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The Kordovian Adventurers Guild
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<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 6708152" data-attributes="member: 508"><p><strong>ADVENTURE 5: THE ZOMBIE BIRTHSTONE</strong></p><p></p><p>Game Session Date: 19 September 2015</p><p></p><p></p><p>As twilight approached, the temperature dropped and mist started rising up along the ground – it looked like the Kordovian adventurers were in for a cold, damp night. They'd opted to sleep out in the open the night before, after having been paid by Lord Cavelthorne, but the weather then had been much nicer: a clear, warm night filled with bright stars - not like tonight, with no stars visible at all through the overcast skies. They'd made a brief return to the village of Collinsdale to pick up some healing potions and scrolls from a small magic shop, Finoula had purchased a pony which she named <strong>Daisy</strong>, and then the group continued south on their quest for adventure. It had been an uneventful day, full of pleasant scenery but with little in the way of treasure accumulation.</p><p></p><p>Ingebold shook the reins, urging the mules to a faster speed, hoping to find a town before visibility dropped to nothing. Fortunately, a faint light became visible just ahead. As they got closer, the heroes could make out a small cluster of buildings, among them a two-story wooden structure with a sign denoting it "The Kettlepot Inn." Just outside the inn were a communal well and a small, stone structure, about waist-high to a human, standing in what looked to be the middle of the small farming village.</p><p></p><p>"All right!" exclaimed Castillan. "We can sleep inside tonight!"</p><p></p><p>"We'll see," replied Ingebold, unsure if she were willing to spend the group's accumulated money on mere conveniences when it could be returned to Kordovia, where it was much needed to purchase arms, weapons, and the skills of mercenary fighters to help protect against the orcs and goblins of the Vesve Forest.</p><p></p><p>"Oh, come on," wheedled Castillan. "We're talking a couple of gold coins, tops. I'll even pay."</p><p></p><p>The elven bounder's predictions turned out to be correct; years of living in similar inns and taverns in Kordovia had apparently given him a strong foundation of knowledge about such things. The owners of the Kettlepot Inn, a human couple named <strong>Trent and Darcy Godfrey</strong>, charged 5 pieces of silver per night for a bed. Three more pieces of silver purchased a meal for the evening, a thick lamb stew and fresh cornbread. Even with the price of several mugs of ale apiece, the bill totaled only a bit over 5 gold pieces; Castillan happily tossed over 6 gold coins and refused any change.</p><p></p><p>There were a few locals in attendance that night, there for the food, the ale, and the company, but none besides the adventurers took any rooms. Once the locals found out the strangers were adventurers, they were filled with all sorts of questions about their exploits. Castillan, the most well-versed in tavern tale-telling, was more than happy oblige with action-packed stories of their scant exploits thus far, coached in such a way as to lead those listening into believing these were just a few of a vast stock of such daring adventures.</p><p></p><p>The locals had some stories of their own, too. One farmhand told the tale of a one-eyed fish he'd caught in a creek not too long ago; another farmer gave his neighbor a hard time about the black mustang that only seemed to ever show up when there was nobody else around to witness it. And Darcy explained about the stone object out by the well: it was all that was left of their obelisk to Pelor, which some vandals had smashed up about a week ago. The small village's own <strong>Dolbry Mason</strong> had determined it couldn't be fixed, but was working on a replacement he said should be ready in a couple of days. "In fact," Darcy said, "he's probably down in his shop right now, working on it. It's just down the hill from us a bit."</p><p></p><p>By about eight bells, the locals - most of them farmers, and used to farmers' hours - finished up their drinks and headed out into the thick mist to return to their own homes. Darcy bid the heroes a good night, leaving her husband Trent to tend to any of their further needs. The four teens that worked at the inn - <strong>Tulia</strong> and <strong>Chelsea</strong>, the serving maids, plus hired hands <strong>Chebbly</strong> and <strong>Grant</strong> - all retired to their two shared rooms in the residents' wing of the inn, bidding the heroes a good night as well. (Tulia even favored Castillan with a wink and a smile.) But the adventurers, not wanting to keep Trent up too late, finished their drinks and headed up to their rooms. They had rented three rooms, each holding two beds: the ladies had a room to themselves, while Gilbert and Castillan shared another and the third was split by Binkadink and Darrien. As the Kettlepot Inn lacked a stables, the mules and pony had been left with their bridles tied to a hitching post, where they had access to rainwater accumulated in a rough trough. Obvious curled up underneath the wagon, which they had parked next to a clump of trees off to the side of the inn.</p><p></p><p>Sleep came easily to the group - or at least to those who slept; Castillan and Finoula slipped into their nightly trances, letting their minds wander over their accumulated decades of memories. All was quiet in the Kettlepot Inn and its surrounding environs, the silent mist wrapping the structure in a cocoon of tranquility...for all of about six hours.</p><p></p><p>Several hours past midnight, a piercing scream broke the silence of the night. Upstairs, four of the heroes snapped to attention, leaping up out of bed and grabbing up weapons, while Ingebold and Gilbert slept on. But their roommates shook them awake.</p><p></p><p>"What's happening?" asked Ingebold, rubbing sleep from her eyes.