by Lugruk. When the tide of battle turned against them, she decided not to join the rest of her tribe-mates in the retreat, but instead dropped her weapon and surrendered to us. Her life sucked so much she decided to take her chances with the 'longshanks' currently tearing her warband apart rather than go back to the status quo that already treated her like slag."
The camp goes deathly quiet after Casina lays into Roldare for what he said to her. Dimira recovers first after Moon and Grobradon warn Roldare about the foolishness of ticking off the young paladin.
"Roldare, you didn't," she says as pain twists her expression into a grimace. "You promised you'd stop saying things like that."
She gets up to follow Casina, and Roldare reaches out to stop her. She bats his hand away with a look of contempt that visibly stuns him.
"Don't touch me!" She storms off after Casina, leaving Roldare behind looking shocked and angry.
"Damn fool's gonna get hisself killed," Vark says before getting up and taking Roldare off to one side of the camp.
"Wonderful," Gerol sighs before Grobradon continues his explanation and Betzolte chimes in.
"Well, that would help explain some things," he says. "Goblins ain't exactly kind to those they see as weak, and she's a wee one. If she's always been as meek as she seems to be, I can see why she'd be willing to take a chance with you lot."
Meep jumps as Casina loses her temper with Roldare. She curls up close to Maidie and pulls the young wizard's cloak over her ears. It takes her a few moments and a little coaxing to relax after the brief confrontation is over.
"D-did I m-make that," she asks as she looks up at Maidie. "Did T-tanglefoot get scared? Did you get scared?"
A moment after ducking into the tent, you hear someone approach. The tent flap opens as Dimira slips inside and hugs you.
"I'm sorry, Casina. I'm so sorry about what he said," she whispers as she holds you tight.
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Betzolte leans in a little closer to Gerol.
"Meep also mentioned that Chief Hosskill told her she'd 'killed his favorite mate,' and that's why he bullied her worst out of all the tribe. What that leads me to believe is...Meep may be Hosskill's daughter, and her mom died in childbirth," she tells him quietly.
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Maidie gave Meep a reassuring squeeze. "Don’t worry, Meep. What happened with Casina wasn't because of you. People sometimes have a lot of feelings inside that they don't know how to express. Casina's outburst was her way of dealing with her own pain, not anything you did."
She gently stroked Tanglefoot, who had curled up into a spiky ball after the commotion, but now nestled close to her. "When Casina shouted, Tanglefoot was startled, and I could feel his fear through our bond. But I wasn't scared, so I sent him calm feelings, and he settled down quickly." Maidie smiled reassuringly at Meep. "It's a bit like how I'm here with you now, trying to help you feel safe."
Maidie's gaze drifted away for a moment, lost in thought. Throughout her childhood, Gertrude Henrod had been the unbreakable rock of stability and support in a house full of a burly woodcutter and a bunch of unruly teenagers. "You know, Meep, when I was growing up, my mother was like the diplomat in our house. She had this incredible way of helping me and my siblings understand our emotions. If we were ever upset or angry, she'd sit with us, listen, and help us see things in a different light."
A wistful sigh escaped her lips. "Seeing Casina and Roldare today, it made me think. They've both lost their parents, and that kind of loss... it leaves a mark on your heart. It can make you react in ways you might not expect, sometimes with anger or even violence. It's not the healthiest way to deal with sadness, but it happens."
Maidie felt her eyes go misty with unshed tears as she continued, "I miss my mother. She would have known just what to say to help Casina and Roldare, to help them understand their feelings. But in her absence, I guess we must try to do what she would have done. To be there for others, to listen, and to offer comfort."
She placed a gentle hand on Meep's shoulder. "We all have our struggles, Meep. But we're here for each other, to help each other through the tough times. Just like a family." Her smile returned, warm and genuine. "And you're a part of that family now, Meep."
“I…I’m sorry,” she sputtered. “You didn’t deserve that. And they,” she gestured back toward the tent flap, “didn’t deserve to have their dinner ruined. I’m just so - I dunno - tired. I guess. Tired of everyone thinking they know who I am when they’ve never spoken to me beyond a passing ‘G’morning.’” She sniffed and wiped a tear away.
“But I’m not dumb, I know I haven't made it easy for everyone. The fact that Betz still comes around surprises me everyday. Oh gods, I snotted on your shoulder!” Casina wiped at Dimira’s shoulder with her sleeve then took a step back.
“I think I’m going to go ahead and call it for the night. Tomorrow is a big day and I’ll have to be up for my turn on watch with Maidie before the sun is up.”
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Dimira gives a weak laugh when you fuss over getting snot on her shoulder.
"Cass, I'm going to need a long bath and a clean change of clothes after all of this. Trust me, some snot isn't going to bother me," she reassures you with a smile. "Don't go to bed just yet, though. We have something for you."
She doesn't explain further as she slips out of the tent and comes back a little while later with a couple of parcels.
"For you," she says with a smile.
"Sounds like this Chief Hosskill is a right bastard, even for a goblin. Most goblin chiefs kill their children when the mother dies in childbirth. They consider it a mercy and a way of warding off bad luck," Gerol tells Betzolte before finishing off his stew and looking to Vark.
"Vark, I think we should probably get the stuff in the crypt out of it before too much longer. I think the young'ins will be mighty interested in some of those things and will need a bit to calm down afore bed."
"Yup," is all Vark says as he finishes off his portion.
Meep listens to Maidie's little speech, a thoughtful look on her face at least until Maidie told her she was part of the family. She looks surprised, but then she sniffs as tears threaten to fall again.
"Meep-- I get it, maybe. Family people you like. You like me. I like you, too," she says before hugging Maidie. "Talk to C-casina? Maybe she need hug."
Meep yawns as a belly full of food and long day catch up to her.
"Sleep soon?"
Gerol and Vark bring in a number of parcels from the crypt after supper while Roldare and Timolt keep watch. The tension relaxes as they bring out the last couple of parcels and begin handing them out to everyone. While they were doing that, Dimira comes out of the tent Casina went into after her outburst with a damp spot on her shoulder.
"These were supposed to be where you could find them, but given what you told us, I think it's better if we gave them to you now, especially if you'll be going in there to root out whatever evil's defiled the place," he says.
The more attentive among you notice that there were three more parcels, but they are being readied for packing in the morning. It would seem they were for Culver, Keth, and Voronoy. Dimira takes the one labeled with Casina's name to the tent she disappeared into a little while ago.
