Café de Nuit

"There's land over there"


Zumba points excitedly.

As he looks to the others, he notices the absence of Papa Doc's boat. There's some wood drifting, but he shakes his head in doubt.


"Did any one see if there was more wood afloat when we arrived? I don't belive Papa Doc would be swallowed by the swamp... or a croc. He seemed to be the kind of guy that knew how to deal with danger, and at any rate, I always thought he would leave as soon as we had been... 'delivered', so to say. What do you think?

Lucien slowly moves his tired, muck-laden legs toward the drier area that Zumba has spotted.

He looks around at the shard of wood. "There were so many zombies that must have mindlessly stomped the raft into kindling as they marched forward." He sighs. "Building a new raft is a problem for us to deal with later, assuming we survive the next day. As for Papa Doc... he probably fled -- a wise decision, if you ask me. I expect we'll find him soon." He manages a grim smile. "Perhaps even alive."

Reaching the dry land, he allows himself to sink to the ground. "I need to rest. We all do. Let us set us watches. Zumba, would you mind taking the first watch? I'll take the last. Vincent, Goren... second and third watches acceptable to you gentlemen?"

He scans the area. "I doubt it will be a nightmare-free rest...."

OOC: Just so you know I had no internet for a few days. Sorry. But back!

Goren is fine with the area we'll be resting on. As well, he is fine with the guard duty arrangements. If anyone needs healing, he still has a few spells left.

"Well then" Vincent says and puts his weapons back and follows through the muck to the small island.
He looks around for a suitable spot and sits down. "I'll take third he says, wake me up when it's my turn".
Not waiting for any discussion or camp making he tries to get as much sleep as possible, apparently not minding the environment or his state.

You spend the night on the patch of relatively solid land. It's difficult to find a good, comfortable place to lie down on; what keeps the land solid is the fact that it is laced through with tough tree roots, which are not known for being fun to lie down on.

Still, you are exhausted. Those slated to guard, guard. Those who can sleep eventually nod off. Darkness shrouds you all equally. Darkness... with a pocketful of dreams.



Lucien

"Lissa, my beautiful Lissa. Have you really stopped thinking about us?"
Lissa suppressed a sigh and tried to find the right words. "Antoine," she said to the handsome, charming seinjeur boy who had come calling to her house. "You know I still... care about you, but I am getting married tomorrow. We were never right for each other that way. I hope we can remain friends."
She really did still care for Antoine, but the love was gone. She had come to see Antoine for the childish, spoiled young man he was during their dates, and her feelings had changed. Now, she mostly worried about him, worried that he would never grow up. Worried that he would do something to interrupt her marriage with sweet, dependable Victor.
Antoine visibly swallowed, and then gave her a feeble attempt at a brave smile. "Friends, then. As friends, shall we drink to your marriage?"
He presented a fine old bottle of wine, and Lissa decided to humor him. They drank -- and the pain began. Deep, tearing pain in her gut. She could not breathe, she could not scream, she could not move. Paralyzed, in agony, she watched Antoine begin to cry.
"You bitch," he said. "You don't love me, you never loved me! The Voodan said the potion would kill you and your greatest love in this life. I thought we could at least be united in death, if not in life, but you don't love me!"
Crying, he fled the room, leaving Lissa to die alone. The last thing she saw was her own reflection in the well-polished tabletop.



Zumba:

In the dream, you are standing in the swamp. In front of you, there is the water, back to its natural level. Dancing upon its surface, their feet sometimes dipping into the marsh, sometimes rising above it, are Papa Doc ... and the Lord of the Dead.

The dance is a spirited cha-cha, and both the old man and the terrible Loah dance it well and gaily despite the old guide's peg leg, thin old hands clutched by hands made of nothing but bone and sunken skin.

The dance carries the odd couple closer to you, and Papa Doc gives you a casual nod.

"Looks like you boys didn't cover yourselves in glory that time," the old man says, his voice free of the low-born accent, his Mordentish flawless. "Still, you're alive, and that's something. Sorry I won't be there to help you get to Lac Noir, but I had to dance with Death for a while. You know how it is. One thing, though, before I go. Look out behind you."

The two dancers and the swamp recede into an unimaginable distance, and you find yourself hanging suspended in formless darkness. Somewhere in the darkness, you know there is a great Eye, looking for you, and you can hear voices.

