Escape from Fargun

The rain thundered down, drenching our questionable heroes. Zander had sheltered them, and encouraged them to return to the Asylum. That morning, he introduced them to Jex the Agile, a student of Zander’s.

Two guards flanked the door this time. They certainly had not taken the previous intrusion lightly. Another approach was needed. Jex led the party to the rear of the building, a cliff topped by a fence. After several failed attempts to climb the steep bank, Gallidad cast a spell upon Tak, who doubled in height and lifted the party to the fence.

The back door was quickly taken care of by Ned, and the party rushed inside to be met by two Ghouls. Tak, still enlarged, charged in, fists flying, with the other members behind him backing him up. Stumpy the Cleric of Pelor put his power of Turning to good use. He held forth his holy symbol, and channeled positive energy towards the ghouls and frighted off the pair. They escaped out the front door, alerting the two guards outside something was astray. They entered the fray, replacing their cowardly allies.

After the battle was over, Jex, Stumpy and Liadra investigated the unopened door on the first level. Jex bypassed the trapped door, and revealed the library within. Upon the table lay an open journal the cover inscribed with the name ‘Gormand’,  the last entry written six days earlier:

It has been several days since Nigel Blackheart passed away. Some of the healers tell me they hear strange sounds coming from the catacombs. I fear that Nigel’s spirit may be resting uneasily.

A shout from outside stopped further investigation. Ned had spotted one of the ghouls had returned, through the burnt-out window and was making for downstairs! The group gave chase, Tak hurling himself down the stairs.

A massive ogre, with pallid, taught skin was waiting at the bottom. He was dressed in black pants, a torn, stained white shirt, and a bowtie. His arms were covered in what could only be the remnants of a waistcoat, The arm raised, and belted the half-orc a solid blow across the head. The ghoul that had run downstairs and alerted the ogre darted to his side, and let loose with its own attack… Poisoned jaws opened, and the head drew back…

Time slowed as the ghouls bite travelled inoxerably towards Tak’s throat.
But those jaws had not taken into account Lady Luck.

The ogre’s follow-up punch slid through the air, towards the side of Tak’s head. His fist went past the drooling jaws, his wrist… The eyes of the ghoul widened, it could see what would happen, but was helpless to do a thing.

The bite was deep, the poison strong.  Suddenly, the ogre stopped, mid-punch. The worst possible mistake, at the worst possible time. Stumpy let loose, mace flying. Tak’s fists rained blunt destruction. Liadra descended the stairs, and after a moment of confusion, fired her wand into the undead statue.
Soon enough, the paralysis wore off, and the ogre collapsed in a pulverised heap.

The victors did not have time to thank the Gods for their luck, for a group of figures appeared down a dark passageway. Behind them, in the blackness, was an even darker outline, and inky shape towering over its henchmen.

A voice, dry as the bones of the dead, as intrusive as a suppository, hissed words of dread at them:

“Impressive. But do you really think you will leave here alive?”

Dragging rotten rags, droppping dead flesh, staggeringly drunkenly, and staring the vacant stare of the undead, the party lurched up the hill towards the Asylum. The burning eyes of the hulking doorman took them in, and seemed to accept their zombie disguise.

“Welcome, ah he he he, to our Lord’s celebration!”

The door was opened, and they entered into the darkened corridor, eyes flicking nervously from side to side, taking in the darkness, the torches in the wall, the dank smell, and the solid, thick walls. Following the other mindless undead that entered with them, they turned a corner, entered a door, and were stopped in their tracks.

The sight that greeting them was disgusting. The room was lit by rough chandeliers, with what could only be entrails hanging between them. The walls had streamers of entrails, the tables were decked out with delicacies such as candied eyeballs, deep-fried toes, and other squishy, wobbly bits.
And everywhere, locked in unholy embraces, dancing a macarbe dance, were the undead. Zombies, skeletons, and unnameable nasties stepped and twirled around each other. Shuffling to the sound of a drum, beaten by bone hands. The sight turned the stomach.

The exploration of the top floor uncovered floating surgical instruments, ravenous undead animals, and a nasty surprise of a body which was only pretending to be dead.
However, one room held something even more unexpected. A living, breathing human! Liadra had locked herself in when the disaster struck. Little could she tell of what actually happened. The tense meeting teetered on the edge of warfare, with Tak’s bluntness almost proving their downfall. Gallidad stepped in, and invited Liadra to help them escape.

It was time to recuperate, and it was not safe to do it here. The party continued downstairs, and were discovered to be not as the appeared by the doorman. A quick fight ensued, with Liadra casting spells from her wand. After he was defeated, Simiralias set the ballroom alight, and they scampered for the safety of the forest, and the protection of Zander.

