Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper, Chapter 5

[Brock Marsh Runoff]

SEARCHERS

"Well, I'm guessing that isn't cowhide," Renn says, looking at the pink wall-hangings. "Best not to think about the hooks."

"Alright, no time to waste either way." Renn strings his bow, nocks an arrow, and moves forward to be the first through the gap.

[RocEter]

Foerde

Foerde lights a torch and proceeds into the pit.

THE PIT
.
Foerde can climb down because someone has left deep tool marks in the side walls, almost a stairway cut in a tightening spiral.

He has to drop his torch, hang from the rock, and fall a few feet to get to the very bottom.

At the bottom weak light he may look up to see light filtering down the hole above.
Thrusting his torch out, he takes stock of his new surroundings.
He stands in the shallow end of a wide but low ceilinged cavern. The far end, maybe fifty feet off, lies in semi darkness. The scent of decaying meat hangs in the still, dank air.
Feeling and looking closely along the wall, he finds more tool marks.
Searching the floor, he spots a bronze-headed pick.
The handle is a bit slimy, but it feels solid.

Foerde wipes his hand off on the tattered remains of his garments, he draws the short sword and explores the pit some more. He looks for an opening, or shaft of some kind.

[ewancummins]

THE CHAMBER OF THE MARQUIS

Renn, Cormac, Nevil, and any others looking or moving into the room see that the place spreads wide enough to park four large wagons side by side. The ceiling rises over twenty feet above the floor at its center, dipping lower at the room's rectangular edges like distorted dome.
The ceiling chains hang thickest near the middle of the chamber.

Chairs, tables, torture racks, huge basins, and other wooden furniture fill about a third of the open floor, grouped in no discernible pattern.

A row of tall cabinets runs along the far wall.

Two tall, single doors stand shut in the walls to the far left and far right.

No light but what the party brings.

Those pinkish hangings begin flapping as if caught in a stiff breeze. But there is no draft...

[ewancummins]

Foerde

Foerde lights a torch and proceeds into the pit.

THE PIT
.
Foerde can climb down because someone has left deep tool marks in the side walls, almost a stairway cut in a tightening spiral.

He has to drop his torch, hang from the rock, and fall a few feet to get to the very bottom.

At the bottom weak light he may look up to see light filtering down the hole above.
Thrusting his torch out, he takes stock of his new surroundings.
He stands in the shallow end of a wide but low ceilinged cavern. The far end, maybe fifty feet off, lies in semi darkness. The scent of decaying meat hangs in the still, dank air.
Feeling and looking closely along the wall, he finds more tool marks.
Searching the floor, he spots a bronze-headed pick.
The handle is a bit slimy, but it feels solid.

Foerde wipes his hand off on the tattered remains of his garments, he draws the short sword and explores the pit some more. He looks for an opening, or shaft of some kind.

Foerde discovers two smaller passages that snake away from the low-ceilinged far end of the cavern.
One tilts down and the other tilts slightly up.
Sticking his torch into each hole in turn, he cannot see where the passages end.

Both tunnels show tool marks along the inner surfaces.
And both are big enough for him to crawl through on his hands and knees, or maybe shuffle along at a low crouch , crabwise.

[ewancummins]

DOMENICA


THE PARTY
has tracked the wagon overland for hours, passing into a torched pasture.
Sundown comes nearer with each passing minute. The evening shadows lengthen and blur, sinking into the darkness of the burned brush and black soil.

The hired tracker lights a lantern and one of The Castellan's guards lights a torch.

DOMENICA notices something shiny that the others have missed. It looks a small piece of bright metal. Maybe a coin or maybe jewelry?
It glints from a bare section of freshly retuned earth.

[steveflam]

Frowning, she makes as if she didn't notice, and when she passes close enough, extracts a kerchief from her coat. Bending as if to wipe at her boot,
she inspects the item a bit closer without touching it.

[ewancummins]

Frowning, she makes as if she didn't notice, and when she passes close enough, extracts a kerchief from her coat. Bending as if to wipe at her boot,
she inspects the item a bit closer without touching it.

As she bends low, she sees that the glint comes from a silver ring set on a finger. The finger pokes out of the soil, pale and unmoving with a filthy nail. It smells like spoiled sausage.
The turned soil here look like a big enough patch to cover--

The naked man who bursts from the dirt and grabs at Domenica's arms!

