“Same cause, I’d reckon, but different effect?” Daugherty would propose as he also went through the cart looking for items that seemed.. his, somehow. “They’re walking like is, but from here they don’t seem to still have their faculties. I’d guess because they died before whatever happened? Or longer before at least?”
Daugherty continues searching for his goods even as he thinks on this and continues sneaking looks around to reassure himself nobody or nothing is approaching. First he spots his studded leather armor, the colorful, though muted, scraps of cloth sewn upon the sides to add some flair a sure signal that it is his. The fit confirms the fact. A backpack with similar decoration is grabbed and shouldered. A variety of daggers he gathers don’t speak to him in particular so much as meaningful as comforting. As he grabs up the half dozen, one by one, he instinctively knows where each is stowed, sheathed or secreted away by muscle memory.
“Ahh, there you are,” he says softly to himself as he finds his rapier half hidden by the toppled cart. He takes it up reverentially and carefully cleans it with one of the colorful bandannas he caries before doing a couple of flourishes with the blade as if getting reacquainted with it. Once he puts the blade away he pauses and looks out at the horizon again, still wary of intruders…
But he pauses and tilts his head as if listening to a sound that wasn’t made. He’s then scrambling back to the cart and looking all around it until about five steps back up the hill he sees a glint in the grass. Hurrying to it, he snatches up the flute that laid hidden there. His flute. Daugherty first inspected and then carefully cleaned the instrument, oblivious to all else for a minute or four as he did. Finally, once satisfied, he brings the instrument to his lips and plays…
The tune is jaunty, yet mournful in its way. Seemed oddly appropriate. They were alive, after a fashion, and yet possibly surrounded by undead. Definitely a mixed bag… Stuffing the instrument securely into an inside pocket, Daugherty looks around at the others. “We good then?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
"Good? Well, I suppose that is a matter of perspective. Compared to a few hours ago, life is certainly looking up. But in an absolute sense..." Alcazar nods in the direction of the wandering undead, then stares for a moment at his hands, flexing the fingers, "...time will tell."
After a long moment, he frowns and points, "One of those fellows looks...fresher...than the rest. Shall we give our brethren a wide berth, or engage them in parley?"
“There are fires within the city,” Daugherty says with a nod of his head towards the place further down the hill, past the new corpse walkers. “Caused by similar risings, you expect?”
Daughter waits for an answer and then points out “I don’t think any of us have any great love for the town, given their treatment of us, but it may be the best place to look if we care about answers. Personally, haven’t quite decided if I do or not.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
"Aye. I had assumed as much." He waves his arm dismissively at the creatures at the foot of the hill, "Let's leave these to themselves then, and seek answers, and as we walk, I will try to think of some questions to go with them." Like, what in the nine hells has happened to me?
With one last glance at the empty cart, he starts to make his way down the hill, giving the corpses in the graveyard a wide berth. "Let us see what is to be seen."
As they walk he starts to muse out loud. "Do you think the judge is involved? Or the priesthood? This is no common thing that has happened, perhaps it is an attack by a foreign power?"
Daugherty looks to the others, to see if they’re following and if they have opinions, then looks back at Alcazar and shrug. “I know a few tricks, but the likes of all this? It’s beyond me. Off the cuff though, I’d wager this was bigger than one man. Way town seems to not be fairing well, I’d lean more towards an attack… or perhaps a disgruntled dirty or two.”
Irate gods, now that’s a cheery though, Daugherty thought to himself. There was fire before and behind them, the stench of burnt wood on the air with perhaps just an undercurrent of decaying flesh. The dead were walking… planning. Scheming even. Yeah, these were not good signs…
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
Once Haleigh retrieves her spellbook, she sits on the ground crosslegged with the book in her lap. While others are going through the rest of the their findings, she works on a ritual. She shuts the world out as she does what is the most natural to her, what she was hung for and now what she will do her best to live for - even in this state.
She finishes her ritual of find familiar and a completely black cat appears next to her. She stands up and shrugs as the others look at her. "Might as well embrace the whole witch persona." she puts out her hand towards the cat, "Meet Twitch"
As they start down the hill towards the town, she and Twitch follow along.