</p><p></p><p>"There was a man's scream from downstairs," replied Finoula, grabbing up her matched swords. Next door, Castillan was opening the door to his room and peering out over the railing to the common area below. In the dim light of the glowing embers from the fireplace, the bounder's elven eyes could pick out two shapes in the room below. They seemed to be embracing - at least, until the sound of ripping flesh alerted Castillan to the fact that one of them had just taken a chunk of flesh out of the other's neck. Bleeding profusely, the innkeeper Trent Godfrey - clad only in his nightshirt - fell to the floor. The other figure bent over him, ripping out hunks of his flesh and greedily gobbling them down.</p><p></p><p>Castillan went to the other bedrooms and ensured his companions were up and ready, as Darrien crept down the hallway and positioned himself for a bowshot at the hunched-over figure. Binkadink tapped into his gnomish heritage and conjured up a set of <em>dancing lights</em>, which he positioned in the air above the common room. The sudden illumination confirmed what those of elven background had been able to see in the dim light: Trent was dead on the floor, while a zombie hunched over him, devouring his rapidly cooling flesh.</p><p></p><p>Binkadink raced down the stairs as fast as his gnomish legs would carry him, but was still passed by Finoula, her swords in hand. Upstairs in the hallway, Ingebold tried turning the zombie, but her sleep-deprived state likely interfered with her concentration for the effort had no visible effect. Standing next to her, Gilbert cast a <em>grease</em> spell on the floor underneath the zombie's feet. Castillan had leapt over the railing and onto a table near the zombie, but he landed poorly and set a candle and its holder clattering noisily to the floor. The zombie rose up to attack the bounder, but a combination of Darrien's well-placed arrow and Gilbert's spell had the undead thing sprawling to the floor.</p><p></p><p>Castillan took the opportunity to leap over to the next table, then step down to close the front door, which was wide open and letting in a stream of white mist. He put the thick, wooden bar in place while he was at it, just in case there were any more zombies out there waiting to get in.</p><p></p><p>On the floor behind Castillan, the zombie rose back up, but Finoula was ready and cut it nearly in twain. It fell to the floor and did not rise again. The ranger noticed that this one was wearing not only a full set of clothes but also a leather apron; this was likely the stonemason, Dolbry.</p><p></p><p>"It looks like that's it," Finoula said, turning to the others. Gilbert and Ingebold were heading down the stairs, while Darrien remained at his station and gave the whole place a once-over, verifying for himself that there were no more enemies at hand.</p><p></p><p>It was at that point in time that Trent rose back up to his feet. He managed to steady himself on the still-slippery floor, but that was enough for the group to see that he no longer numbered among the living: his neck had been chewed through to the bone and rivulets of blood still poured from the open wound. But he turned toward Castillan, whose back was turned to the former innkeeper as he secured the front door, gave an inarticulate cry of hunger, and pounced at the unwitting bounder. Fortunately, Trent's feet slipped out from underneath him and he crashed back to the floor.</p><p></p><p>"Trent?" came a cry from the back of the room, by the door behind the bar.</p><p></p><p>"Uh, oh," sighed Gilbert. "This not good." He rushed through the common room to prevent Darcy from racing up to her now-undead husband. "You no want to go over there," he cautioned the innkeeper's wife.</p><p></p><p>But then things took a turn for the even more strange. Trent's undead form managed to regain its feet, the <em>grease</em> spell having run its course - but so did Dolbry Mason's corpse, which mere moments ago had been hacked nearly in twain. Finoula involuntarily took a step back, seeing that her deep sword-cut had partially healed back up, if "healed" was indeed the word for it. Darrien let fire from above with another arrow, wisely selecting Dolbry as his target, not wishing for Darcy to see him seemingly to "murder" her husband. The arrow struck true, piercing through Dolbry's skull and popping partially out the back. Dolbry fell over again, having once again taken enough damage to take him out of action.</p><p></p><p>But this time, having seen him come back from such seeming destruction before, Castillan sent his short sword crashing through the stonemason's neck, sending his severed head spinning over to land at Gilbert's feet. The creature's head snapped its bloodstained teeth at the portly wizard, trying in vain to bite him.</p><p></p><p>Binkadink wasn't as concerned about Darcy's feelings as he was about protecting the assembled group; his gnomish glaive came crashing down on the innkeeper's body, slicing a deep groove into its unliving flesh. Darcy gave a cry and fell to her knees, sobbing, but she'd seen the thing her husband had become and welcomed its destruction. Ingebold obliged by bashing his face in with her warhammer.</p><p></p><p>"I think maybe we don't take any chances," suggested Gilbert, pulling up Dolbry's severed head by his hair and tossing it into the fireplace atop the glowing embers. Immediately, a sizzling sound filled the room as the head caught fire and burned away, its terrible teeth continuing to snap until the muscles and tendons of its jaw burned away.</p><p></p><p>After confirming that neither zombie was much of a threat anymore - both bodies continued to thrash about, but without viable heads they were unable to mount an effective attack - Gilbert started issuing commands. The warrior types returned to their rooms to don their armor and retrieve all of their weapons, for they had leapt into battle wearing only their nightwear and wielding whichever weapon had been closest at hand. Darcy was sent to round up the teenage workers and lock the five of them safely in the storage room with the crates of foodstuff and the excess spirits. Before seeing them safely locked in, Castillan grabbed up a handful of bottled alcohol - everything immediately at hand that came in a glass bottle. Ripping strips of cloth from the two zombies the heroes had slain (Gilbert was overseeing the still-twitching corpses being cut into chunks and fed to the fireplace), the bounder unstoppered the bottles and filled alcohol-soaked rags into the tops, then passed them off among the heroes.