"Calm yourself, Talca," the Khord cleric, Hammerfoot said, "Lower your bow. I shall approach them and,"

"I don't know that that's wise, friend," Talca murmured, even as the cleric advanced toward the oncoming group, "nothing about this feels natural,"

"Talca," the woman he knew as Pepper, said, then, "I don't need nae magics to know...those folk are fishy. And not breaded, fried, with taters either."

Despite the unease he felt, the pathfinder allowed a grin at Pepper's quip. "You had to mention fish," the ranger shot back, "Now I'm thinking about supper, which only makes this weather all the worse."

Behind him, Aedan's dulcimer sent music into the air and the bard's voice with it in harmony,

A squirrel in the forest had lost his way
amid the oaks and the locust
he saw Mister Badger and asked him 'Say'
Which way's home? I just can't seem to focus...
"Appropriate," the ranger mumbled, shifting his position in the road to maintain a clear shot past Hammerfoot should such a thing become necessary...

" 'tiss this really a time for music friend Aedan?" Irel hissed as the tall fighter stepped forward to help pull Pepper from the mud.

,Talca couldn't help by sympathize with the woman's sentiment, just then. Typically, he immensely enjoyed the bard's playing and crooning - found it enchanting and even inspiring, at times - but, now, with this weather, the off-putting group of travelers ahead, and the priest of Kharox happily clumping toward them, Focus, Talca, he heard Meri's voice in his mind, never mind the song, Just focus, He nodded, taking his eyes from his chosen target only long enough to check the positions of his companions. His gaze slid back to his target, again, and, as he side stepped towards the edge of the road in order to get a clearer shot, began to sight the creature in.

"Undead! Undead! Undead!"

"Mani?!" Vengador's booming warning had caused Talca to bring his bow to full draw, then, and to lift his aim from the lead creature's chest to it's head. "Are you certain, cleric," he asked, now intently focused on his own breathing and aim, Please say you are not,

"Calm yourself, Laddie! I'm sure they're just travelers," Hammerfoot called back to his brother cleric. That reassurance uttered, though, Talca noticed that the Khord priest hadn't entirely dismissed the possibility of Vengador's warning. The cleric of Kharox, ever hopeful as he was, called out again to the other group, offering assistance but, now, did so from a more prepared posture.

"If I was feelin' poorly and out in weather like this," Talca heard Pepper say, "I'd be the same... wait... they be comin' from Crandel? Ye think the whole lot of 'em be sick in that city?"

Kith-jora's blessings, I hope not, Talca thought, still prepared to loose an arrow over Hammerfoot's shoulder. That plea to the god of nature, as hopeful and sincere as it had been, did little to ease the knot in the ranger's stomach, though, for seemingly, Kith-jora had forsaken this place, or been driven from it,

"I'll stand ready," he heard Rae say.

As she hefted her shield and moved forward, Talca offered a faint nod; "Carefully, selenelle ..."

((OOC: I think that catches me up, , Talca is playing the ever-cautious, ever-vigilant overwatch role, at the moment, Staying at range and keeping the foremost target in the other group in the proverbial cross-hairs. At the first sign of things getting ugly - THWIP! ))

11th Sempore (Thirkday), 453 E.R.
Woods near the village of Crandel (west of the Indigo river, near the Sendrian border)

"Mani?!" Vengador's booming warning had caused Talca to bring his bow to full draw, then, and to lift his aim from the lead creature's chest to it's head. "Are you certain, cleric," he asked, now intently focused on his own breathing and aim,Please say you are not,

"I have been wrong before," Vengador responded to the Syl Ranger, "So Not Certain for Sure ... But the Last Time I Made a Wrong Call , Thinking an Approaching Group was Sick ... Nearly Cost Me My Life!

"I Would Rather Be Wrong Today ... and Be the Subject of Your Jokes Tonight at a Table in a Warm and Cozy Inn ... But I Fear that Pepper is Right in Regards to a Sickness in Crandel ... So Why Would Sick Folk Be Shuffling Away from Crandel ??? ... Possibly a Danger Either Way to our Compassionate Friend Hammerfoot ... So I Stand Ready in Case They Be Undead Shamblers!"