You receive two parcels from Gerol, one long and broad and the other more compact, but heavier than it looks like it should be. As you undo the twine and unwrap the waxed cloth, you find a dwarven waraxe with dwarven runes and symbols that take you a moment to recognize engraved on the flats of the head. Torag's and Folgrit's are obvious, but hidden among their iconography are three other symbols. First is that of Thurunadad, dwarven god of secrets and knowledge. Second is that of Hildruna, dwarven goddess of magic and runes. The last is your rune, surrounded by the symbols and runes used to denote one learned in the arcane arts in dwarven society. Something that you'd only found while studying Holgast's books while he was napping.
The artistry on display doesn't end with the head. The ash handle has been carved with simple prayer.
Beneath stone or sky,
May your feet the light ever guide.
To walk the paths to the unknown,
Or lead you back to your hearth and home.
Blessed be my wonderful child.
My life, my joy.
My own golden gift.
In the other package are a well-made scrollcase with several scrolls; a wooden box with a finely-crafted scrivener's kit, parchment, and ink; a mithral mail shirt crafted in a way to prevent the armor from inhibiting your movements while spellcasting; three letters; and a dagger. The dagger is in a scabbard that is just as much a work of art as the axe or the dagger itself. A mithral badge on the front is engraved with your personal rune and the symbols of a dwarven arcanist surrounding it. The blade of the dagger is engraved with the runes and symbols of the Ironhame clan. Hidden in the runes and dwarven knot and scrollwork, there is a simple name Hvt v, A Father's Love. The scrollcase and wooden box are both polished to a satin sheen and the brass inlay in both catches the firelight.
The letters are from your mother, Morg; your father, Braggar; and your mentor, Holgast.
To my dear apprentice, Betzolte Ironhame
In my long life I've had more than a few apprentices. I must say that many of them were disappointments, but not you nor your friend, Miss Henrod. It has been a joy watching you grow and learn, even when you would sneak into my library thinking that I did not know. You were not the first, nor will you be the last. I still remember the delight and wonder in your eyes the first time you tapped into the arcane and cast a simple spell. You reminded me of the wonder I once had for the power I wield, perhaps a bit too flippantly these days. Familiarity may not breed contempt, but it certainly can blind us to the truth of the people and things around us. Seeing how you saw something as simple as a cantrip as something wondrous reminded me of the beauty that is to be found in all of wizardry. Some, born with gifts of power, will never understand that, I fear, and I pray that you never lost that sense of wonder even as you continue to learn and grow.
If you are reading this, then I must inform you that your days as my apprentice are at an end. In my last act as your mentor, allow me to impart one last lesson and give you one more gift.
First, the lesson.
Never forget who and what you are. The tales of many wizards end in tragedy as they lose their sense of self and are consumed by madness or a lust for power. You are a bright, young woman who cares for others, even if she is a bit awkward in her ways. She takes delight in learning and teaching, even if your first attempt ended in disappointment. Roots are what make trees strong, as that batty woman, Olmira, and that young whelp of a priest, Rantal Prasst, are fond of reminding others. However I may feel about them, that does not make their words untrue. Never forget your roots, Betzolte. The traditions of dwarves do not die easily, and if I know your father, I know that he has done his best to instill those traditions in you.
Now, for the gift.
You've undoubtedly found the writing utensils, ink, parchment, and scrollcase among the other things in this package. While you may have learned a good bit on your own, even things I did not think you ready for, I must say that I am rather proud that you didn't find all of my secrets, never mind that I had lost and forgotten some of them myself. In the scrollcase are three scrolls with spells from books that you and Maidie never did manage to find. This is my gift to you. I hope you will find them useful in the adventures you will have in the years ahead.
You have made this old man very proud, Betzolte. It has been my honor and privilege to teach you and call you my apprentice.
May joy of learning never fade in your heart and mind,
- Holgast
To my beautiful and wonderful daughter,
My mother always told me that the hardest part of having a child is watching them grow up and walk out into a world you can no longer protect them from. I didn't believe her until you decided to be Holgast's apprentice. I know little about magic, and I could not help you grow. While I miss the days where you'd follow me around, a hand holding my apron or skirts, I couldn't be more proud of the woman you have grown into. Holgast speaks highly of you and I have seen how you try to help those around you. Even if your father will die before he admits it, I know he is proud of you, too.
Betzolte, no matter where you go, no matter what mountains you climb nor what depths you delve, you will always be our Golden Gift.
I love you, very much,
- Momma
To my daughter, the dearest and most precious thing I have ever helped make,
Your father is a fool. A dwarf stuck in his ways and too old to bother changing them now. I realized that after the fight we had in the town's square when you told me that you were going to apprentice under Holgast to be a mage. I am too stubborn to admit it, even when I know you are pretty much a woman grown, at least out loud. I am afraid I did not give you much besides a stubborn streak and a temper from the Nine Hells. I suppose that deep down, I always thought you would be a wee lass. In some ways, you will always be my little girl, but I cannot deny that you are no longer the curly-haired lass that would come in and make me smile and laugh after I had made a mistake or would bring me lunch and supper when I had forgotten to eat. You have grown, and I could not be more proud to call you my daughter.
I know the day is coming when you will set off on a journey of your own. I cannot be there to protect you, girl, so I decided to make you a few things you can use to do that yourself. I talked with some of the clan that have taken to magery, and they helped me design and craft mail that still protects you while not making it hard to do your magic. They also helped me with the designs on the axe and the dagger. They even did me a favor and put a little spellcraft into the blade after trying some of your mother's cooking, not that I can blame them for that. Your mother's cooking could make a dragon give away its hoard for seconds. If you ever find yourself in need of a light, whisper to the blade. Ask it to guide your steps, and my love for you will show you the path.
You have made this fool of a dwarf very proud, Betzolte. Never forget that you will always have a hearth to warm yourself by and a place to call home so long as I and your mother live.
The proudest dwarf in Kassen,
- Poppa
P.S. - I just learned that Bimbur's going with you. Keep an eye on the lad, please? I'll never hear the end of it from his parents if something happens to their precious baby-boy.
The parcel given to you is one of the smaller ones. Within, you find a set of leather bracers with dwarven runes of protection tooled into them. Beneath the bracers is a letter, something that's a bit confusing at first as your teacher, Ilimara Oniri, isn't the sentimental type. Picking it up and reading your name, written in proper dwarven runes, it becomes clear that it is from your parents.
