As the ripples roll forward, splashing footsteps appear in the water from someone unseen rushing directly toward the melee. The splashes stop directly behind Kumal. Kumal feels strength returning to his injured arms and neck. Kumal hears a voice, "Once more I am called to battle. We strike the foe now and be rid of it!"Kumal swings his blade and connects with both creatures. The head is severed from one and the other hisses in pain. "This old warrior thanks you for the taste of battle."
Kumal feels immediately energized as a few of the deeper cuts on his arms and neck fade slightly. Recognizing Wulfgar's voice, Kumal smiles grimly.
"Thank you, battle-brother," he grumbles before returning to his butchery.
Kumal swings his blade and connects with both creatures. The head is severed from one and the other hisses in pain.
"An impressive stroke. Maybe we all live for next day." Kerl smiles to himself. "I keep them warm while they finish it"
To hit 1d20+6=21
Restitance = 1d6+2=3Kerl scowls as he nearly misses his target but manages to give some warth to his ally. "Sometimes I burn too much sometimes too little."
Kumal feels immediately energized as a few of the deeper cuts on his arms and neck fade slightly. Recognizing Wulfgar's voice, Kumal smiles grimly.
"Thank you, battle-brother," he grumbles before returning to his butchery.
A sweeping stroke of Kumal's blade opens the thing. Rotted blue-black guts fall into the water and freeze it with a cracking sound. Held still by the frozen water, Nye's bolt unerringly blasts the frozen heart through it's back, stripping the necrotic energy from it. This last undead falls into the stream like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
This last undead falls into the stream like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
After the last foe falls, Kumal returns his greatsword to the soft leather sheath across his back. Shaking his head, the barbarian turns abruptly and staggers back to the campsite. He then lowers himself to a sitting position and takes several huge swallows from a bottle of the gold-panners' whiskey. After draining a good portion of the firey liquor, Kumal uses the rest to methodically wash and clean the half-dozen or so deep cuts on his arms and neck.
"Gorum's balls," he mutters almost to himself. "A plague on the undead! I'd rather fight an entire lance of Karvegian cavalry! At least they have the decency to bleed and die like true men." He shakes his head and spits in utter disgust.
The crackling of necromantic energy disperses as the last creature falls back into the icy flow. With out a word, Nye solemnly collects his gear and retires to his tent with a brooding far off look in his eyes.
"By the gods," Thurgar roars as the icy shock hits him. The stalwart dwarf battles onward, doing his best to ignore the chill.
Watching the last foe fall away under the blows of his comrades, he lets out a sigh, "Curse the undead to the hells!"
He stomps out of the freezing water, shivering already.
Garyn stows his bow with the precise movement of someone who has done it thousands of times. He jogs quickly to Nalan's side. He quickly ushers the young man to the fire.
"Here let's get your hands warmed back up." He glances at Klay. "Are you all right?" He whistles to Bartleby. "Stay here with this man, and make sure he's safe."
Perhaps due to the recent excitement, or perhaps Garyn isn't is assertive as he should be, Bartleby refuses to stay, instead staying at his master's heels.
After seeing to the man and his boys, Garyn busies himself over the fire, setting water to boil and pulling out a small pouch of herbs. He hums a song to himself while measuring out the dried plants and dropping them into the pot. The task finished, he stows the pouch, wipes his hands briskly on his breeches, and goes over to make a quick cursory inspection of the undead.
After the gruesome investigation, Garyn, walks over to Nye's tent.
"Oi, friend, are you all right?" he asks quietly.
After a brief conversation, Garyn returns to the fire. Patting Kumal on the back gently, he says, "Good fighting, my brother." He nods towards the pot. "That foul smelling brew is one me Mum used to make for me when I was under the weather. Here in an hour or so it'll be ready. Be careful and just take a sip, for too much'll make you feel like Wulfgar is tap dancing on your guts. There should be enough for everyone there, including you and your boys, Klay."