</p><p></p><p>"Hey, what this?" asked Gilbert suddenly. Inside the stonemason's pocket he had found a wooden disk, upon one side of which had been scratched an impromptu skull of a ram or bighorn sheep. Ingebold was able to advise that such an image was often used as an unholy symbol for Orcus, the Demon Lord of the Undead.</p><p></p><p>"That little weasel," snarled the wizard. "I bet he behind all this."</p><p></p><p>"The obelisk!" cried Binkadink suddenly. "Darcy said he'd been working on a replacement obelisk. What do you want to bet the new one's already in place, and devoted to Orcus instead of to Pelor?"</p><p></p><p>"Let's find out -- is everybody ready?" asked Darrien, eager for battle now that everyone had returned to the common room, fully armed and armored.</p><p></p><p>"Spells first," advised Gilbert, casting a quick <em>mage armor</em> spell upon himself and appreciating the fact that his skin didn't immediately become blue and itchy. Ingebold cast a <em>protection from evil</em> upon herself, and readied the prayer for a <em>bless</em> spell which she'd cast on her way out the door.</p><p></p><p>"I'll go first," advised Binkadink, and the others took quiet amusement from the fact that their toughest front-line fighter stood all of about three feet tall. Darrien unbarred the door and swung it open, then the gnome rushed out into the mist-filled night.</p><p></p><p>He had a torch tied in place on his helmet, allowing both hands free to wield his unwieldy glaive, which was over three times as long as the little gnome was tall. But even with the torchlight, visibility was all of about ten feet, tops. Binkadink oriented himself toward where he believed they'd seen the stump of the previous obelisk and headed boldly in that direction.</p><p></p><p>About twenty steps later his bold excursion came to an abrupt halt, for another zombie had wandered into his field of vision. This one, however, stood about 10 feet tall - Binkadink recognized it as an ogre. The gnome's exploration for the obelisk was temporarily set aside as he devoted his full attention to destroying this new abomination. Castillan stepped up beside him, and together they brought their bladed weapons to bear, while Darrien shot at the hulking zombie from the inn's doorway.</p><p></p><p>Finoula, Ingebold, and Gilbert had exited the inn's doorway by this time, but they were distracted by sounds of concern coming from the mules off to the side of the inn. Moving ahead of the others, Finoula nearly bumped into another zombie, this one fortunately human-sized - a woman, in fact, whose garb gave her the appearance of a spellcaster, for she wore what looked to be a typical spell component pouch at her hip and a wand dangled from her belt. As the zombie turned to face the elven ranger, however, Finoula saw a dagger blade sticking out from her chest, and took heart from the fact that there were apparently other heroes out here besides themselves fighting these zombies.</p><p></p><p>Finoula sliced with both of her swords, cutting deep into the corpse's body but failing to drop it entirely. Gilbert approached and fired off a <em>disrupt undead</em> spell at the thing, causing it to drop lifelessly to the ground. By then, having figured out that these resilient zombies tended not to fare well without intact heads, Ingebold smashed the zombie's face in with her warhammer. Finoula grabbed up the wand and passed it over to the portly wizard, who pocketed it for later examination. But Ingebold noticed something else of potential value on the zombie's body: a necklace of fine metal links around her neck, with whatever was hanging from it tucked inside the top of her dress. Pulling it out from the corpse's bodice, Ingebold was surprised to see it was a metal amulet with the image of a skeletal ram engraved upon one surface.</p><p></p><p>"So she's a follower of Orcus as well!" the cleric snarled, yanking hard enough to snap the necklace and flinging the unholy symbol away in disgust.</p><p></p><p>"And check this out," replied Finoula, who had pulled the dagger from the zombie's chest. She held it out to the cleric. Ingebold could clearly see the Orcus symbol engraved in the dagger's hilt.</p><p></p><p>"So...she killed herself then?" she asked, surprised.</p><p></p><p>"Seems like it," admitted Finoula.</p><p></p><p>"This very strange," admitted Gilbert, before looking over to see how the others were faring against their much-larger foe.</p><p></p><p>By this time, the ogre zombie was alight, having been bombarded by one of Castillan's impromptu fire grenades. It had also been liberally peppered with arrows and had several deep grooves in its thick flesh, courtesy of both Binkadink's gnomish glaive and Castillan's short sword. It dropped to the ground, the damage done to it at least temporarily depriving it of its mobility. Nobody was surprised to see a ram's skull symbol carved into the skin of the ogre's chest.</p><p></p><p>"I'll take care of its head," offered Binkadink. "You go check out that obelisk."</p><p></p><p>Castillan needed no further prompting. The obelisk was about where they had guessed it would be, standing in the same hole the previous one - which had been unearthed and tossed aside - had been. Even with his keen elven sight, Castillan couldn't make out the emblems on its upper edges through the thick mist, but he was willing to bet they were no longer those of Pelor.</p><p></p><p>"Stand back," suggested Castillan as Gilbert ambled up with his own torch. Then he took off running, leaping up the obelisk's side and allowing his momentum to carry him to the top. He gripped the top of the stone obelisk, and was close enough that he could confirm to the others that there were Orcus unholy symbols on each of the four triangular edges along the top.