Dear Bimbur,
We have always regretted not being able to watch you grow over the years. Our travels and the duty we have to the clan have always had to come first. Still, we are proud of the young dwarf you have become. We often hear from Braggar and Morg about how you have grown and your skill with a bow. We even heard that you did well in the archery tournament this year during the Summer Harvest Festival.
We wish we could be there more. We love you, even if we cannot always be there to show it. We hope that the bracers we have included with this letter will help you in the years to come.
Love,
- Your mother and father
P.S. Please do your best to protect Betzolte during this Quest for the Everflame thing. Braggar will be unbearable if anything happens to his precious, little girl.
Gerol hands you two parcels, both are weighty and some sixth sense tingles as your hands undo the twine holding the waxed cloth closed. The first parcel, the longer of the two, holds an exquisitely wrought gauntlet designed to lock around any weapon and a beautifully crafted two-handed axe that you recognize as being Braggar Ironhame's work after your years of friendship with Betzolte. The cold iron head is engraved with Dammerich's symbols and iconography. The second holds what may be an even greater treasure. A suit of plate and mail sized to fit you, the style of the armor matching the locking gauntlet in the first parcel. You do find that it is a full suit of armor when you unwrap the gauntlets. The last item you find is an amulet of a mithral dove perched on a golden axe hanging from a mithral chain. That sixth sense tells you there is a connection to the Empyreal Lord that you have chosen to worship in this symbol of his. Wrapped up with the symbol is are two letters, one from your Aunt Loreli and one from your Uncle Tomas.
My dear Casina,
Over the years I have watched you grow and persevere. I cannot know what pain and grief you have endured after my sister left you and your father and after your father ended his life. There are times that I did not know what to say or do to comfort you. I do not understand the calling you feel nor the teachings of Dammerich, but that does not change that I still love you. I am happy that you can still find joy with your cousins. I cherish each smile and laugh that you show. I want you to be happy and find joy and love. I know that you are hurting and that you try to hide it, but I want you to know that you can always come cry on my shoulder. You may be my niece, but I will always see you as my daughter.
May Old Deadeye always watch over you,
- Your Aunt Loreli
Casina,
I often feel at a loss for what to say. I hear what others say, the whispers and the jokes they think you and I cannot hear. I see the pain and grief in your eyes. I would hear about the fights between your father and mother, and then between you and him, from Loreli. After your father's death, I could see something was eating you up, but--
There is always that but.
My children love you, Cass. My wife loves you. Adelei adores you. Mikail looks up to you. Vivian thinks you will be a hero. They are young. They do not understand what you went through. They do not see the pain. Lionel could be a bastard, but he told me one night some of the things he saw before marrying your mother and settling in Kassen. I had nightmares for a week after that. I saw some of the demons he fought after that. I see some of the demons you fight, too. Violence is not something I worry about with you. I do worry that you may lose your fight, though. Cass, please, talk to me. I cannot fight the monsters for you, but I can help you fight them yourself.
Do not let them win, Cass. Asking for help is not a sign of weakness.
- Tomas
The parcel you are given sounds with a hollow clattering, like wooden bowls sliding and bumping together. Inside you find a wooden breastplate with the symbol of Gozreh wreathed in blooming vines carved into the front. You recognize the wood, study ash ensorcelled with the deep magic of the old ways and gifted from a fey-blessed tree. You'd only seen something like it once before, a staff of one of Olmira's friends that taught you the lore of trees and the uses their wood, seeds, and leaves all had. You also find letters from Olmira and your mother, though also penned by Olmira, wrapped up with the second item in the parcel, a holy symbol of Gozreh on a braided leather cord made from the skins of a boar, a hare, and a hart. The feathers of an owl, a falcon, and a hawk hang beside the symbol, unmussed despite traveling wrapped up in waxed cloth. Perhaps the most astounding thing about this holy symbol is that it is made of three pieces of interlocking wood. One is oak, the other is ash, and the last is thorn. The enchantment causing your fingers to tingle is almost mundane in comparison to the skill it took to fashion the symbol itself.
My beloved pupil, Grobradon,
As you may have guessed, I have never been one for formality or what some may call decorum. I always thought this Quest was somewhat silly as far as traditions go, but that was before this year. While the dangers you face may not be all that great, they are a taste of what life is like after one has left their mother's side. I remember when it was my turn, many years ago, and I remember when your mother went. It is strange how I see things now that it is your turn. Perhaps it is because I know some measure of the burden you bear and in a way that I could never know with Keth.
Grobradon, I was the one that found your mother after she had been taken by that orc bastard. I feel ashamed that I did not do more than I did, hiding behind the tenets of my faith and my hatred of your uncle. I think I may have been hanging around too many Erastilians, but that does not change what I feel in my heart. I guess you could say it was guilt that lead me to take you as one of my pupils. I do not regret many things in life. I do regret that I did not do more for both you and your mother.
I have taught many in my life. I have seen many take up the path of a druid or a ranger. I feel proud of them, but I am most proud of you. You do not let the blood running in your veins tell you who you are, and you have taken to the lessons far better than I could have hoped. From this day forward, however, it is up to you to fly on your own. I think you will go far, but do not fall into the same trap I did and let the laws of nature guide you into callousness.
And if you happen to find a dryad named Aisling, do not say anything nice about the breastplate, the holy symbol, her, nor her tree. The tree-dwelling trollop is already too full of herself.
Be well, Treesinger,
- Olmira
To my beloved and precious son,
What can a mother say to her son when he has grown from a boy into a man? The words I have in my mind feel so trite. I am proud of you. I am happy that you have found a path that brings you peace. I often worry that you blame yourself for what happened to me. You are so eager to help me, but should not a mother help her children? I wish I could have done more to give you a good life.
Grobradon, I named you after my grandfather hoping that I would not hate you if you bore his name. I was afraid, despite what I told Colbin, that I would resent you, that the anger, fear, and hatred I still feel for the orc that sired you would be focused on you, someone who had not even been born and could not have wronged anyone, much less me. I regret that, sometimes, but then I hear about how strong you have become and how you made friends with Aelni's son, Culver, and I feel less like I have wronged you for choosing that name. You are well on your way to making it your own. My grandfather was a good man, and I think he would be proud of you, his namesake.