Vengador fell silent momentarily, staring intently beyond where Hammerfoot was making his stand, as the Dawnbringer began praying to Solanis for the Strength and Courage to Dispatch Dark Foes ... if indeed the approaching Strangers be Dangerous Shamblers ... and Not Sick and Feeble!

Hammerfoot approaches the pilgrims, palms open, asking about their health and offering aid. Most of the rest of the party takes up defensive positions, or prepares for a fight, though Vengador the Dawnbringer seems to take it farther than most. His cries of rebuke ring out through the fog, causing moans of fear from the rattily-clothed lot of men on the road. They huddle close, looking fearfully around, but seem to relax a bit when no immediate attack presents itself.

For it is indeed men that they are - dirty from the road, damp from the oppressive drizzle, and half starved by the look of them - but men, nonetheless. They shuffle and stagger along, most leaning on branches and staves.

Their leader, a slightly less gaunt human with a stringy, dirty beard, shakes his head at the offer from the cleric of Kharox. Huge dark rings are under his eyes, as if he has slept little for days. "Nay, short one, we are well enough. We cannot afford to tarry, not with what stalks these roads at night. We seek the blessed shrine of Lysora in the Taverton wood - we dare not stop, lest we never make it."

He fixes a baleful gaze in your direction. "You would do well if you were not on this road come dark. They are coming."

His companions groan in agreement, and the pilgrims shuffle past the khord, bound south and east.

When the pilgrims, at last, replied to Hammerfoot, revealing themselves as little more than the bedraggled travelers that they were, Talca eased tension from his bow string. At the same time, a sigh accompanying the action escaped the ranger's lips, easing the tension in his gut to some extent. His weapon lowered, Talca grinned wryly over his shoulder at Vengador; "Undead, was it?"

((OOC: Any response from Vengador or none at all,))

"This weather has the lot of us drained, it seems," Talca returned the arrow to his quiver, then, and regarded the worn-and-weary pilgrims, as they trudged past Hammerfoot, and found himself hoping his own group didn't look as disheveled as this lot.

Shouldering his bow as the ratty group drew nearer to him, the ranger met the eyes of the apparent leader of the pilgrims. "What word of Crandel, mellon? Anything you might share?"

((OOC: Just doing his job and getting a read of the trail ahead from those who have already seen it. ))

Vengador did not change his expression of intent vigilance as he responded to the Syl Ranger:

"We Make It Alive to Crandel This Night ... And No Shamblers Emerge From the Mist ... When We Find a Dry and Comfy Inn ... The First Round Is On Me ... Friend Talca ..."

Vengador let a further response hold fast in his throat, as he shifted his intent gaze to the right of the road where he stood, listening intently for any sounds beyond those of his companions, or the weary Pilgrims who had just passed on the dire warning: "You would do well if you were not on this road come dark. They are coming."

Hammerfoot approaches the group, pulling a flask out of his belt pouch and taking a swallow before putting it back. "Well, that went about as well as it could have. Let's get to town and get drunk before whatever 'they' are can get us." He chuckles heartily and continues walking as if nothing had happened, picking up his anecdote about Syl women where he had left it.

Rae visibly relaxed, lowering her shield as there was confirmation that yes, it was indeed another group of travelers. Very ill looking travelers, but still travelers nonetheless.

(( Assuming that Rae has enough to spare ))

"One moment," Rae spoke, her voice gentle as she retrieved some spare coin, a flask, and a pouch of dried fruit from her pack, "I do not know what you may have with you, but for you to reach that shrine, all of you will need to keep your strength up. This should help with that. May Lysora and Falloes both watch over your journey, and stay safe."

