Walking Dad
First Post
"I have no idea, but I doubt it will be something good..." Xenon replies with a whisper, the hooror of the scene all the more clear with his added darkvision.
[3.5] A Dark and Stormy Night
- Thread starter Mark Chance
- Start date
Mark Chance
Boingy! Boingy!
As he takes linens down to cover the bodies, Gundigoot says, "We've a few trackers in town, but with the cursed storm.... Tracking an army'd be hard to do."
Graybeard
Explorer
It may be best if we return to the safety of the Inn for the rest of the night. With the weather as bad as this we won't be able to track anyone or anything tonight. It makes me angry that an innocent child is in danger. If there was a chance we could rescue it tonight, I would do it. Norim suggests.
Mark Chance
Boingy! Boingy!
The morning sun lurks behind dark clouds that scud across the sky. The roads are thick with mud. Crews of laborers cut loose from their duties working for Burne, the Mage of Hommlet, busy themselves clearing away debris torn loose by last night's storm. White and yellow robed acolytes of St. Cuthbert tend to the human remains, both of the few zombies destroyed plus those villagers who fell victim to the monsters.
Other villagers shuffle downcast toward the village elder's walled manor house. Elder Nicholas called an emergency meeting of the village council. The flagstone courtyard before Nicholas's house is packed. The village council stands on the steps leading up to the house's facade.
The village council consists of Elder Nicholas, a retired farmer; Jaroo, the Druid of the Grove; the Canon Terjon, priest of St. Cuthbert; Mytch the Miller; Burne and Rufus, the pair of semi-retired adventurers who live in the tower on the east side of town; Randall, retired fighter turned farmer and captain of the watch; and Ostler Gundigoot.
Each member of the council speaks in turn, tell what they witnessed last night. Gundigoot mentions the heroism of the Norim, Tetsuko, Gordon, and Xenon. Appreciate murmurs ripple through the crowd. A farmer claps Norim on the back.
The last to speak are Canon Terjon and Jaroo. Both men are old, with silver-white hair, but there the likeness ends. Terjon is tall, straight, and aristocratic, with neatly trimmed hair and beard. He appears almost regal in his gold and silver vestments. Jaroo is short, bent slightly, and weathered, almost as if he is made of leather. His hair and beard are untamed, and his clothing is simple homespun.
"These zombies," Canon Terjon says, "are not of the usual sort. Something in their bites transfers black magic to deceased victims, causing them to rise again as zombies. Fortunately -- if one can speak of fortune this morning -- if the victim is sufficiently damaged, it will not rise again. Undead of this sort are almost always servitors of an evil master, usually a follower of Nerull or Vecna." Frightened whispers hiss through the crowd. "The fact that Jerard's baby has been taken also speaks of a foul necromancer's presence."
Jaroo nods as he steps forward. "The zombies came out of the woods in the direction of the old moathouse. My friends in the forest have told me that much. Those ruins have been the source of trouble for Hommlet before. Bandits, orcs, and worse have sought shelter there. Little Leo may have been taken there."
Exclamations and oaths burst from the crowd. Expressions of anger and despair fill the muggy, morning air. Elder Nicholas steps to Jaroo's side, rising his right hand. A hush falls over the crowd.
"There is more, good people. Burne --" Nicholas gestures to the Mage of Hommlet. "-- believes that the infant Leo has been taken as only the first step for some unspeakable ritual."
Burne nods. His gravelly voice is loud and authoritative. "Aye, Nicholas. The numbers five and seven are instrumental in the profane rituals of Vecna and Nerull. If followers of either of these wicked deities are involved, we can expect more abductions. My Badgers are as always at Hommlet's disposal. We must take steps to defend the village."
"Also," says Nicholas, "we need volunteers to go to the moathouse. Leo must be saved."
Other villagers shuffle downcast toward the village elder's walled manor house. Elder Nicholas called an emergency meeting of the village council. The flagstone courtyard before Nicholas's house is packed. The village council stands on the steps leading up to the house's facade.
The village council consists of Elder Nicholas, a retired farmer; Jaroo, the Druid of the Grove; the Canon Terjon, priest of St. Cuthbert; Mytch the Miller; Burne and Rufus, the pair of semi-retired adventurers who live in the tower on the east side of town; Randall, retired fighter turned farmer and captain of the watch; and Ostler Gundigoot.
Each member of the council speaks in turn, tell what they witnessed last night. Gundigoot mentions the heroism of the Norim, Tetsuko, Gordon, and Xenon. Appreciate murmurs ripple through the crowd. A farmer claps Norim on the back.
The last to speak are Canon Terjon and Jaroo. Both men are old, with silver-white hair, but there the likeness ends. Terjon is tall, straight, and aristocratic, with neatly trimmed hair and beard. He appears almost regal in his gold and silver vestments. Jaroo is short, bent slightly, and weathered, almost as if he is made of leather. His hair and beard are untamed, and his clothing is simple homespun.
"These zombies," Canon Terjon says, "are not of the usual sort. Something in their bites transfers black magic to deceased victims, causing them to rise again as zombies. Fortunately -- if one can speak of fortune this morning -- if the victim is sufficiently damaged, it will not rise again. Undead of this sort are almost always servitors of an evil master, usually a follower of Nerull or Vecna." Frightened whispers hiss through the crowd. "The fact that Jerard's baby has been taken also speaks of a foul necromancer's presence."
Jaroo nods as he steps forward. "The zombies came out of the woods in the direction of the old moathouse. My friends in the forest have told me that much. Those ruins have been the source of trouble for Hommlet before. Bandits, orcs, and worse have sought shelter there. Little Leo may have been taken there."
Exclamations and oaths burst from the crowd. Expressions of anger and despair fill the muggy, morning air. Elder Nicholas steps to Jaroo's side, rising his right hand. A hush falls over the crowd.
"There is more, good people. Burne --" Nicholas gestures to the Mage of Hommlet. "-- believes that the infant Leo has been taken as only the first step for some unspeakable ritual."
Burne nods. His gravelly voice is loud and authoritative. "Aye, Nicholas. The numbers five and seven are instrumental in the profane rituals of Vecna and Nerull. If followers of either of these wicked deities are involved, we can expect more abductions. My Badgers are as always at Hommlet's disposal. We must take steps to defend the village."
"Also," says Nicholas, "we need volunteers to go to the moathouse. Leo must be saved."
Last edited:
Walking Dad
First Post
Hearing the last words, Xenon looks at Norrim, who has established himself as a sort of group speaker. The Xeph still feels a little bit strange around that much humans, but he trusts his companions very much.
Le Noir Faineant
Explorer
One of the hooded monks of St. Cuthbert that had flanked Terjon during the meeting suddenly makes a step forward and raises his voice.
"Reverend Terjon, Sir, please let me accompany these men. The explorers might need a cleric to back them up against the forces of the darkness, and, among the novices, I am the one with the highest experience in fighting the undead."
"Reverend Terjon, Sir, please let me accompany these men. The explorers might need a cleric to back them up against the forces of the darkness, and, among the novices, I am the one with the highest experience in fighting the undead."
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