Part IX: OHGODSKILLIT: REVELATIONS
Posted: 01 Mar 2015 07:40
FROM THE JOURNAL OF BARUN BURADUM.
1st of Lamashan, 4707 A.R.
As always, I feel like I need to describe the setting of wherever I write an entry from just to encapsulate what a clusterfuck my life has become. I am now sitting in the middle of a field, surrounded by four farmers only a few hours from becoming hideous undead monsters, and further surrounded by a much larger second ring of re-dead undead monsters. There, that’s as good of a setup as any.
When Talathel and I stepped out of the makeshift mortuary after inspecting the dead conmen (Kane had stepped out long before us, of course), we were greeted outside by a strange man across the street. He waved at us. The man looked oddly familiar, given his pale skin…and dark hood... and glowing red eye.
What.
Talathel, having stepped out of bewilderment before I did, approached the man and asked if we knew him. He nodded. The druid asked if he knew a short little archer fella, about a foot shorter than himself. The man pointed to his chest.
What.
Finally, I walked up to him. “The bloody hell happened to you?” I said.
“I went shopping.”
That was literally all the explanation we received. That being no explanation at all. How had Tyvelian gained about six years in age - and lost an eye - in about three hours? I don’t even know what to believe anymore. Is Kane somehow involved? Did he have a run in with a confused wizard? Is there something in the drinking water? Torag, give me a sign for cripes sake, I beg of you.
We didn’t have much time to think, however, as without warning Kane’s servant appeared from some hidden alleyway. Even with my recent boost in courage I couldn’t help but jump in surprise at the sneaky bastard. Patsy didn’t react, but simply conveyed his master’s message: to meet him at the town’s South Gate within the hour, ready to ride and prepared for combat. Why Kane couldn’t have told us, you know, while he was standing right next to us, I have no idea. I simply nodded in exasperation, and gestured for Talathel to follow me: I needed his help to get into my new armor.
We stopped by the stables to retrieve my new warhorse (I finally named him Zilir, an old Dwarven word that simply means “eternal”. He’s gotten much less skittish and a hell of a lot bulkier since we pulled him out of that shed), and briefly plunged into the woods to summon Talathel’s tree friend, before finally arriving at the town gate. Newly-matured Ty was already waiting for us. At least he’s still reliable when we need him, I guess. After a brief wait, Kane waltzed up to the gate, with Patsy leading two horses in tow for our mount-less friends.
“So, who’s in the mood to visit a Sanatorium?”
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Hospitals are already bleak as hell, and mental hospitals are even worse. Habe’s Sanatorium does absolutely nothing to stave off this impression. The respite is a soulless thing sitting far on the outskirts of Sandpoint, presumably so the screams of the insane don’t frighten the townsfolk at night. The chilly autumn air turned cloudy as we approached and firmly knocked on the door. A wiry man in a thick purple headwrap answered , clearly annoyed. Habe seemed to hate the idea of letting anyone into his hospital, but once Kane showed him the warrant from Hemlock the doctor sighed and shut the door. After a few minutes he returned, and hurriedly fanned us into the hall.
Sat restrained in a chair against the far wall was an empty shell of a man. He gently rocked back and forth in his straightjacket as he muttered softly and stared into the floor, looking at nothing. His clear sanity isn’t what caught my attention, however. I could tell from a glance that this man was outrageously ill – not mentally, but physically. He had, at most, one more day of life in his body. I was about to berate Habe for not giving the man any treatment, but before I could the man’s head suddenly shot up and looked straight into my eyes, unblinking. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he began to speak, softly and deliberately.
“He said you would visit me… his Lordship… he has a message for you,” he said, never breaking eye contact. I was becoming unnerved, especially at his mention of “his Lordship”. “I hope I haven’t forgotten… let me see… let…me…see… He said, that if you came to his Misgivings, that if you joined his pack… he would end his harvest in your honor.”
Then there was a terrible screech. The man leaped from his chair, breaking his bonds with a strength a normal human would have trouble mustering, let alone one on the brink of death. His shriek continued as he charged toward me. Kane gave me a shout.
