The Spellweavers tale – Musings of Devlin Char
Dawn (day 10)
The aftermath is horrific.
My studies have not prepared me for the extent of the carnage wrought by ravaging mindless undead. I am frankly sickened. My chosen calling is to study these creatures, and I have studied a little too closely.
A ghoul broke through the fighting lines, and nearly disembowelled me with a single blow. My training held, but I confess that in my rage. I did something I determined I would never do. As I struck back, the spell inflicted terrific damage on the ghoul, and the weave seemed to speak to me, just as Master M’Rellion had said it would. I was in pain, I was dying, and it seemed so natural to drain the life force from the ghoul. My pain lessened; my wounded closed. Horrified I looked at its corpse… no differences. Just another dead thing. I looked around. No one seemed to see my dilemma or confusion. I looked away from the carnage inside over the wall.
A translucent glowing figure seemed to be directing the hordes of mindless undead. Without thinking I unleashed my magic a second time, the beam struck. I felt the power of the creature, forgetting my abhorrence of a few seconds ago, the connection (I?) tried to draw on its life force. The world stopped. I felt its gaze locate me, scrutinise (recognise?). the scrutiny seemed to last forever, it turned and left, the horde departed with it.
I must have spoken of the creature, I don’t recall, because the warlock stood seemed intent on complaint about not notifying him of its presence.
I returned my attention to the clean-up.
Looking at the undead corpses, I focussed on making sketches and notes of the zombies, and more particularly the ghoul. I could not get the other creature out of mind.
Bestiary Entry: Zombie
Mindless automaton created by necromantic magic. The magic appears to preserve the creatures though the stench of rot and the grave is very evidence. Observations note that they appear to be almost mindless and capable of minor decision making functionality and limited or no speech. They fight with powerful clawed hands. They are resilient and powerful; they feel no pain. The organs within the bodies appear not to perform any function. I sensed the dark magic simply allows the muscles and brain to function. It appears that they can be controlled by higher forms of undead (the Translucent being).
I am convinced that they are simply tools.
Bestiary Entry: Ghoul
Analysis of the encounter noted ghouls are intelligent, and cunning, but driven by a need to feed on the flesh of the living. I noted the ghouls by pass others to make directly for us. Obviously by design and not by chance. Physcially they are derived from humanoids, said to be infected with demonic or necromantic energy, and too powerful to be turned into mindless undead. They have claws, and vicious sharp teeth. I note that they also inject some form of poison that renders their prey paralyzed whilst they feed on the still living flesh.
Internal organs all work, particularly the digestive tract, which is overdeveloped and facilities an entirely carnivorous diet.
Getting what rest I could, I woke and we debriefed as a group. I shared my knowledge of the translucent figure and endured more complaint from the Warlock about it. We greeted our comrade Al Zalam. Apparently he had arrived before the battle and was sequestered in another part of the keep when the attack occurred, our other comrades he advised were suffering from an illness and were being cared for in the infirmary, something connected to the assassin vine attack. He lightened the mood telling us the tale of his daring do in the battle, starting with his exitting 'barely finshed' from the privy, sword in one hand, leggins in the other.
Such levity did not resolve the other issue that daylight brought. Following our debrief, the Warlock and the Ranger were involved in an altercation with some townsfolk. Apparently the Warlock had, in the heat of battle, struck one of the guards, who lay gravely wounded. Relatives of the guard were lambasting the Warlock, who was increasingly belligerent (with some justification) with them, finally drawing his sword and holding ready. The Ranger tried to join them, the situation potentially becoming ugly. I tried to use subtle magic to communicate with one of the villagers, with little success. My persuasive powers not sufficient to avoid escalation. The matter was resolved by one of the keep solders, who intervened asking my comrades to a meeting with the Major.
The meeting was interesting. Apparently, we are accused of inciting or organising the attack. We are accused in the popular mind of being in league with the undead. The intelligence on the Translucent being, (a wrath? Ghost?) appeared to unnerve the Major, and the incident with the Warlock and the guard was a powder keg – not helped by the altercation. The Major acknowledged our help, but also encouraged us to leave. It is clearly the case that the Flaming Fist has less control here than anticipated. A point I made. That said, I can see the Major’s point, this is the first such attack and coincided with our arrival at the fort.
We strike a deal for more ghoul ears and go to leave. The Warlock choses to remain behind. The Major and the Warlock share a look or is it my imagination? I activate Sylph to remain and observe. The conversation between the Warlock and the Major is inane and revolves around the injury inflicted on the guard. If it was coded then it appears to be well hidden. The Warlock leaves and then treats the guard with healing magics before re-joining us. In hindsight the ensuing conversation with the Warlock should have been better handled. His actions looked suspicious and there was potential to undermine our position here. He doesn’t see that. Why I became angry is not at issue. I should not have been, but I am concerned that the Warlock’s individualistic attitude may kill us all. He and the Ranger appear to be a common thread. I tried to explain that a group needs to follow an order, organisation and structure to be effective. In the absence of a leader, I have tried to take this on. I am equally happy for him to do it. But he steadfastly refuses. Each unto his own.
Last week this would not have irritated me so much. Perhaps the jungle is grating on my nerves. Perhaps we simply need time. I will keep my own council now. We debate going after ghouls. By some sort of osmosis it happens and we set out.
We set out, my mind on possibilities. What if the Translucent being has been watching? What if the Flaming fist are right and one of our group is in league with the undead?
When it happens, it is no surprise that we encounter more undead. Ghouls jump out and attack. The creatures are insatiable, slavering for our flesh. The Druid enters his bear form, and I enchant his flesh to resist their evil. But the dead ones strike him down, coordinating their attacks. My comrades inflict minor wounds on them, but the situation appears perilous, I decide on a desperate plan, I hurl sleep magic into the group, trusting that the half breeds thin elven blood will protect them. The Druid falls unconscious. So too does one ghoul who is quickly dispatched. We gain the upper hand, but the undead are not finished. A larger ghoul with fierce red eyes enter the frey, the stretch from its body is intolerable.
The terror in the clearing is palpable, I find my own fear increasing, as I struggle to remain calm. The remaining ghouls are entreated by the larger ghoul (a ghast?) to greater effort and we are now in peril. Fortune smiles. My magical sleep takes effect once more, this time affecting several of the ghouls, whom my colleagues dispatched with ease. The ghast, appears shocked, but several well-placed arrows and the Warlocks eldritch fire claim the beast.
Not a mark on the Warlock. Not a drop of blood.
Silently I collect the ears, and perform an examination of the larger ghoul. The stench is overpowering and I use a contrip to keep the odour bearable. My comrades look at me in disgust, as I sketch the internals of the ghoul noting enlarged glands under the arms that seem part of the delivery mechanism for the odour, I incise one and collect a sample into a vial.
Bestiary Entry: Ghast
Physically very similar to ghouls, with no discernible difference. Physiologically these creatures have enlarged glands under the arms that produce a power ammoniacal substance that causes nausea, the effect seems to be similar to poisoning, rendering those affected slower and unable to function effectively. The larger creature seemed to exercise influence over the others, some sort of hierarchy?
the attacks also seemed to be better coordinated, was this ghast in charge?
A decision needs to be made. Do we continue or do we make for the Port? I am loath to leave the Flaming Fist with their preconceptions of us. It would be better to perform the service and return the ears. Engender some good will… but what if there is a traitor amongst us?