(( After they have moved on ))

"Vengador is right to be vigilant; our alertness protects us as much as any armour. As long as we don't allow it to cause us to do harm to others, it's alright. That being said, you needn't shout if there's a next time," Rae gently scolded Vengador, "If they were weaker of heart, they might not have reacted so well to the shock. Walk with whoever is approaching to share your suspicion, and in that way as well you are in position to help defend them."

She smiled, "Now then, I agree we should continue. It sounds like there's trouble about at night in this region, and I believe we'd be readier to face it indoors than out."

The sharp look the weary man gave struck Pepper. Gaunt from exhaustion, none of them capable for battle. If they came across folk as armed as they with a darker intent. Like Quickblade...they seek a way station of some gods? As if they would be free of trouble there! Well, our priests are armored fiends with weapons, hearts of platinum, but...
The state of the folk pulled at the same heart strings and compassion the others felt. They poured forth drink, food, little to nothing she had herself. She spent her coin always on the wildest things.

Then the leader gave warning of what stalks the night... Of not being on this road late at night!

She looked to each of them, leaning a bit over to them. "Should we just let them go as it is? Is this shrine far? If we've not anything so pressing waitin' for us, perhaps we give 'em a bit of help gettin' there?"

Irel didn't exactly relax her guard, but she tried her very best to lose the squinty, suspicious look and manage some degree of friendliness in her expression. Should the Bards ever record this encounter, interpretations of "friendly" might well be left up to interpretation. Her people skills were not exactly the best and the warning of "they" being on the road was neither reassuring or calming.

Then again, at least she wasn't screaming at random travelers. Vengador certainly needed to reduce his intake of either stimulants and sweets (in her opinion), but that was hardly a new or novel opinion of the overwrought cleric. The others began to settle back down into routine chit chat.

While charity to the degree of the clerics didn't come to her easily, she reluctantly nodded in agreement to Pepper's words. No-one so unarmed should be on the road alone if there was trouble afoot. "Aye. We should offer them escort - particularly through this soup of a fog."

Taking the initiative, the tall woman cupped her mouth with her hands and called out to the departing backs of the pilgrims "Oi! Do you folks need some to accompany yerselves to the shrine? Is it far?"

Vengador watched the Pilgrims pass by, noting their features and manner of dress; a bit of compassion stirring in his heart, but he refused to leave his temporary post; staying ever alert for any sight or sound from the enveloping mists, for a trace of the mysterious 'They', since the Pilgrim Leader had given them an ominous warning, to not be on the road in the dark.

Hammerfoot approaches the group, pulling a flask out of his belt pouch and taking a swallow before putting it back. "Well, that went about as well as it could have. Let's get to town and get drunk before whatever 'they' are can get us." He chuckles heartily and continues walking as if nothing had happened, picking up his anecdote about Syl women where he had left it.

Vengador watched as Hammerfoot quenched his thirst with a nip from his flask, before resuming his walk towards Crandel, while the others lagged behind.

We cleared that Trade Route from the threat of those marauding bandits. I do not blame friend Hammerfoot for wanting to get to Crandel for a warm meal and a cold ale, as soon as possible.

Vengador watched as Rae offered the Pilgrims both coin and dried fruit, then turned his attention back to the right side of the road, relying on Talca to be vigilant on the left side.

"Vengador is right to be vigilant; our alertness protects us as much as any armour. As long as we don't allow it to cause us to do harm to others, it's alright. That being said, you needn't shout if there's a next time," Rae gently scolded Vengador, "If they were weaker of heart, they might not have reacted so well to the shock. Walk with whoever is approaching to share your suspicion, and in that way as well you are in position to help defend them."

She smiled, "Now then, I agree we should continue. It sounds like there's trouble about at night in this region, and I believe we'd be readier to face it indoors than out."

Vengador responded with a low grunt and a slight nod to the Shield Maiden of Falloes, before placing his Syl War Sling back inside his Syl War Tunic.

Then the Cleric of Solanis pulled his Mace free from the mud, balancing it upon his right shoulder, as he prayed for guidance from Solanis.

