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News of the defeat of the goblins has already reached Hazel and Marek when you have reached Winterholm. A nicely dressed human greeted the party as the enter the Frost Maiden Inn. He looked at them and quickly walked over to them, extending his hand and said, “My name is Mayor Auric Hopebringer. I am the Mayor of Winterholm and I am here to give you my thanks. Unfortunately, I don’t have much in the way of steel, as most of my own money was going back into the community to keep it afloat, during the goblin attacks. Hazel told me that you had gone after the goblins and Tegaru told me that you've dealt with them.”
He reached into his pouch handing them each 10 steel, to show his appreciation.
Tarli began to talk about the goblins, the hobgoblin, as well as the blue phoenix statue they saw - and the magic - when suddenly the Minotaur covered his mouth and shook his head. Auric looked about them with curiosity. Tegaru knews why Feroz has done this; this isn't the Kender's tale - this is her tale!
In excited tones, Tegaru had waited for the formalities to be over between them (she may be a gully dwarf, but Hazel has taught her manners) and seeing that the big furry one has covered the mouth of the little-elf-one, Tegaru blurted out, “They do big magic! Bright blue light! Big, blue, fire bird talk! Talk about bad things coming!”
Feroz sighed.
"What's this of a war coming?" Mayor Auric Hopebringer asked, with concern. Most people don't think much of gully dwarves; but everyone in Winterholm has learned that somehow, for some reason, Tegaru was different than any other gully dwarf they'd encountered. She never spoke nonsense.
"It's true," Tharrom nodded. "Tegaru led us to a cave, near the goblins; and there'd been a blue statue in there of a fire bird. When we approached it - it flashed blue - and we heard a voice, and when it was over - the kender and I sensed magic in our veins. We felt the gods had returned." Tharrom took a dagger, cut his own palm - then with a prayer, the wound healed. "It also warned us that a war is coming."
“I can scarcely believe… the gods are back? And news of a war coming?” Auric seemed to give this a long pause, before stroking his grey, long mustache that marked him a retired Knight of Solamnia. “I wonder if that’s related to the news coming out of Estwilde… and these organized goblin attacks.”
Tharrom handed Mayor Auric the note recovered from the hobgoblin, Borgus Ogreblood, in the goblin caves. "We did find this on the hobgoblin's body."
Borgus Ogreblood,
As you might imagine, I am quite curious about this cavern that you mentioned this gully dwarf keeps disappear in. You and your men said you think there's something beyond the wall which the simple-minded gully dwarf seems to keep vanishing into... but you're not able to find a means to how this gully dwarf is outsmarting all of you... disappointing. I would rather not dirty my armor making the trip there to use my Cleric magic to see how this filthy dwarf is outsmarting you and your men, but my god calls on me to do exactly that.
- Krizzen Arcmoon
Faithful Cleric of Chemosh.
After reading the note, Auric's face looked grim. He looked to those gathered around him, who have entrusted him with this information. “Stands to reason," he said, "If the gods of light have returned so too, no doubt have the gods of darkness. This may all be tied to the news coming out of Estwilde indeed and why these goblin attacks have been unified. They could be getting these commands from someone of greater power. Such as this cleric, Krizzen.”
He paced back and forth in the Frost Maiden Inn for a moment before looking at those around him. “It would seem the gods have favored to show all of you this blessing. Perhaps you are destined for something larger.”
The Mayor placed his hands on the table closest to him, as if observing some unseen battle map. “News coming out of Estwilde talks about people fleeing south, going to south to the port city, Haligoth, in an attempt to escape the horrors being seen in Nordmaar, just northeast of them. There are hundreds of refugees in Haligoth and I’ve heard that the city can’t take in anymore refuges. Food supplies and space have been depleted. With the help you’ve provided here – we can again get the farmers growing their food – and we could divert some of it towards Haligoth to help with the refuges there. But that could take weeks… even months. That’s assuming they’re not ambushed, similar to how the few supplies we’ve tried to get to Hargoth have been.”
Hazel came from around the bar, and placed a drink on the table. He took a deep drink from his cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his features clearly stressed until suddenly they brighten up. “I have an idea. At one time, I was a Knight of the Sword and during my travels I met two Silvanesti elves named Hawkwood and his wife – who was a mage of the white robes – named Lalena. Last I had heard is they made their home in Varus – up in the mountains, just north of us. Being elves,” he smiled, “their bones did not age as quickly as mine. When I stopped traveling and retired here in Winterholm, they continued to travel. They may have seen things and have information that could be useful. I don’t suppose you would make your way to Varus to see if they might know more about the news coming out of Estwilde?”
The party shared glances with one another, and agreed silently that this should be the next place.
"We will," the towering minotaur named Feroz Irontide replied. "However, our bones ache and our stomachs yearn for food and drink. We will rest here for the night and in the morning begin going towards Varus."
"It is very much appreciated," the mayor assured them, heaving a deep sigh of relief. "I understand you have already done so much."
After a moment, the mayor excused himself and returned a short few minutes later with a longsword wrapped in ceremonial decorations. “If you’re going to Varus, can you give this to my son, Talarys Hopebringer. He was going to become a Knight of the Crown, but became more interested in the idea of adventuring. He’d gone to Varus about two weeks ago. I was going to give him this sword when he became a Knight of the Crown, but if the news of this war is true, I want him to have my blade.”
The mayor handed the blade to Tharrom. The mayor seemed visibly sad that he himself was never able to hand this blade to his son.
"We will take good care of it," Tharrom whispered, seeing the mayor's pained expression; his old bones would never
"I know you will," he smiled, though the smile does little to hide or mask the ache in his heart. He cleared his throat, and shared another smiled as he said, "Well, I will leave you to it. Enjoy the night. I am sure Hazel and Marek will see to it you're treated right."
Hazel nodded to the mayor as he left and looked to the others. "It's something to have Auric come visit," she blushed. "He's usually so busy trying to keep the town afloat since those goblin ambushes have begun - he's usually far too busy to allow himself to have a good time here. It was good to see him again. He and Marek used to sit at a table near the end of the night, and talk about their days as Knights of Solamnia. I miss those days, because when they did this - both of their faces would light up, and it was like they were both young again. All of you have free room and food and drink tonight," she added after a moment. "And even then that's not enough to thank you. Please be careful when you go out there. And keep this one," she punched Ronlyn in the arm, "out of trouble. He's got a bad habit of making poor choices." She laughed and returned to the bar after giving Tegaru a large platter of food and silverware to have, for her part in helping.
