The old man turns as he walks out the door...

Oh, and Alexander .... beware the shadows.
He walks out and closes the door behind him self.

Ralo shudders when he sees Morgana getting hit by the second cadaverman. The windling tries to warn the elf, but obviously she doesn't hear him, instead she is concentrating on another attack - the final one, as it turns out.

While Morgana is sitting down and tries to heal herself, Ralo is still up in the air and searches the area for more opponents.

Morgana, are you ok?

Coming out of the fog of healing, Morgana hears Ralo's distant voice.
I'm all right. How about you?
Looking around, she finally spots the windling hovering in the air a few yards overhead.
Getting up is still painful, the healing may have knitted the bones together but she was still going to be bruised and sore for the next few days.
At least it's not my sword arm. Morgana tried a few tenative swings of the injured arm. The sudden bloom of pain caused her to grit her teeth and inhale sharply.
Her eyes scanned the area, searching for more enemies, more shadows.
Perception Test

Seeing nothing, Morgana moves back to the dead man they first found. Remembering the scroll, she pulls the case from the pocket that holds it. Placing it aside for now, Morgana investigates the body.
What killed this man? Where did he come from?
Uses Evidence Analysis

Hmmm, interesting. Perhaps the scroll can give me further information.
Picking up the scroll case, Morgana eyes it warily. Holding it up, she calls out for Ralo.
Ralo, your windling eyes can see the astral far better then I. Tell me, does this case carry any sort of taint?

Evidence Analysis

Suprised by the switfness of Morganas actions, Ralo needs a few moments to realize that the elf has asked him a question.

Astral Sight? Oh, sure, no problem.

Astral Sight

As far as I can see, dear lady, this case has no traces of horror taint on it, but it was very important for our now dead friend. So tell, what is in it?

Ralo flies close to Morgana, nearly landing on her non-injured shoulder.

Looking up at Ralo, Morgana nods.
Let's see.
Popping the end cap off of the scrollcase, Morgana slides whatever may be inside out and into her open palm.

The rolled scroll is done is simlpe parchment, common to cities like Travar, very expensive where you're headed. The scrall inside is in black ink, by a practiced and skilled hand. Probably one of the few people out here that can afford proper writing untensils, and so decent enough a hand.

To the Lords of The Great City of Travar,

My lords and ladies, I , your servant Lord Archibold Gentrik, humbly beseach your aid. The village of my residencee, Joppstown, to your northwest, is besieged by monsters. The dead are walking and the people are coming under demoninc possession. There is great strife within our community as well, and I fear that it is of supernatural origins.

I shall keep this missive short, as it's sending and urgency are in the most dire circumstancecs, which must speak for them selves. This messenger travels on our only horse, and is our one hope, unless the Passions them selves deliver us from this menace.

Again I beg of you to send aid as quickly as possible. A least one of our neighboring towns has already been lost, and I fear it is our own neighbors that seek to destroy us now, lost in undeath as they are. I fear we have little time left.

Your Humble Servant,
Lord Archibold Gentrik III

Morgana reads the message aloud. After she has finished she turns to Ralo.
It looks like somewhere along the way, our messenger here lost his horse... and his life. Do you know where this Joppstown is?

After reading the message, Ralo takes a deep breath and flies to the ground to sit down.

I don't know how far away this village is, but we need to help those people. After all, we found their only hope for survival - their messenger - dead on the ground.

Navigation check

I agree, Ralo. Otherwise, those people would be waiting for help that would never come. I think I remember seeing something about Joppstown on my map. One moment. Morgana pulls the map from her pack, spreading it out on the ground in front of Ralo.
Pointing, she goes on:Here. Joppstown. Near where we're headed. The disappearences... it's looking like it's not the Theran's after all. If we make haste, we should be able to reach them within a day and a half.
Standing, Morgana rolls the map up and replaces it within her scroll case. Looking down at the poor messenger, Morgana sighs.
What of him, Ralo? With the dead returning, leaving his corpse here is dangerous. I would.. suggest a pyre.Morgana's eyes are sad, her voice low.

Burning is the best thing we can do, I agree. And it's the way we deal with the people of our race who make the final change.

The windling gets up in the air and flies to the next group of tree to collect the first wood for the fire.