</p><p></p><p>"There are gems in the eye-holes," called down Castillan. "They look like black opals."</p><p></p><p>"Are they magic?" called up Gilbert.</p><p></p><p>"I dunno."</p><p></p><p>"Well, pry them out with dagger! If they magic, that should stop magic effect!" Hanging onto the obelisk's top with one hand and supporting his weight, Castillan pulled out the kukri from his belt and started prying gems out of the structure. Gilbert paced around the obelisk, looking up at the bounder's work, and nearly bumped into a wagon situated nearby. It looked as if it had been backed up nearly to the obelisk. Walking over to the front of the wagon, Gilbert found the remains of a partially-eaten horse still tethered to the vehicle.</p><p></p><p>"Ugh!" cried the wizard. "Glad you not a zombie!"</p><p></p><p>In the meantime, having dealt with the ogre zombie's head, Binkadink called out in the language of burrowing mammals, "Obvious! Come here please!"</p><p></p><p>The jackalope, which had been sleeping comfortably underneath the wagon during all of the fuss, awakened at the sound of his name and bounded over to see what his little gnome friend wanted. "Can you dig a hole at the base of the obelisk, on this side?" asked the gnome.</p><p></p><p>That was an easy task for a determined jackalope the size of a pony. By the time Obvious had dug the hole, Castillan had removed all of the eight gems from the four carved ram-skull images at the top of the obelisk and jumped back down. The other heroes attached the mules back to their own wagon and used it and some strong rope to pull the obelisk over onto its side.</p><p></p><p>"Now maybe zombies stay dead when we kill them!" hoped Gilbert.</p><p></p><p>The group checked back with Darcy and the staff, alerting them to the fact that there weren't any zombies in the immediate vicinity, and to let them know they were about to go check out Dolbry's stonemason shop down the hill. They were still advised to remain inside the inn with the doors barred until the heroes returned.</p><p></p><p>Approaching the stonemason's shop, the group was accosted by a vicious, barking dog. It attacked at once, seeming almost feral in its mannerisms. The fact that this was a dog - likely Dolbry's pet - had no bearing on Binkadink's actions: he brought his glaive down onto the creature's skull as it approached the gnome at full speed with fangs bared, killing it almost instantly. Castillan and Finoula were accosted by another staggering zombie, this one just as bloodthirsty as the others they'd encountered this night but much easier to bring down - and, they were all pleased to see, once it had been brought down it stayed down, with no twitching as it became ready to reanimate.</p><p></p><p>"Looks like taking down obelisk good idea!" piped up Gilbert.</p><p></p><p>A quick inspection of the stonemason's shop filled in some gaps in the group's knowledge of recent events. Fully half of the one-story structure was a big, open area where the actual stonecarving was performed, and here the heroes found signs of a recent project, for gravel coated the back half of the work space. Darrien found a stable and a garage for a wagon, but neither horse nor vehicle was present. But it was in the mason's bedroom that the biggest clue was unearthed, for in a traveler's backpack filled with a woman's clothes Castillan discovered a pouch of black onyx gems and an old, leather-bound book with the now-familiar ram-skull image of Orcus engraved on its cover. At first unwilling to touch it, Gilbert Fung eventually opened the tome to the front page, where the title <em>Libris Necromanticus Orcusuum</em> was printed - "The Necromantic Book of Orcus." After merely opening the book didn't strike the wizard down, he boldly flipped through it, finding it to be a spellbook containing numerous spells (some of them much more powerful than he was able to wield successfully at this early stage of his adventuring career) and also a few rituals of note. The first was a detailed, step-by-step process of creating a <em>zombie birthstone</em> - the obelisk they had just destroyed. Of further note was a ritual in which the spellcaster sacrifices her own life within a close distance to the <em>zombie birthstone</em>, which sends a flood of negative energy from the unholy obelisk that turns those involved in the ritual into bloodthirsty zombies, with hints that if Orcus were suitably pleased with the results he might elevate the ritual leader into an even higher form of undead. According to the details of the rituals, had the heroes not destroyed the obelisk it would have continued allowing undead within a mile radius or so to reform after their initial destruction.</p><p></p><p>"I recommend we burn the book," suggested Ingebold.</p><p></p><p>"No way!" argued Gilbert. "There some good spells in here! Well, not 'good' spells - you know what I mean! I keep this book, learn spells, <em>then</em> maybe we destroy it!"</p><p></p><p>Ingebold glared her disapproval, but said nothing.</p><p></p><p> - - - </p><p></p><p>T-Shirt Worn: Since this adventure featured the PCs fighting bloodthirsty zombies, it seemed only appropriate that I wear my "WWDD?" shirt - that's a black T-shirt with a black-and-white image of Daryl Dixon from "The Walking Dead" wielding his iconic crossbow.</p><p></p><p> - - -</p><p></p><p>The players really liked this adventure. I was originally concerned that it only had two different monsters, bloodthirsty zombies (albeit it in two different strengths and sizes) and a guard dog, but that didn't seem to be a problem. The players - especially Dan and Logan, who have the most D&D gaming experience - enjoyed trying to figure out why these zombies were so much tougher than "normal" D&D zombies, even if these were the first zombies these particular PCs had actually ever met up with. And they liked the fact that all of the explanations were right there in the adventure to be discovered, instead of having to be explained by the DM after the adventure was over. Also, the mist was a fun additional factor, as was the fact that the fight in the inn was an impromptu fight after having been awakened in the middle of the night, and thus the PCs weren't at their toughest (no armor, for one, although there was plenty of referencing the <em>Player's Handbook</em> to see how long it took to don various types of armor). All in all, it was a fun adventure to run.