"Now, if things are calmed down, what in the Nine Blue Hells were those things? I've killed me some undead from ghouls to zombies, but never anything so...so cold."
As the conversation progresses, Garyn pulls out a weather-beaten journal, makes three hash marks on a page in the back, and jots down anything important that is said.
After a brief conversation, Garyn returns to the fire. Patting Kumal on the back gently, he says, "Good fighting, my brother." He nods towards the pot. "That foul smelling brew is one me Mum used to make for me when I was under the weather. Here in an hour or so it'll be ready. Be careful and just take a sip, for too much'll make you feel like Wulfgar is tap dancing on your guts. There should be enough for everyone there, including you and your boys, Klay."
Kumal nods solemnly. "Aye, brother," he says. "I'll drink your brew."
"Now, if things are calmed down, what in the Nine Blue Hells were those things? I've killed me some undead from ghouls to zombies, but never anything so...so cold."
As the conversation progresses, Garyn pulls out a weather-beaten journal,...
Kumal watches as the ranger begins to put pen to his journal. After a moment of brooding silence, he spits out a mouthful of blood and whiskey-spiced plegm.
"Those were the 'Frozen Dead'," he says matter-of-factly. "As a boy, the tribal elders spoke of them. They are evil spirits of winter bound in the flesh of dead men. They feed on the warm flesh and blood of the living. They are abominations."
For Garyn
Alright? Of course were not alright. Death looms at us all and soon we’ll be no better than those cold dead things, hungrily stalking the living to devour their worthless souls!” Nye waves his hand and the interior of the tent darkens to match his foul mood. The gnome’s eyes are no longer bright and exuberant, but seem to be looking towards the future as if they were seeing the ranger dead before him. Nye then turns away from his companion indicating thier coversation is over.
"Those were the 'Frozen Dead'," he says matter-of-factly. "As a boy, the tribal elders spoke of them. They are evil spirits of winter bound in the flesh of dead men. They feed on the warm flesh and blood of the living. They are abominations."
"Gods, man," Garyn says shaking his head. "those are more than abominations. How did they come to be?"
Garyn looks to Klay and his boys, "Have you been having much problems with the undead recently? I thought Merzel's Falls had been relatively free from these creatures, or any of their kin recently."
Kumal watches as the ranger begins to put pen to his journal. After a moment of brooding silence, he spits out a mouthful of blood and whiskey-spiced plegm.
"Those were the 'Frozen Dead'," he says matter-of-factly. "As a boy, the tribal elders spoke of them. They are evil spirits of winter bound in the flesh of dead men. They feed on the warm flesh and blood of the living. They are abominations."
Kerl sits by the fire and silently digests this information. Winter is a season. Seasons are not evil they just are. It must be some other spirit Kumal means. Kerl does not argue the point. Kerl agrees they were undead and undead are best destroyed.
Kerl noted the look on the Nye's face and Garyn's actions. They took this battle personal. Taking the enemy personal is not always good. Kerl's makes a note to watch in future.
To see one undead is unlucky but three is something more. Kerl stares at the river and then looks upstream before turning to the prospectors.
This river, does it pass near the town where we are headed?
"By the gods," Thurgar roars as the icy shock hits him. The stalwart dwarf battles onward, doing his best to ignore the chill.
Watching the last foe fall away under the blows of his comrades, he lets out a sigh, "Curse the undead to the hells!"
He stomps out of the freezing water, shivering already.
Thurgar begins shivering so badly an observer might think he was starting to have a seizure. "C-C-c-c-curse th-th-the und-d-d-d-dead t-t-t-t-to th-th-th-the h-h-h-h-hells!" It takes Thurgar nearly a minute for to shake off the bone chills.
Garyn stows his bow with the precise movement of someone who has done it thousands of times. He jogs quickly to Nalan's side. He quickly ushers the young man to the fire.
"Here let's get your hands warmed back up." He glances at Klay. "Are you all right?"