Still, I worry about you, my dear son. I hope that this journey, however short it may be, will see you make more friends and show you that you can live your own life. There are so many in Kassen who can help me and have helped me. I do not want to see you spend your life looking after me, not when you are still young. While I do hope you will be careful, I also hope that you will live your life to the fullest. I hear that there are some cute young woman going with you this year. Maybe romance will bloom if you let it.
I love you, Grobradon, and I pray that you will live a long and happy life and that you will find someone that loves you as much as I do.
Always with love,
- Your mother
The parcel you're given has three wooden boxes and a well-crafted scrollcase wrapped in waxed cloth. The wood is polished to a satin sheen on all of them, with the brass inlay catching the firelight. The first box contains a pearl that makes your finger tingle pleasantly when you touch it, a silver and cold iron ring, and a matching band. The second box contains the familiar glass and delicate iron vessels and utensils of an alchemist's lab in velvet padding. The third box contains a set of scrivener's tools, ink, and parchment, all of very high quality. The scrollcase contains three scrolls of spells you do not recognize. You also find three letters, one from your parents, another from your mentor, Holgast, and the last from your brother, Garth.
To my dear Apprentice, Maidie,
In my long life I've had more than a few apprentices. I must say that many of them were disappointments, but not you nor your friend, Miss Ironhame. I have watched you grow, from your first cantrip to the day you first bonded with Tanglefoot, a name and a fine fellow that I have grown rather fond of. I watched you learn, sneaking into my library when you thought I was not paying attention. You were hardly the first, and I suspect you will not be the last. I am overjoyed at your curiosity and the love of learning you have. The joy and wonder you show at each new spell reminds this old man of his younger days, when every spell was a new adventure.
If you are reading this, then your apprenticeship is at an end. You have learned what I can teach you. Now you must go out and learn what you may on your own. However, I do have two things to give you, one, last lesson and a gift.
First, the lesson.
Do not fall into the trap I have seen far too many wizards become a victim of. Knowledge and power are tools, but the pursuit of them at all costs will lead to ruin, perhaps of just your own life and wellbeing, but far too often such wizards leave a trail of destruction behind. Temper the zeal you have with love, compassion, and kindness. I have chosen Kassen as my home for many years because its people remind me of that lesson, that word of caution my master gave to me decades ago. Now, I pass it on to you. Power is fleeting. The legacy you leave is much, much more lasting.
Now, the gift.
Despite your inquisitive nature, I am proud to say that you have not found all of my secrets, neve rmind that some of them were hidden in a closet for years and I had forgotten I even had the book before I took you on as an apprentice. You should find that this letter accompanies a scrollcase with three scrolls in it and a scrivener's kit with enough ink to scribe them into your spellbook. I believe that you will put them to fine use.
I wish you well, Maidie, and never forget to be kind to others,
- Holgast
To our sweet, and precious girl,
Your father and I remember when we went on the Quest of the Everflame ourselves many years ago. It hardly seems possible that you are now old enough to be going yourself. We were not sure about you becoming a wizard when you first expressed an interest in magic, but we are proud of what you have accomplished so far. I think we will soon have to make a new change, though. You have always been a curious girl, and Kassen is not big enough nor busy enough to keep someone like that from wondering about the wider world for long. So while we have the chance, we each wanted to tell you something.
Maidie, my bright, little sunflower,
I know you wished I would stop calling you that, but I hope you will forgive me just this once. Allow a father his loving title for his little girl. I am proud that you have turned into a bright, determined young woman. There are times I feel overwhelmed when you talk about magic, but I suppose its the same when I or your brothers talk about trees and how to care for them and fell them safely. All the same, I am glad that you have found a path that makes you happy.
Know that wherever you go, whatever you accomplish, I will always consider you my little girl. I know that you can take care of yourself, but you will always have a home here, and I hope that one day I can have the honor of walking you down the aisle as I will with your sister come spring. Never forget that I will always love you, Maidie. I only want you to be happy and live a long, joyful life.
Love,
- Your father
Maidie, my shining star,
I am so proud of the woman you have grown up to be. We may be simple lumberjacks and their spouses, but we also have some idea of how hard you had to work to become the person you are and the wizard you want to be. If I can say one thing as your mother, though, it would be to slow down and enjoy the little things in life. Do not be afraid to live and laugh and love. Do not think that asking for help or advice from us is weakness or immature. It is the duty of the parents to pass down our wisdom, after all.
All I want for you, my dear, sweet Maidie, is for you to live a long, happy life. Joy is multiplied with others, and grief is divided when shared. It may sound silly, but it makes it no less true. I hope that you do find your special someone, and I am not talking about Tanglefoot. He is lovely, but I do not think he can fill that same need.
I am sorry for bringing that up again. I worry for you. I cannot help it, either. I am your mother. I hope you can forgive me for wanting to make sure that you have someone you can rely on when your father and I are gone.
I love you Maidie, with all of my heart,
- Your mother
Maidie,
When I found out from dad that you were going to be one of the ones going on the Quest this year, I almost drove myself mad with worry. If you are reading this, then I have probably already told you that this is no cakewalk, and hopefully I remembered to keep my mouth shut about the gifts the town puts together for those that go. I do not know why that is a rule, but I learned long ago that there are some things you do not question and there are some things not worth questioning. I think this may be the second one.
I asked if I could write a letter for you as well, and now that I am, I am having a hard time putting what I want to tell you into words. I know you think I am a coward, Maidie, but there are dangerous things out there. Things I am still learning to handle and things that still give me nightmares. I hope, no. I pray that you never have to face the demons that I see in my dreams. I hope that you never know the terror of a Molthuni raid or-- *scratches and inkblots cover the words that were written*
Maidie, if you stay near Kassen or head to southern Nimarthas, never, never go out at night when the moon is full. Promise me, even if you never tell me so, that you will not go out on the nights the moon is full.
Please, I beg you as your brother. Listen to me and do not ask why. I do not want you to learn of that nightmare.
Love,
- Garth
The parcel given to you is long and slender. Undoing the twine and unwrapping the waxed cloth reveals a beautifully crafted longbow with a dark finish polished to a mirror-like sheen. The mark of your mother's clan is on the upper stave, just above where your hand would go. The other item is a mithral hair barrette and pin fashioned in a style that mixes both Elven and Minkaian influences. The pin was made to look like an arrow while the barrette was made to look like a dragon looping over and around itself and the pin. You also find a single letter from Arnama. The first several lines are crossed out before her letter begins.