Nodding, Morgana prepares for the pyre. Gathering wood and underbrush, Morgana helps Ralo build the small pyre.
Within an hour, the pyre is completed. Using a Levitate spell, Morgana places his body onto the branches.
Stepping back, Morgana begins to sing a low, haunting tune. It's old and sung entirely in Sperethiel.
After the song is over, Morgana looks to Ralo.
Is there something your people say at such a time?

Ralo stays a good distance away from the dead body, while Morgana sings an old elven song.
The windling has his eyes closed and takes a deep breath before he answer to the elf.

No. No, we don't talk much at a funeral. We prefer to tell tales about the gone friend after his body is burned. And we drink a lot of windling wine. But I'm afraid that this neither the time nor the place to do this, so we should delay it until we reach his village.

Very well.
Morgana weaves the threads of the Ignite spell, catching the kindling and underbrush on fire, watching as the rest catches quickly. Soon the pyre blazes, the body barely discernible. In less then half an hour, the pyre has burnt through most of the fuel and the body is little more then ash and bone.
Morgana stands with her hand on the reins of her horse. Looking up at Ralo;
We should cover the embers to stop the fire from spreading.
Moving to the fire, Morgana covers the pyre with dirt and dust. Soon she's covered from head to toe in soot.
Coughing, she weaves another spell. A silver light appears around Morgana and a moment later she stands there as before, but completely clean.
We should hurry then. We shouldn't stay in a place like this.

Yes, lets get away from this place that is tainted by Death.

I'll ride fast, Ralo. It might be better for you to ride with me. Swinging up on the horse, Morgana waits for Ralo to make himself comfortable and then spurs the horse to the east, towards Joppstown.

I never intended to fly the whole way, dear Lady!

Ralo takes place on the bedroll that is stripped on the horses back.

Ralo and Morgana ride hard through the night, the cool air giving the horse strength to continue on it would not normally have. They water in the morning, giving the horse a few hours of much needed rest, then ride on again. Both are to worn by the hard ride to bother with such niceities as conversation.

Soon enough they are off again, alternating between fast trots, walking, riding hard, walking, and fast trots. That way the horse will last the longest. They ride on long in to the night, following Ralo's directions to Joppstown.

What they find is un real.

Joppstown is there, just as it should be. The people are not. There is not one living soul to be found. Neither are there dead. Here and there the occassional pool or streak of blood marrs the green. A broken door, or farm tool turned weapon lies broken. Animals move about the village, mostly chickens and ravens. Not even the scavenger birds have anything to eat here. But even they sense death.

As soon as the village comes in sight, Ralo leaves the horses and flies high in the air to get a better overview. He readies his bow and is looking for hidden name-givers.



I'm afraid we won't get any funeral celebration here, dear Morgana.

We're too late... Morgana whispers, eyes searching the village for some sign of life. Slipping from her horse, Morgana weaves the spell Astral Sense.

Thread Weaving Test

Spellcasting Test

Astral Sense Effect Test

Morgana shifts her senses to the astral through her wizardry abilities, then wishes she hadn't. The astral ehre is most definitely tainted. Horror constructs have been here. Death, pain, betrayal , sorrow, and hopelessness have been here.

At a fast pacec on the horse, it would take a day and a half here. There was no sign of the messenger's horse, so he may have taken two or three days to get to where he was. He had been there a day, so it could have been up to 5 days sincec the missive was sent. In that time, something horrible took the people of this village. It's impossible to say how many, if any, of them are alive still.

Tears streak down Morgana's face. I heard the stories, I have even seen the effect of the Horrors, but this... this is beyond anything I could have imagined. I think I'm beginning to understand. I'm beginning to know what he meant. Master, I wish you were here. For a moment all she can do is lie her cheek against her saddle. In a moment, she's regained her composure enough to look around.
Whispering into her horse's ear, Morgana slips the reins loosely around a post.
Stay, Hati. Be watchful.
Carefully she begins to makes her way across the village.
Ralo, the scroll obviously was sent by the lord of this village, or perhaps their official. He was obviously literate. If we can find his home, we might find some kind of journal or diary that can tell us more of that happened. Can you see anything from your height?

Mother, I've come for dinner. Your blood is the best.
...
Yes, Mat, Lott was weak; however, we can destroy the village together.
...
The black hound is after me! Run faster you fool!
...
Those were horrible. What fate awaits me? I don't know. I am only certain that we need to get out of here.