((If she doesn’t tell us first, I imagine Daugherty would be patient.. for awhile. Eventually there would be some sighing, eye rolling and wishing watches had been invented so he could obsessively check it… but she wouldn’t be left behind. If she does mention the time, he’d ask if it’s really necessary, and could we at least find some cover first?))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
As Haleigh seems to settle in for a long ritual, Alcazar's gaze moves from her to the crowd of undead, then back to her. "Perhaps now is not the time, madame." He fidgets in a coat pocket and pulls out a small ornate box, which he opens then quickly snaps shut in frustration. Bastards!
"The town..." he waves his arms in its general direction as the light from the distant fires briefly catches the gold embroidery at the end of the sleeves, "...I am sure will have one or two vacant residences by the time we get there."
Rhiv equips his belongings from the cart and stands staring at the town. "He's down dere. He 'll feel me claws 'roun his fat neck. Or maybees I'll giv'm sum slashes 'cross his face and belly." He rambles on wistfully.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Sep finishes gathering his items and listens to the others. “I think we should look in the town as well, but I would give the graveyard a wide berth, let’s not jump into a fight until we are ready and it is needed.” He looks for another path around.
Haleigh nods in agreement and follows the rest as they give the other undead a wide berth. Such a surreal situation she contemplates. She wonders if they meet people along the way if they would give them a wide berth.
Alcazar laughs out loud, but the sound is more like a wheezing hyena than anything human. He tries to clear his throat before speaking.
"Aren't family reunions always the most awful occasions? I imagine they will be worse than usual this year."
He looks at each of his companions closely then nods. "Well preserved, and a little pale, but not to disturbing, yet perhaps we should cover our necks - as some one else said - before we meet polite company."
The group steps off the path, and begins taking the long route around, avoiding the graveyard entirely.
As they travel, those with passive perception or survival of 15 or above notice the following:
There are a number of tracks traveling through the grass here, places where the stalks have been crashed or bent, and the earth has been gouged up. There have been people traveling through here recently, off of the path, likely away from the graveyard.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
“Same cause, I’d reckon, but different effect?” Daugherty would propose as he also went through the cart looking for items that seemed.. his, somehow. “They’re walking like is, but from here they don’t seem to still have their faculties. I’d guess because they died before whatever happened? Or longer before at least?”
Daugherty continues searching for his goods even as he thinks on this and continues sneaking looks around to reassure himself nobody or nothing is approaching. First he spots his studded leather armor, the colorful, though muted, scraps of cloth sewn upon the sides to add some flair a sure signal that it is his. The fit confirms the fact. A backpack with similar decoration is grabbed and shouldered. A variety of daggers he gathers don’t speak to him in particular so much as meaningful as comforting. As he grabs up the half dozen, one by one, he instinctively knows where each is stowed, sheathed or secreted away by muscle memory.
“Ahh, there you are,” he says softly to himself as he finds his rapier half hidden by the toppled cart. He takes it up reverentially and carefully cleans it with one of the colorful bandannas he caries before doing a couple of flourishes with the blade as if getting reacquainted with it. Once he puts the blade away he pauses and looks out at the horizon again, still wary of intruders…
But he pauses and tilts his head as if listening to a sound that wasn’t made. He’s then scrambling back to the cart and looking all around it until about five steps back up the hill he sees a glint in the grass. Hurrying to it, he snatches up the flute that laid hidden there. His flute. Daugherty first inspected and then carefully cleaned the instrument, oblivious to all else for a minute or four as he did. Finally, once satisfied, he brings the instrument to his lips and plays…
The tune is jaunty, yet mournful in its way. Seemed oddly appropriate. They were alive, after a fashion, and yet possibly surrounded by undead. Definitely a mixed bag… Stuffing the instrument securely into an inside pocket, Daugherty looks around at the others. “We good then?”
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
"Good? Well, I suppose that is a matter of perspective. Compared to a few hours ago, life is certainly looking up. But in an absolute sense..." Alcazar nods in the direction of the wandering undead, then stares for a moment at his hands, flexing the fingers, "...time will tell."
After a long moment, he frowns and points, "One of those fellows looks...fresher...than the rest. Shall we give our brethren a wide berth, or engage them in parley?"
“There are fires within the city,” Daugherty says with a nod of his head towards the place further down the hill, past the new corpse walkers. “Caused by similar risings, you expect?”
Daughter waits for an answer and then points out “I don’t think any of us have any great love for the town, given their treatment of us, but it may be the best place to look if we care about answers. Personally, haven’t quite decided if I do or not.”