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 6708152, member: 508"] [b]ADVENTURE 5: THE ZOMBIE BIRTHSTONE[/b] Game Session Date: 19 September 2015 As twilight approached, the temperature dropped and mist started rising up along the ground – it looked like the Kordovian adventurers were in for a cold, damp night. They'd opted to sleep out in the open the night before, after having been paid by Lord Cavelthorne, but the weather then had been much nicer: a clear, warm night filled with bright stars - not like tonight, with no stars visible at all through the overcast skies. They'd made a brief return to the village of Collinsdale to pick up some healing potions and scrolls from a small magic shop, Finoula had purchased a pony which she named [b]Daisy[/b], and then the group continued south on their quest for adventure. It had been an uneventful day, full of pleasant scenery but with little in the way of treasure accumulation. Ingebold shook the reins, urging the mules to a faster speed, hoping to find a town before visibility dropped to nothing. Fortunately, a faint light became visible just ahead. As they got closer, the heroes could make out a small cluster of buildings, among them a two-story wooden structure with a sign denoting it "The Kettlepot Inn." Just outside the inn were a communal well and a small, stone structure, about waist-high to a human, standing in what looked to be the middle of the small farming village. "All right!" exclaimed Castillan. "We can sleep inside tonight!" "We'll see," replied Ingebold, unsure if she were willing to spend the group's accumulated money on mere conveniences when it could be returned to Kordovia, where it was much needed to purchase arms, weapons, and the skills of mercenary fighters to help protect against the orcs and goblins of the Vesve Forest. "Oh, come on," wheedled Castillan. "We're talking a couple of gold coins, tops. I'll even pay." The elven bounder's predictions turned out to be correct; years of living in similar inns and taverns in Kordovia had apparently given him a strong foundation of knowledge about such things. The owners of the Kettlepot Inn, a human couple named [b]Trent and Darcy Godfrey[/b], charged 5 pieces of silver per night for a bed. Three more pieces of silver purchased a meal for the evening, a thick lamb stew and fresh cornbread. Even with the price of several mugs of ale apiece, the bill totaled only a bit over 5 gold pieces; Castillan happily tossed over 6 gold coins and refused any change. There were a few locals in attendance that night, there for the food, the ale, and the company, but none besides the adventurers took any rooms. Once the locals found out the strangers were adventurers, they were filled with all sorts of questions about their exploits. Castillan, the most well-versed in tavern tale-telling, was more than happy oblige with action-packed stories of their scant exploits thus far, coached in such a way as to lead those listening into believing these were just a few of a vast stock of such daring adventures. The locals had some stories of their own, too. One farmhand told the tale of a one-eyed fish he'd caught in a creek not too long ago; another farmer gave his neighbor a hard time about the black mustang that only seemed to ever show up when there was nobody else around to witness it. And Darcy explained about the stone object out by the well: it was all that was left of their obelisk to Pelor, which some vandals had smashed up about a week ago. The small village's own [b]Dolbry Mason[/b] had determined it couldn't be fixed, but was working on a replacement he said should be ready in a couple of days. "In fact," Darcy said, "he's probably down in his shop right now, working on it. It's just down the hill from us a bit." By about eight bells, the locals - most of them farmers, and used to farmers' hours - finished up their drinks and headed out into the thick mist to return to their own homes. Darcy bid the heroes a good night, leaving her husband Trent to tend to any of their further needs. The four teens that worked at the inn - [b]Tulia[/b] and [b]Chelsea[/b], the serving maids, plus hired hands [b]Chebbly[/b] and [b]Grant[/b] - all retired to their two shared rooms in the residents' wing of the inn, bidding the heroes a good night as well. (Tulia even favored Castillan with a wink and a smile.) But the adventurers, not wanting to keep Trent up too late, finished their drinks and headed up to their rooms. They had rented three rooms, each holding two beds: the ladies had a room to themselves, while Gilbert and Castillan shared another and the third was split by Binkadink and Darrien. As the Kettlepot Inn lacked a stables, the mules and pony had been left with their bridles tied to a hitching post, where they had access to rainwater accumulated in a rough trough. Obvious curled up underneath the wagon, which they had parked next to a clump of trees off to the side of the inn. Sleep came easily to the group - or at least to those who slept; Castillan and Finoula slipped into their nightly trances, letting their minds wander over their accumulated decades of memories. All was quiet in the Kettlepot Inn and its surrounding environs, the silent mist wrapping the structure in a cocoon of tranquility...for all of about six hours. Several hours past midnight, a piercing scream broke the silence of the night. Upstairs, four of the heroes snapped to attention, leaping up out of bed and grabbing up weapons, while Ingebold and Gilbert slept on. But their roommates shook them awake. "What's