Zander guided them towards the hospital. On their way, they caught up with a large group of undead, zombies and skeletons. Quickly moving in, Tak started dealing blows, closely followed by Gallidad casting an Enlarge spell on the already bulky half orc. Similarias came in and provided back up, and Ned snuck around behind to flank. Zander was circling the fray, firing arrows into the midst, as the sky darkened and thunder started to roll.

Blows were dealt, left right and center, and after trying several combinations of weapons everyone seemed to finally be doing damage. Tak went down under a rain of zombie slams, to be revived by Zander’s healing potion. He got his revenge, though- His powerful fists decimated the last standing skeleton, with the aid of Similarias. The noise of crunching bone echoed the claps of thunder.
Over the next rise was the house of healing Zander was leading them to. A congregation of zombies and skeletons were milling at the door, which opened from within. Similarias’ keen ears caught the half-mad speech of the doorman:

“Welcome, loyal followers. Yes, welcome, he he he! You’re all here for our Lord’s celebration, I take it?”
The blank zombie faces and eyeless sockets of skulls seemed to be all the response the doorman needed.
“I thought so! Come in and make yourselves welcome! He he he he!”
The doorman opened the doors with a flourish, and cackled the visitors inside.

“I have an idea.” said Zander.
Similarias met his gaze, nodded, and grinned. Out came his disguise kit. After careful application of rags, dirt, and rotting flesh, Zander stepped back.
“Perfect.”

The sky, on cue, thundered mightily.

Using Tamsin, the captured halfling, as a guide, the group set off southwest. When it came time to stop, they realised suddenly they had made a slight oversight… They forgot to bring food. Rather than backtrack, they decided to press on. That night, after not setting a watch, Tamsin broke through his bonds and escaped into the night.

During the next day’s travel, they were passed by a cart, with three people aboard. A quick, tense, chat (or ‘holdup’, however you want to describe it) led to them gaining some food. This was to turn around and bite them, however, as the hijackees set up an ambush ahead.

They underestimated the group, though. Arcane spells were the last thing they were expecting! After seeing his son get killed, and a magic missile cast at his friend, Morg tried to run. Once again, Gallidad’s Sleep spell managed to bring down an escapee.

Similarias, somewhat against a Paladin’s normal bent, tied Morg to the wagon wheel, and appropriated the cart itself for the travel to the next halfway house.

This house, however, was abandoned and empty. During the night’s stay, Morg, kept upside down outside, screamed and gibbered something about dead men walking. Sure enough, during the next day’s travel, two zombies where found, and sent to the death (again).

Zander, a ranger in these parts, saw their handiwork, and thanked them for protecting his forest. He led them to a resting place, and told them that many undead had been walking his forest. They all seemed to be converging on one point- A hospital of some kind, isolated in the grasslands to the southwest.  The group had a new destination, that morning.

After running out of town, the group were attacked, quite nastily, by three cougars. After some cries of ‘Bad Kitty!’, and some solid thumps on the nose, they ran off, after causing some damage of their own.

Towards the end of the day, the group spotted an upturned stump marking a path away from the main road. Following the track, they came across a house atop a small rise. It seemed at first as if no-one was home, but then a halfling answered the door. After some cagey small talk, a greedy (on the halfling’s side) deal on healing potions, and noticing how out-of-place the halfling seemed here, it was time to investigate what was really going on. Squeezing through the freshly extinguished (well, maybe not fresh) fireplace, Tak managed to cop an arrow through the throat. A mighty heave from the pint-sized Gallidad sent him the rest of the way through. Similarias was helping Nedly try to take down the locked bedroom door, to no avail.

Gallidad used his head, and called for parley. The halfling swapped a chance at riches for a higher chance of living, and left out the front door, keeping the four at bay with a threatening flask of alchemist’s fire.

A brief investigation revealed the truth. Two bodies- A man and a woman- were secreted in the cellar. It seems the halfling had them, and waited for more takings from the next party to use the house. It did however give the group a place to rest and heal up.

A day or so later, scratching was heardat the door. Fearig the return of the cougars, Tak punched a hole in the roof to act as a lookout. Returning down, he opened the door to admit the scarred, bleeding, near death halfling. It seemed the cougars had got to him.

Realising that the halfling’s pack was still out there, Similarias and Tak went to search it out. A burnt patch was found, with a charred corpse of a cougar in it. The pack was nearby, in thick bushes. While trying to retrieve it, the two remaining cougars lept at them! Similarias was ready for them, and the two of them made short work of the animals.