He heard Pepper ask if the adventurers should consider helping the Pilgrims reach their destination unharmed, followed by Irel calling out to the Pilgrims, asking if they were in need of an armed escort to help them get to the Shrine of Lysora; while he watched Hammerfoot continue his trek in the opposite direction towards the town of Crandel, in search of slaking his hearty thirst for more ale.

A few seconds later, the Dawnbringer decided to walk on down the right side of the road another ten or twenty yards, making sure that Hammerfoot did not outdistance himself from immediate aid, should any Shamblers or 'They' suddenly emerge from the mists to target the lone Khord.

As he walked, the Dawnbringer rolled and shook the 3 stones in his left hand as he thoughtfully surveyed the imposing mists, before stopping once more, not wanting to leave the others too far behind.

He switched his Mace to this left shoulder, while transferring the 3 stones to his right hand.

Vengador drew his right arm back to hurl the 3 stones into the mists a few yards further down the road and to his right, but the Dawnbringer decided to refrain from such action, leery of prematurely alerting any hidden foe, deciding rather to tuck the 3 stones into his Syl War Tunic to serve as either souvenirs of a dismal day, or to be available to fling from his sling, when needed in the future.

He decided to stand his ground in the mud and drizzle at that point, giving the others the opportunity to catch up, while keeping a wary eye on both the right side of the road and his Khord friend Hammerfoot.

Vengador continued praying to Solanis for protection, while stroking the braid of his beard between his right index finger and his right thumb, entwined with the Emerald gem awarded by the Khord Elders, for helping 'Loco' Fungihammer rescue the Khord children who had been kidnapped by Slavers.

((OOC: Vengador stands on the right side of the road, his Mace ready for combat, cradled gently on his left shoulder with a firm left handed grip, while he quietly prays to Solanis, stroking his braided beard with his right hand, preparing himself for a possible confrontation with the unknown 'They'.

Surveying the mysterious mists with both of his eyes intently focused for anything more amiss, he readies himself for face to face combat; or if necessary, to Turn Undead, for he is still not convinced that there be no Shamblers lurking within or beyond the mists!))

There is some discussion back and forth about where to go next, and whether the pilgrims need an escort to the Lysoran shrine. Irel takes matters into her own hands, literally, calling loudly after the stumbling pilgrims.

"Oi! Do you folks need some to accompany yerselves to the shrine? Is it far?"

The pilgrims pause, and turn to reply. The leader waves back. "The shrine is still some days away, but nonbelievers will not be allowed to visit. Still, thank you for your kindness - the Blue Lady's blessings on you all."

It is then that the giggling starts.

At first, it seems as if the out of place sound comes from one of the pilgrims, but you realize that it is, in fact, from beyond them. Then come the moans - first, the moans of fear from the pilgrims, then the moans of several figures emerging from the dusk.

The pilgrims scream in panic. Their leader cries out. "Lysora save us, they have come!"

At that, a dark shape rushes from among the emerging figures, rushing in among the scattering pilgrims who scream in terror.

Vengador grew more uneasy as he stood surveying the mists on the right side of the road; something in the air did not seem right ... but neither did the drizzle ... nor the mists.

It is then that the giggling starts.

At first, it seems as if the out of place sound comes from one of the pilgrims, but you realize that it is, in fact, from beyond them. Then come the moans - first, the moans of fear from the pilgrims, then the moans of several figures emerging from the dusk.

The pilgrims scream in panic. Their leader cries out. "Lysora save us, they have come!"

At that, a dark shape rushes from among the emerging figures, rushing in among the scattering pilgrims who scream in terror.

As the eerie sound of the Giggling met his ears, the Dawnbringer shouted out Two Words in Khord:

"BEHIND US"

Everything that happened seemed to be going well, up until the giggling started. That was a noise that Rae knew was not from one of the group in front of them. Fear bristled in her heart but she steeled it with tightened grip on her shield. She stepped forward as one of the creatures advanced, hoping to meet them head on and give them a better target than the pilgrims.