happening?" asked Ingebold, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "There was a man's scream from downstairs," replied Finoula, grabbing up her matched swords. Next door, Castillan was opening the door to his room and peering out over the railing to the common area below. In the dim light of the glowing embers from the fireplace, the bounder's elven eyes could pick out two shapes in the room below. They seemed to be embracing - at least, until the sound of ripping flesh alerted Castillan to the fact that one of them had just taken a chunk of flesh out of the other's neck. Bleeding profusely, the innkeeper Trent Godfrey - clad only in his nightshirt - fell to the floor. The other figure bent over him, ripping out hunks of his flesh and greedily gobbling them down. Castillan went to the other bedrooms and ensured his companions were up and ready, as Darrien crept down the hallway and positioned himself for a bowshot at the hunched-over figure. Binkadink tapped into his gnomish heritage and conjured up a set of [i]dancing lights[/i], which he positioned in the air above the common room. The sudden illumination confirmed what those of elven background had been able to see in the dim light: Trent was dead on the floor, while a zombie hunched over him, devouring his rapidly cooling flesh. Binkadink raced down the stairs as fast as his gnomish legs would carry him, but was still passed by Finoula, her swords in hand. Upstairs in the hallway, Ingebold tried turning the zombie, but her sleep-deprived state likely interfered with her concentration for the effort had no visible effect. Standing next to her, Gilbert cast a [i]grease[/i] spell on the floor underneath the zombie's feet. Castillan had leapt over the railing and onto a table near the zombie, but he landed poorly and set a candle and its holder clattering noisily to the floor. The zombie rose up to attack the bounder, but a combination of Darrien's well-placed arrow and Gilbert's spell had the undead thing sprawling to the floor. Castillan took the opportunity to leap over to the next table, then step down to close the front door, which was wide open and letting in a stream of white mist. He put the thick, wooden bar in place while he was at it, just in case there were any more zombies out there waiting to get in. On the floor behind Castillan, the zombie rose back up, but Finoula was ready and cut it nearly in twain. It fell to the floor and did not rise again. The ranger noticed that this one was wearing not only a full set of clothes but also a leather apron; this was likely the stonemason, Dolbry. "It looks like that's it," Finoula said, turning to the others. Gilbert and Ingebold were heading down the stairs, while Darrien remained at his station and gave the whole place a once-over, verifying for himself that there were no more enemies at hand. It was at that point in time that Trent rose back up to his feet. He managed to steady himself on the still-slippery floor, but that was enough for the group to see that he no longer numbered among the living: his neck had been chewed through to the bone and rivulets of blood still poured from the open wound. But he turned toward Castillan, whose back was turned to the former innkeeper as he secured the front door, gave an inarticulate cry of hunger, and pounced at the unwitting bounder. Fortunately, Trent's feet slipped out from underneath him and he crashed back to the floor. "Trent?" came a cry from the back of the room, by the door behind the bar. "Uh, oh," sighed Gilbert. "This not good." He rushed through the common room to prevent Darcy from racing up to her now-undead husband. "You no want to go over there," he cautioned the innkeeper's wife. But then things took a turn for the even more strange. Trent's undead form managed to regain its feet, the [i]grease[/i] spell having run its course - but so did Dolbry Mason's corpse, which mere moments ago had been hacked nearly in twain. Finoula involuntarily took a step back, seeing that her deep sword-cut had partially healed back up, if "healed" was indeed the word for it. Darrien let fire from above with another arrow, wisely selecting Dolbry as his target, not wishing for Darcy to see him seemingly to "murder" her husband. The arrow struck true, piercing through Dolbry's skull and popping partially out the back. Dolbry fell over again, having once again taken enough damage to take him out of action. But this time, having seen him come back from such seeming destruction before, Castillan sent his short sword crashing through the stonemason's neck, sending his severed head spinning over to land at Gilbert's feet. The creature's head snapped its bloodstained teeth at the portly wizard, trying in vain to bite him. Binkadink wasn't as concerned about Darcy's feelings as he was about protecting the assembled group; his gnomish glaive came crashing down on the innkeeper's body, slicing a deep groove into its unliving flesh. Darcy gave a cry and fell to her knees, sobbing, but she'd seen the thing her husband had become and welcomed its destruction. Ingebold obliged by bashing his face in with her warhammer. "I think maybe we don't take any chances," suggested Gilbert, pulling up Dolbry's severed head by his hair and tossing it into the fireplace atop the glowing embers. Immediately, a sizzling sound filled the room as the head caught fire and burned away, its terrible teeth continuing to snap until the muscles and tendons of its jaw burned away. After confirming that neither zombie was much of a threat anymore - both bodies continued to thrash about, but without viable heads they were unable to mount an effective attack - Gilbert started issuing commands. The warrior types returned to their rooms to don their armor and retrieve all of their weapons, for they had leapt into battle wearing only their nightwear and wielding whichever weapon had been closest at hand. Darcy was sent to round up the teenage workers and lock the five of them safely in the storage room with the crates of foodstuff and the excess spirits. Before seeing them