Feroz sat at the bar, ordering the Dragon's Breath drink and immediately felt its effects. Tycus, the half-elf, seeing the minotaur looking intoxicated joined him at the bar - and ordered himself a Dragon's Breath drink as well as one for the minotaur - however, it's only the first drink Feroz ordered that seems to have him intoxicated - each drink he knocks back after, he consumes without any ill effect; however, it's the third round that gets Tycus to suddenly feel the pounding effects of the Dragon's Breath drink. Tycus attempted to purchase another round, but Feroz glanced down at his half-elf friend and smirked, "A deckhand doesn't know when to stop, but a captain does." The minotaur then stodd and kicked the chair from beneath the intoxicated half-elf, then picked him up and squeezed him. "You'll be all right," he smirked as he places the light half-elf on another seat and walked up to his room for the night.
Curious about the town of Winterholm, Tarli walked through the streets - curious why everyone seemed to grab their possessions more tightly as he strolled through the street. Repeatedly, he said hello and offered to shake his hand as a means to getting to know these people (sure, they didn't know who he was which is probably why they were clutching their belongings!)
Tarli sighed, realizing these people were in no mood to make new friends, he first headed for the store called Skin On Skin, run by a Qualinesti Elf by the name of Arreis Stormshadow.
The Qualinesti elf's eyes focused on the kender as the shop's bells gently rang out. "Kender, you can't come in here without supervision."
"You could supervise me," the kender rebutted.
"Don't make me throw you out," the Qualinesti sighed. "I lose just as much throwing your kind out as I do letting you stay."
"He's a friend of mine," another voice rang out as the bells on the doors indicated a second visitor. "Arries," Ronlyn smiled, stepping inside, "it's good to see you."
"You as well, Ronlyn," the elf smiled. "New has already reached my ears about what you and your friends have done. Tegaru was very excited to share her tale with just about everyone. It's a good thing you did. I'm used to you finding trouble rather than finding friends."
Though said in humor, it was true. Ronlyn had made very few friends in his life. He knew many people - but very few he called friend. In truth, he perhaps has only ever had one true friend, a fellow human named Kraun Crowfeather - a young man, following in the steps of his father in becoming a Knight of the Crown, despite the bad reputation the Knights of Solamnia had earned after the Cataclysm. Kraun had sworn that he could convince his father to speak on Ronlyn's behalf, and get him in - first as a Squire, to earn his place - but to eventually become a Knight of the Crown. Though he would never raise higher than the Knight of the Crown, because Ronlyn's family, though from Solamnia, had no history of any of them being Knights. But Ronlyn was never one for taking commands being barked at him, he was too much of a free spirit.
Shaking the memories from his mind, Ronlyn looked at Arreis and said, "Hopefully business picks up now, since the trades should open again. We just spoke to Auric and he plans on sending message to say the roads to Winterholm are once again safe."
Seeing Tarli looking at the padded armor, Ronlyn placed his hands on the counter and looked at Arreis' and said, "Let me get that padded armor."
"The leather he wears is better than this piece," Arreis commented.
"I know," Ronlyn smiled, gesturing to the kender. "Now pay the elf, Tarli."
Tarli reached in his pouch, "You know, I don't need you here to babysit me."
"I know, Tarli," Ronlyn smiled. "I'm just spending some time with my new friend."
"Oh, well then, that's sweet of you," the kender replied, sliding five steel across the counter and stuffing the padded armor, miraculously into one of his pouches.
"I know business has been difficult," Ronlyn said looking at Arreis.
"What's next for you, Ronlyn?" Arreis asked, knowing Ronlyn well enough.
"My friends, as you called them, and I, are heading out of Winterholm and going to Varus to meet someone there and deliver a sword. Before I left, I wanted to ... I don't know, help." Ronly shrugged.
Arreis slid the armor across and took the silver. "You have changed."
Ronlyn smiled, "Shut up and just take the steel."
Arreis laughed. "Be safe out there, Ronlyn. I know your history for finding trouble."
Ronlyn smiled, "You do the same," and left. He then walked about two hundred feet to the store Venture Gear. Opening the door he stepped inside and saw a large, muscular human named Waesyn, who hailed from the continent of Taladas. Waesyn was a strong human, who at one time had been a fighter - he wasn't one for socializing but still, behind all that muscle and brawn was a heart that cared for those he called 'friend.'
He looked up and saw Ronlyn. "What do you want, Ronlyn? And why are you bringing a Marakai in my store?"
The Marakai were Taladas' version of the Kender; unlike the Kender that populated Ansalaon, the Marakai of Taladas were dour folk, forever changed by the day of the Great Destruction (the Cataclysm). Thousands of Marakai died that night, as well as for years later, from its effects, the poison, the famine, and the disease that followed. The Marakai lost their cheerfulness and innocense that Ansalon kender were known for; their taunts were often far more cutting and malicious than a kender's playful taunts.
"I suppose you heard the news," Ronlyn began, "about the goblin threat being put to an end."
"I did," Waesyn answered matter-of-factly. "Don't tell me you and this Marakai had something to do with that?"
"Well, not just me, but some others I am traveling with," Ronlyn admitted. "We're headed up to Varus to meet with someone and deliver something. I just wanted to come in and thank you for being there time to time. I know when I needed things, you sometimes sold things cheaper than what you'd sell it to any other customer. I appreciate you looking out for me."
"I've been down on my luck," Waesyn replied, "I know what it looks and feels like."
Ronlyn looked at Tarli, "Is there anything in the shop you would like?" Then quickly added, "To buy, to be clear?"
"I could use another dagger," Tarli admitted. "All the daggers I seem to own seem to belong to other people who keep dropping them. So I would like one of my own."
"Two steel," Waesyn replied.
Tarli put two steel on the counter as Waesyn slid a dagger across the counter.
Waesyn took the steel, then looked between Ronlyn and Tarli and said, "Where ever you go, take care of yourself. I know you're not one for making friends, but if you're traveling with them - keep an eye on them. Not everyone out there has your best interest in mind. If you trust them, then trust in what they tell you. An adventuring party is only as strong as their weakest member. A weapon be forged of the strongest steel, but if the hilt is weak, the blade will snap and all your left with is the hilt of the blade, and that will do you no good in battle."
