[DnD] The Haunting of Hargast (GFF D&D Adventure 3)

Resolute, the party sets off for Hargast. On foot, the journey takes two day's travel.

Upon their arrival, they find that the village is very nearly a ghost town. No one walks the streets, and every door is locked. A single nervous-looking young man sits on a bench in the village square, and he leaps up and sprints over to the party as they approach.

"Thank the gods, someone's come at last! We've had to evacuate the village. While the sun's out, they stay behind the cemetery gate, but after dark—"

He shudders violently.

"We drew straws to see who would stay behind to meet whoever came to help — if anybody ever came. The messenger we sent to Freeport to put up a notice never came back, so we weren't— I'm babbling, aren't I. Let me warn you, when we sent out that notice there was only one of the damned things. There are dozens now. Things have gotten out of control. If they aren't stopped... I — I'm sorry.

The dead. They get up and kill. The people they kill get up and kill."

Jam it back in, in the dark.

"They get up, kill?"

"They do like 'uuuuuh' *Argumentus impersonates a zombie's shuffle*, or they real fast and eat fleshies, or they mean and talk not nice?"

There's nowhere I can't reach.

We arrived at the cursed town after two days of travel. It was nice to get out of the city for a spell, my ancestry lending itself to travelling the wilds rather than holing up in a city. I had amused myself during the journey by making small puffs of smoke and showers of sparks appear from the stocky dwarf's armour as he walked with my presdigitation spell. Amazingly, the joke had not worn thin, even after nearly two days of constant use.

Upon arrival in the town, we were greeted by a slightly hysterical man, babbling away in that unintelligable dialect that seemed so prevalent in these parts. I grabbed him by his collar and slapped him hard about the face, hoping that calmed down he might start to use a language normal people could understand.

Failing to get any sense out of him, I wandered off and looked around the immediate area for any telltale clues of what we might be up against here. Forewarned is forearmed and all that.

Prepare acid arrow and shield. Arcana and religion checks to try to get some hints about the type of monsters attacking the village.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Motsognir tries to remember useful information about Hargast, but just ends up asking the kid if he has a map of the area.

History check to see if this whole thing might have some kind of precedent that would serve as a helpful example

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Originally Posted by Bradylama

"They get up, kill?"

"They do like 'uuuuuh' *Argumentus impersonates a zombie's shuffle*, or they real fast and eat fleshies, or they mean and talk not nice?"

"I think what my giant associate is trying to ask is, when you see them during the daytime, do they sparkle like a brilliant cut diamond?"



In my opinion, it's more like a broken-open geode. Don't tell the children, they hate it when I'm right.

I was speaking idiomatically.

"Mostly they just walk around real slow, groaning, like you just did. There have been some strange noises behind the cemetery gate, so there might be worse things in there. Only the shambling ones ever come out of the cemetery, though. Plenty of sunshine in there, too, but it doesn't seem to bother 'em any."

To Bob, this seems like an obvious zombie infestation. Large-scale zombie plagues are usually the direct result of vile rituals consecrated to Orcus, demon prince of the undead.

Try as he might, Motsognir can't seem to remember anything specific he's learned about Hargast, nor about the general situation (other than things Bob also knows).

How ya doing, buddy?

In my pursuit of necromantic powers, I had spent a lot of time studying the undead, mostly at the regular Thursday evening horror specials at the playhouse round the corner from Mage college.

This broad experience led me to suggest that the best course of action would be to find a defensible house, shore it up a bit, maybe dig a few pits with spikes in around the village and wait for dark. Once the zombies turned up we could amuse ourselves thinning their numbers from the relative safety of a first floor window.

Numbers suitably thinned, we could then mount an assault on the cemetry and kill some cultists the next day.

I started looking about for a suitable looking house.

FELIPE NO

The dwarf had been a second rate student of the studies. He'd preferred to implement Kord's law, rather than read it, but still, he was a holy implement, and as such was more in tune with the disruptions caused by the undead. He could often sense their horrific taint on life, long before he saw it. And as such, he wandered around the town, looking for any signs that this may not be mystical necromancy, but perhaps a religious one; symbols, icons, signs that perhaps there was a vampire behind this. Anything that would give them more information.

Religiousity

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

The rest of the party seemed to want to hide in the closet and let the front row melee. Argumentus would recon... IN FORCE.

Argumentus checks out the cemetery
keeping a distance

Most amazing jew boots

Havin' a lifetime of taking care of more than my share of babies, my own and others, I looked closely for any signs of teethmarks on woodposts. I reckon only a dumb vampire would mistake a fence for a person but you never know.