“GRAB HIM!”
I dropped my hammer to my side and grabbed the lunatic by the arms. He gnashed his teeth and shook against my grasp like a rabid animal. Then with a heavy thud he collapsed to the ground as a blunt arrow from Ty struck him in the temple. The doctor immediately began scolding us, telling us that we should never had pulled the patient from his room, but shut up quickly when Kane shot him a look of pure fire. Which is pretty impressive for a man who could barely see over a table. Kane then demanded a secure room to keep the patient for the interim.
Habe shakily pulled a keyring from his robes, and after a few moments of fiddling managed to open a door adjacent to us. As soon as the door was ajar, he instantly made a dart for the open front door. Before I could stop him, Ty pulled another blunt arrow from his quiver and fired it at the poor man for no gods-damned reason. The shots hit and the man stumbled, but he only continued running into the distance. Both Kane and I glared at the archer.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR??” I shouted.
“THAT WAS COMPLETELY POINTLESS!” Kane yelled after me. A notable breach in his normally stoic demeanor. Kind of impressive, actually. Tyvelian merely shrugged.
After a generous facepalming, we motioned for our resident medical expert to inspect the patient. Talathel determined that the man was in a deeply advanced state of Ghoul Fever, but noted that insanity was not among its normal symptoms. Nodding, Kane and I led the patient into the adjacent room and barred the door behind us. Kane suggested I restrain the madman. He didn’t seem very pleased to come too with his arms firmly pinned behind his back. The mage attempted to question him, but he merely continued to thrash and grumble.
I tried to intervene. “You heard the elf. Repeat the message.”
The man suddenly stopped thrashing, and looked back at me with big puppy dog eyes. “The dwarf wishes to hear His Lordship’s message again?”
“Yes, yes, give me “Yer Lordship’s” bloody message.”
He dutifully repeated the rambling as Kane quickly took notes. Seemingly satisfied, the elf unbarred the door and allowed the druid into the room. He gestured Talathel to lean over, and whispered into his ear. The druid nodded. He walked toward the madman and set his hands upon his shoulders. With a warm glow the man’s skin gently returned from its grey pallor, and his face lost some of its skeletal gauntness. He didn’t seem at all pleased with the charity, however.
“No… NO! You have taken the master’s gift!” He started thrashing violently against my grip as he attempted to lunge at his healer.
I then quickly shut him up with a quick clock to the side of the head. My bedside manner might need work.
---------------------------------------------------------
As we were stepped out the door of the hospital, I noticed the figure of a man hastily jogging up the road towards the town. His face was wracked with terror, and he was breathing heavily. I quickly walked up to the road and waved him down, asking him what was the matter. He gasped his answer in between panicked breaths.
“Scarecrows… coming to life… killing the farmers… so much blood…”
“… I’m sorry, what?”
After taking a few minutes to calm the farmer down, he told us about a farmer a few miles away who hadn’t been seen in a few days. Some of his neighbors went in to investigate, but they too were unheard from. A second search party had apparently been torn to shreds by “living scarecrows” that looked like walking corpses. I told the man to get into Sandpoint until the danger was clear, then suggested to the party that we investigate the farm.
Kane disagreed, and suggested instead that we cut off the danger at the source.
“Ye know the source?”
“Of course I know the source.”
After some bickering, Kane decided that wherever he was determined to go was farther than the farm, anyway, so we repacked our saddlebags and made our way east.
---------------------------------------------------------
When we reached the farm, it was eerily quiet. The fields should have been lousy with harvesters this time of year, but there was not a soul to be seen. The only thing that greeted us was a lone scarecrow, sitting at the first fork in the road. Its limbs gently wriggled in the wind.
Except there was no wind.
The rest of the party took up firing positions behind me as I slowly reached up to the scarecrow’s burlap sack of a head. I grabbed the sack and quickly yanked it free. I revealed a human head.