"I'll try to remember that," Ronlyn smiled, pocketing the new dagger as he left. He returned to the Frost Maiden Inn and went to the room he'd been given to call it a night after seeing Tarli, lying on the floor having attempted to drink Dragon's Breath based on the drink on the counter. A kender's curiosity is bound to kill him, Ronlyn laughed to himself. Hazel was already calling for Marek to come pick up the kender and take him to his assigned room.
The following morning, everyone met back down at the tavern - ordering breakfast before departing and discussing the night.
Gathering their things, they begin to travel towards Varus - just north, up the mountain.
As Winterholm fades in the distance and the mountains where Varus sits comes closer and closer, there’s an air of uneasiness lingers the closer they draw to Varus, which is still days away - that each of them can feel but can’t seem to explain. The road is well traveled and their eyes dash constantly from left to right, as if expecting something to leap out at all of you from the surrounding trees and brush.
As they examine the brush - they see evidence of, what appears to have been a small army having come through - however, the way the marks in the grass and the way the branches are broke - it's as if they mindlessly marched through the area. There was no regard for what they were running into or attempting to hide their numbers. Breara calls from up in the trees, "Evidence shows they continued along the path." Curious to see what Breara saw, Tarli attempted to climb up - got perched on a branch, but not used to being as elegant as an elf - steps on a branch that gives way, sending the poor Kender crashing to the ground below that meets him with a stern slap - leaving him gasping for air. Tharrom helped the wheezing kender back to his feet.
"That wasn't a fun feeling," Tarli choked between breaths.
"The falling?" Tharrom asked with a smile.
"No, the falling was fine. Fun, actually," Tarli coughed.
"The landing?" Tharrom inquired.
"No, the lack of breathing. That," the kender emphasized, "that wasn't so fun." As the kender stood, he handed a book back to Tharrom. "I think you dropped this when you helped me up."
It'd been the book written by his great, great, great grandmother (Haylie Starchaser) - he quickly snatched the book from the kender's hands and shook his head.
Tarli cleared his throat one last time, and suddenly took the form of a wolf, using his gifted Wildshape ability bestowed upon him by Habbakuk and begin to sniff around the area that had been flattened by the army that marched through here. Suddenly reverting to kender form again, Tarli coughed. "It smells like... death."
"Undead?" each of them said it, looking at each other. The undead had not been seen or heard of since the Cataclym, the priests who had commanded such powers for the Dark Queen had long disappeared or lost their own powers when the Cataclysm came... but with the note from Krizzen Arcmoon, the Cleric of Chemosh that they'd found on Borgus' body - it stood to reason, as feared that if the gods of light had returned, so too had the gods of darkness - and that there may be those, such as Kirzzen who now had the abilities to summon up hoards of the undead.
Breara, who'd come down from the trees said, "I can see evidence that whoever or whatever came through here continues along the path for some time. There's evidence both on and off the path. I can scout ahead."
"I'll go with you," Ronlyn offered.
Breara smiled, "Sure, human, if you can keep up with me," as she quickly scaled a tree and began dashing across the treetops.
"Are all elves like this? Because there's a Qualinesti I know at Winterholm who acts similar," Ronlyn sighed and gave chase, running along the path.
After several hundred feet, Breara descended from the tree. "Whatever these things are veered off the path and to the left, deeper into the woods. Could be that now that we're just a day or so away from Varus they did not want to risk being spotted on the road."
"Could they be headed for Varus?" Ronlyn asked.
A genuine concern brewed between them.
"I will try to determine how far ahead of us they are," Breara said with some urgency.
Ronlyn nodded his head. "I will race back to the others let them know what we suspect."
It did not take long - after traveling about six hundred feet into the woods - Breara heard a sound that was unmistakably primal, but not any natural animal of the forest. As she drew closer - she discovered, beneath her - an undead human had impaled itself on a large, broken branch, and with the single command to march forward, it kept moving forward and did not have the wisdom or self awareness to go backwards and remove itself from being impaled - it simply continued to move forward, furious and clawing at the towering tree, which seemed to be in its way. While disgusted at the sight, both of the decaying body, but Breara could not help but also feel a sense of remorse - this poor body was taken from its grave and risen for this unholy cause, never to know rest and peace again.
Loosening her rope, Breara tied a knot then looped it around the undead, then tied it to the branch she'd been perched on. In the event the undead had the foresight to step backwards and remove itself from being impaled, she wanted to ensure this abomination did not get far from here. She kept a close eye on it, awaiting for her companions to hopefully catch up to her.
Back on the road, Ronlyn returned to the others, breathing heavy. "We think the undead may be heading for Varus. They veered off the path ahead, perhaps to avoid any travelers coming down the road, which may include Knights and mercenaries who could cut down some of the undead."
"Where is Breara?" Tycus asked, concerned.
"She's tracking the undead," Ronlyn answered between wheezing.
Tarli nudged Tharrom, "See, looks like Ronlyn doesn't enjoy not breathing either."
"You left her alone?" Tycus sputtered.
"She seems quite capable," Ronlyn replied, defensively.
Moving quickly up the path - they were thankful to see that Breara had left markers for them to follow, knowing that had she not wanted to be followed, they would never see her again in the woods; this also made it easy to pick up the tracks of the shambling army of undead, until they too - heard the primal screams and rushed forward, to see Breara perched on a branch. "Took the lot of you long enough," she smiled. "Also heard the big one," she looked at Feroz, "about a mile away. Even the undead would have heard your thundering hooves." She gestured to the impaled undead whose rope she'd placed around it, "As you can see," she continued, "we're definitely dealing with undead. This one appears to have impaled itself on that thick branch, and had the single mindset of moving forward, following whatever command it was given - so it can't think to move backwards six feet and unimpale itself from the branch."
"This is bad news," Tharrom notes. "The undead, from my teachings, do not need to eat or rest. They simply follow whatever command they were given by the one who raised them from the grave."
Feroz unsheathed his axe, rapidly approaching the impaled undead, and cleaved its head from its shoulders; the undead creature, slumping against the branch. "This is serious," he turned to the others, wiping his axe on the bushes next to the undead creature, "where ever they're going - the people will not be prepared to meet the onslaught. But they already look to be a day or two ahead of us - and even if we pressed hard - we'd never catch them because as Tharrom said - they don't need to stop to rest or even eat. We should camp here for the night, then get back on the road, and try to get to Varus as quickly as we can so we can tell them and see if they can send out scouts."
"I spotted a cave while tracking the undead that would provide some shelter," Breara replied as she gathered her rope.