I also looked closely for any evidence of otherworldly apparitions. Doors swinging open without any wind, crosses standing upside down under their own power, that sort'a thing.

Insight check

There's nowhere I can't reach.

I sensed that the Horde were not overly enamoured of my defensive strategy and feared that a full frontal assault on a graveyard full of the undead was brewing. Our last encounter with zombies had gone ok but that was only a small group and we had seen them coming from a fair distance.

I continued my inspection of the village's buildings, looking for somewhere we might hold against the invitable tide of undeath headed our way. What would be ideal, I figured, would be a church or chapel of some kind (Foir the added protecton from undead types), a sturdy building with no ground floor windows, a strong door and open fields of fire from the upper stories (For defensibility) or an inn (So we could get good and drunk first). I kept my eyes open as I went for any abandoned equipment that might be of use to us. A weapon and some armour for the crazy man, some arrows perhaps or even a large stock of zombie poison antidote...

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Bob searches the village for a suitable redoubt in which they can make their stand. While Hargast seems to lack any multi-storied buildings at all, Bob does find an open window at the Feral Dog Pub & Hostelry through which he can enter. With the town having been more-or-less summarily abandoned, the larder is still stocked with a great deal of food (not to mention the wine cellar). Perhaps not the most secure of possible strongholds, but comfortable at the least. As far as weapons and armor, the Feral Dog has little to offer beyond a carving knife and a leather apron.

Layout of the Feral Dog

Gabriel and Brigid search the village for any clues of who may have provoked the zombie uprising, but find nothing unusual. The village seems entirely mundane aside from the near-total absence of living things and the awful din in the direction of the graveyard.

Argumentus approaches the closed cemetery gate as closely as he dares. Indeed, at least two dozen of the risen dead stagger around the grounds, most of them heavily decayed and sloughing off chunks of flesh here and there. None of them seem to notice Argumentus; they're all clustering around the open doors of a mausoleum. It's impossible to see past the throng to determine what inside the mausoleum might be so interesting to them, though.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

I found the pub deserted and let myself in through a side window. It looked as though the owners had left in a hurry, leaving most of their stock of food and drink behind them. The terrain behind the building looked fairly impassable and what little knowledge of tactics and warfare I had suggested to me that this would make as good a spot for fighting off hordes of zombies as any.

I built a small fire in the hearth, there was no point in being cold after all and I was sure that throwing on-fire things at zombies was better than throwing not-on-fire things at them. I asessed the bottles of spirits, mainly to guage their use as flammable bombs but this would be a last resort, I did not wish to jeopardise our eventual reward by setting fire to all the stock in the pub. I took a close look at the wine cellar, knowing that these were often popular spots for hiding holes and smuggling tunnels.

I also checked the office for any sort of diary or journal that might provide clues as to what we were up against, beyond the obvious "Plague of zombies". I thought that we would be best served by creating some sort of cunning traps or earthworks or something but imaginative though I am, my practical skills in such endeavours are rather limited and I thought it best to leave it to the clever looking dwarf, who looked as though he had probably been the commander of an army or something when alive.

The irony of the situation brought a smile to my lips. Here I was, about to face off against an army of the undead and my companions in this venture were, with the exception of the small child all reanamatrons themselves. I shied away from thinking of them as zombies since they seemed so much more, well, alive than the shambling undead horrors we had encountered in the dungeon. I hoped fervently though that they would not shy away from the task of despatching their kinfolk to the house of the Raven Queen.

Check the wine cellar for secret doors or hidey-holes. Look around the office if there is one for cluez. Perform a quick stock-take

I was speaking idiomatically.

Even for Argumentus two dozen zombies was too much to handle. He joins the rest of the party back in the town and fills them in on the graveyard situation.

He then joins Scary Bob in the Feral Dog and investigates the basement.

How ya doing, buddy?

Motsognir sits at the bar and has a few drinks. It was clear to him that nothing was going to happen until night-time, anyway.

FELIPE NO

The dwarf wandered past the cemetary himself, arching a brow at what he saw before he returned to the horde. He glanced past the lone human being as they entered, looking for any signs that he was somehow tied up in this. Bite marks, loose skin, necrotic death signs. Anything.

No matter what he discovered, he'd wander into the Winchester Feral Dog and announce: "Well, I think I know where their base of operations is. There's a mausoleum getting a hell of a lot of attention."

He didn't mind holing up and thinning the numbers before they rushed in, but he also liked the idea of taking that mausoleum in the middle of the day. Rather than at night.

