Burr thrust the Bloodspear at the enemy before him then ran further into town making himself a target for any remaining cultists.

Attack: 25 Damage: 22

BA- RAGE.

Movement- 30' into town.

Giles steps forward and through the gates, just as Burr runs the cultist through with his spear.  He sees a cultist peeking out from the corner of a house straight ahead.  He points at him and the sound of a dolorous bell goes off in the air above him.  His telekinetic hand floats 20 feet in front of him, waiting, and grasping, clutching in the air.  

Movement : inside the gate

Action : He casts Toll the dead on the cultist due west : DC 15 wisdom save or take 11 points of necrotic damage.  

Burr rams the Bloodspear effortlessly through the chest of the last brown-robed cultist and then strides down the road.

WIS:  21

The cultist at the end of the road doesn't react to Giles' bells.

Tourmaline tucks her head inside the gate.  She points toward the cultist illuminated in Soren's moonlight and a bonfire erupts at his feet.

DEX:  16

The red-robed cultist hotfoots away from the flames but seems unharmed.  Tourmaline then ducks back outside the gate.

That same cultist finds himself inside Soren's moonbeam (the save, damage and Concentration check from post #2300 should occur here instead).  He hopes back over the short fence and moves up the street until he can see Burr again.  " Freeze, murderer!  The dark flames of Phlegethos await thee!"

[Once again, Burr, make a WIS save DC12.  No effect on a success.  On a failure, Burr is Paralyzed for one minute.  At the end of each of his turns, Burr repeats the save, ending the spell on him on a success.]

He then moves his golden spinning top to follow Burr.  It again tries to slam into him.

• Spiritual Weapon Attack:  22 [Even if Burr fails the save above, first roll was better than 2nd roll.]  Force Damage:  10

The cultist at the end of the street emerges, casting a spell and conjuring another of those golden spinning tops just in front of Burr.  

• Spiritual Weapon Attack:  13 [Even if Burr fails the save above, first roll was better than 2nd roll.]  

Then he steps back in 20' back further to the north.

1. Burr  
2. Giles  
3. Tourmaline  
4. Cultists 
5. Zefla  
6. Soren 
7. Victor 

Burr Wis Save- 17

( Above post saying Dice rolls not available I'll post another one here incase it doesn't resolve-  Burr Wis Save- 22

Burrs raging passion blows through the spell and he runs forward and right after the Cultist.

As he rounds the corner he casts the Bloodspear at their back.

Attack: 12 Damage: 13 + 2 Radiant.

BA- Second Wind- 7

[Sorry, I failed to strikethrough those who had already acted this turn.  Zefla and Soren are up before Burr, though Burr's attack roll can stand once we come around to the next turn.]

Deciding to stay where she is so she gets the benefit of Steady Aim, Zefla takes out her shortbow and notches an arrow, all eyes on the cultist south of her.  Slowing her breath down, she lets loose...

And she crits!

Attack: 28, Damage: 9 + 20

 "Good hunting, friends.  I can finish off this one to south if needed.  Focus on the one to the north behind the man-dens!"

Soren walks a few steps closer to the gate, face grim.  IF the southern cultist still survives, he positions his Moonbeam over him once more.

Or otherwise, IF the southern cultist was slain by Zefla's attack and the northern cultist still survives, the druid moves his Moonbeam north-northwest, 60' closer to the northern cultist, while still leaving a path for Burr to charge at him without entering the radiant area.

Movement:  Soren walks SW - SW - W - W - W towards the gate, finishing just east of Giles and just south of Tourmaline.

Action:  IF the southern cultist still survives, Soren moves his Moonbeam 20' NE - NE - N so that the southern cultist is in the SE corner of it.
OR OTHERWISE IF the southern cultist was slain by Zefla's attack and the northern cultist still survives, he moves his Moonbeam 60' NW - NW - NW - NW - NW - NW - N - N - N towards the remaining foe (not quite getting there) while leaving a path for Burr to get at him.