Inside the small cave, Ronlyn and Feroz offered to keep first watch as Breara, Tharrom, Tycus and Tarli rested from the long trek up the mountain path. As the night went on, the forest rapidly became darker as the treetops cut off the light of the two moons, the third ever hidden in darkness, as well as the starlight.
As Feroz sharped his blade, he paused when he thought he heard something in the woods; he waited, listened, then heard it again - it sounded like a woman's scream. He turned to Ronlyn and whispered, "Did you hear that?"
Ronlyn looked at the minotaur questionly, which told Feroz what he needed to know.
"Sounded like a woman's screams," Feroz whispered. He listened again and heard it again.
"What if it's a woman who has encountered the undead?" Ronlyn kept his tone low, though he still had not heard the scream himself. "Which way is the screams?" Feroz and Ronlyn exited the cave.
"That way," Feroz whispered. "I will go after you - but I will need to move slower. My blasted metal armor is going to alert whoever has the woman in distress."
Ronlyn nodded and began moving into the dark woods; and it wasn't long before the skill, stealthy, Ronlyn was out of Feroz's view, with the endless trees and bushes obscuring his view. Ronlyn had gotten quite a bit of distance ahead of Feroz before he finally heard the screams, as if the woman was running away from their direction. It was at that moment, however, the scream had come from directly above Ronlyn and when he looked up, two powerful birds of prey with a wingspan of nearly eight feet, that somehow moved elegantly, gracefully, and with deadly accuracy through the woods. Their blood red crests spread along their wings, with the tips of the wings being as black as night. Their backs were the same color as their tips, a deep, midnight color which made them virtually impossible to spot from above or below when their wings were folded. It was now clear - to Ronlyn dismay - that these birds were somehow able to mimic the cries of a woman - and they'd lured him away from the others.
Ronlyn tried to hold up his hands to protect his face, but the sheer momentum and power of the crimson colored bird struck him with enough force that its talons cut his face, raking across his forehead and cheek, blood pouring from the wound. Ronlyn cried out in startled pain as the second massive bird struck him as well. Even as the birds rose into the air again and prepared for another dive, Ronlyn wiped the blood from his brow and focus on one of the two diving down at him again - and side stepped, using his dagger to cut deep into the beast's belly. It was at that moment, having heard Ronlyn cry out that Feroz who had broken into a charge burst through the brush and saw the massive bird diving down - and timed it so that his goring rush with his horns impaled the massive bird, killing it.
He shoved the massive creature from his horns and looked down at it. "Bloodsea Hawks," Feroz said, his tone revealing a bit of a surprise. "They shouldn't be this far west. These birds normally line the shores around the Bloodsea of Istar. Something must have driven them from their home to force them to hunt so far west."
"You know what these things are?" Ronlyn asked, trying to stop the bleeding over his eye.
"I have sailed near the Bloodsea of Istar many times," Feroz answered, kicking over one of the birds. "The Blood Sea Hawk gets its name due to its black feathers which are tipped with a deep red. The Blood Sea Hawk prefers to hunt at night, using its dark feathers as a means of hiding itself in the dark. Blood Sea Hawk hunt in packs, choosing to typically attack a single target. They have been known to use their 'screams' to lure people towards them. They’ve been known to attack even bears, which they typically do not have a chance of killing, and this is why it’s believed they may often attack simply due to their aggressive behavior. It is believed that Blood Sea Hawks are a result of a breed of hawks that survived near Istar when the Cataclysm struck, changed by what happened. It is also believed that their ability to mimic a woman, or man's, scream, due to the thousands who died in and around Istar when the Cataclysm struck - it's believed these birds were changed by the Cataclysm and they learned to hunt using those screams they heard."
"Well, if they normally live in the east - and they're this far west, that could be because of what we've been hearing - about the refugees who are fleeing the Estwilde to the east. We need to find a refugee from there and find out just what they seem to be fleeing from and what," he paused to look at the two dead birds, "could have caused creatures like this to come this far west. Something must be driving them away too."
Feroz picked up the dead birds and began carrying them back towards the cave.
"What do you plan to do with those?" Ronlyn asked, following close behind.
"Eat them," Feroz shrugged. "Hopefully someone knows how to cook them. When you live on the sea, everything's food."
"Sounds delicious," Ronlyn replied sarcastically.
The following morning, Tycus had pluckered the feathers and boiled the meat from the Blood Sea hawks, and it the meat was tender and juicy. "I was wrong," Ronlyn smiled, "It's not so bad."
"Not bad, rock collector," Feroz gestured with a leg of the Blood Sea hawk. "Not bad at all."
A short while later, back on the mountain path to Varus, the trek is a strenous march upward as hours tick by and the sun once again, escapes the sky and the moons give chase; Solinari’s white light beams across the path providing illumination while Lunitari’s red glow casts an eerie, crimson, glow. Untrained eyes save for those wizards who wear the Black Robes, would know that Nuitari hides in the shadows in the sky, invisible except to those who embrace the darkness.
A fallen wagon on the side of the road just up ahead, smoldering in fire drew their attention as they saw three figures moving in jaunting like motions up ahead.
"It must be the undead," Breana whispered as she drew an arrow from her quiver. She fired an arrow, striking one of the shambling figures; her arrow struck the humanoid directly in the head, and rather than fall - it seemed to turn its attention to them and begin to move forward. "Definitely undead," she emphasized.
Tycus extended his hands, small mana stones on his armor glowing a dark green; energy seemingly swirling inside each mana stone embedded in his armor, before launching forward sickly green streams that struck the wounded undead creature Breana had hit, as well as a second one who had been slumbering around one side of the wagon.
As that one came around the wagon, it's ghastly features barely making it recognizable as the decaying flesh seemed to melt from its bones; however, it's cruel return to this unnatural form of undead life came to a rapid end as Feroz charged forward, pinning the undead against the burning, fallen wagon. The creature's claws ripped at the minotaur, but Feroz with his horns still pinning the screaming undead flung his head upward, tearing the torso of the undead from its abdomen, giving it the peace it'd been denied by these death clerics. "I am sorry for this second life you've been given," Feroz whispered as he gripped his weapon and looked for the third.
Tarli was hurling taunts - as well as rocks, flung from his hoopak at the other undead. Tharrom placed his hand on his shield and shouted, "By Gilean's wisdom, by Gilean's knowledge, I command you, turn away - see that which you have become and remember that which you were." The final undead suddenly, seemingly against its own will, turned away and began to shamble away only to have Ronyln leap out from the bushes and decapitate the final undead creature.