"Talca! How many? Vengador, Hammerfoot, both sides, cover them! Pepper, Irel, check our flank, look sharp! If you see a shot, take it!"

Quick words spoken, as Rae knew time was against them. She trusted the others to act as they found best, because if they had a good idea, it would be up to them to capitalize on the opportunity.

(( Rae will focus on giving the creatures herself as a target for them to strike, double move if necessary to cover the pilgrims, probably taking a defensive stance while the others get set up to counter attack proper. If it comes down to drawing or getting in position, position takes priority. ))

"Aye, Rae! I shall cover the pilgrims!" Hammerfoot sprints forth, drawing his hammer and shield, and taking up a protective position at the far side of the pilgrims. He raises his hammer and shouts a battle prayer, "Kharox, protect and bolster us against harm that we may defeat the evil before us!" He slams his hammer into his shield and puffs out his chest, assuming a large, strong stance in order to protect and contain the pilgrims from the dark evil before him. He closes his eyes for just a moment, focusing his divine energies, and channels the positive energies of his deity, attempting to turn back any undead before or around him. When he opens his eyes, they glow divine righteousness. He grins, but not his standard, warm, inviting grin: rather, an evil, provoking grin, one that says, "Come forth, mine enemy, that I may destroy you."

((I move as far as necessary to protect the pilgrims by getting between them and their attackers, turn undead, and cast bless on Vengador and myself, before attacking the nearest attacker.))

Having shouted a spontaneous alert in the Khold tongue to Hammerfoot, the Dawnbringer reversed his direction on the road, just as Rae was barking orders to everyone for a counter attack.

Vengador could not afford to waste any precious time waiting for Hammerfoot to rejoin the Party in answer to their Leader's battle instructions.

The enveloping mists made it impossible for the Cleric of Solanis to see who or what had attacked the Pilgrims, but their screams of terror were sufficient enough to help guide the Dawnbringer to where he was needed most.

There was No Time to Ponder or Second Guess the decisions made in the past half hour , only time now for swift action to possibly prevent all the Pilgrims from being slaughtered without aid.

Vengador did not recklessly run at full speed into the obscuring mists!

Rather, he jogged or ran at half speed, retracing his steps along what would now be the left side of the road, as the Cleric of Solanis jogged warily at half speed towards the sound of the fray; staying alert enough as he ran at half speed to prevent himself from being blind-sided by an unexpected attack from the woods to his left, were he to yield himself to the temptation of running blindly through the obscuring mists towards the sounds of the Pilgrims at full speed, into an as yet unknown situation.

Vengador ran at half speed with both hands gripping his Mace securely, so as not to drop it, if he were suddenly under attack by unknown foes in the mists.

As he continued running at half speed towards the fray, the Dawnbringer kept repeating the same word in Drannese, as though he were sounding out a double time marching cadence for his ears only, as the Cleric of Solanis continued running at half speed through the enveloping mists, ever closer to the sounds of mayhem and terror.

"Solanis ... Solanis ... Solanis ... Solanis ... Solanis ..."

((OOC: At this point Vengador is not certain that the Pilgrims are under siege from Undead, nor does he know the origin of the Giggler sounds, but he has been expecting the worse all evening!

When he gets close enough to the chaos to see through the mists, the Dawnbringer will cast Turn Undead if he sees and knows Beyond the Shadow of a Doubt that the Unknown Foes that the Pilgrims termed only as ‘They' are indeed Undead.

Otherwise, he will blitz the attackers with his Mace from his position on what is now the left side of the road (formerly the right side of the road when Vengador was marching towards Crandel).

If indeed he is able to Turn Undead, then he will attack any revealed Foes who may be unaffected by the Turning.

Should all the Undead be Turned, then Vengador will position himself to Protect any living Pilgrims and especially his Companions, who would undoubtedly be attending to the dead or wounded and possibly be herding the living Pilgrims to a safer position among their ranks for protection.

His intent is to Aid and Protect both his Companions, as well as any unfortunate Survivors!))