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
"Aye. I had assumed as much." He waves his arm dismissively at the creatures at the foot of the hill, "Let's leave these to themselves then, and seek answers, and as we walk, I will try to think of some questions to go with them." Like, what in the nine hells has happened to me?
With one last glance at the empty cart, he starts to make his way down the hill, giving the corpses in the graveyard a wide berth. "Let us see what is to be seen."
As they walk he starts to muse out loud. "Do you think the judge is involved? Or the priesthood? This is no common thing that has happened, perhaps it is an attack by a foreign power?"
Daugherty looks to the others, to see if they’re following and if they have opinions, then looks back at Alcazar and shrug. “I know a few tricks, but the likes of all this? It’s beyond me. Off the cuff though, I’d wager this was bigger than one man. Way town seems to not be fairing well, I’d lean more towards an attack… or perhaps a disgruntled dirty or two.”
Irate gods, now that’s a cheery though, Daugherty thought to himself. There was fire before and behind them, the stench of burnt wood on the air with perhaps just an undercurrent of decaying flesh. The dead were walking… planning. Scheming even. Yeah, these were not good signs…
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Once Haleigh retrieves her spellbook, she sits on the ground crosslegged with the book in her lap. While others are going through the rest of the their findings, she works on a ritual. She shuts the world out as she does what is the most natural to her, what she was hung for and now what she will do her best to live for - even in this state.
She finishes her ritual of find familiar and a completely black cat appears next to her. She stands up and shrugs as the others look at her. "Might as well embrace the whole witch persona." she puts out her hand towards the cat, "Meet Twitch"
As they start down the hill towards the town, she and Twitch follow along.
(Find familiar takes an hour to cast, are you all really going to just sit around here for that whole time?)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
((If she doesn’t tell us first, I imagine Daugherty would be patient.. for awhile. Eventually there would be some sighing, eye rolling and wishing watches had been invented so he could obsessively check it… but she wouldn’t be left behind. If she does mention the time, he’d ask if it’s really necessary, and could we at least find some cover first?))
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
As Haleigh seems to settle in for a long ritual, Alcazar's gaze moves from her to the crowd of undead, then back to her. "Perhaps now is not the time, madame." He fidgets in a coat pocket and pulls out a small ornate box, which he opens then quickly snaps shut in frustration. Bastards!
"The town..." he waves his arms in its general direction as the light from the distant fires briefly catches the gold embroidery at the end of the sleeves, "...I am sure will have one or two vacant residences by the time we get there."
Rhiv equips his belongings from the cart and stands staring at the town. "He's down dere. He 'll feel me claws 'roun his fat neck. Or maybees I'll giv'm sum slashes 'cross his face and belly." He rambles on wistfully.
(Is the party traveling down the path, which passes by the graveyard, or taking a wide berth?)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Sep finishes gathering his items and listens to the others. “I think we should look in the town as well, but I would give the graveyard a wide berth, let’s not jump into a fight until we are ready and it is needed.” He looks for another path around.
Perception : 18
Alcazar nods, "Agreed. No need to kill our brethren just yet."
A"ye. Leave em be. Our target be in town." Rhiv agrees.
“Brethren? Hmph, hope not,” Daugherty sneers but then shrugs it off. “But best to avoid trouble until we decide we want it…”
We're doing one small murder-y thing for a bigger, better reason. The ends justify the means.
-- Eleanor Shellstrop
Haleigh nods in agreement and follows the rest as they give the other undead a wide berth. Such a surreal situation she contemplates. She wonders if they meet people along the way if they would give them a wide berth.
Alcazar laughs out loud, but the sound is more like a wheezing hyena than anything human. He tries to clear his throat before speaking.
"Aren't family reunions always the most awful occasions? I imagine they will be worse than usual this year."
He looks at each of his companions closely then nods. "Well preserved, and a little pale, but not to disturbing, yet perhaps we should cover our necks - as some one else said - before we meet polite company."
(Sorry, been busy lately, will get a post off tomorrow midday at latest)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
The group steps off the path, and begins taking the long route around, avoiding the graveyard entirely.
As they travel, those with passive perception or survival of 15 or above notice the following:
There are a number of tracks traveling through the grass here, places where the stalks have been crashed or bent, and the earth has been gouged up. There have been people traveling through here recently, off of the path, likely away from the graveyard.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Can Alcazar make any sense of the tracks? eg. were they running humans vs lumbering clumsy undead? Bare feet (because poor buried without shoes) etc?