safely locked in, Castillan grabbed up a handful of bottled alcohol - everything immediately at hand that came in a glass bottle. Ripping strips of cloth from the two zombies the heroes had slain (Gilbert was overseeing the still-twitching corpses being cut into chunks and fed to the fireplace), the bounder unstoppered the bottles and filled alcohol-soaked rags into the tops, then passed them off among the heroes. "Hey, what this?" asked Gilbert suddenly. Inside the stonemason's pocket he had found a wooden disk, upon one side of which had been scratched an impromptu skull of a ram or bighorn sheep. Ingebold was able to advise that such an image was often used as an unholy symbol for Orcus, the Demon Lord of the Undead. "That little weasel," snarled the wizard. "I bet he behind all this." "The obelisk!" cried Binkadink suddenly. "Darcy said he'd been working on a replacement obelisk. What do you want to bet the new one's already in place, and devoted to Orcus instead of to Pelor?" "Let's find out -- is everybody ready?" asked Darrien, eager for battle now that everyone had returned to the common room, fully armed and armored. "Spells first," advised Gilbert, casting a quick [i]mage armor[/i] spell upon himself and appreciating the fact that his skin didn't immediately become blue and itchy. Ingebold cast a [i]protection from evil[/i] upon herself, and readied the prayer for a [i]bless[/i] spell which she'd cast on her way out the door. "I'll go first," advised Binkadink, and the others took quiet amusement from the fact that their toughest front-line fighter stood all of about three feet tall. Darrien unbarred the door and swung it open, then the gnome rushed out into the mist-filled night. He had a torch tied in place on his helmet, allowing both hands free to wield his unwieldy glaive, which was over three times as long as the little gnome was tall. But even with the torchlight, visibility was all of about ten feet, tops. Binkadink oriented himself toward where he believed they'd seen the stump of the previous obelisk and headed boldly in that direction. About twenty steps later his bold excursion came to an abrupt halt, for another zombie had wandered into his field of vision. This one, however, stood about 10 feet tall - Binkadink recognized it as an ogre. The gnome's exploration for the obelisk was temporarily set aside as he devoted his full attention to destroying this new abomination. Castillan stepped up beside him, and together they brought their bladed weapons to bear, while Darrien shot at the hulking zombie from the inn's doorway. Finoula, Ingebold, and Gilbert had exited the inn's doorway by this time, but they were distracted by sounds of concern coming from the mules off to the side of the inn. Moving ahead of the others, Finoula nearly bumped into another zombie, this one fortunately human-sized - a woman, in fact, whose garb gave her the appearance of a spellcaster, for she wore what looked to be a typical spell component pouch at her hip and a wand dangled from her belt. As the zombie turned to face the elven ranger, however, Finoula saw a dagger blade sticking out from her chest, and took heart from the fact that there were apparently other heroes out here besides themselves fighting these zombies. Finoula sliced with both of her swords, cutting deep into the corpse's body but failing to drop it entirely. Gilbert approached and fired off a [i]disrupt undead[/i] spell at the thing, causing it to drop lifelessly to the ground. By then, having figured out that these resilient zombies tended not to fare well without intact heads, Ingebold smashed the zombie's face in with her warhammer. Finoula grabbed up the wand and passed it over to the portly wizard, who pocketed it for later examination. But Ingebold noticed something else of potential value on the zombie's body: a necklace of fine metal links around her neck, with whatever was hanging from it tucked inside the top of her dress. Pulling it out from the corpse's bodice, Ingebold was surprised to see it was a metal amulet with the image of a skeletal ram engraved upon one surface. "So she's a follower of Orcus as well!" the cleric snarled, yanking hard enough to snap the necklace and flinging the unholy symbol away in disgust. "And check this out," replied Finoula, who had pulled the dagger from the zombie's chest. She held it out to the cleric. Ingebold could clearly see the Orcus symbol engraved in the dagger's hilt. "So...she killed herself then?" she asked, surprised. "Seems like it," admitted Finoula. "This very strange," admitted Gilbert, before looking over to see how the others were faring against their much-larger foe. By this time, the ogre zombie was alight, having been bombarded by one of Castillan's impromptu fire grenades. It had also been liberally peppered with arrows and had several deep grooves in its thick flesh, courtesy of both Binkadink's gnomish glaive and Castillan's short sword. It dropped to the ground, the damage done to it at least temporarily depriving it of its mobility. Nobody was surprised to see a ram's skull symbol carved into the skin of the ogre's chest. "I'll take care of its head," offered Binkadink. "You go check out that obelisk." Castillan needed no further prompting. The obelisk was about where they had guessed it would be, standing in the same hole the previous one - which had been unearthed and tossed aside - had been. Even with his keen elven sight, Castillan couldn't make out the emblems on its upper edges through the thick mist, but he was willing to bet they were no longer those of Pelor. "Stand back," suggested Castillan as Gilbert ambled up with his own torch. Then he took off running, leaping up the obelisk's side and allowing his momentum to carry him to the top. He gripped the top of the stone obelisk, and was close enough that he could confirm to the others that there were Orcus unholy symbols on each of the four triangular edges along the top. "There are gems in the eye-holes," called down Castillan. "They look like black opals." "Are they magic?" called up Gilbert. "I