The head sputtered slightly and moaned. He was still alive… but only just. I could tell by his gaunt, pale face that he, too had caught the Ghoul Fever, and was even closer to death than the madman. He must have been hanging on that post for days. I quickly untied the poor farmer from the post and attempted to get information about his attackers, but he was far too delirious to say anything coherent. Unfortunately, Talathel had spent his only curing spell at the sanatorium. We decided to continue toward the center of the farm to clear a staging area of sorts for survivors, as there were almost certainly more scarecrows waiting for us. Hopefully we weren’t too late.
Slowly marching between the high cornrows, we soon reached another crossroads within the field, flanked by a trio of scarecrows. Once again the rest of the party took ready positions behind me as I stretched my hand towards its head.
Then the scarecrow screeched and tore itself from the post, revealing a gaunt frame with terrible pointed claws. With a clatter the scarecrow behind us revealed itself as well. It seemed that we were indeed too late to save some of the farmers, and now we had to deal with their remnants: Ghouls.
Ty immediately threw arrows into the forward ghoul as Talathel thrust his spear into its ribs. Undeterred, the pair of undead slashed and bit at me with frightening speed. This new suit of armor, however, works exactly as advertised. They didn’t even scratch the engravings. I tried to respond with a strong hammer swing, but went wide. Kane then seared the forward ghoul with a string of flame. It collapsed to the ground with a shriek as it turned to cinders. With a flurry of arrows from Ty the second undead soon followed suit. That still left a third scarecrow, however. I slowly marched up and ripped its head free.
I sputtered as I was showered with straw. Turns out there were still some actual scarecrows around.
We continued weaving our way around the field, finding another scarecrow. This time it was yet another live farmer, but he was unconscious and even closer to death. We decided we can’t risk leaving these victims uncured for much longer, so we sent Talathel back to town to retrieve a cleric and a small pile of Cure Disease scrolls. Not wanting to leave us entirely short a man, the druid left Maril to defend the mage. I noticed his branches kind of drooped a little when Talathel left. First time I’ve ever felt sorry for a tree, I think.
The rest of the weaving through the farm isn’t worth mentioning in depth. We did manage to find a couple more living victims, fortunately, but we found at least twice as many ghouls waiting for us. One particular encounter comes to mind, however.
As we strolled down the far eastern road, we ran into a stretch flanked by four scarecrows, all grouped together. This time, rather than strolling up and politely asking to be attacked, I had the bright idea to try and sense evil in each of them. And thems four were some darn evil scarecrows, I tell you h’what.
With a short signal from me, Kane and Ty both fired at the scarecrows at-range. One immediately screeched and collapsed into a pile. As the rest hurriedly tore themselves from their poles, I charged into the nearest ghoul and clobbered it upside the head. The enraged zombies attempted to tear into me once again, but only managed to cut my cheek amidst their frenzied clawing. Then the treant had its moment of glory.
With an earthy roar, it stomped into the fray and firmly grabbed one of the ghouls by its sides. Maril lifted the undead high into the air as it fruitlessly struggled, and with a second mighty roar slammed it into the ground, reducing its entire upper half into a maroon paste. One of the remaining ghouls stopped its attacks to stare at the spectacle, and was rewarded for his attention with a blast of fire and an arrow to the side of the head. This re-kills the ghoul. I slammed my hammer into the last remaining undead, but it attempted to sneak around me and get to the mage. Straight into my backswing. And with that another four ghouls were dead.
That’ll do, tree. That’ll do.
The fields are now clear of monsters, but there’s still a silent farmhouse sitting at the center of the farm. We’ve decided not to tackle it until Talathel returns with help, in case whatever is inside is more ornery that what we’ve encountered so far today. And so we’re sitting at the crossroads at the middle of the farm, keeping an eye on the survivors. Hopefully the druid will get back before any of these farmers turn. I really don’t want to have to have someone's neighbor die before their eyes, then make them have to watch me obliterate said neighbor's head. That would ruin my day.
I’ll update again once this day is finally over. I’ve got a few questions for Kane now that we’ve got a bit of free time. This should be enlightening.