"I'm feelin' fine. My hands don't hurt no more!" Everyone can see that his hands are back to normal. He looks to his father and then to Wulfgar. "I'm not a warrior but I thank the Warrior-God's servant for restorin' my hands."
After seeing to the man and his boys, Garyn busies himself over the fire, setting water to boil and pulling out a small pouch of herbs. He hums a song to himself while measuring out the dried plants and dropping them into the pot. The task finished, he stows the pouch, wipes his hands briskly on his breeches, and goes over to make a quick cursory inspection of the undead.
After the gruesome investigation, Garyn, walks over to Nye's tent.
After a brief conversation, Garyn returns to the fire. Patting Kumal on the back gently, he says, "Good fighting, my brother." He nods towards the pot. "That foul smelling brew is one me Mum used to make for me when I was under the weather. Here in an hour or so it'll be ready. Be careful and just take a sip, for too much'll make you feel like Wulfgar is tap dancing on your guts. There should be enough for everyone there, including you and your boys, Klay."
"Now, if things are calmed down, what in the Nine Blue Hells were those things? I've killed me some undead from ghouls to zombies, but never anything so...so cold."
As the conversation progresses, Garyn pulls out a weather-beaten journal,...
Klay ambles up to the fire, "No sir. Never seen the kind afore. I've seen a shambler or two. Easy enuff to put one thru it's head," he mimics an arrow being fired from a bow. "Last dangerous one I seen was pernt near 20 years ago. Damn brain-eatin' ghoul maker! Fer once the Tyrants were doin' more than pickin' at their scales and give some of us shooters some blessed arras."
He reaches into a half-quiver of arrows on his hip. He pulls out a black arrow, the fire barely reveals the runes on it. Klay smiles, "I only needed one. Mister, take this. I ain't got the eye to do this arra justice." He offers it to Garyn.
"Those were the 'Frozen Dead'," he says matter-of-factly. "As a boy, the tribal elders spoke of them. They are evil spirits of winter bound in the flesh of dead men. They feed on the warm flesh and blood of the living. They are abominations.""Gods, man," Garyn says shaking his head. "those are more than abominations. How did they come to be?"
Garyn looks to Klay and his boys, "Have you been having much problems with the undead recently? I thought Merzel's Falls had been relatively free from these creatures, or any of their kin recently."
Klay looks you in the eye, "No. There hasn't. Matter of fact, folks were startin' to think they were all but gone. Bad luck fer a Rusher to enter the falls first. But I think we need to see what's what afore the Suppliers get there."
This river, does it pass near the town where we are headed?
This last undead falls into the stream like a puppet whose strings have been cut.After the last foe falls, Kumal returns his greatsword to the soft leather sheath across his back. Shaking his head, the barbarian turns abruptly and staggers back to the campsite. He then lowers himself to a sitting position and takes several huge swallows from a bottle of the gold-panners' whiskey. After draining a good portion of the firey liquor, Kumal uses the rest to methodically wash and clean the half-dozen or so deep cuts on his arms and neck.
As Kerl walks by the he touches Kumal with his holy symbol.
Cure light wounds 1d8+5=13 The cuts seal and fade.Rest well tonight.
"I'm feelin' fine. My hands don't hurt no more!" Everyone can see that his hands are back to normal. He looks to his father and then to Wulfgar. "I'm not a warrior but I thank the Warrior-God's servant for restorin' my hands."
Garyn slaps the boy firmly on the back, grins tightly, and moves on.
He reaches into a half-quiver of arrows on his hip. He pulls out a black arrow, the fire barely reveals the runes on it. Klay smiles, "I only needed one. Mister, take this. I ain't got the eye to do this arra justice." He offers it to Garyn.
Garyn nods solemnly to Klay. "I thank you, friend. A bow may be a mighty weapon, but it's of no use at all if you don't choose your ammunition wisely. I'll put this arrow to good use." He turns it over in his hands. "A fine one this is!"
Klay looks you in the eye, "No. There hasn't. Matter of fact, folks were startin' to think they were all but gone. Bad luck fer a Rusher to enter the falls first. But I think we need to see what's what afore the Suppliers get there."