"So we're holing up here, are we? If we take that cemetary, we'll have to do it during the day. Not much of a fan of rushing the dead in their stronghold during the middle of the night, yeah?"

investigate single living person to see if they're a plant.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

The cellar is a ruin, full of dust, shattered casks and crumbled masonry. An underground cavern is visible beyond the many small holes in the basement's wall. A scattering of human bones is strewn in the cellar's northwest corner.

Bob investigates the tavern's private office. The ledger of accounts lies open to the innkeeper's daily journal. Much of it is entirely mundane, but several entries seem possibly related to the current crisis.

Flamerule 7

Gareth's been spending too much time in here. It's good for business, of course, and I know it's hard for him with Lissa gone. But he's got kids to raise and I can't sit by and let him drink himself to death. Starting tomorrow I'm cutting him off. Probably never get back the 10G on his tab, but it's not like my purse is hurting lately.

Flamerule 9

Gareth never showed up at church this morning. Chauntea doesn't ask much from us, but how can he expect his farm to flourish if he won't even pay his respects?

Flamerule 10

Went over to talk to Gareth. Took a pie over for the young'ns. They don't seem to have realized yet that their momma's not coming back. He had company over, so I took my leave without bothering him overmuch. Strange fella, must be new in town. All pale and twitchy,

Flamerule 12

Papa's birthday. Would've been 53 today. Went over to the graveyard to pay my respects. Gareth was there with the pale fella, just sitting and staring at Lissa's tombstone. Big old smile on his face. I don't like it one bit.

Flamerule 13

Gareth don't seem to go anywhere without that pale man right behind him. Something unnatural about it. I won't judge a man's friends nor his religion, but it's a cold fact that his field's lain untended for a good tenday. For the sake of the children something's got to be done. Tomorrow I'm going to set him down and talk sense into him, pale man or no.

Flamerule 14

I think Gareth might be past any mortal help. I tried to reason with him but he just looked right past me like I wasn't even there. He just kept jabbering about Lissa, how he was going to be with her again. I think he's going to hurt himself. I've asked the sheriff to take him in, for his own good. We can put the kids in the church till he gets his head clear again. The Padre's rice porridge isn't exactly fine eats but they'll be safe there.

Flamerule 15

Sheriff came by, looked like he saw a ghost. He found Gareth out in the cemetery again. He... he'd dug up Lissa's body, he was carrying it into the old mausoleum. Yelling his head off, saying he knew the secret to bring back the dead. Saying he wouldn't be alone anymore. Will drew steel and ran after him, but the mausoleum doors just slammed shut in his face and nothing would get them back open again. Like an ogre was in there holding them shut. Tomorrow we're going to get 5 or 6 of us together with hammers, tear the door down. It's a blasphemy but I think we'll be stopping a worse one.

Flamerule 16

No need. Gareth came back out without our help. This time Lissa was carrying him. We locked them both inside the cemetery grounds, but who can say how long that will hold them. The children have disappeared right out from under the padre's nose. I pray to Chauntea they've just run away, but I fear it probably isn't so.

I'm riding out to Freeport tomorrow to try to bring back help. I've left young Ewan in charge of the pub. High-strung as all hell but I'm short on options. The padre's gone out to the graves to try to purge whatever hateful thing has got into Gareth and his bride. May the gods forgive me, but I don't think he's coming back.

Rolls dice to see if Motsognir is getting drunk
Yeah, he is
Are there any girls there: Result indeterminate

Suspicious to a fault, Gabe looks over the last extant citizen of Hargast for the telltale signs of being a secret monster. Alas, there seems to be no indication that Ewan is anything more than the panicky, agitated teenager that he appears to be. But he bears watching; he may be turning into a monster, the stealthy bastard.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Motsognir switches to coffee.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The dwarf turned away from the youth, but he made it clear. He was watching him.



He wandered down to the cellar, and while the wizard was busy reading in the office, he took to taking part of two specific problems: First of all, he smashed the hell out of the bones with his heavy booted foot. They may be someone's remains, but he remembered the horrors of the Dungeon of Doom, and the last time someone toyed around with a set of bones, they stood up and tried to kill them all. Bollocks to that.

Second, he decided to investigate the cavern behind the walls. Holding his holy symbol closely, he felt for the taint of the undead, or the smell of rotting flesh. He was Dwarf. He could tell the difference between a crypt and a cave, no doubt. If this was a path to the graveyard, it might be their way in. Or it might be the dead's way out. Either way, he was going to give it a thorough looking over.

kill the already dead skeleton. To be sure.
Figure out what the fuck is behind door #1

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

With the rest of the team busy investigating drinks or cellars, I turn my keen eye to the local environs. How strong are them walls? Will the furniture hold doors or windows shut, or will they break apart in a stiff wind? I paid special attention to the hallway facing the front door. It looks like there ain't many windows to barricade down there. However, the east wing is surrounded by secure natural features...