If you have not already figured this out, I find this kind of thing hard. Since I am apparently shattering any illusions you may have about my competence and maturity, I may as well make that shattering as complete as I can. Mentoring you has been intimidating. You're only a few years younger than I am, and you have always had that poise and level-headedness that I have always envied in other rangers. I have always been terrified that you'd see through me. I could do like others have done, writing about how proud I am, but I feel like I have done nothing. Moon, you picked things up. You learned things without me even realizing it. It has all been you. I suppose I should count myself lucky that you are so smart, but I feel like you got the raw end of the deal.
I do not feel like there is anything that I can teach you. I do not have any final words of advice nor wisdom for you. Well, except maybe to not believe the fronts everyone puts up, especially those that would really, really like for others to believe that they have it all together. I feel like the only thing I can offer is a simple wish that you will live a long, long life and that it is full and happy. I do not want you waiting for me in The Boneyard.
Be careful, Moon. I want to call you a friend for a long, long time.
- Arnama Lastrid
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Moon surreptitiously watches some of the others open their packages. She sees many items spill out and so many people have multiple letters to read. Moon had one letter, just one… but it was as perfect as it was unexpected. She never believed she’d ever have the privilege of being allowed past Arnama’s armor. But there it was, possibly the strongest woman in Kassen being vulnerable and opening up to Moon about her doubts and fears. It was elegant, beautiful, heart-filling, and heartbreaking.
She hastily wipes the raindrops from the letter, irritated at the possible smudges. Then she realizes they are her tears. They fall slow and silently. She reads the letter again, in front of her face, partly to hide her emotions and partly not to smudge it any further. Twice more she reads it, before closing it up and putting it beneath her armor in the slit pocket closest to her heart.
She wipes her eyes quickly - hopefully before anyone sees – and looks at the gifts. Her only other option is to sit there like a sobbing fool doing nothing. And that couldn’t happen. She alternates between gifts, going over every inch of the bow and barrette. Each one showed meticulous craft and demonstrated just how well Arnama knew what Moon valued and what was spiritually meaningful for her. No one had given her such heart-felt gifts. She sits for a long time - poleaxed.
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Maidie returns Meep's hug and says. "I think Casina wants to be left alone for now, but talking to her is a good idea. I'll do that tonight when we are on watch together. You go ahead and get some sleep now, I'll join you shortly."
Meep is already snoring softly beside her when Maidie unwraps her presents.
The tears that she held back while talking about her mother cannot be stopped now, and fall to form dark spots on her parents letter. Wiping her eyes, her brow furrows with concern as she reads Garth's words.
She carefully handles the items and scrolls, laying them out besides her bedroll.
Gingerly, she holds Tanglefoot and slips the silver and cold iron band around his right front leg, wathcing it adjust in size before donning her own ring. At once, she feels the existing bond between the intensify.
Both mentally and physically exhausted, she lies down to try and get as much sleep as she can before her watch is up.
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As he is handed his, he grunts a thanks.
Grobradon pulls out the objects first, stunned at the large and inticrate wooden breast plate with his god's symbol upon it. "What the..." Then he pulls out the individual holy symbol of the same god, so intricate in its three pieces of interlocking wood and trailing feathers, "It's a work of art. Both are." He blurts it. Then , he sees the letters.
He starts to read them, his mentor's first. HIs brow knits at part of it, then deepens into a scowl, but only for a moment. Then his features soften. He seems to nod and mutter something...
He puts that letter away, then reads the other. Now he rises, and moves away further so none can see him. At least he hopes not. He'd hate to have to murder someone if they catch him blushing and yet also moved to tears; they need the manpower.
A moment later, Grobradon returns, grabs the armor and new symbol, and again goes off a bit to vanish. He is clearly changing in the wood rather than some tent, perhaps going skyclad after all, though obviously there will be padding under the new armor. Unlikely anyone will see this unless they are driven by intense curiosity to see a green tinged rear.
When he returns, it does not take long, he wears the breast plate of wood that looks no less durable for its material, though no forging shaped this, no flame touched it. The new holy symbol held by many cords of many skins and dangling many feathers clatters lightly against the new breast plate.
"It's heavy," He admits to any about him, "May make it hard for me to stealth. But it will keep me alive in a fight."
Now it was Casina’s turn to hug Dimira.
“Thank you,” she said between sniffles. “Thank you so much.” Casina wiped the fresh tears away and stepped back from Dimira.
”I think I’ve cried more tonight than I have in, like, the last five years combined. Ugh, how do you sensitive types deal with this?” She asked with a smile. “And this equipment, how was there even enough gold in Kassen to pay for this?”
She ran one hand across the front of the suit of armor reverently.
“This is all so…” Casina trailed off as she held up the amulet. “We should have little trouble dealing with whatever is going with this. I’m assuming I wasn’t singled out for such gifts, right?”
Casina placed both parcels by her bedroll and slipped the amulet under her pillow. “Thank you again. For everything, Dimira. But I think all of these dumb emotions have worn me out,” she said with a chuckle. “I really am going to try to get some rest before it’s my turn on watch.”
"One sob at a time," Dimira answers with a grin. "Mister Braggar was the one that made a lot of it. I'm not sure how he affords the metal, but he's apparently the one that's always done it." She shrugs as if to say she's only repeating what she's heard. "Everyone got something. It was one of the reasons we came here before y'all."
After everyone has had time to admire the gifts they have been given and read the letters they have received, the watch is set and everyone else goes to sleep as the first watch takes up their vigil. The moon, now on the wane after being full just a couple of nights ago, rises, but is soon hidden by the still heavy clouds. The light from the fire and the keen eyes of Bimbur and Grobradon are the only things that pierce the veil of darkness. Gerol and a surly Roldare join the dwarf and half-orc on watch, though it's an open question if Roldare will be much help with how he sulks.
The night passes quietly, and as the last hour of the first watch begins, it seems that nothing of note will happen before the four of you can go off to bed.
Or perhaps not. It's faint through the heavy doors that now seal the crypt, but you hear something moving quietly on the other side of the stone blocking the way. A great many somethings. It would seem that Gerol and Roldare haven't noticed the sound yet, but that may be because of your keen senses more than any inattentiveness on their part.