"Aye, I agree, but we need our rest first. I say we get some sleep and start out before dawn tomorrow. Anyone in disagreement?" After waiting for agreement or dissention, Garyn volunteers to take first watch since he was uninjured during the encounter with the undead.
Gods, he broods during his watch, alternating sketching in the journal and scanning beyond the firelight with his keen senses, if creatures like these are at the Falls, we most certainly have our work cut out for us.
He let's out a long drawn out sigh, and stows the journal and charcoal pencil and rises to make his patrol around the campsite one last time.
Thurgar stomps back over to the fire, rubbing his arms to try and warm up. Finally, the unnatural chill leaves, replaced by a more normal chill.
He squats on his heels by the fire warming himself and listening to his companions conversations.
Taking a small swig of his liquor he tucks the flask safely away.
As he listen's his eyes flick over to the gnome's tent. The fellow had skills, but Thurgar was a bit concerned as he seemed to take the undead almost personally.
He didn't hear what was said between Garyn and Nye, but the gnome, while talented, was new to the business it seemed.
He finally speaks up, "I don't no nothing about the undead. But my guess is that these three aren't gonna be the only things we find up here. One, maybe, it just got lost or whatever they do. But three? Can't be a good sign."
He rummages in his pouch for a bit of jerky and gnaws on it thinking.
I'll take the last watch.
perception check if needed1d20+10=26
Kerl looks over some scrolls from his pack and makes a few marks in the dirt. He had planned for the normal dangers of the trail. If there were undead in town he should change a few of his spells at morning prayer. Then again undead may not be in town. Kerl makes a few more marks in the dirt then apparently satisfied he turns his attention back to the camp.
Garyn nods solemnly to Klay. "I thank you, friend. A bow may be a mighty weapon, but it's of no use at all if you don't choose your ammunition wisely. I'll put this arrow to good use." He turns it over in his hands. "A fine one this is!"
"Aye, I agree, but we need our rest first. I say we get some sleep and start out before dawn tomorrow. Anyone in disagreement?" After waiting for agreement or dissention, Garyn volunteers to take first watch since he was uninjured during the encounter with the undead.
Gods, he broods during his watch, alternating sketching in the journal and scanning beyond the firelight with his keen senses, if creatures like these are at the Falls, we most certainly have our work cut out for us.
He let's out a long drawn out sigh, and stows the journal and charcoal pencil and rises to make his patrol around the campsite one last time.
Bartleby becomes alert, ears forward, looking northward. Garyn now hears a faint wail. Ears straining, Garyn hears, "no nO NO!"
"Friends," Garyn calls sharply, already stringing his bow. "I hear wailing from the north. I hope it's nothing, but I'm not about to investigate alone. Arise!"
Garyn goes from companion to companion, making sure they are awake and does what he can to help them get combat ready.
"I hope this isn't a false alarm, but I'd rather be too wary than food for these creatures."
I hope I'm wrong, he thinks helping Kumal and Thurgar ready their weapons. Desna's blood, I hope I'm wrong.
"Friends," Garyn calls sharply, already stringing his bow. "I hear wailing from the north. I hope it's nothing, but I'm not about to investigate alone. Arise!"
Garyn goes from companion to companion, making sure they are awake and does what he can to help them get combat ready.
Kumal, still wearing his studded leather vest and breeches, is awake, alert, and standing almost immediately. Gathering his weapons and meager gear, he moves to join Garyn.
"I hope this isn't a false alarm, but I'd rather be too wary than food for these creatures."
Kumal, his gear readied, considers a moment. "Aye," he says to Garyn. "Worse yet, it could be a trap...or possibly a trick to lure us away from protecting the gold-panners."
The barbarian shakes his head, almost in annoyance. "It matters not," he says. "Better to meet the enemy head on, than sit in the dark and wait like frightened sucklings. Come, we've some bloody business to attend to."