Insight check
Skill checks are the new black

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Argumentus followed Gabe into the cavern, expecting to flee at the first sign of trouble.

I was speaking idiomatically.

The diary made for unnerving reading. It looked as though this was not some random zombie plague but rather had been orchestrated by a farmer with the help of an outsider. The key to all of this probably lay in finding the farmer and putting him to the sword. If only any of us had one...

I was keen to meet the pale fellow though. He could be of great help to me in working out how I had managed such feats of reanimation whilst drunk and maybe teach me how to repeat the act. I had grown fond of the horde and increasing their numbers could not be a bad thing.

I picked up the diary and skipped off to find the others and tell them what I had found out and to watch out for farmers.

I found the clever dwarf propping up the bar getting drunk. Yes, this one had certainly been a general before his untimely passing. I suggested to him that he might like to enlist the help of the barman and start building some long bonfires out the front in a V shape, pointing towards the sturdy front door of the pub. If we were to be assaulted by a score of zombies, we wanted them all coming from the same direction rather than shambling around looking for weak points in the masonery and a flaming corale ought to do the trick. It would be nice to have a large pit full of spikes too but the day was already getting on I suspected there simply wasn't time. A few sharp stakes planted here and there would slow them down rather though, especially if they were attached to ropes and could be raised from a laid down position at just the right moment.

The child was helpfully checking the windows, looking to shore them up to prevent unwanted access, I left her to it.

I found the others in the cellar where they were investigating a mysterious opening in the wall. I had a bad feeling about this as it looked like exactly the kind of thing that would lead to all the zombies we were trying to keep outside getting inside. I suggested that should it turn out to be a tunnel rather than a cave, we were better off blocking it up for now and exploring it later. If nothing else, it could provide a useful escape route for us should the zombies get in and the tight confines would stop us getting surrounded. I did not doubt for a second that these two could stand off against one zombie at a time all night if the need arose. I did check the opening for any signs of arcane or religious symbols though, just in case someone or something had left their mark there.

That done, I left the lads to their spelunking and headed back upstairs. I ventured out into the village hoping to find some fence posts and an axe or something I could use to turn them into stakes to fortify our new fastness.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Gabriel desecrates the fuck out of some schmo's mortal remains. BEST PALADIN EVER. The paladin makes use of his low-light vision, peering past the gaps in the shoddy wall to see the cavern beyond. Although a great preponderance of cobwebs obscure the view, it appears to be an entirely natural tunnel. It extends over a few more scattered bone heaps until it bends to the north after roughly 55 feet. It's impossible to see what's beyond that without tearing the wall down, but a quiet splashing can be heard from that direction.

Brigid takes a thorough look at the architecture. Despite her misgivings, the Feral Dog appears to be of recent and quality construction. The doors and windows should hold under pressure for at least a minute or two, and the walls look well able to withstand anything weaker than an ogre.

After a brief search, Bob locates Angry Thom's Lumber and Livestock Supply. Armed with 10 sturdy planks and a hacksaw, he sets about... well, it's unclear. He sets about something. Probably something complicated.

How ya doing, buddy?

Motsognir, still slightly tipsy, decides that women shouldn't attempt carpentry by themselves, and goes to help Bob.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

The dwarf kicked skeleton-dust off his boot and glanced skyward, kissing his religious symbol and being very thankful he worshiped Kord, a god of practicality, rather than Melora, the Goddess of ritual and respect for the dead. He would honor the dead on the field of battle, but right now, his foe was anything not drawing breath.

As he squinted against the darkness and listened closely, he felt the moment required curse words, so he used some. His heavy boots tromped up the stairs with all the subtlety of a Rhinoceros playing jump rope in the middle of a china shop, grumbling all the while. Reaching the majority of the horde, he slung his axe up over his back and spat another curse before commenting.

"There's a tunnel in the cellar, thin layer of mortar and broken stone's all that's gonna be between us and a horde of hungry undead when this goes down. We either need to shore it up safer 'an houses, or tear it down and hit them now."

He tugged on his beard and tucked it into his belt, scowling as he added "I'm good with killin' the already dead, so I don't mind which way you want to do this. But we need to make up our minds and quick on this. Something ugly is coming down there, and we can either kill it 'fore it knows we're coming, or not give it a way in other than the front door."

How ya doing, buddy?