The shadow detached itself from the wall and began to come after Alexander.

No, NO, NOO!


Alexander stirs from the less than restful sleep he has gotten in the cell. He is unsure but feels that little time has passed. He does however, remember the nightmares.

Alexander
Alexander awoke to foot steps out side of his cell. His first thoughts are of his mother coming. But instead he sees Elder Hommand, accompanied by Bryce, the leader of the militia.

Elder Hommand approaches the bars, but is careful to stay out of harm's reach.
Alright Alexander, ,we've found the Talden boys. Mat and Lott anyway. Cut to pieces quite brutally just like you said. Do you hav e any explanation for this act of barbarism?

Alexander stands up and looks Elder Hommand in the eye. He recalls the council of the old man earlier in the night. I will tell the truth, consequences be damned.

Elder Hommand, think me mad or a murderer - that is your choice. This much is truth: The Talden brothers returned this night; however, they were not alive. They were undead and I was forced to destroy those we knew as Mat and Lott. Garen - for some part of him was still human - went to Hound Gate and I presume that he met his end there. You know that my master built this cell and that I could have freed myself; however, until you decide my fate, I will stay here.

With that, Alexander, holds his gaze and awaits his response.

Alexander
Bryce steps forward. He is an ork man, heavily built and solid. A very serious man, and one of the few in the village that follows an adept's discipline, the Way of the Warrior.

I'm afriad the evidence says otherwise Alexander . I saw the bodies my self, as has Elder Hommond. I have fought the undead before. They bore none of the marks of decay and their bodies were stiffening when we foudn them, meaning they had only been dead for a few hours.

Elder Hommond nods gravely. There you have it Alexander . Care to change your story?

Roll perception step

As Alexander's head falls from the rebuttal, he glances down at the floor. Something there is strange.

Bryce's shadow and Elder Hommonds are right next to each other,flickering in the torch light.

Except Elder Hommond's flickers slower .. and is almost gray instead of solid black.

Alexander glances down at the floor and notices something is off - strange perhaps. As he looks at the shadows he stares back into Elder Hommand's eyes and asks, You accuse me of murder yet you are not yourself this night either. Why is it that your shadow is gray and does not follow the torchlight? He points out the shadows to Bryce and the militia men as well.

Elder Hommond simply smiles as one would to a mistaken child
I can see this is going no where. I fear either the heat of hte forge, or perhaps some stray mushroom has driven you to madness youg Alexander. I pity you.... but my duty must be done.

You will be given a three day reprieve to settle your soul. Perhaps recieve some absolution from your mother. On the next dawn, you will die by the means you slew your fellows. By the Sword. I am sorry that it came to this Alexander.

Bryce turns and follows Elder Hommond, speaking ot the guards on the way out. Keep a close eye on him. He may try something desperate.

As the pair of them walk out, Alexander notices Bryce glance at the Elder's shadow, concern crossing his face. The door shuts.

As Alexander watches, Bryce turns and follows Elder Hommand out of the jail. He is somewhat dismayed by Bryce's words. Try something desperate? I just might! No, the more I think about it the better off I am following the advice of the old man. I will stay here and leave my fate in the hands of the Passions. They will see me through or Death will greet me with open arms. Either way, I will not bend to madness. How do you know that you aren't mad now? I guess that I don't, however, Bryce will follow up on my words. He was watching the Elder's shadow and was concerned.

Alexander

Alexander is stil sitting , quietly, hours later, un able to sleep. Little wonder that. With only three days to live, sleeping now seems a bit of a waste.
The guards, three of them now, seem to be minding their card games now. Of course, any trouble, and those fine edges swords will clear their scabards. Alexander knows just how fine their edge is. His master forged them. Alexander helped with many when he was first learning his craft.

A soft voice from the corner of the cell caught his attention.

Young Alexander ... the noble smith... locked in a cage of his own creating. How tragic.
The soft voice seemed a glow with joy at the tragedy. It wassoft, quiet, and almost hissing. It was coming form the back corner of the cell, but there was nothing there.
How long will they allow you to sit here, lost in your own madness, before they tire of the reminder of you, and simply kill you in your sleep? ONe day? Two, do you think? Madness has taken you Alexander . It is the true mark of the mad that they do not see their own ... insanity.