Ronlyn who was already on the opposite side of the burning wagon was startled to see a horse he recognized staring back at him; the black horse who was as black as midnight had a silver triangle on its chest; many whom believed was a blessing from Paladine himself, for that had been his symbol. "Midnight," Ronlyn whispered, coming to the realization it was indeed the horse he recognized. "If you're here that means Kraun can't be -..."
Then Ronlyn heard a cough and his eyes fell on a figure who was slumped against the tree. He quickly went to the Knight's side; it was his friend, Kraun Crowfeather. "Kraun, what happened?"
The young Knight of Solamnia, his brown hair matted, his face clawed and bleeding badly. “Ronlyn...? Is... that you....? What are you... doing here... haven't seen you near Varus... since you... helped... clear out the goblins up... north..." The knight coughed up blood that was black in color, and Ronlyn now spotted that the veins in the knight's neck were also black, as if some poison now ran through his veins. The knight smiled, "Funny... seeing you again... I've... seen... better days," the knight coughed again, more black blood came from his mouth and nose, as the tainted vein marks seemed to move rapidly through the knight's body. "I tried to save the others,” he looked to the side, where a man, woman, and two children lay dead, their flesh torn by the undead, “but there were too many. A man … baring the symbol of Chemosh… commanded these horrors.”
Ronlyn looked up at Midnight, and the horse seemed to stare back, sadly, as if he knew death was coming for his faithful rider. Ronlyn stood up, "Tharrom! Get over here! Now!"
Tharrom raced around the wagon, and could not help but gasp as he saw the deceased family and the knight who was covered in black liquid, which he quickly surmised was the knight's blood. He quickly went to the knight's side, "Giliean, I call on you; grant me your blessing to mend the wounds of this knight, give him life so that he can see another day and fight that which has strived to take him from us." He raised his hands and much to his dismay saw that his magic had not healed the knight.
The young Knight coughed more blood. “You… can heal? Then the gods have … returned…” He smiled, though his gaze is distant. “Do not worry about me… one of those undead creatures had claws that were tipped with poison… I was dead the moment it clawed me.” He seemed to focus again and at those gathered around him. “Please, bury them,” he gestured to the four slain figures next to the wagon. “I tried to save them… but I never ran… and now I can see the light of Paladine… the gods are truly back and he calls to me…” The Knight took one more breath then exhaled for the last time.
Ronlyn's eyes burned. He looked from Kraun to Tharrom then back to Kraun. "You said you could heal! Why did he die?" Tears flowed from Ronlyn's eyes as he thought back on what Arreis had said earlier in Winterholm; about how he had not made many friends and that his one true friend had always been Kraun, the one that strived to help him, regardless of the trouble Ronlyn had gotten himself into; the one true friend who always said he would speak up for Ronlyn and had wanted the best for him.
Tharrom placed his hand on Ronlyn's back. "I am sorry," he whispered.
Ronlyn shook off Tharrom's hand and stood up, wiping his eyes. "We need to take his body to Varus. He deserves a Knight's burial."
"No one is disagreeing with you," Tycus said, standing next to Ronlyn.
Feroz sifted through the wagon and found a shovel and began to dig a grave for the four slain humans. After burying them, Feroz broke off fragments of the wagon and used them as grave markers. "These people were family, someone may come looking for them. We need to tell the mayor of Varus where to find these people so they too can get a proper burial and their families can be notified."
Breara looked at Feroz after he'd finished burying the humans; surprised at the minotaur's compassion, considering his reputation as a pirate on the seas.
She was - surprised - to say the least.
She approached Feroz and whispered, "That was very kind of you to do that for them. I hadn't expected such kindness from you."
Feroz smiled, though it was a smile of kindness, the minotaur's feature made it look menacing at best.
Feroz picked up the Knight's body and placed him over the black mare's back and took the reigns and handed it to Ronlyn. "It feels only right that you lead the mare. If this Knight was as close as a friend as it seems, the mare can probably sense it."
Ronlyn nodded.
They marched for several hours longer, with Ronlyn from time to time, looking over his shoulder at the mare named Midnight; but his eyes always wandered over this childhood friend who had given up his life defending the innocent merchants. He shook his head and gritted his teeth, fighting back the stinging of the tears he felt in the corner of his eyes.
A short moment later, there was suddenly shrill screaming - a high pitched voice - as well as other voices, male - human - by the sounds of it - making demands. "At least we know it's not the undead this time," Tharrom commented as they tied Midnight to a tree and each of them inched forward only to see a kender in red leggings, brown hair, swinging his hoopak around wildly, fending off six cultists - cultists of Chemosh, based on the symbol on their robes!
"I don't have a blue phoenix!" the kender was shouting, "I didn't steal it! I didn't pick it up! And I won't let you look through my bags!"
"Blue Phoenix," Feroz looked at the others. "They must mean the statue we found in the goblin cave," he whispered. "I wonder why he'd think a kender has it?"
Tarli opened his own pouches, and suddenly a gentle blue light eminated from one of them. Tarli reached and let out a slight gasp. It was the statue - or a very tiny replica of it. "I swear I didn't put the statue in my pouch!" Tarli hissed, looking at the expression of the others who were all sternly looking at the kender and wondering how he'd managed to steal an entire statue.
"We'll deal with that later," Feroz shook his head. "For now, we should help the other kender, if for no other reason, than to put these cultists down." Without waiting for the others, Feroz charged, horns down and impaled one of the cultists in the back; the cultists back snapping from the sheer force of the impact. The startled cultists stumbled away from the minotaur who was now covered in blood; while the kender in the red leggings cheered and began to stab at the closest cultist with the sharp end of his hoopak.
"That bullheaded," Breara began, then stopped and simply fired an arrow at the cultist that was running at Feroz, dagger drawn ready to plunge it deep into the minotaur's back. The arrow found it's mark, piercing the cultist's throat.
Tycus in the meantime, adjusted some of the mana-stones in his armor and launched a fire bolt spell at one of the cultists, catching their robes on fire. The cultist tried desperate to get out of the burning robes, only to be stabbed through the chest by the red legging dressed kender. Tarli, not surprised to see another kender on the road - after all, even during these dark times, nothing seemed to supress a kender's wanderlust - Wanderlust, after all was something that afflicted kender after they reach a certain age; a young kender would begin to wander the world looking for adventure, and not being able to stay in one place for too long. "Hi," Tarli extended his free hand, swinging his hoopak at the nearest cultist, "my name is Tarli Featherfoot. These are my friends."
