An Adventurer's Tale/The Undead Part 2

Roleplay from Baldhart
Message sent to all adventurers in the vicinity of Zod (26 recipients)
Baldhart lay flat on his stomach, watching as a squad of liveried soldiers poured through the village in the darkness, dragging people from their homes, taking what they desired. The few who dared resist were dealt with quickly, a single thrust of a spear or sword. The others had been herded, like sheep, into the center of the outlying village's small square and stood in packed groups around a bonfire, watching as armed men under the direction of an armoured Knight atop a horse began to put their homes to the torch.

The village was beginning to burn, the thatched roofs of the small huts and the meager posessions the small folk earned bursting suddenly into balls of flame. On the outskirts of the village, fifty yards away, other soldiers hurred in and out of the village's food store, carrying large sacks of grain and vegetables, stacking them onto a waiting ox cart.

The sight of the burning village, the helpless and frightened peasants wandering aimlessly away from their burning homes, turned his stomach. Grimacing, he pushed himself away, and crawled back into the long grass. Once he was well away from the soldiers, he took Hunting Spear in hand and hurried back to Danost. His partner was sitting at the base of a tree in a sparse clump of wood, knees drew up to his chest, sheathed blade sitting across his lap.

"Lets go to Wilwau," he said in a high, mocking voice as he walked up. "I'll show you the Horde. Great idea there, Pard."

"What'd you find?"

"A flock of sheep missing their shepherd, surrounded by wolves." He stopped, laid his hunting spear on the ground, and began rummaging through the bagge until he found the wineskin. Uncorking it, he squeezed the warm, bitter-sweet wine into his mouth. "I'll tell you what really makes me awfully durn mad. Here we are, on the outskirts of Zod, Enweil soldiers razing a village, and a mile away the Duke's lackies are still collectin' road toll. God Bless the Highlords!" He wiped his mouth, and looked in the direction of Zod. He could see the peak of the Temple in the distance, grey against the pitch black of night. "Patrols everywhere. Not very large, but frequent. It has to be easy going from here. Got to be careful."

"We'll skirt the city," Danost said, voice calm and even, logical.

"Oh, we will? Here I thought we'd just march right on down the center of the street, weapons in hand!"

Danost looked at him. Smiled. "That's why I'm the leader."

Baldhart sighed. "Listen, I mean no offense, Pard, but I'm worried. If they catch us, it'll be bad!"

"They can't touch us, we're freemen."

"Armed freemen, just like Soldiers. We're not Lords, Pard, or Knights. We're peasants, and freeman or not, we have no rights. Those bastards will hang us at a whim." He bent, replaced the wineskin in the baggage. "If you don't believe me, go up a little ways and take a look at that village they just razed."

Danost rose, moaning, working a kink from his aching shoulder. "Well, then, we'd better hurry while it's still dark. We'll be easier targets come morning."

Baldhart (Freeman)

Roleplay from Baldhart
Message sent to all adventurers in the vicinity of Zod (26 recipients)
They were exhausted, moving slowly through the tall grass and crawling through the blackened earth of the burnt out fields, darting across open ground to what little cover they could find, always hiding, always moving despite their hunger and aching bodies.

It was almost Dawn when Danost called for a stop. Baldhart collapsed, exhausted, in what had been the center of a good sized village in the middle of a forest clearing, now little more than half-leaning huts and charred grass.

Danost smacked him across the flank with the wooden sheath. "Not here. There," he said, pointing towards what remained of a small house. Wearily, Baldhart rose. Once inside, Danost broke out a hunk of jerked venison and handed Baldhart a piece of leather-hard meat.

"It'd make nice armour," he whispered, chewing thoroughly.

"It's food, so don't complain."

A shrill whistle suddenly broke the silence. Baldhart rose, hefting his spear out of pure instinct, and pointing it to where the sound had come from. A man stumbled towards them from the woodline, his hands raised high. His clothes were of fine quality, for a peasant, although ripped and torn. His face was immaculate, with a perfectly trimmed beard covering his mouth and chin.

His legs buckled suddenly, and he sprawled to the ground on his hands and knees, struggling weakly to push himself up. Danost cursed and hurried out to him, grabbing him by an arm and pulling him to his feet. "Help me," he commanded, looking at the still stunned baldhart, ineffectually pointing the tip of the spear at the stranger. "For the love of God, don't be an oaf, he needs help!"

Laying the spear aside, Baldhart moved cautiously towards him, taking the other arm, and, together, the two men dragged the Peasant into the hut with them.

