The first point of the matter is whether or not there's any loot to be had. Briefly checking the bodies, then dragging them to the center, it appears that a handful of Cp is to be had. The sprinters also had a few water skins in their pocket, enough to last a few more days with water. No food though. A bone dagger, arrows and a crudely drawn map leading back to the city was found. The map, a piece of what looks like to be dead bark, blackened in some areas, was carved in with a dagger and it has a few locations on it. The way back to town roughly for instance but also, they've marked a few small "settlements" with access to water and food.

Their pockets full (Well fuller) and as some people are injured, the time has come to take a rest and heal up. It seems like the hill was the best spot to do so and everyone reconvenes there.
Reynard and Doc Klk offer to heal everyone, and they do their best to. (15 for doc, 16 for Reynard).
((Together they can allow people to heal 2d4 extra points of healing if they use their hit dice.))

Everyone rests as best as they can, drinking water from their dwindling supply, eating light food. Doc Klik checks on the elf every once in awhile.(The hour is up and you guys have the decision to take the long rest or not)

Soon the elf awakens and he lets out a groan and a curse in Elvish as he feels his wounds. "Damn. As he opens his eyes, he flinches slightly at the sight of the thri-kreen right above him but doesn't make any outwardly hostile move. He just sits up and stares warily at everyone.

After the felling of the last foe, the elf's limp form was gingerly carried to the top of the nearby rise, where vantage points were given and a rest could be taken to replenish strength and formulate what to do with the elf they had saved.

Doc Klik though imposing and naturally unnerving to many races was as as gentle a hand as any to brandish a knife under the pretense of saving a life. The large man looked down at the elf as he drew a more stable breath, his compound eyes looking down as something reminiscent of a grin crossed his lipless mouth satisfied with his handiwork.

[At the start of the rest]
Projecting his thoughts to those around including the elf:
Welcome back, you are safe now. Don't move too quickly. I've patched you up but wouldn't want to bust a stich now. [Looking around at the current surroundings and lack of any support of the elves allies] It would seem your companions haven't the stomachs for this line of work and have scurried to the winds. Can you stand? We shouldn't tarry long in this place; but I would surmise my fellows here would have some questions for you. Starting with your name sir?

Crowe could not help but smile softly as the human he had slaughtered so many foes with this day muttered "Good Job." at him. It was nice of course to be appreciated for one's work, even when the work is bloody.

Once they had scavenged what they could from the bodies he walked over to where the human was waiting and offered his hand for a handshake, "Forgive me comrade, but it would seem your name has escaped my memory and I would like to know the name of the man who risked his life alongside my own."

((Crowe will also accept any healing that can be offered, as the explosive corpses have left him feeling rather weak. Out of curiosity Impulse, what is his (and everyone else for that matter) HP at currently?))

Once they had scavenged what they could from the bodies he walked over to where the human was waiting and offered his hand for a handshake, "Forgive me comrade, but it would seem your name has escaped my memory and I would like to know the name of the man who risked his life alongside my own."

Taking the hand, he replied, "Reynard is the name. Reynard Coslett. From what my father said, it is a name from before the Sorcerer king." He shrugged his shoulders. "As for risking my life, it is something I seem to have the tendency to do. Too few people risk their lives to try and make the world a better place."

As the elf awoke, Reynard approached him and Klik. He let Klik get his answer first, to try his best to not repeat what his comrade had said. He followed up with, "How long have you known your allies? I am curious if they will return for you, or just run back to the city."

(OOC: I vote short rest, and then keep moving. I have already posted some of after the rest unintentionally.)

With the fight over, Ochit sought out Morrigu. "Help light elves? Nice deep inside." He pointed to her chest. "Not tell others I noticed that." He smiled. Then he moved to the others. "Hurt says rest, food says go. Move soon or go hungry."

As the last of the zombies fell, the Mul moved down the hill to check on his companions. To each he expressed his appreciation for their courage, talent and desire to aid those in need. "I did not expect you to charge, but I will be proud to stand with you."

As the group worked to heal wounds and move the badly injured elf to the top of the knoll, Trossach looked at the fallen. He spoke so his companions could hear, "I would not leave the fallen like slaughtered beasts. They were not beasts. And we do not know how the injured one will feel about them. I would not leave your bodies around, and I would hope you would not do so with mine. I shall lay them out at the base of the hill together. We shall see what the elf has to say." And so Trossach moved to do exactly what he said he would do.

(OOC: The other questions all come first and Trossach's question may be of no importance at all depending on how the elf responds. But at some point in the conversation he would ask how the elf wishes to deal with them. If he wants them buried, the Mul will want to oblige - this might necessitate a long rest.)

The last flames flew out from her fingertips bringing a final death the abominations. As the final zombie fell, she and Xenophobella sighed a wash of calm coming over both again. If any but Morrígu could have seen Xenophobella, their sameness would have been striking. The impetuous child and the regal lady were mirrors of one another. Now they stood, side-by-side, looking down at the slaughter and judging it just. All had been made right with the world again. To any onlooker, Morrígu stood alone but even so she was imposing. The mercurial child had donned the cloak of the wise and with it, her two-color gaze seemed to pierce the soul. It would not last long.

A grumble in her stomach pulled the dark elven girl from what she might become to what she was now; alone among those that reviled her kind, all but a child, and hungry. With the complete trust of a child, Morrígu looked to Xenophobella for guidance. The older drow stroked her cheek with a mother's caress, a moment of tenderness that would surprise any who thought they knew of the ways of the dark elves.