"They seem like nice people," the other kender replied, shaking Tarli's hand. "My name is Braid. Braid Lockpick." The two of them spun and stabbed one of the cultists who'd been attempting to grab Braid's pouches. "These cultists though, they're very rude." As one of the cultists moved towards the bushes to ambush Braid and Tarli, who hadn't seen the cultist in the chaos; as the cultist slipped into the brush and drew his dagger, he felt cold steel glide against his throat, then the warm sensation of his own blood running down his chest as he gargled for breath. Ronlyn stepped out from the bushes wiping his blade, seeing only one more cultist. As he began to move towards the cultist - he was surprised to see Tharrom charging the cultist, his mace drawn.
Tharrom's mace struck the cultist squarely on the side of the head, crushing the cultist's skull. The cultist feel like a puppet whose strings had been severed; but this didn't stop Tharrom. He lept on the cultist and struck the cultist's face three more times before he was pulled off by his companions. "These abominations are the cause for the undead," Tharrom wheezed, furiously. "They take people who were laid to rest peacefully and force their soulless bodies to obey their dark commands. The undead we fought may have been, during their life, family or friends of any one of us. And these bastards have to taint that with their foul magic!"
Ronlyn, who was rummaging through the robes of the cultists, called back, "We got something. Seems our old friend is a part of this group as well." He tossed the rolled parchment to Tycus, who'd been standing the closest. Tycus unrolled the parchment and read it to the others.
"Alariak - I have been given a vision from Chemosh. The Blue Phoenix will rise from the Winterholm area. I am being called away for urgent matters. I leave this matter to you. Murder everyone coming to and from Winterholm if you must. The Blue Phoenix must not rise," Tycus then said, "signed Krizzen Arcmoon, faithful cleric of Chemosh." As Tycus crushed the note and shoved it in one of his leather pouches, he saw the kender who had identified itself as Braid Lockpick standing next to him. The kender, now seeing that Tycus had finished reading the note, extended his hand.
"My name is Braid," the kender repeated, "Braid Lockpick. Tarli, my best friend, told me you were friends of his, so you're friends of mine."
"No offense kender, but I'd rather keep my possessions," Tycus smirked.
"Oh, good," Braid beamed, "because you dropped this during the battle." The kender brandished a hammer that had been, previously, in Tycus' backpack. "I just wanted to return it."
Tycus took it back from the kender, swiping it from his hands.
Braid was statled by the sight of Feroz. His eyes peered up at the towering minotaur. "I've never met a minotaur before. I've heard plenty about them. Uncle Redfeather used to tell tales of how he'd met a minotaur named Bloodhorn, and that he traveled with them on a ship before the ship had been captured. Said he knew all kinds of stories and had maps of all this treasure that Bloodhorn hid around all these tiny islands. I've asked about the map, but he seems to have mislocated it," Braid rambled.
"What was the business with the Blue Phoenix?" Tharrom asked, cutting off the kender's story. It seemed every Kender had an Uncle Something who had magnificent tales.
"Oh!" Braid smirked and opened his bags. "When they saw me they wanted to go through my bags. See if I had something called a ‘blue phoenix.’ I have no idea what they’re talking about! I certainly didn’t take anything called a ‘blue phoenix’. As a matter of fact, I prefer wearing red! I wasn’t about to let them sift through my bags. Are you going to Varus? Because that’s where I am going. Varus! Oh, don’t worry, I won’t travel with you. I mean, to Varus I will. But after! I am going to Varus to meet up with my good friends Hawkwood and Lalena! We used to travel all the time together! They can’t wait to see me! I just know it."
"Oh, that's where we're going too! We're going to Varus," Tarli offered the information freely. "As a matter of fact, we're off to go see Hawkwood and Lalena too."
"Oh! That's great! We can travel together! Why, me, Hawkwood and Lalena used to travel together all the time. Let me tell about this one time, we'd been camping in a cave when there was this giant troll inside, who wasn't happy that we'd taken up refuge in its cave. It was raining really bad, you see, so we didn't mean to disturb it. Anyway, as it came towards us..." Braid continued to talk about all the fantastic journeys he'd shared with Hawkwood and Lalena, making the rest of the trip unbearably long for everyone, except Tarli who was enthralled by Braid's stories.
For what had felt like an eternity, finally the fortified mining town of Varus came into sight. Braid Lockpick urges the party to move more quickly. "I am sure that Hawkwood and Lalena are wondering what I’ve been up to! And I am excited to see their daughter, Liliornin! She was so young – just barely beginning to learn magic the last time I saw them here in Varus!"
Drawing closer to Varus, it’s clear that the defensive wall around the mining town had only been recently constructed. Small patrols paced back and forth along the wall, sixty feet up. Reaching the front gate, Braid Lockpick called out, "Ramgor! Open the gate! It’s me! Braid! Braid Lockpick!"
The tanned human from Estwilde looked down and heaved a deep sigh. "What are you doing back here, Braid? I thought you were off to see the world."
"I think I saw enough of it for now! And look! I brought friends!" Braid gestured to the others standing about. Ramgor's eyes scanned the oldly collected group - a minotaur, an elf, a half-elf, two humans - and by Paladine's might! - another kender?
"Where did you even," Ramgor began to ask, but then simply shook his head. Braid had formed a strong friendship with Hawkwood and Lalena, as well as their young daughter; there was no way Ramgor was going to convince Hawkwood to keep the gates closed and keep the kender - and his new friends, which included yet another kender - out of Varus. The man named Ramgor sighed and opened the gates.
Inside of Varus, among the humans, dwarves and gnomes (with the occasional kender!), the sight of a tall, slender, female, blond haired elf caught Breara's eyes - because among all of the dirt and grime of this mining town, she seemed very out of place. The young female's eyes look over Braid and those with him, their eyes settling on the horse, Midnight, then her eyes fall on the deceased knight slumped over the back of Midnight – and her eyes widened – before she quickly fled back into the crowd. Breara is hardly able to process what she's seen when the young, blond elf returns - but not alone. She walks more confidentially now, but still a step behind the human knight in front of her. The young man, though he appears to be a Knight, with his stance, his walk, even his traditional Solamnic mustache - he did not wear the armor of a Knight nor carry a Knight’s sword. The human comes up short in front of Braid and the others and looked grievously at the deceased knight on the horse.