dunno." "Well, pry them out with dagger! If they magic, that should stop magic effect!" Hanging onto the obelisk's top with one hand and supporting his weight, Castillan pulled out the kukri from his belt and started prying gems out of the structure. Gilbert paced around the obelisk, looking up at the bounder's work, and nearly bumped into a wagon situated nearby. It looked as if it had been backed up nearly to the obelisk. Walking over to the front of the wagon, Gilbert found the remains of a partially-eaten horse still tethered to the vehicle. "Ugh!" cried the wizard. "Glad you not a zombie!" In the meantime, having dealt with the ogre zombie's head, Binkadink called out in the language of burrowing mammals, "Obvious! Come here please!" The jackalope, which had been sleeping comfortably underneath the wagon during all of the fuss, awakened at the sound of his name and bounded over to see what his little gnome friend wanted. "Can you dig a hole at the base of the obelisk, on this side?" asked the gnome. That was an easy task for a determined jackalope the size of a pony. By the time Obvious had dug the hole, Castillan had removed all of the eight gems from the four carved ram-skull images at the top of the obelisk and jumped back down. The other heroes attached the mules back to their own wagon and used it and some strong rope to pull the obelisk over onto its side. "Now maybe zombies stay dead when we kill them!" hoped Gilbert. The group checked back with Darcy and the staff, alerting them to the fact that there weren't any zombies in the immediate vicinity, and to let them know they were about to go check out Dolbry's stonemason shop down the hill. They were still advised to remain inside the inn with the doors barred until the heroes returned. Approaching the stonemason's shop, the group was accosted by a vicious, barking dog. It attacked at once, seeming almost feral in its mannerisms. The fact that this was a dog - likely Dolbry's pet - had no bearing on Binkadink's actions: he brought his glaive down onto the creature's skull as it approached the gnome at full speed with fangs bared, killing it almost instantly. Castillan and Finoula were accosted by another staggering zombie, this one just as bloodthirsty as the others they'd encountered this night but much easier to bring down - and, they were all pleased to see, once it had been brought down it stayed down, with no twitching as it became ready to reanimate. "Looks like taking down obelisk good idea!" piped up Gilbert. A quick inspection of the stonemason's shop filled in some gaps in the group's knowledge of recent events. Fully half of the one-story structure was a big, open area where the actual stonecarving was performed, and here the heroes found signs of a recent project, for gravel coated the back half of the work space. Darrien found a stable and a garage for a wagon, but neither horse nor vehicle was present. But it was in the mason's bedroom that the biggest clue was unearthed, for in a traveler's backpack filled with a woman's clothes Castillan discovered a pouch of black onyx gems and an old, leather-bound book with the now-familiar ram-skull image of Orcus engraved on its cover. At first unwilling to touch it, Gilbert Fung eventually opened the tome to the front page, where the title [i]Libris Necromanticus Orcusuum[/i] was printed - "The Necromantic Book of Orcus." After merely opening the book didn't strike the wizard down, he boldly flipped through it, finding it to be a spellbook containing numerous spells (some of them much more powerful than he was able to wield successfully at this early stage of his adventuring career) and also a few rituals of note. The first was a detailed, step-by-step process of creating a [i]zombie birthstone[/i] - the obelisk they had just destroyed. Of further note was a ritual in which the spellcaster sacrifices her own life within a close distance to the [i]zombie birthstone[/i], which sends a flood of negative energy from the unholy obelisk that turns those involved in the ritual into bloodthirsty zombies, with hints that if Orcus were suitably pleased with the results he might elevate the ritual leader into an even higher form of undead. According to the details of the rituals, had the heroes not destroyed the obelisk it would have continued allowing undead within a mile radius or so to reform after their initial destruction. "I recommend we burn the book," suggested Ingebold. "No way!" argued Gilbert. "There some good spells in here! Well, not 'good' spells - you know what I mean! I keep this book, learn spells, [i]then[/i] maybe we destroy it!" Ingebold glared her disapproval, but said nothing. - - - T-Shirt Worn: Since this adventure featured the PCs fighting bloodthirsty zombies, it seemed only appropriate that I wear my "WWDD?" shirt - that's a black T-shirt with a black-and-white image of Daryl Dixon from "The Walking Dead" wielding his iconic crossbow. - - - The players really liked this adventure. I was originally concerned that it only had two different monsters, bloodthirsty zombies (albeit it in two different strengths and sizes) and a guard dog, but that didn't seem to be a problem. The players - especially Dan and Logan, who have the most D&D gaming experience - enjoyed trying to figure out why these zombies were so much tougher than "normal" D&D zombies, even if these were the first zombies these particular PCs had actually ever met up with. And they liked the fact that all of the explanations were right there in the adventure to be discovered, instead of having to be explained by the DM after the adventure was over. Also, the mist was a fun additional factor, as was the fact that the fight in the inn was an impromptu fight after having been awakened in the middle of the night, and thus the PCs weren't at their toughest (no armor, for one, although there was plenty of referencing the [i]Player's Handbook[/i] to see how long it took to don various types of armor). All in all, it was a fun adventure to run. [/QUOTE]
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