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Grobradon wastes no time. SOMETHING can be worrisome, a great MANY Somethings? A world of 'I say thee Nay' to that.
"Roldare, Bimbur, wake up the others. We may have company from the crypt coming and I don't like how that could go." Indeed, he moves to Moon's tent and starts to wake her if he can "Moon, sorry about this ,could be a false alarm but after the goblins I don't want to take chances." While he knows she is more than her blood, Her elven eyesight might let her have a better view of things.
Only then does he remember Betzolte has as much dark vision as he does. Oh well, he sticks with waking up Moon first, trusting the others will stir Betzolte and more.
Moon rolls over and offers Grobadron a sleep-fogged, lazy, and wanton smile. She takes his hand, pulls it to her chest, and attempts to roll back over, trying to drag him into her bedroll. Her voice is a petulant and playful whisper. ”Come back to bed, 色男, I’m still a little cold.”
Whatever he expected, it was not this, This...I'm asleep. This is a dream. That's what it is. Any moment I'll wake up with a raging need for a cold stream.
He doesn't fight the pull at first. She's warm, she seems willing, and she's beautiful. But as it sinks in that this is real, very real, he begins to suspect whoever 色男 is meant to be, name or not, it 's not him, "Moon, I don't know who this Eerotoko is, but he's one lucky bastard and I wish I WERE him, believe me. But you need to wake up. We may have a fight on our hands. There are noises on the other side of the crypt." With effort, more mental effort than he thought he could muster, he keeps from diving into that bedroll with her.
What he wants to do, he wants to blame on his orc blood, lusting and hungry, but he's pretty sure the human half of him is wanting the same. It's natural, birds do it, bees do it... but she's calling out for another man, and that makes this ..wrong. Doesn't it? Or maybe she's more awake then he thinks, and is truly... Either way, now is not the time, Grob!
And firmer despite a wishful deep growl in the back of his throat, a wish that is just not happening, "Wake up."
Maybe it’s Grobradon’s insistence that gets through…
Or maybe it is the one rock under her thin bedroll that tells her this isn’t a feather bed…
Or maybe it’s the muted clink and weight of her armor that penetrates her sleep-laden skull…
Regardless of the exact cause, Moon’s eyes snap open. Her unguarded, smiling, sleepy face slips away and her waking face replaces it. She blinks the sleep from her eyes as she belatedly processes Grob’s words. ”Noises from the crypt? The goblins ambushed us… 色男? That means ‘beloved’ or ‘sweetie’ or - depending on how it’s said - ‘Ladykiller’. Where’d you learn that?”
Moon sits up and casts aside the language conjecture as her brain circles back around to ‘noises in the crypt’ and the fact that it is very dark. Something bad was happening. Moon looks down and is glad for the darkness… at least fewer of the women in the tent would be able to see that she’s hugging Grob’s green hand pretty much to her breast. She looks at Grob but doesn’t move his hand away. ”Oh.” She looks at his hand again, ”I’m sorry about this.” She pats his green hand with her pale one and gently pulls it off her body. Then she grabs her sword, gets up, and tries to wake up the women she passes on her way out of the tent.
Regardless of the exact cause, Moon’s eyes snap open. Her unguarded, smiling, sleepy face slips away and her waking face replaces it. She blinks the sleep from her eyes as she belatedly processes Grob’s words. ”Noises from the crypt? The goblins ambushed us… 色男? That means ‘beloved’ or ‘sweetie’ or - depending on how it’s said - ‘Ladykiller’. Where’d you learn that?”
"You called it out as I tried to wake you," He says matter of fact, even more intrigued by this news "I thought you were talking about someone ..." Anyone "... else. And yes, it was ...quiet ish at first, but it sounded like a lot of folks or things attempting to be quiet. If i'm making any sense. What with the goblins attack earlier. I didn't want to take any chances."
Moon sits up and casts aside the language conjecture as her brain circles back around to ‘noises in the crypt’ and the fact that it is very dark. Something bad was happening. Moon looks down and is glad for the darkness… at least fewer of the women in the tent would be able to see that she’s hugging Grob’s green hand pretty much to her breast. She looks at Grob but doesn’t move his hand away. ”Oh.” She looks at his hand again, ”I’m sorry about this.” She pats his green hand with her pale one and gently pulls it off her body. Then she grabs her sword, gets up, and tries to wake up the women she passes on her way out of the tent.
As she pulls his hand away, Grobradon feels a profound sense of disappointment. Instead he nods, "Don't be." then he adds, "I'm not. Maybe we'll talk more about things... when we're able."
Grob, what are you doing you fool? The only woman in the village who slept with you did it because you were an oddity and made sure you swore to not tell anyone after. Moon was in a dream...and whoever she was praising in that dream, it sure wasn't you.
Adjusting things when he was turned away himself, he headed out of the tent trying to think of... other things besides pretty rangers.
A shaved warthog, Old men playing horse shoes while spitting out chaw to the side, goblins with spears trying to KILL me. It seems to help.
"You called it out as I tried to wake you," He says matter of fact, even more intrigued by this news "I thought you were talking about someone ..." Anyone "... else."
Darkvision was Grobradon's friend, allowing him to see the deep flush that suffuses the ranger's cheeks even in the dark tent. She pauses at the open flap, weighing how open she could risk being. "I wasn't thinking about someone else. I..." Her nerve fails her and she rushes out of the tent. Facing whatever awaited in the crypt was less daunting than finishing that sentence.
Roldare mutters something about stupid orcs and ghost stories as Grobradon ducks into the tent where Moon and the other ladies are asleep. Grobradon and Moon's conversation and calling out to the others in the tent wakes everyone up, but it seems that in the time it took for Moon to grasp the seriousness of the situation and help the druid get everyone in the tent awake, whatever was making the noise on the other side of the door to the crypt finishes getting ready and throws the portal open. Six rotting corpses dressed in rags come shuffling out, moaning with incessant hunger as they make a beeline for the tents. Their red eyes glow with unthinking malice and rage as they focus on their prey.
Roldare's shrill falsetto as panic begins to take hold wakes everyone as the stench of decay and death assault everyone's sense of smell.
"Damn," Gerol mutters before raising his voice to drag everyone fully from the land of dreams,
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Sound asleep while Moon and Grobradon have their little tete-a-tete, Maidie stirs as the commotion from outside and inside the tent penetrates her dreams.