Creatures starting their turn within the Moonbeam or entering its 5' radius cylindrical area make a DC 15 CON Save, taking 17 radiant damage on failure and 8 on success.  Shape-changers make the save at disadvantage and revert to their original form upon failure.

Bonus Action:  None

Nettle flies down from the wall to distract the northern cultist, taking the help action and back upwards using Flyby.  (Advantage to next attack against).

The fog hangs low as the last cultist collapses into the mud, the Bloodspear quivering from where it struck deep into his back.  Burr stands at the far edge of the path, chest heaving, eyes still bright with rage.  The crimson tip of the spear seems to pulse faintly when he retrieves it, as if drinking in the death it wrought.  

A few feet away, Zefla lowers her bow, the string still humming from the perfect shot that dropped her mark instantly.  An opposite to Burr, her breathing is steady now, trained and calm.  To the other's, she seems almost a natural predator...

Around her, the air remains tense for a few long moments—until it becomes clear: no more are coming.  All six cultists now lie dead, scattered around the gate, which hangs ajar.  The brown-robed ones seemed to have been little more than common fanatics.  The red-robed spellcasters bear what may have once been crude amulets of the Morninglord around their necks—twisted, melted things, like their faith had been forcibly reshaped into something uglier.  One of them died with a whispered prayer on his lips, choked off as Zefla’s arrow pierced his throat.

No bells toll.  No horns sound.  No armed men rally to avenge them; no guards rush to the scene.  Instead, Vallaki stands eerily still this afternoon.

The town’s walls loom above the gate.  Windows in the homes beyond are dark or shuttered, and those that remain open betray no movement behind their glass.  Only the wind speaks—whistling softly through the gate like a whisper from the past.

It’s not just that the town didn’t respond to the violence.  It’s that the town no longer seems to care.

Victor and Tourmaline are both still badly hurt.  From the rear, Ireena joins you at the gate, doing her best to shield the children's eye from yet more carnage.

Burr begins searching the bodies one by one as his rage abates, " Viktor, do you know any of these folks?"

" Vallaki has seen better days it seems......someone is going to have to step into the void left by the deaths of Wachter and your parents......I wish we knew where those damn bones were..."

Soren's shoulders slump with weariness as the battle reaches its predictable conclusion.  He feels the hags' curse weighing heavily upon his soul.

"You are not wrong, Burr.  Perhaps the former guard and the noble who Urwin suggested might help fill the dearth of pack alphas in this territory.  We must make sure the Martikovs are safe.  I think they are our only surviving allies here and their Inn is the only place we have to take the cubs."

He hesitates.  "You all know I fear fire, yet I wonder.  With vampires on the loose raising the dead into undead, should we burn the bodies?"  Soren glances at the mages in the group.  "No uncontrollable elemental fire spirits that will set the entire town ablaze, however," the druid adds hastily.

He calls Nettle to his shoulder, dropping concentration on Moonbeam and tapping the little owl's feathers to grant her Silvanus' Guidance.

Nettle wings away and glides in slow spirals west into Vallaki, towards the Blue Water Inn, out to a hundred feet from the scene of the battle with the cultists to scout for further threats, hazards or even more strangeness in the deserted town that might be in the party's path.

Nettle's Perception at advantage due to Keen Hearing and Sight, plus Guidance to scout ahead:  23 (Nat. 20) + 3 = 26

Victor looks for a moment as if he will reply with something snarky to Burr's question - but then he sighs.  He glances at each of the dead men and then shakes his head.  "Perhaps I might have seen one or two of them about town, but its nobody important."

Burr moves among the corpses, the bloodied mud sucking at his boots as he turns each body over.  The cultists have little of worth on them: six cheap, curved daggers, their edges already dull and stained; tattered leather belts; and a scattering of small, worn books - their covers and pages meaningless to Burr.  

Then, something strange.  Tucked into the robes of three of the cultists, Burr finds more paper.  Not books or letters, but drawings—carefully folded sheets of thick, yellowed paper. Unfolding one, he recognizes the picture.

It’s a drawing of himself.

