Chronicles of Vieliria

[Varrus the Ethical]

"Now is a good a time as any," says Wil, proceeding to inspect the ground where he first saw the track. "Let's see were this thing went."

[alhoon]

Wilfred's combination of woodland skills, determination and plain luck was uncunny as the ranger managed to follow the tracks of the creature at double speed. He was moving fast enough that Serge, Roddek and Jean had trouble keeping up with the practiced woodsman.

Wilfred leads them to follow the undead creature's seemingly random route. After a couple of minutes the ranger realizes that the thing moves towards the general direction the levies are going. It would be a matter of time before it could catch up with the fleeing men. Time Wilfred's exceptional skills didn't give to the creature.

They can hear the levies moving in the distance, just beyond the gray veil of the mists when a creature out of nightmares jumps out of the foliage, less than 60 feet away from them.
Standing just over 3 feet tall, the crimson bones is a horrific vissage. Oozing acidic black blood from darkened flesh between white bone, exposed muscle damaged by the flaying knife and the remains of vital organs no longer functioning, with pieces of flesh or entails hanging from bone, it's obvious the thing is an undead creature held together by the curse that brought it back to existance. Yellowish-Green pinpoints of light replace the missing eyes of the undead.
There can be no doubt of the creature's origins or intention. The light that burns in the creature's empty eye sockets is one of deep hatred and blind envy for all living things.

Jean and Serge for all their eagerness to join don't seem to have overcome the shock of the initial discovery and stay frozen in horror as the creature closes in to attack.

[alhoon]

Roddek lunges forward determined to keep the undead away from the others. He swings his axe catching the smaller undead right in the flayed skull delivering a powerful blow. Although the bones seem pretenaturaly resilient he manages to crack the skull. Thick black foul smelling blood splashes from the wound and hits the dwarf burns as it seeps through armor and gauntlets but not enough pain to slow the dwarf. As Roddek pulls back the axe the crimson dead, unhibited by pain or self-preservation insticts lunges for his exposed throat using fingers without flesh as grotesque claws and lipless jaw for a bite.
As Roddek rises his shield, easily blocking the right arm, the creature grabs on his armor's shoulder pad with its left hand, oozing acidic blood on Roddek's weapon arm. As the dwarf backsteps and his arm lowers from the sudden weight, the creature manages to bite under the dwarf's shoulder pad at the exposed arm. The undead's teeth manage to chew through the weakened from the acid padded armor to deliver a painful bite.
As creature pulls back its head tearing dwarven flesh, one of Wilfred's arrows catches the crimson dead on the arm it uses to hold on the dwarf weaking its hold. A second one smashes right on the flayed forehead and breaks withough causing significant damage, but the force of the blow is enough so that the dwarf can heave the undead remains of tortured soul off his body and to the ground.

[VAN]

Boiros hears the noise of engagement. He gets his sword and shield out, whispers:

"Ezra protect us!"

And runs in the mists easily able to locate the battle.

[alhoon]

At the back of their minds the party registers that the mists seem to have thickened, blocking visibility to less than 200 feet. Even though they're in a fight for their lives, the adventurers feel they're being watched, their decisions and actions recorded. It's strange that such feelings manage to seep through the instict of self preservation; it feels like the watchers want them to know they're being watched.

Roddek swings his axe again at the undead, getting it on the shoulder. The blade dives in with a sickening crunch as another spray of black acidic blood sprays on the dwarf causing burns as it seeps under armor. Before the dwarf can find his balance again, the undead claws find an unprotected place behind his knee and dig in, causing a deep painful gash. Instead of releasing, the undead pulls itself close and bites right over the dwarf's knee tearing at flesh as Roddek manages to pull back and kicks it in the face putting some distance between them.