Alexander looks at the back of the cell and confirms that nothing is there. Nothing that I can see at least. Do I responsd? And have the guards think you mad? No, I don't think that is wise. Alexander kneels, folds his arms and bows his head. He begins again to pray to the Passions choosing to ignore the disembodied voice.

Alexander
Hahahahhaahahaaahaaa!
What are you going to do? Hide from me!? I am in your head fool! I am you! Or some broken part pf you. Can you feel your self slowly going mad? Can you feel your mind breaking yet Alexander ? You will, if you don't yet.

There will come a time, when you can just feel it oooozing in. The madness.. taking over ... letting you go.. go to do the things you really want to do. To hurt. To kill. To Kill again.

Murderer

Alexander begins to grow angry with the voice. I am not crazy! Focusing on the voice, You will be silent! My fate is in the hands of the Passions. Calming somewhat, Focus on that which is important, young one. Master Silas, thank you for your wisom.

With that he focuses again on his prayers and ignores any future utterances from the voice.

Alexander
HAHAHHA! You think rambling on the words of a dead old man is going to make any difference!? It's nothing more than a rotting piece of meat now! Food for the worms! Just like good ol' Mat and Lott that used to make you laugh so mcuh. Because you put them there. How would that rotting piece of meat feel on that ... journeyman!?

Written records, pah. We need to find survivors!

The town hall is easy enough to spot from the air. The combination of "biggest buidling" and "most damaged" really make it stand out.

Very well. If you would like we can search for survivors as we try and locate the city hall. Though, it would make sense that in a time of crisis the town would barricade themselves within the city hall. So, whatever survivors we are looking for, we would most likely find there.
Morgana begins walking, eyes scanning the town.

It looks like most of the fighting did indeed happen in the Hall. There is a small wall arounnd the town, but it looks less than deensible, not being in very good repair in the first place from the looks of things. The Hall has the refuse of a barricade at the front ,and it's windows. There's no way to tell how long it lasted. But in the end .... it didn't.

Ralo flies towards the town hall and scans for survivors on the way to it.
The village remind him too much of mortality and Death, something he avoids to think about as often as possible.

It would have to be a huge pyre. Something that big would send up a smoke plume that could bring unwanted attention. Still, it is the best way to ensure that the dead remain so. Perhaps, we could burn the bodies in shifts. Forgive me, that sounded callous. I just meant that if we created a small pyre and burnt them over a period of time, it would draw less attention. What do you think, Ralo?
The stench of Death truly was overpowering. Morgana closed her eyes and made a silent prayer to Astendar.
Beautiful Astendar, please, in this time of Death and Darkness, help my heart to still see the beauty all around us, the life that still lives. Guide me to find those that have need of me, have need of a song and a story. Help me, Astendar. Help me.

NOTE:As I mentioned before, still holds true ... there are no bodies. Only blood.[/color]

Looking around the remains of the city hall, Morgana comes to a startling realization.
Ralo, there aren't any bodies here....

Is it possible that all have become cadavermen like the poor souls we've met tow days ago?



We should be careful and expect the worst. Saying this, Ralo readies his broadsword.

I suppose it would be possible. It would take a powerful Horror, or a powerful Nethermancer to animate so many. I say we search for the journal, if it even exists, and then continue on to Vanten. Perhaps we can stop the spread of whatever is causing this.
Seeing Ralo ready his sword, Morgana pulls hers from it's scabbard. Comforted by it's familiar weight.
Keep an eye on the outside. I'll venture in and take a look around.

Waiting on the outside? Pah, and who should help you in combat?

Ralo flies as quick as possbile to the town hall and searches for an entry.

Inside the Hall, there are a few scattered weapons, and a number of farming implements that have been converted in to such. There is a great many supplies stocked within as well. Bags of grain, breads, a barrel of water, cheeses, jerky. They may well ahve been able to hold out on the food here for a month depending on how many mouths they had.

Small cloth dolls in one corner nearly bring a tear to the eye, especially after seeign the blood stains near by. A tragedy like this does not only strike the hale and hearty. On this scale, the young and the old, the helpless, are consumes as well.

It's not the smell of death that is so present here, but of hope lost. Sorrow. Despair. The only sound is hearts breaking.