Kumal, his gear readied, considers a moment. "Aye," he says to Garyn. "Worse yet, it could be a trap...or possibly a trick to lure us away from protecting the gold-panners."The barbarian shakes his head, almost in annoyance. "It matters not," he says. "Better to meet the enemy head on, than sit in the dark and wait like frightened sucklings. Come, we've some bloody business to attend to."
Kerl grunts as he pulls himself up to his feet. He quickly adjusts his armor from where it shifted while he slept and checks his shield then pulls his scimitar. It feels like a trap to him but hopefully whoever set it is only expecting the miners not them. He moves to the edge of the camp's light and stares out into the woods letting his eyes shift to darkvision.
Let us go see
[/ooc] Kerl will stay 20-30 feet to the right of Garyn scanning the forest as we move forward.
perception 1d20+10=29 No one is sneaking up on me.
[/ooc]
Thurgar stretches, grumbling softly.
"Now, what is it," he crawls out of his bedroll and gathers his warhammer and shield.
He join, Kumal, Kerl, and Garyn as they prepare themselves.
"Ah, do ya think we should leave one or two back to watch the camp? Seeing as I can see in the dark I'm 'pecting I should go out to check what's up. But, seems there are many things that go 'bump in the night' around here," he finishes checking his gear and looks to his comrades.
Klay stands up with his mace in hand, "I figger we all oughtta go. Splittin' up just seems like a bad idear. Give me an' the boys a tic and a haf."
With practiced ease, they begin tearing down the camp. He doesn't look wrong about his time estimate either.
Klay stands up with his mace in hand, "I figger we all oughtta go. Splittin' up just seems like a bad idear. Give me an' the boys a tic and a haf."
"Aye, a sound plan," Garyn affirms. "Hurry as best you can. Whoever is out there sounds like they may not have time to spare." He helps pack up everything as quickly as possible.
When all is ready, Garyn moves slightly ahead of the rest in the direction of the noise, doing his best to be just a darker shadow in the already dark night. He knocks an arrow as he moves, eyes open wide to take advantage of the meager light from the moon and the stars.
Damn, it had to be dark as death tonight. I can hardly see my hand in front of my face! Garyn clenches his teeth against his fear and the bitter cold as he stalks his quarry through the inky darkness.
Nye gumbles under his breath as the tents are pulled down, once ready to go he peers into the darkness looking for trouble.
"Aye, not a bad idea. The more the better I say. More eyes in the dark and less risk of an accidental arrow from a friend coming back to camp in the dark," Thurgar deftly rolls his bedroll up and stows it away.
He peers off into the darkness, scanning for anything in the night.
The trail turns north before climbing a small rise. On either side of the trail, cloth dolls and wicker totems of wild beasts hang in the
trees. Black mold spots the dolls’ skin, and one lies on the ground, ripped and spilling its salt innards.
"Supplier families hang these up," Klay whispers, pointing to the dolls and totems. "Hopin' it'll protect the town while they're gone."
Cresting a small rise, the trail empties into a ghost town. A sickle moon casts its light upon the north faces of five abandoned log cabins. Across an open space of scrub grasses and six month old saplings, these cabins face the shadowed doors of five more. Somewhere a door creaks open and slaps shut with the wind. Ice cracking disturbs the silence in between.
Dead smells waft in the air. A wide flat boulder rests like a table atop a cluster of jagged rocks. Upon it sit a human and a dwarf wearing brown pelts. Another human dressed in dirty rags watches in horror as the other two use their swords to flay strips of skin from their own forearms. The seated ones’ faces and arms are bleeding, bloody patchworks.
Dead smells waft in the air. A wide flat boulder rests like a table atop a cluster of jagged rocks. Upon it sit a human and a dwarf wearing brown pelts. Another human dressed in dirty rags watches in horror as the other two use their swords to flay strips of skin from their own forearms. The seated ones’ faces and arms are bleeding, bloody patchworks.