The small goblin that Tak had shoved out of the way witnessed the death of Galarion, and gave chase as Tak ran from the scene. Gallidad checked around himself, to make sure no-one was watching the chase. Forming the foribben arcane symbols in the air, he wove a spell and threw it at Tak. The hulking half-orc fell with a solid tump and slid forward, his massive chin acting a keel of sorts, parting the ground in front of him.

When Tak awoke, the goblin was grinning above him, pointing towards a cart on the side of the road.

“The cart did it.”

A crash and several splinters later, Tak considered himself avenged. Gallidad suggested a quick cooling ale, and led Tak towards a nearby watering hole.

Similarias the White Light was starting to get miffed. These peasants where insulting him! He wished to gamble with gold, and all they produced was copper. They were trying to get the better of him. A lesson must be taught, for the good of them all! He drew his massive bastard sword, and lifted the peasant’s chin with the tip. He spoke a few words of wisdom, and left the table for the bar, where and interesting little monkey man had just taken up a perch.

Sure enough, the other two mismatched heroes enter. Tak remembers his friend, after a pause, and sits next to Ned. The four introduce themselves over three ales and a glass of milk for Tak, the formidable half orc.

When the city guard appeared was shown into the building, they all took notice. Tak had just been party to a killing, Ned dealt the final blow, Gallidad had just been casting spells, and Similarias realised that the gambler showing the guard in looked a little familar to him, and was sporting a nick on the chin.

The guards asked the four of them to put down any weapons, and come with them.

Nedly put his weapon down immediately. With force. Into the watchman’s skull.

Bottles flew, patrons ran, crossbow bolts whizzed past. Tak managed to get his fist stuck into a table, and Gallidad fell from his sniping position off the bar, luckily managing to draw a bead on the other guard through the table legs. The first guard was dispatched quickly, but the second wasn’t so easy. A flying leap by Tak tried to cut off his escape, but only succeded in giving his face more of a gravel rash. The guard ran, calling for backup.

Time for the four of them to leg it.

Nedly the Street Monkey and Tak met up on the street in the wake of the Warforged, after realising there was no point following the hulking humanoid war machines. Ned convinced Tak to team up. Brains and brawn.
A quick visit to Galarion, the job network Half-Elf that the op shop lady put Nedly in contact with started them on the path to employment. They were to return after Galarion had interviewed another jobseeker.
Convinced that this jobseeker was going to steal his only oppurtunity at a real job, Nedly arranged an ambush.

“Are you the fella that came for the interview, like?”
“Yes, with Galarion? Where is he?”
“Oh, well pal, the ting is, he’s waiting for you down the end of that dark alley, y’know.”

Tak had some fun, Nedly got a nice dagger, and everyone was happy. Onto their interview they went.

Galarion invited them in, and started the interview. Using his considerable charm and wit, Ned convinced Galarion that they were there to kill him. He left, and locked them in the office. Tak had to escape, and the best way out was through the window. In pure Tak style, he just lept on through, sending glass everywhere!

The terrible two moved on to bunk down across the street, where they observed Galarion returning with the guards. After a quick search, the guards gave up, and Galarion took it upon himself to warn the neigbours. However, knocking on the door of the house that Tak and Ned were in proved a mistake. Despite their best efforts, Galarion managed to escape into the street during the fight, and so the killing blow delivered by Ned’s hammer with a knife taped to it was witnessed.

Time to leg it.

Ned the Street Monkey awoke in a pool of his own filth, with gutter water sloshing past his face. Stumbling to his feet, nursing his bruises from last night’s brawl, he staggered off in search of some clothing.

Tak jerked at chain that held him to wall. All he done was smash up someone who said Tak be weak! Must be crime to prove Tak not liar.

A brief chat with an op-shop lady netted Nedly some leathers, and a contact for a community worker to find himself a job. There was some kind of crowd lining the main street, waiting to see the ‘New Army’ or somesuch. Soon enough, six big brutes walked past, stepping in perfect time.

A massive jerk ripped the chain from the wall, the spikes moulded into the links tearing gashes across his back. The left comes out, then the right. With the chains still dangling from his manacled wrists, Tak let the other prisoners out before him. The sound of a brief scuffle let Tak know he made a good move, and he left the guardhouse in search of pants, knocking aside a small goblin on his way out.
Tak soon learnt that the king’s New Army were to be seen walking past soon. He waited their arrival.

Like men made of armour they were, moulded plates of wood, stone, and metal creating a humainoid figure. Six, in line, kept heads and eyes straight ahead, marching to an unheard drum. Ignoring the town and the locals, they kept travelling the road from Cantuck, to Actus, the capital.