A slight bit of drool runs down her left cheek.
She mutters a single word...
"Pancakes"
Then the shouting evaporates whatever dream she was in the middle of, and she's suddenly wide awake, the night once again echoing with shouts of alarm.
Oh no...not again.
Stumbling to her feet, she squints to make out the confused mass of people in different states of wakefullness.
She glances down at the scrolls from her gift, still waiting to be transferred to her spellbook. And suddenly curses herself for casting the grease spell on Roldare's dagger. So much for spending her watch preparing new spells and transfering the scrolls to her spellbook.
Like in the last ambush, her first instinct is protection. The words and gestures for mage armor flow effortlessly, and her hand begins to glow faintly.
Just as she is about to press the hand to her own chest, she notices Casina struggling to her feet as well, the paladin's new shiny armor laying beside her. One way or the other, the fight will be over before she can even get the thing unbuckled.
Taking a single step, Maidie steps closer to Casina and reaches out, pulling her to her feet. As she clasps her forearm, the glow from her hand spreads rapidly to cover Casina's body.
"You need this more than me. I'm not letting you face another fight in your nightshirt. Now go put that new axe to good use."
Casina jumped out of her bedroll. “I literally just got to sleep like five minutes ago!”
Two nights in a row of this was two too many for the young woman. Regardless of the rough awakening, Casina offered a thankful nod to Maidie and snatched up her new axe.
Timolt stumbles out of the tent the boys were sleeping in with a sheathed dagger in his left hand.
"Ol' Dead Eye protect us," he prays as he sees the zombies shuffling towards the tents on the platform that marks the entrance to the crypt. A timely prayer it proves to be as three of the zombies fall from the platform onto Bimbur and the tent where the girls were sleeping, trying to pin anyone in the tent and Bimbur under them and collapsing the tent in the process. The other three continue to shuffle along, hungry growls and snarls replacing their moaning as they spy fresh meat.
As the tent begins to fall, the ranger growls, ”Go, Grob, go!”
Somehow, Moon manages to break loose from the collapsing tent and swings her elfblade at the nearest undead. This was an enemy Arnama had taught her how to fight.
Arrows (20): xx
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Moon, with a lethal efficiency that's fast becoming her trademark, slices open the tent, ruining it but also allowing those around her move freely. The zombie that had landed between Anislee and Dimira looks baffled for a moment, as if its non-existent mind couldn't comprehend what it had just seen. The stench of death grows stronger as the zombie falls over into a pile of thick-cut rotting-flesh steaks and rancid blood pools around it. the thing's head rolls to Moon's feet and looks up at her as if to say "inconceivable" before the red glow of its eyes fades into the blackness of true death.
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Grobradon was on his way out when he heard the alarm cried out.. the tent threatened to collapse on him, then suddenly Moon was all in motion
As the tent begins to fall, the ranger growls, ”Go, Grob, go!”
And she is amazing!
Great. NOW I'm turned on again... he sees the zombie head spill rancid blood Or not.
He strides out, Sickle in hand, glad he was on watch so is armored. He's gonna need it. Seeing Bimbur in danger of being overrun, he slashes his sickle at the zombie near the monk.
Green Zombie - 4/12 HP
Grobradon steps up next to Bimbur and slices the zombie open from hip to shoulder. The smell does wonders for helping him keep his libido under control. The undead seems not to care that its entrails are now extrails. It snarls at the druid, unthinking hunger and malice in its eyes.
Vark comes out of the tent with a crossbow in his hands just as Moon puts on her impressive display. he nods grimly as he passes Timolt and loads a quarrel.
Dimira lets out a shriek as she realizes what's going on and sees the undead attacking the camp. She scrambles out from under the tent and zombie on top of her and runs towards the stables where the horses inside can be heard whinnying and bucking as they start to panic.
Unfortunately for the Kassenites, the night's horrors are only just beginning as from the darkened doors of the crypt come eight clattering skeletons followed by one girded in a breastplate and carrying a shield.
"Cut them off," it commands in a sinister and raspy voice, "Let none escape."
Six with drawn swords rush for the stairs while the other two use shortbows to attack from the platform. One aims at Anislee who is glancing around confused and frightened. The arrow streaks past her and shatters on the stone. The other aims at the lump in the tent that is Betzolte. The arrow strikes and sinks in deep.
The skeletal captain laughs as he hears the cries of fear and pain from the living. Roldare, already on the verge of panic screams in terror as he sees the undead horde coming to kill everyone camping by the stables.
he shrieks.
"It's...beautiful!" she exclaims, before recognizing the maker's mark. "Father made this?!"
She attempts to set the weapon down gently, but her haste makes it a tad rough, and she unfolds the letters. She reads them silently and she tears up a bit.
"I...I can scarcely believe it! These are priceless gifts! He must have been working on these for...at least a year!"
A thought suddenly comes to her mind unbidden: Once every month or so it seemed like her father had disappeared for reasons he never mentioned. Betzolte had thought nothing of it at the time, busy with her studies as she'd been, but now it all made sense. He'd been working on these in secret, all to prepare them for the day she'd find them in the Crypt. She also smiles a bit at Holgast's letter.
"I knew the 'doddering old fool' routine was a bit! Wily old Holgast!"
She turns to Gerol and the others
"Even if the surprise was spoiled a bit, I'd say it still had the intended effect. I'm going to hug my parents AND my master SO slagging hard when we get home!"
She takes up the clan dagger and holds it up to her lips.
"הנח את צעדיי," she whispers, and the blade begins to glow, as if heated by forge-flame, yet remaining cool to the touch.
"Guide my steps."
"Torag, Folgrit and all the gods! All these are just...magnificent!"
She excitedly packs up the gear and prepares for rest.
Betzolte is snoring away, hugging her new axe to her (with a leather sheath on the edge to keep it from cutting her face) when she's roused. First by the call to arms and the tent falling on her and then the arrow striking her. She gives a guttural shout as she tries to get loose.
Unable to disentangle herself, she draws her new clan dagger and slices through the tent fabric to get out.
Casina stepped passed Grob to stand beside Timolt.
“Too close to everyone. Be careful with your swings,” she told herself.
Orange Zombie - 10/12 HP
Dark Red Zombie - 7/12 HP
Bimbur collapses under impact of the zombie hitting him, but between Grobradon and Casina, the zombie is soon no longer an issue. The dwarf picks himself up and moves to get some distance between him and any zombies that might look to repeat the first one's performance.