A near-perfect likeness: the thick shoulders, the set of his jaw, the fierce, enraged glare.  It's rendered with surprising detail in dark ink, almost unnervingly precise for something done by hand.  Each drawing is marred, however, by a curious detail: tiny three-toed footprints, stamped or smudged across the paper.  Like something small and clawed had paced across it as it was being drawn, standing in the ink itself.

Meanwhile, a few steps away, Soren leans against the gate and sends Nettle soaring.  The little owl lifts into the misty air with a silent flutter of wings, sweeping low over Vallaki’s crooked rooftops.

Through Nettle’s sharp eyes, Soren sees:

• The town is not deserted.  Here and there, faint hints of life flicker behind shuttered windows—faces half-seen, pulling away as the owl glides past.  Down one alley, a pair of locals hurriedly harvest root vegetables from a small, raised garden between the homes.  Elsewhere, a lone man is on his rooftop, hammering an iron grate into the opening of his chimney.

• Doors are barred and bolted.  Shops and blacksmiths show no signs of open commerce.

• No guards patrol the streets.  No merchants hawk their wares.

• Only the occasional curl of chimney smoke betrays that people still huddle inside.

The town seems alive but paralyzed—like a beast hiding in its den after a suffering a gut wound.

Nettle scouts the road ahead.  No ambushes wait along the muddy streets.  No visible threats move through the alleys.  It seems safe enough, for now.  But it is a hollow kind of safety. Vallaki feels like a place after the thunderstorm, before the flood.  And the next nightfall is only hours away....

Burr hands the papers to Giles and the books assuming someone else might make more of them.

" I'm famous.  Lets get to the inn."

" The cultists seem less.....affluent....than Wachters cultists should be....odd."

He began herding folks that way...

If Soren catches a glimpse of the depictions of Burr, he contemplates aloud:

"I wonder if those tiny three-toed footprints are from that little flying monster who tried to sting me with its tail in the Wachter House, then vanished."

He hears the report from his Wild Companion and relays:  "Nettle says the path is clear.  No guards, but also no activity.  No merchants or people out of their dens.  The city is... playing dead.  Fearful of the next attack.  Perhaps tonight.  It would be good to gather everyone together, but I know not how."

The owl returns to his shoulder and instead he taps Zefla to grant her Silvanus' Guidance should it become necessary en route to the Blue Water Inn.

Giles knows that it is likely a futile gesture, but he goes back to the gates and pulls them shut, sealing them with a bar or whatever manner they are usually closed.  He walks forward and starts to drag the body of the cultist to put them together in a row.  When he hears Soren’s comment about burning the bodies, he agrees.  “I don’t want these bodies to turn to undead, to be used against us in that way.  I think they should be burned.  Don’t know if this is the place for it, or if there is a better way… but I know that we need to get everyone to the Blue Water Inn as well.  Anyone have a good way to make a quick funeral pyre?”  Giles looks for any deadwood, any way to quickly burn the bodies.  

Once everyone starts to move and head to the Inn, he doesn’t let that consume him, he will go as well, but remembering this task to complete.  “Soren, I know that you still need healing of your curse.  Once I have some sleep and concentration on my Lady, I can help you with that.  For now, we need to struggle on, until we see the rest of the lay of the land in Vallaki..”

Burr takes out a handaxe and starts beheading bodies.

Zefla is more than ready to head to the Inn.  As the funeral pyre is discussed and the bodies are formed in a line.  She is about to say something, then Burr starts with the beheading.  She goes to Ireena, "Come on, let's go.  I'll lead the way."

She leads Ireena, the kids, Viktor and Tourmaline towards the Inn.  Scouting ahead for a couple of buildings before waving them to catch up with her.  She trusts Nettle's report, but just in case things change...

Stealth: 28 

Perception: 25

(Thanks for the guidance, but apparently not needed this time!)

Quote from Twombley >>

Once everyone starts to move and head to the Inn, he doesn’t let that consume him, he will go as well, but remembering this task to complete.  “Soren, I know that you still need healing of your curse.  Once I have some sleep and concentration on my Lady, I can help you with that.  For now, we need to struggle on, until we see the rest of the lay of the land in Vallaki..”

