After we were forced to flee from the undead creature haunting the chapel, we made our way back through the tomb of the dead friars. Jarvan, the priest from Lister, was in bad shape and we felt it was ill advised to rest. We continued back towards the small cabin where we had previously met the gnome and kobold refugees. We arrived near dark, and as we approached a zombie and several skeletons spilled out of the cabin. After felling the monsters we decided to stay the night in the cabin in hopes that Jarvan would feel better the next day, and that I would recover from the wounds I had sustained fighting Tom and the skeletons outside the cabin.
Late that night, while the smith from town, Dean, was on watch, a Kobold raiding party stumbled across our camp. The little shits tried to burn down the cabin with us inside. We spilled outside to meet the attack, and I was trying to grab the little bastard that tried to firebomb us for a hostage to keep us from all getting killed. As I tackled him, his friends that were lying in wait all unloaded their crossbows into my back.
I don’t know how many times they shot me, or how long I was down. I don’t even remember it hurting. I just remember being angry. Everything went black and I thought, “If I make it out of this, I am going to wear his face for a fucking hat.”
As I lay there bleeding out, I just got angrier. I knew I was dying. I forsook the lawful hunter gods of my elven mother and I prayed to Shevarash, the elven god of chaotic vengeance, hoping that he would see fit to allow me to seek this kobold out in hell and kill that little prick every day for the rest of eternity.
He must have heard me.
The world faded from black to red, and when I could finally see I was already lurching along the trail towards my enemy, coughing blood from my lungs and wretching it from my punctured gut. I took his head, and after resting in the cabin, I made good on my word. The hat is warm.
Throughout the night, Wulfchild tells me, the wolf pack I befriended several days hence had been behaving strangely. We investigated a bit, and it appeared that something had been eating the kobolds that we killed. Human sized, sharp teeth, probably undead. The bodies were pretty torn up. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bunch of guys.
Jarvan looked bad and was getting worse fast. We made it the rest of the way to town, and Jarvan felt bad enough to take us to some old retired priest of Kord. Fella named Grant the Wildman, agreeable old coot, knew a lot of folks like him back when I was a junior ranger. Just want to grow their beards and sip their shine off in the hills. He said someone had to beat his farm hand, Egert, man-to-man if he was going to help Jarvan out. I told him I needed to get good and pissed drunk first. After being stabbed, shot, bit, and generally dick-jerked around the county by a long string of zombies, rats, gnomes, skeletons, and future hats I was ready for a slug of something fiery. When I had my lean on pretty good I went out in the ring and started laying into the kid. When I got done dropping him I went to the table and started drinking again. Grant healed the kid up and started slapping me on the back, telling me how good I did and he gave me this trophy belt that has all these pictures of his dopey human wrestler deity on it and all. Anyhow, it’s magic and it makes me better at punching and wrestling people. I drank till I was too tired to stay up any more and then I went to bed.
In the morning Jarvan was all healed up thanks to Grant, who said he was going to head to town and start making potions and keeping up the temple. We went back through town with him, and we stopped in and talked to the sheriff for a little while, who was about as helpful as he always is. He said he couldn’t do shit, urged us to do more, and sent us on our way. Real law man, that one.
We went back through the woods towards the cave and we saw some gnomes hanging around the creek. I approached and asked them what they were doing. Somehow or another it got out that we had been in the cave. They ambushed us again, and after I killed their leader and his second in command the others managed to kill the rest of them and capture one. We questioned him, and he revealed that the cave was a silver mine. All of these little shits are just fighting over money. It disgusts me. Who cares about the mine. The others made me let him leave, wouldn’t even let me cut off one of his feet to slow him down. We took his armor and weapons though. Maybe the wolves got to him.
We camped out in the woods in sight of the cabin. I managed to hide our camp from any passers by, and nobody on watch saw anyone approach the cabin. Then we went back in the caves.
We wandered around for a while and ran into that creepy old bastard Mad Harold. He was behind some big locked gate. At this distance we could tell he wasn’t human any more. Sharp teeth, smelled like death. He told us not to go that way, that we needed to find the master. I guess he is resisting whatever is making all these undead. Or it’s a trap. I don’t care any more. The master can shoot me. He can stab me. He can send all of his minions after me. I’m still going to kill him. We took Harold’s advice and turned around, towards Friar Tom’s chapel. We hadn’t managed to procure any silver weapons, so my vengeance upon Tom waits for another day.
We came upon a school house. We killed a rat in the library, and came upon the jorunal of Marcus Benjamin, one of the men executed for heresy years ago. Basically, he said there was some artifact down in the tombs. Then we found a well and a giant spider tried to run up it, but Henry threw one of the kobold firebombs we had recovered down the well and killed it.
We went in the basement of the schoolhouse. I kicked in a door and searched the storeroom inside. We found some money, which might have been of some use had we been in a town with some serious weapon and armor smiths, as well as a key. I also found a silver short sword. A gift for Friar Tom, I am convinced, from the elven lord of vengeance.
We investigated the basement further, finding a large staircase into the earth guarded by a heavy gate. We winched the gate down, but a trap on the other side snapped it shut and broke the winch. Henry repaired it, but we again broke it. As night approached we decided to leave.
As we returned to the catacombs to camp, we came across several creatures that Jarvan later identified as ghouls. It seems that Harold may be one of these creatures, and that Jarvan may have been cursed with the affliction before Grant managed to heal him. We cut the ghouls down and barricaded ourselves in the friar’s tomb for the night. A ghoul attempted to attack in the night, but we drove him off with arrows.
The next morning we returned to the basement. We descended the staircase beyond the gate. I kicked in a door and found several zombies. I began cutting my way through as the others followed. The ghoul that attacked the previous night appeared, but the others managed to kill him. I am going to find the master. I am going to kill him. And then I am going to carve his femurs into a pair of matching sword hilts.