The human nods, and spoke in Solamnic, “Est Sularus oth Mithas. My honor is my life.” He moved to take the reigns from Ronlyn and looked over everyone, wondering who he should ask before simply bluntly saying, "My name is Talarys Hopebringer. Can you tell me what happened to Kraun Crowfeather?"
Ronlyn spoke up, "Kraun was a good friend of mine. I'd known him all of my life..."
"You must be Ronlyn," Talarys replied. "He spoke of you frequently and fondly. He'd often wondered what came of you after the two of you had parted ways."
Ronlyn bit his lip. "Kraun has always been a beacon of honor and chivalry, but he met his fate in the most noble of causes: battling the undead scourge that threatened our lands. His sword was not merely a weapon but a symbol of righteousness, gleaming with the light of justice even amidst the shadows of despair."
"The undead," Talarys looked at the young woman next to him. "My apologies, this is Liliornin, daughter of Hawkwood and Lalenda, and a Wizard of the White Robes, like her mother."
Liliornin smiled, but remained behind Talarys. "It's very nice to meet you all. Thank you for bringing Kraun back to us. He'd left with a merchant headed for Winterholm. There's not been enough people to go and protect these wagons, because of the raids, and we'd heard rumors of undead as well," she explained, "and Kraun was the only one who offered to go and ensure these people would make it safe."
"The others were buried at the attack site," Feroz explained, his thundering voice a sharp contrast to Liliornin's gentle, music-like voice. "There are markers for their graves if their bodies need to be recovered."
"Let me take you to my mother and father," Liliornin said. "Talarys, will you tend to Kraun until we can properly bury him?"
Talarys nodded. "I will see to him. We shall have a proper burial, worthy of a Knight, and I will prepare the notifications to send to inform his family."
"Hold," Tharrom said. "You said your name was Talarys Hopebringer?"
The young man paused. "I am."
"Your father asked us to deliver this," Tharrom explained. He unbuckled the sword that'd been strapped to his back and handed it to Talarys, who drew the blade from its sheath - and it was clear that tears stung the corner of his eyes. He sheathed the blade and strapped it to his waist. "Then, I must thank you twice. It would seem fate and irony have collided. I was going to be a Knight, until I," he looked at Liliornin, then back to the others, "I fell in love. I didn't want to risk my life being a Knight and have my time cut short. As a human, I will never live as long as her," he said, gazing into Liliornin's eyes. "I want to spend my days and nights with her. But Kraun's death, and now having my father's sword, I wonder if this is the gods, who have abandoned Ansalon so long ago, giving me some kind of sign."
"A sign," Tharrom smiled, cutting his own hand with a dagger, then healing it with magic, "that perhaps the gods had not abandoned us; and that they are back."
Talarys stared at Tharrom in shock. Liliornin was equally surprised. "My father and mother need to hear this."
The people of Varus exchange nervous glances among one another, seeing the slain knight - their eyes going towards those gathered around Talarys and Liliornin, trying to piece together how the Knight had met his fate. Sensing the rising tension, Liliornin pulled her hood over her head and said, "We should go quickly."
Despite being the mayor of Varus, the home of Hawkwood and Lalena is small and humble. The Silanvesti elves who stepped forward also did not appear like traditional elves; but Breana could not help but let out a small gasp. It'd been the same Hawkwood and Laena whom she'd met many years ago when they came to the borders of her home with a warning. Breana's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, despite knowing that there was a good chance that neither Hawkwood or his wife had spotted Breara in the trees.
Tharrom stepped forward and bowed slightly, "We're sorry to bother you both. We had recently come from Winterholm, where we came together to put an end to the goblin raids against the merchants traveling from Hargoth to Winterholm. We'd originally thought it was going to be a matter of putting those goblins down, but we discovered that there was far more to it."
"Oh?" Hawkwood asked, gesturing for them to sit at the table. "I imagine it must be, if you have traveled so far north to come here to speak of it."
"Yes," Tharrom nodded, waiting for the others to be seated before he took a seat. "When we fought the goblins, we found a note on their leader, a hobgoblin named Borgus Ogreblood and -"
"We also got this," Tarli held out the blue phoenix statue. "Well, it talked to us. Not this one. But the big one. That was in the goblin cave. Said a war was coming."
Hawkwood's eyes were wide. Lalena stood up, "The blue phoenix... that is the symbol of Habbakuk. You said it spoke to you?"
"Yes," Tarli smiled, excited to share the tale, unaware of the glaring looks from his companions. "You see, there was this gully dwarf named Tegaru Bullabop who knew the secret way into the cave. She was the only one who knew how to move the stone the right way - goblins, the big dummies they are, couldn't figure it out."
"Habbakuk used a gully dwarf as his guardian?" Hawkwood looked at his wife, shocked. It seemed outlandish. A gully dwarf?
"The kender isn't lying," Tharrom cut in. "Indeed, a gully dwarf was the one who led it to us. I've met a few gully dwarves in my life, seen many more; and like you, would never expect anything from a gully dwarf but filth. But, ask anyone who has met her, there's ..."
"Something different about Tegaru," Ronlyn cut in as Tharrom searched for the words. "I grew up in Winterholm. I've known Tegaru for years. There is definitely something different from her. When you meet her, you just feel there's something more to her."
"I am curious to meet this gully dwarf," Lalena said as she took her seat again, her white robes flowing around her.
Hawkwood smiled at his wife, then looked back to his guests. "The kender mentioned that Habbakuk mentioned a war is coming?"
"Yes," Tharrom nodded, placing his hand on Tarli's shoulder, to keep the kender in place. "We did not know what it meant when Habbakuk told us, but I believe we have discovered the truth. With the reveal of the gods of light, so too have the gods of darkness risen. As I had started to explain," he said, casting a glance at Tarli, who'd interrupted him, "the note we found on Borgus Ogreblood - it'd been signed by a Krizzen Arcmoon, the Cleric of Chemosh. We've not only run into some death priests, but we've also fought the undead."
Hawkwood looked to his wife, then back to the others. "We'd heard rumors of the undead having been seen. We fortified our city gates to prepare for any kind of attack that might come. The world is swaying between darkness and light now."
"We suspect there may be an undead army marching this way," Feroz said, bluntly. "We found evidence of them on the road to Varus. They seemed to have veered off the path, possibly to avoid being spotted when they got closer."
"We must keep that between ourselves," Hawkwood replied, his features seemed to age. "I will tell the guards to be vigitalnt. But the people of Varus must not panic. I fear they'd flee Varus and march right into the maw of the undead."