"Serge! Help Lord Greyaxe! Flank! I'll try to keep this thing off him!" Jean Matheron said recovering from the shock. Realizing how little damage his rapier would do to the mostly skeletal undead, Jean Rashes to the dwarf's side trying to block teeth and flayed fingers. Serge grunting, still pale and obviously feeling sick, circles the undead, heavy broadsword held in two hands.
The Crimson dead turns towards the veteran and seems about to lunge on him, but an arrow whistles past it's fleshless face and another cracks on it's damaged shoulder stopping it from attacking Serge but doing no obvious damage. Serge seems to be near panic as the yellowish-green dots of hate turn on him, from flayed eyeless sockets. Only the resolve of the dwarf and the presence of his liege seems to be holding the man together.

The dwarf tries to hit the distracted undead as it has turned its back to him. His axe finds the spine of the creature with a solid blow, nearly cutting it in half. Jean Matheron evades the black blood that comes out, but the dwarf is again severely burned by it. As the Crimson dead turns on the dwarf going for the exposed flesh above the leggings, the dwarven shield smashes on it's face as it tries to bite and Jean's Rapier hit the nails of the creature with enough force to severe a finger. As it drops backward right in front of Serge though, the undead throws his other hand up, catching the veteran on the thigh, causing a swallow but paiful wound.
With a scream of mixed pain and panic Serge turns his sword downward's towards the creature's hateful eyes and pushes with all the strength of a paniced man. A sickening thud can be heard as the point of the sword dives in the small skull of a creature that was just the previous day a normal, living person. Serge in his panic doesn't release but throws all of his weight on the sword driving it through the skull, pinning the creature to the ground.

As the undead thrashes unable to do anything as it is pinned on the ground, Roddek easily cuts it in half and Wilfred with his greatsword has little trouble smashing the ribs, releasing the creature from it's cursed undead state.

It's only after the creature have stopped thrashing that Jean manages with soothing words to calm the shaking armsman enough for him to release the sword. At this point, Boiros crushes through the foliage and the vapors of the fog, shield and sword in hand. The sight of the mutilated corpse, cut in half, smashed ribcage, crushed skull and broken shoulder greets the cleric within the thinning mists. The feeling that they are being watched feels less intence now.

Serge leaves his sword impaled on the now lifeless skull, turns his back to the remains and again empties his stomach. Jean Matheron also turns away and with trembling hands reaches for a tree trunk to support himself.
"Is it... is it over?" He asked not wanting to look at the remains.

[VAN]

Trying to catch his breath from running Boiros looks at the immobile corpse for a couple of seconds. He needs all his will power to fight the feeling of aversion that gets him, but he manages to resist fleeing in panic this time.

"Indeed it's over. I knew this person, actually he was a halfling named Panorin. He wasn't a child. I have met him in the Carnival, he was a cheerful guy. I think he was the one that got me the letter from Isolde, the Carnival leader. He didn't deserve a death like that, nobody does. May his soul rest in peace."

Boiros makes a small prayer and taking a look at the dwarf's wounds adds:

"Lord Jean, me and Roddek will go fetch the levies, it's better if we are together with them. Can you stay here and prepare the pyre? We should have Panorin's remains cremated."

When they are alone out of Jean's and Serge's sight, Boiros asks Roddek:

"I can see you are badly wounded. Do you want me to try to heal you?"

[Naliamegod]

*after a bit G starts to stir and slowly comes too* Ugh.. I had the most horrid... *gets up and looks around* Hey.. who nickered my tent? And why is everyone acting in a crazed panic?

*seems to have completely forgotten everything that has happened*

[Varrus the Ethical]

After carefully cleaning his weapons, Wil starts to gather deadwood.

"I'll see to the pyre."