"Thank you," the peasant said, winded. "Thank you. I just need something to eat. It's been days!" Danost reached into the baggage and pulled out another piece of jerkey. The man laughed, half-hysterically, as he shoved it in his mouth and began to chew, suckling the juices from the meat. "It's been days!" he repeated over a mouthful of jerked veninson. "I doubt there's a single bite left in all of Zod!" Danost uncorked the wine skin and handed it to the man, who took a massive swig, swishing it in his mouth, savouring the flavor, before swallowing. "It's not the best," he said, recorking the skin and handing it back to Danost, "but it'll do."

"How long have you been out there?"

"Since they occupied the Stronghold," the man said, "The bastard's burnt down my shop, and I fled with some others while we still had some Soldiers to protect us, keep them from coming after us, but they did anyway." He looked gravely at Danost. "They killed hundreds of us. It was pure luck I escaped." He leaned his head against the burt out wall and snatched the wineskin from Danost once again, taking another swig. As he handed the skin back a second time, he looked down at the dagger and short sword at Danost's hip, then over at the spear in Baldhart's hands. "You're soldiers?" he asked, hopefully.

"No, just hunters," Baldhart said.

The man laughed. "Outlaws, most likely. Deserters." He looked at Danost, grinning. "Saw the Enweil Army and forgot your manhood, didja? I don't blame you."

"We're not deserters," Danost said evenly, irritated at indirectly being called a coward, "just in the wrong place, is all."

"Weren't we all?" The Merchant asked, throwing his head back and draining the wineskin in three large gulps.

Baldhart (Freeman)

Letter from Danost
Message sent to all adventurers in the vicinity of Zod (27 recipients)
Danost tried futilely to grab the wineskin from the merchant before he emptied it. "Hey! Damn, that was the last of the wine." The merchant didn't even bother to look ashamed as he let go of the empty wineskin.

"It's been nearly two days since I've had anything to eat or drink. Them damned Enweilians are burning nearly everything they can. Most of the governor's staff was put to the sword, and all the local militia as well."

"Two days, eh? Well, I suppose I can spare a bit of this shoe leather Baldhart made out of a perfectly good deer a couple days ago." He reached into his pack and pulled out a decent sized hunk of jerked venison and gave it to the merchant. The starving merchant took the venison eagerly and started to gnaw on it.

"Unfortunately you drank the last of the wine, so you'll have to eat it dry."

The merchant paused in his chewing. "The soldiers fouled the well after they burned down the village. They butchered most of the sheep to feed the troops and threw the carcasses down the well. One of the villagers was desperate and drank some of the water. He was alright until the next morning. He vomited for a few hours, then got the flux. He lasted through the day and died during the night."

Both Danost and Baldhart grimaced at the merchant's words. Getting a goblin's arrow in the chest was a much cleaner way to go than what that poor villager had experienced. "Being a merchant, you must hear a lot of news from all over, right? Have you heard about anything unusual down south? Say, southern Riombara, or maybe even farther?"

"Well, sure. Who hasn't? Just about every caravan headed north tells tales about the hordes of undead. They say that several armies of undead have been roaming the countryside. The Riombarans met then in Ardmore and wiped them out. But they're undead, see, and they just rise back up at sunset and just keep on going. They don't need to sleep, so they travel fast. One caravan driver told me the armies marched from Jidington to Irombro in one day. They say the army passed right by Eno in the night. They must have used some dark magic to put all the guards to sleep so no one would see them crossing the rivers. When they got to Irombro they swarmed over the palisade and slaughtered the entire garrison. The only survivors were the remnants of a small infantry troop that panicked and ran away in the middle of the battle. Why, even now the undead sit in the city waiting for the Necromancer to give them orders."

Danost looked over at Baldhart. "See? What did I tell you? That tinker said nearly the same thing. Now do you believe me?"

Baldhart shook his head. "Nope. Not until I see it myself."

"Alright then. First thing in the morning we head for Darhayo, then Ulallo and on south. It will take a while, but we should be in Mio Dupaki in only a few days."

The merchant looked at the two freemen in astonishment. "You're heading toward them?!"

Danost turned back to the merchant. "Of course. Baldhart here refuses to believe the tales without seeing for himself. So we're headed there so he feast his eyes on the undead armies."

"You two are mad! Everyone who can has been fleeing to the north to escape the undead, and you two are headed straight for it? Well, you two can go south without me. I'll stay here and take my chances with the Enweilians."

The merchant turned away and huddled in a corner to try and protect himself against the cold of the night. The two adventurers wrapped their cloaks around themselves, and gnawed on more of the jerked venison. They had a long walk ahead of them, and the gods only knew what they would find when they arrived.

Danost (Freeman)