Kumal, at he fore of the party alongside the wilderness experts Garyn and Kerl, lays a heavy hand on Garyn's shoulder before he drops into a crouching position.
"Down," he hisses. "I don't think they've seen us yet. This could be a trap....wait and watch."
Turning to Klay, Kumal waves him forward. When Klay moves up, Kumal nods toward the grisly scene below.
"Friends of yours?" the barbarian asks.
Nye draws an oak sapling wand from his belt and trys to hide in the darkness that surrounds them.
Garyn drops into an easy crouch, arrow still knocked.
"Gods," he murmurs, disgust evident in his voice. "What are they doing?"
His keen eyes scan the area. "It does feel like a trap. Hold for just a few more moments."
Thurgar mentally curses all the non-existent gods for what he's seeing. Disgusted, he stows his shield and warhammer and draws out his bow.
Moving as quietly as an armored dwarf can he crouches in wait with the others.
Dead smells waft in the air. A wide flat boulder rests like a table atop a cluster of jagged rocks. Upon it sit a human and a dwarf wearing brown pelts. Another human dressed in dirty rags watches in horror as the other two use their swords to flay strips of skin from their own forearms. The seated ones’ faces and arms are bleeding, bloody patchworks.
Kerl moves behind some cover and looks at the two in disgust. At least they are not more undead.
Stealth 1d20=15
Kumal, at he fore of the party alongside the wilderness experts Garyn and Kerl, lays a heavy hand on Garyn's shoulder before he drops into a crouching position.
"Down," he hisses. "I don't think they've seen us yet. This could be a trap....wait and watch."
Turning to Klay, Kumal waves him forward. When Klay moves up, Kumal nods toward the grisly scene below.
"Friends of yours?" the barbarian asks.
"By the Scaly Hells!" Klay shakes his head. "Never seen 'em afore."
The trail that has led to Merzel's Fall enters from the Southeast. The tablerock is about 45' away from where everyone has taken cover. The other buildings are to the West of the tablerock.
The dwarf pulls a strip of flesh from his elbow to wrist off of his arm. Holding it up, it darkens and then blackens with rot, as if exposure to the air was the catalyst. He drops it on the tablerock where it makes a wet, slapping sound.
From the midst of your group someone begins to retch. Klay's oldest, unable to contain himself, vomits loudly. The dwarf and the two humans' heads snap up, looking for the source. Seconds later, the dwarf, then the human vanish, leaving the ratty and filthy human alone. Looking around in panic, he begins to run West toward the buildings.
Nye watches the gruesome events unfolding, the foulness of it breaking into his dark demeanor. "I think they need help," he whispers than jumps up from his hidding spot and chases after the human. "Wait! We can help."
Nye watches the gruesome events unfolding, the foulness of it breaking into his dark demeanor. "I think they need help," he whispers than jumps up from his hidding spot and chases after the human. "Wait! We can help."
Garyn looks with disbelief at the gnome. So much for the element of surprise, he thinks. Still, he has courage, and acted on it before any of us.
"Come friends," Garyn hisses, "we've work yet to do this night." He rises and jogs quickly after Nye, scanning the area for the vanished creatures.
Nye watches the gruesome events unfolding, the foulness of it breaking into his dark demeanor. "I think they need help," he whispers than jumps up from his hidding spot and chases after the human. "Wait! We can help."
Then we shall enter the town boldly. Kerl smiles and follows Nye.
"Come friends," Garyn hisses, "we've work yet to do this night." He rises and jogs quickly after Nye, scanning the area for the vanished creatures.
Kumal's eyes widen as the gnome breaks cover and rushes into the open. Growling savagely, he springs to his feet and rushes after his reckless companion.
[Then we shall enter the town boldly. Kerl smiles and follows Nye.
As Kerl walks forwards he puts up his scimitar and pulls out a scroll of farie fire from his pack.
Thurgar comes with the others, bow at ready.
"Has our gnome friend gone mad?" Thurgar mutters to himself.
I am still here following the gnome into town.