[steveflam]

Frowning, she makes as if she didn't notice, and when she passes close enough, extracts a kerchief from her coat. Bending as if to wipe at her boot,
she inspects the item a bit closer without touching it.

As she bends low, she sees that the glint comes from a silver ring set on a finger. The finger pokes out of the soil, pale and unmoving with a filthy nail. It smells like spoiled sausage.
The turned soil here look like a big enough patch to cover--

The naked man who bursts from the dirt and grabs at Domenica's arms!

"AAaaaaaahhhh!!!!", exclaims Domenica. She won't remember how but she performs a nice backflip in the process, escaping the man's arms. "A LIVING DEAD MAN! HELP!!!"

She reaches for her whip even as she backpeddles towards the rest of the group.

[ewancummins]

Frowning, she makes as if she didn't notice, and when she passes close enough, extracts a kerchief from her coat. Bending as if to wipe at her boot,
she inspects the item a bit closer without touching it.

As she bends low, she sees that the glint comes from a silver ring set on a finger. The finger pokes out of the soil, pale and unmoving with a filthy nail. It smells like spoiled sausage.
The turned soil here look like a big enough patch to cover--

The naked man who bursts from the dirt and grabs at Domenica's arms!

"AAaaaaaahhhh!!!!", exclaims Domenica. She won't remember how but she performs a nice backflip in the process, escaping the man's arms. "A LIVING DEAD MAN! HELP!!!"

She reaches for her whip even as she backpeddles towards the rest of the group.

THE BURNT PASTURE

A shrill voice cries,
''Kill them all!"


Dominica tumbles out of the enemy's reach.

But as she rolls to her feet, she sees more of the corpse-things staggering toward her party from three sides. At least twenty of the things. Clods of earth fall from the bodies of men and women. Some naked, some clothed, some with skin peeling off. They come on in dead silence.
(With herself, the Castellan, the hired tracker, and the guards-- her party is outnumbered. Maybe by as much as three to one...)

Sir Rory draws his sword. The guards do the same, forming a tight half circle around the castellan. One holds a torch high in his left hand.

The hired tracker bolts for the spot near the road where the horses are tied up, held by the youngest guard.

(Vollmar, being slower, is just now trundling up from the supply cart a bit further down the road. Not on scene just yet, but any minute...)

[Adam]

SEARCHERS

"Which way now, girl?" Cormac says.

[ewancummins]

SEARCHERS

"Which way now, girl?" Cormac says.

The girl looks to the right end of the room. She points to the door on that side.
"Our room is in there."

[steveflam]

THE BURNT PASTURE

Domenica moves as fast as she can back towards the group, and turns around to ready herself.

"Are arrows even effective here? Or should I just use my whip?," she asks to noone in particular.

[kintire]

SAFANA

"Witch, if you want to help the Duke against the Manslayer, and you want my help in that, then call your master. I would speak with it."

Safana seeks to maintain her composure as the bottom of her stomach seems to plummet into an endless abyss.

"Th..that is a slightly... involved procedure and requires an appropriate place. Are you sure I cannot, uh, answer any questions you might have?"

She takes another mouthful of the drink, savouring the taste, trying to look calm, but her skin is now gleaming a little as she sweats

[ewancummins]

SAFANA

"Witch, if you want to help the Duke against the Manslayer, and you want my help in that, then call your master. I would speak with it."

Safana seeks to maintain her composure as the bottom of her stomach seems to plummet into an endless abyss.

"Th..that is a slightly... involved procedure and requires an appropriate place. Are you sure I cannot, uh, answer any questions you might have?"

She takes another mouthful of the drink, savouring the taste, trying to look calm, but her skin is now gleaming a little as she sweats

''I know several appropriate places." He tilts his head slightly forward, a predatory smile forming on his thin face. ''I did not make my home here on a whim."
Caine spreads his hands on the desktop before him.
"Tell me what you require. And if I can assist in the ritual, I will do so."

[ewancummins]

FIGHTING THE DEAD MEN


The revenants close in on three sides.

Domenica lashes her whip at the legs of the nearest foe. It staggers, lurches past her, groping at the air with its filthy hands.

Sir Rory and his men lay into their enemies with swords. But the abominations do not cry out or retreat, even as their skulls split and their chests cave in under strong blows.
They just keep coming.

One of the guards falls under the fists of the dead men, his dented helmet rolling away across the scortched field.