[alhoon]

As G looks around him, he sees the levies in various states of shock. Those next to him seem to have fainted too as they lie in makeshift strechers except of one person that seems to have been frozen in panic, shaking uncontrollably and bubbling weird things. Further away, there are people that have a detached look. While they don't seem unable to communicate or respond they seem lost in their own terrible thoughts. Some levies are in their knees praying while some hold spears in trembling hands. Roddek, Boiros, Wilfred, Jean Matheron and Serge are nowhere to be found.
Yet, for all those events Garret doesn't seem to want to know the answer. It feels somehow safer to not know where the others are or why he's lying in a strecher. It feels more comforting to have no idea why the levies are in such state.
Yet for all his ignorance, Garret feels a sense of foreboding doom pressing on his chest. He feels anxiety and longing for everything he loved and he ever cared for. Deep inside, it feels like everything he holds dear is a few steps closer to being snatched away to a terrible fate. Somehow, whatever happened made him realize that happiness is ephemeral and safety is a fleeting thing. Women, wine, gold... they all somehow mean less to him than the night before.
He feels like he will never be the same person again.

As G pushes further away the fearful discussions of the levies around him (words like "skin", "bones" etc seem especially discomforting for some reason) Arneau, pale and humorless comes to him. He gives him a reassuring smile that is more teeth than emotion as he offers a shaking hand to help the rogue stand up.
"You don't remember what happened? Oh you lucky, lucky man."

[alhoon]

Serge and Wil gather firewood for the Pyre while Lord Jean Matheron dislodges the man-at-arms sword from the mutilated skull of the flayed halfling. He covers the remains of the undead with the sack they carried the skin as he says a short prayer. Meanwhile, the simple task of gathering wood seems to be good for Serge's mental state and he manages to bring himself together.

Soon, the levies arrive through the thinning mists but keep their distance from the covered remains. Some help Serge and Wil gather wood and within less than an hour, a suitable quantity of wood, as well as stones to cover the remains, has been gathered. Serge moves part of the wood over the halfling and only after the sack is covered well in deadwood and dried foliage, he pushes some wood under the pile. Jean Matheron steps forward and empties some lamp oil on the pyre. He lights a torch as they wait for the anchorite to say some words for his departed friend before they set the fire.

[VAN]

Boiros steps forward and pours a flask of holy water at the covered dead halfling's remains. Then the cleric prays to Ezra to protect Panorin's soul as he travels to afterlife.

[Roddek]

When they are alone out of Jean's and Serge's sight, Boiros asks Roddek:

"I can see you are badly wounded. Do you want me to try to heal you?"

Roddek merely nods, not up for talking through the pain.

[alhoon]

Roddek merely nods, not up for talking through the pain.

As the cleric prays to Ezra and touches Roddek, a weak light covers the ancorite's hand and spreads over to Roddek. His wounds burn in sudden pain for a couple of seconds as they heal supernaturally fast. Roddek has to clench his jaw to not yelp. The pain subsides very soon but although the wounds left in the dwarf's leg and arm and the acid burns feel more swallow now, they are far from healed. The healing spell was welcome, but not powerful enough.
While Roddek's leg isn't wounded enough to stop him from traveling, it's enough to slow him down and make prolonged walking too uncomfortable.

Boiros steps forward and pours a flask of holy water at the covered dead halfling's remains. Then the cleric prays to Ezra to protect Panorin's soul as he travels to afterlife.

Lord Jean Matheron solemny sets the wood on fire and retreats. The lamp oil catches fast and the damp wood and foliage soon follow creating a trail of black smoke. A solemn tune by Arneau's flute and the cracking of the fire is all that's heard for a few minutes.
"It is time to go Lord Greyaxe. If we move now, we can be in Mierana, my uncle's town, in 3-4 hours." Jean tells to Roddek. "Should Serge give the order to march away from these cursed place?"

[Naliamegod]

*G seems more baffled and distant, reacting to comments either with a side joke or with no answer*

Honestly.. I just want to get out of here and back home as soon as possible. I don't like this ...

[Roddek]

Roddek snaps sheaths his axe and snaps off a low hanging branch from a tree to use as a walking stick. "Give the order. I don't want to spend another second in these woods."