-BARUN
1st of Lamashan, 4707 A.R.
As always, I feel like I need to describe the setting of wherever I write an entry from just to encapsulate what a clusterfuck my life has become. I am now sitting in the middle of a field, surrounded by four farmers only a few hours from becoming hideous undead monsters, and further surrounded by a much larger second ring of re-dead undead monsters. There, that’s as good of a setup as any.
When Talathel and I stepped out of the makeshift mortuary after inspecting the dead conmen (Kane had stepped out long before us, of course), we were greeted outside by a strange man across the street. He waved at us. The man looked oddly familiar, given his pale skin…and dark hood... and glowing red eye.
What.
Talathel, having stepped out of bewilderment before I did, approached the man and asked if we knew him. He nodded. The druid asked if he knew a short little archer fella, about a foot shorter than himself. The man pointed to his chest.
What.
Finally, I walked up to him. “The bloody hell happened to you?” I said.
“I went shopping.”
That was literally all the explanation we received. That being no explanation at all. How had Tyvelian gained about six years in age - and lost an eye - in about three hours? I don’t even know what to believe anymore. Is Kane somehow involved? Did he have a run in with a confused wizard? Is there something in the drinking water? Torag, give me a sign for cripes sake, I beg of you.
We didn’t have much time to think, however, as without warning Kane’s servant appeared from some hidden alleyway. Even with my recent boost in courage I couldn’t help but jump in surprise at the sneaky bastard. Patsy didn’t react, but simply conveyed his master’s message: to meet him at the town’s South Gate within the hour, ready to ride and prepared for combat. Why Kane couldn’t have told us, you know, while he was standing right next to us, I have no idea. I simply nodded in exasperation, and gestured for Talathel to follow me: I needed his help to get into my new armor.
We stopped by the stables to retrieve my new warhorse (I finally named him Zilir, an old Dwarven word that simply means “eternal”. He’s gotten much less skittish and a hell of a lot bulkier since we pulled him out of that shed), and briefly plunged into the woods to summon Talathel’s tree friend, before finally arriving at the town gate. Newly-matured Ty was already waiting for us. At least he’s still reliable when we need him, I guess. After a brief wait, Kane waltzed up to the gate, with Patsy leading two horses in tow for our mount-less friends.
“So, who’s in the mood to visit a Sanatorium?”
---------------------------------------------------------
Hospitals are already bleak as hell, and mental hospitals are even worse. Habe’s Sanatorium does absolutely nothing to stave off this impression. The respite is a soulless thing sitting far on the outskirts of Sandpoint, presumably so the screams of the insane don’t frighten the townsfolk at night. The chilly autumn air turned cloudy as we approached and firmly knocked on the door. A wiry man in a thick purple headwrap answered , clearly annoyed. Habe seemed to hate the idea of letting anyone into his hospital, but once Kane showed him the warrant from Hemlock the doctor sighed and shut the door. After a few minutes he returned, and hurriedly fanned us into the hall.
Sat restrained in a chair against the far wall was an empty shell of a man. He gently rocked back and forth in his straightjacket as he muttered softly and stared into the floor, looking at nothing. His clear sanity isn’t what caught my attention, however. I could tell from a glance that this man was outrageously ill – not mentally, but physically. He had, at most, one more day of life in his body. I was about to berate Habe for not giving the man any treatment, but before I could the man’s head suddenly shot up and looked straight into my eyes, unblinking. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he began to speak, softly and deliberately.
“He said you would visit me… his Lordship… he has a message for you,” he said, never breaking eye contact. I was becoming unnerved, especially at his mention of “his Lordship”. “I hope I haven’t forgotten… let me see… let…me…see… He said, that if you came to his Misgivings, that if you joined his pack… he would end his harvest in your honor.”
Then there was a terrible screech. The man leaped from his chair, breaking his bonds with a strength a normal human would have trouble mustering, let alone one on the brink of death. His shriek continued as he charged toward me. Kane gave me a shout.