While Casina is certain that these are undead, she can't recall anything useful at the moment about fighting them at the moment. It's possible the smell has something to do with it.
Meep wriggles free of the tent's remains, and starts scrambling for her weapons as she gets her hands and knees under her. Gerol grabs Roldare and shoves him towards the stables.
"You and Dimira calm the horses," he shouts before turning and taking a shot at one of the zombies still on the platform. "Damn it, they're trying to box us in!"
His bolt slams into the zombie, but it appears that the hit isn't as devastating as it first seemed. The bolt clatters on the stone after it's brushed off as if it were nothing more than some stray dust or leaves.
Roldare swallows, obviously terrifies, but manages to hold onto his nerve for now and pushes through to get by his sister's side.
Meanwhile, Anislee takes a look at the situation and lets out a curse. She grabs her dagger and goes after the zombie threatening Betzolte and tries to draw its attention to her. The dagger opens up a wicked gash on the creature, and Anislee swallows as she sees the undead turn its hateful, hungry glower on her.
Despite the shouting, stench, confusion and moans of the shambling undead, Maidie is surprised that the cold grip of terror from her first real combat the night before is much less intense. She can feel her heart pounding and the fear is still there, but buried beneath a layer of sharp focus.
Reaching down into the ruined tent, she grabs her pack and satchel, slinging them on. Whatever happens, she's not going to leave behind Tanglefoot or her spellbook.
In the blink of an eye, she is standing behind Moon.
She points the palm of her hand at the same zombie Gerol just shot. With a quick incantation, she sends a glob of acid flying towards the rotting undead.
"We have to regroup. I can summon mist to give us cover from the archers, but it will impair our vision too. Might give us time to barricade ourselves in the stable though." she says in a even voice, loud enough for those closest to her to hear, but hopefully not the skeletal leader.
Orange Zombie - 7/12 HP, Prone
Dark Red Zombie - 2/12 HP
The blob of acid sizzles and spits as it hits the zombie in the face. It seems not to notice nor care beyond glaring at Maidie.
"Yeah, and what if they just wait outside," Gerol hollers at the young wizard over the growing din.
Timolt looks around, fear clear in his wide eyes before he takes in a deep breath and hurries over to the corner where Anislee is facing down the last of the first three zombies and slashes at it with his dagger. The zombie is barely able to stand, but that makes it no less dangerous as its arms rise up and it tries to hammer Anislee into the ground. The young woman is quick enough to easily evade the clumsy blow, however.
The remaining three zombies drop off the platform in front of Casina, Gerol, and Grobradon. The one in front of Grobradon belly flobs with all of the grace of an obese goblin doing ballet while the other two, surprisingly spry for rotting corpses, land with a cat-like grace before Gerol and Casina.
"I wasn't thinking about someone else. I..." Facing whatever awaited in the crypt was less daunting than finishing that sentence.
Moon eyes the horde of enemies, and reconsiders which task is more daunting now.
"We're all gonna die! We're all gonna f#+*ing die," he shrieks.
She can’t help but mock Roldare a little bit despite the fierce odds. ”Calm yourself, you might scare the children.”
Gerol was right, the stables were a death-trap. And Maidie was correct, they needed to form up… which meant everyone had to be on their feet and moving in the right direction. Stragglers would be cut down. In a group - in the right location - they stood a far better chance.
Decision made, Moon hops and steps cautiously across the collapsed tent, to stand over Betz. She hated leaving her new bow behind but lives were more important. Goods could be replaced. She cuts down the wounded zombie. ”Get UP and MOVING, girls! Get to the space in front of the stables, between the tents, by our people! If you’ve got a weapon and can use it, get to a front! Collapse that other tent a bit, it may slow them down! We all stay together, we all stay alive!”
Arrows (20): xx
Orange Zombie - 7/12 HP, Prone
Moon's blade flashes in the ruddy light of the fire still burning in the stables and taking the edge off the chill just a little bit. Her form is almost perfect and the zombie crumples into a heap of sliced and rotting meat.
"Struggle all you wish. The end is the same," the skeletal captain taunts with a sinister laugh.
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Maidie grits her teeth and nods at the wisdom of those more familiar with physical combat.
All right, then. Nightgowns or not, we stand and fight.
”I think we found the brains of the operation up there. Moon, Casina, any chance you can get to him if the rest of us keep the footsoldiers occupied?”
Grobradon grunts as others yell orders.. and realizes that his breastplate just made him a front liner.
So be it. He growls in the back of his throat and slashes.
"Really wishing I studied other faiths and undead more." He admits.
Bimbur - 8/11 HP
Orange Zombie - 7/12 HP, Prone
Dark Red Skeleton - 4/4 HP, Prone
Dimira runs into the stables and starts trying to calm the horses. Vark grunts and ducks into the tent.
"Good thinking. Arnama always said you had a good head on your shoulders," he says as he begins working on collapsing the tent's back third.
The skeletal captain takes a few slow steps towards Maidie while lazily readying his bow. As soon as he nocks the arrow, however, his languid motions change into viper-like quickness as he lets loose an arrow. It flies straight and true, burying itself into the young wizard's belly. At first, there's no pain, just the hard impact, as if she'd been punched in the stomach, but as the captain begins to speak, she feels pain unlike anything else washing over her.
"You are a clever one, aren't you," he taunts as he gestures to the two skeletal archers on the platform that move up and closer to the edge. "I do hope you survive. Asar would love to meet you, I think."
Before Maidie can cry out in pain, another arrow slams home, just missing her heart and skewering her lung. She can feel the shaft quivering from the impact in both the wound in her breast and the wound out her back. She coughs once before collapsing into a heap.
The other skeleton misses badly, however, despite Grobradon being almost right at the tip of the arrow when it flies. The captain's good cheer evaporates as he glares at the ineffectual archer.
"You always were a lousy shot," he growls before stepping up and shoving the archer off the platform. "Do try and be useful down there."
The other half-dozen skeletons rush down the stairs, the lead one moving quickly enough to get a strike in at Bimbur while the others move to box off the only way out from the stables. The dwarf takes a shallow cut to the arm as he tries to avoid the blow.
"I think we are in trouble," he says almost conversationally as he finds himself at the front.