"It was my thought that eliminating them in the swamp would not meet with your requirements. Should they not be seen to fail, Master?"
"Bah. So long as enough people know they were going to the swamp, it would be fine to have them disappear and never return. You have wasted your efforts and perhaps exposed yourself when there was no need."
"My apologies, Master. Should I try to track them down?"
"No. They will turn up."

In the darkness, you know the Eye has found you. "My pet..." a terrible voice croons, and you start awake.


Vincent:

Your sleep is relatively uneventful. In your dreams, you relive the march through the swamp, surrounded by the undead -- except in your dream, they are no longer rotting shamblers, moaning for the flesh of the living. They are simply the dead, looking as they did in life, but suffused with a pearly radiance and faintly transparent. There is no anger on their faces, only a deep sadness. From time to time, the dead look at you and sigh a single word.

"Why?"

Instinctively, you know that what the dead are asking you is, "Why did I have to die?" The whole scene is free of the day's horror, and is instead full of an endless sadness.

Slowly, the dream fades into darkness, but the dead march on into the distance. You have the terrible feeling that they either do not know where they are going, or that they do know -- and that it is not a good place.

In the distance, you see a great longsword set against a kite shield, both of them blazing a bright gold. Over the sword, there is a golden horn, which blows a single, clear note. You find a single tear on your cheek when you awaken. (OOC: Guzrath, one Wisdom check, DC10.)


Goren:

In your dreams, you are a disembodied... thing, floating through the trees of the Souragnien swamp. A shadow is at your side, dragging you forward and grinning at you with teeth the colour of poison.

"Something you need to see," the shadow giggles. "See?"

It points to an odd sight; a young girl in servant's frock is paddling through the swamp on a clumsily-made raft. Set in front of her is an unpleasantly familiar lump of white stone.

"Sweet Lady without Mercy," the girl says, "guide my way." Before your eyes, she slits her hand with a knife and lets her blood trickle onto the stone. The thing sizzles, and symbols appear on its surface: an arrow, words in a foreign language.

"See? See?" the shadow giggles.

It lifts you up higher and higher, points out where the girl is, relative to you. It's not that far at all, maybe half a day's walk...


The first and second watches pass peacefully. The dreamers stir and moan a bit in their slumber, but that is not so terrible. It would have been worse if none of you had been restless.

But during the third watch, Lucien and Vincent hear a sound approaching through the bog. In the pre-dawn gloom, you see a sole figure trudging through the bog, and on a direct course towards you.

Vincent knows he just woke up. The temperature, the moist, the smell. His eyes are still closed. He can feel the moisture of a tear running down along the side of his nose. The salty taste of the tear reaches his lips and he feels the sadness in his stomach. The same lack of energy like every morning, only this time no room, no bed, no privacy, no time to prepare himself for the day and worst, bad memories coming to haunt. He hopes its a haunting at least, however, the last few "dreams" weren't of his own making. If it is true, what then? Would "the bastard" be here?

For now he keeps his eyes closed, pretending to be still sleeping, thoughts running. He needs to get a grip quickly. "You don't have the luxury now" he thinks. Slowly, the energy is coming, the sadness fades away, leaving a small bit worry behind, but the energy is coming. It feels as if he has to strain to summon his energy. Suddenly its there, he let's out a sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for a while. He's ready to face it all.
Listening, he tries to get an idea where the others might be. The realisation of the smell, the state of his clothing, drenched in sweat, blood and the general ooze of the swamp.

He opens his eyes only to see the gloom of the night. He sits up straight, quickly rubbing his eyes, wiping away any rests of tears. "Any breakfast in the middle of night?" he asks Goren with a smile, stretching his arms and legs. He jumps up, looking full of energy. "I guess it's my watch now." he says. "Go get some wel earned sleep. We will need your magic prowess in the morning.".

Vincent looks at where the others are. Apparently Lucien is already awake. "Shouldn't you be sleeping? Your watch is the next one." he asks.

OOC: Small post before we hear the sound approaching.

Goren hands Guzrath a ration before heading off to sleep.

Guzrath wrote:Vincent looks at where the others are. Apparently Lucien is already awake. "Shouldn't you be sleeping? Your watch is the next one." he asks.

Lucien, who was already propped up on one elblow, sits up fully. "Oddest dream... woke me up. Strange to feel death as another person might." He rubs his scalp. "I don't even know anyone named Lissa. Still..."

But during the third watch, Lucien and Vincent hear a sound approaching through the bog. In the pre-dawn gloom, you see a sole figure trudging through the bog, and on a direct course towards you.