Soren inclines his head in thanks and does not disagree.  While he helps Giles or others find a way to burn the bodies, he responds to the priest of Tymora.

"Thank you, not-Father.  The curse weighs heavy on me, I admit.  Heavier than I thought it would.  Yet worse is what comes tonight.  Not just to Vallaki, likely, but to my dreams.  I do not think Morgantha will let me sleep.  Before vanishing, she promised to turn my dreams to harrowing nightmares that provide no rest as she did once before.  So I may not find proper rest until we find a holy place that fiends cannot penetrate.  Perhaps reclaim the stolen Bones of Saint Andral to re-sanctify the Cathedral.  Perhaps this Anastrasia has them.  If only one of us knew how to locate objects such as those..."

When the time comes, Soren follows Zefla's scouting and lead wearily back to the Blue Water Inn, Nettle perched upon his shoulder.

The walk through Vallaki is quiet.

Zefla leads the way, her sharp eyes constantly scanning the alleys and rooftops.  The town is as Soren’s owl saw it - silent, watchful and wounded.  Curtains twitch.  Shadows shift.  But no one calls out, no one steps into the street.  Even the air seems hesitant, the mist curling low and cold around the ankles of the group as they move toward the Blue Water Inn.

Ireena walks close to Zefla, one protective hand on a Saskia’s shoulder.  Victor stumbles along behind, glassy-eyed but obedient, and the children are silent, clutching each other’s hands.  Soren, haunted and visibly weary, brings up the rear with Nettle on his shoulder, his eyes occasionally flicking behind them to watch for movement.  The weight of Morgantha's promised nightmares seems to hang over him.

As they pass through the town center, a few townsfolk peek from shuttered windows.  A face here, a flicker of eyes there.  A door cracks open as if someone were about to exit—only to slam shut again at the sight of the bloodstained travelers.  No one speaks or calls out.  None interfere with the journey.

Far behind them, the bodies are burning.

Tourmaline, face a pale pink now rather than her normal crimson, summons flame with a flick of her hand. A [Tooltip Not Found] roars to life, crackling around the piled corpses.  Burr’s bloodied hand axes drip, his massive frame still and silent as the flames catch, consuming the brown and red robes alike.  The severed heads are piled atop.  The acrid stench of burning flesh rises into the grey sky.  Smoke begins to drift over the small plaza around the gate.

A few Vallakians watch from their windows, but they do not raise any alarm.

At last, the weary group reaches the Blue Water Inn.

The doors are closed, but not barred.  As Zefla knocks, they creak open—slowly—and Danika Martikov appears.  She looks thinner, older than you remember from just this morning, her once-sharp eyes ringed with sleeplessness.  Behind her, the taproom is mostly dark, the hearth cold.

She sees Ireena and the children, then Soren’s face and Victor's blistered skin, and nods without a word, stepping aside to let them in.  “Not much welcome, I’m afraid,” she says quietly. “But we still have shelter.  For now.”

As the last of them enter, Burr, Tourmaline and Giles return from their grim task.  Burr’s arms are still stained to the elbow.  Tourmaline looks drained.

Inside the inn, warmth returns slowly.  The Martikovs have been busy.  Behind the bar, there is a small armory.  Four crossbows hang from coat hooks and there are maces, longswords and daggers as well.  A wooden box holds more than a dozen torches, wrapped and ready to be lit at a moment's notice. 

Adrian and Elvir are still here, as are the wolf hunters.  Danika leads Ireena and the three children upstairs, to meet her own sons.

Urwin Martikov silently opens up a cask of wine and offer cups to the party.

Tourmaline sits down heavily in a corner. Victor sits silently, shivering. 

Urwin looks over all of you for a moment.  Then he sighs.  "Well... what happened?  You all return whole... more or less... and I see you recovered some of the wee ones.  Yet you look like shite.  So tell me what's going on now, then I'll share what you've missed."