“GRAB HIM!”
I dropped my hammer to my side and grabbed the lunatic by the arms. He gnashed his teeth and shook against my grasp like a rabid animal. Then with a heavy thud he collapsed to the ground as a blunt arrow from Ty struck him in the temple. The doctor immediately began scolding us, telling us that we should never had pulled the patient from his room, but shut up quickly when Kane shot him a look of pure fire. Which is pretty impressive for a man who could barely see over a table. Kane then demanded a secure room to keep the patient for the interim.
Habe shakily pulled a keyring from his robes, and after a few moments of fiddling managed to open a door adjacent to us. As soon as the door was ajar, he instantly made a dart for the open front door. Before I could stop him, Ty pulled another blunt arrow from his quiver and fired it at the poor man for no gods-damned reason. The shots hit and the man stumbled, but he only continued running into the distance. Both Kane and I glared at the archer.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR??” I shouted.
“THAT WAS COMPLETELY POINTLESS!” Kane yelled after me. A notable breach in his normally stoic demeanor. Kind of impressive, actually. Tyvelian merely shrugged.
After a generous facepalming, we motioned for our resident medical expert to inspect the patient. Talathel determined that the man was in a deeply advanced state of Ghoul Fever, but noted that insanity was not among its normal symptoms. Nodding, Kane and I led the patient into the adjacent room and barred the door behind us. Kane suggested I restrain the madman. He didn’t seem very pleased to come too with his arms firmly pinned behind his back. The mage attempted to question him, but he merely continued to thrash and grumble.
I tried to intervene. “You heard the elf. Repeat the message.”
The man suddenly stopped thrashing, and looked back at me with big puppy dog eyes. “The dwarf wishes to hear His Lordship’s message again?”
“Yes, yes, give me “Yer Lordship’s” bloody message.”
He dutifully repeated the rambling as Kane quickly took notes. Seemingly satisfied, the elf unbarred the door and allowed the druid into the room. He gestured Talathel to lean over, and whispered into his ear. The druid nodded. He walked toward the madman and set his hands upon his shoulders. With a warm glow the man’s skin gently returned from its grey pallor, and his face lost some of its skeletal gauntness. He didn’t seem at all pleased with the charity, however.
“No… NO! You have taken the master’s gift!” He started thrashing violently against my grip as he attempted to lunge at his healer.
I then quickly shut him up with a quick clock to the side of the head. My bedside manner might need work.
---------------------------------------------------------
As we were stepped out the door of the hospital, I noticed the figure of a man hastily jogging up the road towards the town. His face was wracked with terror, and he was breathing heavily. I quickly walked up to the road and waved him down, asking him what was the matter. He gasped his answer in between panicked breaths.
“Scarecrows… coming to life… killing the farmers… so much blood…”
“… I’m sorry, what?”
After taking a few minutes to calm the farmer down, he told us about a farmer a few miles away who hadn’t been seen in a few days. Some of his neighbors went in to investigate, but they too were unheard from. A second search party had apparently been torn to shreds by “living scarecrows” that looked like walking corpses. I told the man to get into Sandpoint until the danger was clear, then suggested to the party that we investigate the farm.
Kane disagreed, and suggested instead that we cut off the danger at the source.
“Ye know the source?”
“Of course I know the source.”
After some bickering, Kane decided that wherever he was determined to go was farther than the farm, anyway, so we repacked our saddlebags and made our way east.
---------------------------------------------------------
When we reached the farm, it was eerily quiet. The fields should have been lousy with harvesters this time of year, but there was not a soul to be seen. The only thing that greeted us was a lone scarecrow, sitting at the first fork in the road. Its limbs gently wriggled in the wind.
Except there was no wind.
The rest of the party took up firing positions behind me as I slowly reached up to the scarecrow’s burlap sack of a head. I grabbed the sack and quickly yanked it free. I revealed a human head.