The following morning, as the morning sun began to crest over the mountain tops, orange rays spilled between the rocks – the sound of alarm bells ringing pounded throughout the town. Feroz was the first up, shaking the others awake. Stepping out of their comfortable rooms, they saw archers along the wall pointing - and Hawkwood was there, with his wife and daughter - both of whom were casting spells at something on the other side of the town's barricade. The word did not need to be spoken - they knew by the horrified looks of those on the wall - the undead were here.
Feroz and the others quickly donned their armor and grabbed their weapons, racing to the wall peering over – their gaze is met with an all too familiar gruesome sight – however, on a much larger scale.
Thirty zombies slammed their fists against the front gate while eight cultists standing further back shouted, “We have traced the blue phoenix here. Give us the blue phoenix and we shall depart.”
"We can't give it to them," Tharrom whispered to Hawkwood.
"I know we can't," Hawkwood grimaced. Hawkwood barked commands to fire at the zombies at the gates as well as the cultists.
The cultists moved, going from tree to tree to use the foliage as cover; and it soon became obvious that the cultists were also responsible reanimating the zombies that had already been taken down. "We need to take down the cultists," Hawkwood shouted as the zombies continued to pound at tear at the town's defenses which were now beginning to break beneath the relentless onslaught of the zombies.
"Leave that to us," Ronlyn said, looking to the others. He quickly scaled down the northern wall, but discovered one of the cultists had spotted him and send a small fraction of zombies after him, forcing him up the wall again. "There's cultists on the sides - the six we can see are not all of them. One is hidden by the northern wall, I suspect another at the southern side. We need to clear one side so we can get down there."
"Sun is hitting north side of Varus," Breana commented. "That means southside will have more shade, also force the cultist hiding there, if there is one, to be looking directly into the sun if he's looking up towards the battlements. The shade and the fact that they're looking at the rising sun may provide us the time and cover to get down the wall without being detected."
Feroz looked at Breana - as an elf, and a ranger, she was an expert in the woods and knew how to take advantage of nature. He nodded in agreement and turned to Ronlyn. "Get down the northern wall first. You're quick on your feet and that light armor won't be as loud as mine. If you find a cultist, you know what to do."
He turned to Tycus and Breana, "You two, stay up here, fire at the cultists - keep them busy and moving." He looked to Tarli, "Kender, do you think you can just stay up here? Maybe hurl some taunts like I've known you to do in the past?"
"I don't know if they can hear me way up here," Tarli whined, interested in the idea of scaling down a wall - he'd done a lot of things in his life, but scaling down a sixty foot wall was not one of them and it seemed mighty interesting. Feroz looked at Tharrom, "Your holy powers might be good down there, keeping the undead away from us once we start going after the cultists. Come down after we've cleared the one on the south side."
Ronlyn scaled the northern wall and discovered Breara had been right; Ronlyn was quickly able to use the shadows of the barricade to make his way down before sliding into the bushes. He'd been right - it did not take long for him to sit quietly in the shadows of the forest floor before he heard a culist whisper the spidery, dark, foul words of necromancy that would rise some of the fallen zombies. Ronlyn moved through the shadows and approached the cultist, unaware, and brought his dagger across the cultist's throat, assuring this cultist would never speak again as he gurgled, drowning in his own blood. Ronlyn stepped out of the shadows and signaled Feroz and Tharrom that everything was clear. The two descended down the northern wall next. Once on the ground, Feroz whispered, "Our plan is, I will rush any cultists we can catch unaware; Ronlyn keep an eye out for any cultists coming to their aid, and Tharrom, you keep an eye out in case they call back any of the undead to help defend them."
"What should I do?" a voice asked.
Feroz was both surprised, and yet somehow, not surprised to recognize the voice. "Tarli," he muttered, "I thought I told you to stay on the battlements."
"Yeah, I know, but that got boring very quickly," Tarli admitted, "I don't think the cultists can hear me. Besides, I'd never scaled down a big wall like that."
"Fine, then you keep the cultists distracted with your taunts," Feroz groaned.
As they moved through the forest, Feroz heard one of the cultists chanting. "I see him," Ronlyn whispered, pointing that the cultist had been hiding behind a tree.
"Excellent," Feroz smiled as he made his way around, to position himself behind the cultist. It was already too late, when the cultist heard the thundering sound and realized it had been coming from behind him and had not been the sound of the zombies pounding against the wooden, defensive wall of the town of Varus. The cultist turned to see Feroz's glistening horns shining in the orange sun rays just seconds before they gouged into the cultist's abdomen with so much force that his back snapped, his rib cage collapse, and when Feroz pulled his horns back, the cultist was still pinned to the tree, his surprised, lifeless eyes gazing at the ground as blood trickled from his mouth.
The third cultist has heard his companion's death screams and knew something was amiss. He was ready when he saw the minotaur and whispered a command and a small legion of undead marched towards them. "I think not," Tharrom smiled. "By guidance and wisdom, by peace and harmony, do I, on behalf of the gods, give you eternal rest, to never be disturbed from your graves, evermore!" He pointed towards the undead as radiant white light poured from his hands and those undead who'd marched towards them, collapsed like puppets who'd had their stringers severed.
"They have the blue phoenix!" the cultist shouted, realizing that they'd awakened the gods of light - or at least, Habbakuk, whose hidden temple was said to be in the area.
"That's right," Tarli laughed, "I have it! Your friends were bothering the wrong kender before!"
While the cultist turned to warn his companions, Tharrom struck a blow with his mace, to the base of the cultists neck, snapping it and sending the cultist falling forward. They turned and heard a cheer coming from the gate; that's when they noticed more than half of the zombies had fallen and not risen now thanks to the death of the cultists.
The last three cultists suddenly charged the gate.
"What are they doing?" Tarli asked. "They're never going to get through it that way."
"They're going to blow the gate," Ronlyn screamed as he charged forward, with Tarli chasing behind him - but they were already too late - and the three death cultists used the vials of potions they had - just in case it came to this - and blew the gate wide open. The sheer force of the explosion sent the defensive wall shattering into thousands of pieces, wood and stone flying in every direction. Several of the larger stones and wooden fragments struck Ronlyn and Tarli; while Feroz shoved Tharrom down to the ground, catching a few fragments himself.
There was a deafening silence.
Then a ringing sound.
A ringing that came from their ears.
All the shouting sounded muted, drowned out by the ringing.
As the dust cleared, nothing remained of the gate, nor of the cultists or zombies.
Why had they blown the gate then?