"You hear that?" he says softly, although he knows that the approaching figure must have already heard him and Vincent by now. He reaches for his crossbow, loads it, and aims toward the mysterious figure. "Papa Doc...?" he says. He doesn't want to wake Zumba and Goren prematurely in case it is indeed their guide returning.

The solitary figure does not respond to your hail, it simply trudges onward. It moves out of the morning haze of fog and general miasma at roughly the same moment it comes within range of Lucien's crossbow.

She was a woman, you both can see. Now her face is black and bloated with some hideous poison, and one of her eye sockets is empty. Her pretty blue dress is stained with vomit and the filth of the swamp, her hair is a rat's nest -- possibly literally. The zombie moves with the wooden lurch of the undead, her face staring vacantly at Lucien and Vincent.

Only Lucien will recognize that face. He saw it reflected in his dream; the last memory of a woman dying of poison.

Ken of Ghastria wrote:"Oddest dream... woke me up. Strange to feel death as another person might." He rubs his scalp. "I don't even know anyone named Lissa. Still..."

Vincent stares at Lucien for a moment. Apparently trying to grasp the meaning of that sentence completely.

He's about to reply when he hears the sound approaching.
"I heard" Vincent replies. Swiftly he stands up facing the direction of the sound. He draws his weapons just in case. He squints, trying to see who it is. As the lone figure approaches he hopes to recognise it quickly.
Meanwhile he moves toward the closest sleeper to wake up.

Ken of Ghastria wrote:"Papa Doc...?" he says.

Vincent looks at Lucien, frowning, as if surprised at the question and the possible truth of the answer.
Still, not taking any chances and putting "faith in wishful thinking", he puts his feet on the sleeper at his feet and shakes him awake.

As the figure comes into view he relieved to know he didn't have faith..... "You might want to shoot that" he says nodding at Lucien crossbow.
Not trusting the lone firgue in the swamp Vincent turns around to look if they are not being surrounded.

Rock wrote:Only Lucien will recognize that face. He saw it reflected in his dream; the last memory of a woman dying of poison.

Lucien is momentarily stunned by the sight. How is---?

"You might want to shoot that."

He regains his wits and quickly fires a bolt from the crossbow, but the eerie visage plays havoc with his aim. "Goren, Zumba! Wake up!" he says as he readies the crossbow again.

__________________________________________
Crossbow attack (1d20+5=11).
Minor action to reload.

The zombie continues to plod closer -- and an odd thing happens. For a moment, Lucien's sight... 'doubles'. He simultaneously sees the zombie trudging up, and sees himself from the zombie's point of view. In the zombie's eyes, Lucien's body glows with a pale, eerie light, not unlike the... foxfire... glow at... the end... of... the... zombie general's... wand...

Lucien stops what he's doing, and the meaning of the "double image" becomes clear. But does he risk--? Yes, yes, Lucien! says Claude urgently in his mind. Use it!

He quickly retrieves the wand that he picked up after the battle. He points it at the approaching zombie, musters the same force of will that he routinely summons when using his innate "talents," and says commandingly, "Stop."

_________________________________________
OOC: Excuse me while the Hammer of Obviousness pounds my sleep-deprived skull. Should've guessed that!

The wand immediately flares up, its ghostly light piercing the morning gloom.

The zombie staggers to a halt -- and a chill awareness floods Lucien's mind.

'Left leg damaged at the knee.'

He does not feel the intense horror he did when he touched the general's thoughts, but it is not entirely dissimilar.

'One eye gone. Maggots in the brain tissue. They itch.'

Lucien knows the dead girl, knows her strengths, her weakness.

'Find the summoner. Cannot find the summoner. Rally to the commander. Commander found.'

He also knows everything she used to be, before foul magic dragged her out of her grave. A nice, normal girl who fell in love with a rich boy only to discover that was all he was or ever would be. She found a truer love and died for being honest.

'What are my orders?'

Holding the wand and looking at the zombie brings back the double sight. It is disconcerting, but not jarring. In fact, it feels surprisingly -- distressingly? -- natural.

'What are my orders?'

Information constantly runs through Lucien's mind now; all the awareness that the zombie girl is capable of. Awareness of her own poisoned, wrecked body, awareness of the world around her. The input is dim and dull, as befits a mindless, walking corpse, but it is there nonetheless. Worse, Lucien can feel faint whispers of other information in the distance. More zombies are coming. A bare handful of them, but they are coming, and he knows without any doubt that they are headed towards him.

'Commander. Command me. What are my orders?

(OOC: Only Lucien 'hears' the cursive sections of text.)