The head sputtered slightly and moaned. He was still alive… but only just. I could tell by his gaunt, pale face that he, too had caught the Ghoul Fever, and was even closer to death than the madman. He must have been hanging on that post for days. I quickly untied the poor farmer from the post and attempted to get information about his attackers, but he was far too delirious to say anything coherent. Unfortunately, Talathel had spent his only curing spell at the sanatorium. We decided to continue toward the center of the farm to clear a staging area of sorts for survivors, as there were almost certainly more scarecrows waiting for us. Hopefully we weren’t too late.
Slowly marching between the high cornrows, we soon reached another crossroads within the field, flanked by a trio of scarecrows. Once again the rest of the party took ready positions behind me as I stretched my hand towards its head.
Then the scarecrow screeched and tore itself from the post, revealing a gaunt frame with terrible pointed claws. With a clatter the scarecrow behind us revealed itself as well. It seemed that we were indeed too late to save some of the farmers, and now we had to deal with their remnants: Ghouls.
Ty immediately threw arrows into the forward ghoul as Talathel thrust his spear into its ribs. Undeterred, the pair of undead slashed and bit at me with frightening speed. This new suit of armor, however, works exactly as advertised. They didn’t even scratch the engravings. I tried to respond with a strong hammer swing, but went wide. Kane then seared the forward ghoul with a string of flame. It collapsed to the ground with a shriek as it turned to cinders. With a flurry of arrows from Ty the second undead soon followed suit. That still left a third scarecrow, however. I slowly marched up and ripped its head free.
I sputtered as I was showered with straw. Turns out there were still some actual scarecrows around.
We continued weaving our way around the field, finding another scarecrow. This time it was yet another live farmer, but he was unconscious and even closer to death. We decided we can’t risk leaving these victims uncured for much longer, so we sent Talathel back to town to retrieve a cleric and a small pile of Cure Disease scrolls. Not wanting to leave us entirely short a man, the druid left Maril to defend the mage. I noticed his branches kind of drooped a little when Talathel left. First time I’ve ever felt sorry for a tree, I think.
The rest of the weaving through the farm isn’t worth mentioning in depth. We did manage to find a couple more living victims, fortunately, but we found at least twice as many ghouls waiting for us. One particular encounter comes to mind, however.
As we strolled down the far eastern road, we ran into a stretch flanked by four scarecrows, all grouped together. This time, rather than strolling up and politely asking to be attacked, I had the bright idea to try and sense evil in each of them. And thems four were some darn evil scarecrows, I tell you h’what.
With a short signal from me, Kane and Ty both fired at the scarecrows at-range. One immediately screeched and collapsed into a pile. As the rest hurriedly tore themselves from their poles, I charged into the nearest ghoul and clobbered it upside the head. The enraged zombies attempted to tear into me once again, but only managed to cut my cheek amidst their frenzied clawing. Then the treant had its moment of glory.
With an earthy roar, it stomped into the fray and firmly grabbed one of the ghouls by its sides. Maril lifted the undead high into the air as it fruitlessly struggled, and with a second mighty roar slammed it into the ground, reducing its entire upper half into a maroon paste. One of the remaining ghouls stopped its attacks to stare at the spectacle, and was rewarded for his attention with a blast of fire and an arrow to the side of the head. This re-kills the ghoul. I slammed my hammer into the last remaining undead, but it attempted to sneak around me and get to the mage. Straight into my backswing. And with that another four ghouls were dead.
That’ll do, tree. That’ll do.
The fields are now clear of monsters, but there’s still a silent farmhouse sitting at the center of the farm. We’ve decided not to tackle it until Talathel returns with help, in case whatever is inside is more ornery that what we’ve encountered so far today. And so we’re sitting at the crossroads at the middle of the farm, keeping an eye on the survivors. Hopefully the druid will get back before any of these farmers turn. I really don’t want to have to have someone's neighbor die before their eyes, then make them have to watch me obliterate said neighbor's head. That would ruin my day.
I’ll update again once this day is finally over. I’ve got a few questions for Kane now that we’ve got a bit of free time. This should be enlightening.
-BARUN