"Gaer zhah cahallin ulu tlu inbalus, ussta ssinssrigg. Lor ulu l'chi darthien. Vel'bol ssrig'luin inbal nind whol cahallin lu'niar?" (There is food to be had, my love. Look to the fallen elves. What need have they for food and water?)

A glimmer of light returned to Morrígu's eyes and she skipped down the hill to scavenge for her supper.

*******

Back up on the hill, Morrígu took a sip of water. At least there had been that much to be found. She would be fine for now, but the need to find food was pressing. Survival it seemed, was rather skilled at holding her tantrums at bay. As she pondered the dark liquid in her skin, Ochit padded up to her. Looking up, she greeted the orc-man with her gaze.

"Help light elves? Nice deep inside." He pointed to her chest. "Not tell others I noticed that."

Ochit smiled at her and she returned his ugly grin with one of her own. Perhaps he was going to be her friend after all, she just had to convince him to give her back rides. One day at a time...

Standing a part, she watched as the others coddled the elven survivor as they questioned him. All of her life she had known the light elves as her enemy. It was a truth beyond knowing. And yet now, alone, the elf seemed far too familiar. Against her better judgement, and that of Xenophobella, she squeezed her way to the front of the group to crouch before the elf. The other elf. Light or dark, they were both elves.

Morrígu let her eyes trace along the lines of his face. Like hers, it would forever be unmarred by time. In his eyes she found the same fey light, that spark of magic that could not be squelched even in a world that reviled the arcane above all else. They had been painted differently but were still the same.

"Your skin may be white," interrupting the others Morrígu spoke to the elven man, "but my elf blood is the same as yours. Remember that. Know it as a truth older than time beyond time."

She leaned in and let her gaze swallow him, elven eyes staring into elven eyes. And just as it seemed they would sit so for all time, Morrígu broke her stare and walked off to gaze at the blackened earth. Even here she could feel its taint, like a thick viscous tar clinging to her and all around her. It twisted her empty stomach into knots. That was the enemy of them all.

"If there is evil, if there is war and darkness. It lies there in that defiled land and it waits." Morrígu never moved her eyes from the scorched earth. She stood, once again wrapping herself in the cloak of the wise, to hold back the fear.

As thoughts that weren't his own filled his head, he flinched at the mental sound of the thri-kreens voice but he didn't do any aggressive moves.
"Thanks.". He says, with a puzzled wariness as he begins to wonder why he was saved.
"My name's Aren. I'm extremely grateful for your help. He attempts to sit up slightly but winces. ((He's still at 1 hp right now, another hour and he can rest a bit more.)) As he speaks more, he seems more educated than most, his voice light and almost graceful, very pleasant to listen to. ((If anyone searched his pack)), you would find that he has a small wooden flute on him.

At the mention of his allies running, he scoffs and just mutters "Typical". With that he says "Ask any questions you want. I'm in your debt.".

((For the sake of times convenience Aren will answer big question such as how did the zombies come, how are they rising, what to do with their bodies and such. If you have any questions, I'll answer it in the Q & A forum and then post it again at the end of the week. Sound good? Btw really sorry bout the late post, I just started taking judo and school work was piling up so I didn't have much time ))

"You're probably wondering about those zombies. We ventured over there, where the templars told us to go.".

he points towards the blackened landscape, north west of where you are .
"Seemed like we were going the right way, the air was stale, the land just felt.. Old." He shakes his head, repressing a shudder
"We were walking through there, being careful, wary of any danger. But then something grabbed Fyrian from the sand. A hand just shot out and clawed at his ankle and he went down. The moment he yelled, more of those.. Walking corpses.. They came out, started walking towards us. We didn't sign up for this and we broke ranks, started retreating wildly. We were just friends that were playing at hunters." a slight pause .
"Some dark.. Mist or something flew from the soil and went inside him. He opened his eyes and just started sprinting after us. We kept running but another one of us went down. He became a runner too. We just started running, fast and faster away but the sprinters were starting to gain on us. Those other zombies, they kept walking after us but eventually some of them stopped. Just fell onto the sand. I didn't look to see what happened to them, I was too afraid.".

At the question of what to do with the bodies "You can just burn them. I think that's what they would've wanted."
At the mention of leaving, he nodded. "I'll go with you. All of us dropped our packs when we ran, our food is there if nothing has gotten to them. That and ~ ! ~

An interruption from morrigu

"Your skin may be white, but my elf blood is the same as yours. Remember that. Know it as a truth older than time beyond time."
Aren stiffened, getting increasingly nervous. She stared at him, her dark skinned face threatening him without her moving a muscle. Her eyes bored into his own and even though he felt very deeply afraid, he also felt oddly entranced by them and he couldn't bear to rip his gaze from theirs. Eventually she tore her gaze from his own and he felt like he was jolted awake, flinching away and looking at the ground. He exhaled shakily and didn't speak for a few minutes, attempting to shift further away but occasionally sneaking a glance towards her.

Finally after those few minutes ended he finished saying

"I won't be able to survive on my own. I'm not the best fighter, I'll admit. I just like telling stories. I'll be ready to leave in a bit, I just need to rest some more.".

((Short rest finished, just wondering if you guys wanna do the long rest? Ochit is right in the sense that if you rest you will run out of food, as well there's the prospect of food from the fallen packs so maybe that could help you out? Or you could raid from other people, That could go well too. Also whoever wants me to roll hit dice for them lemme know))

Trossach looked at the injured elf and thought, 'this is a crazy way at playing at adventuring. These games kill.' But he didn't say anything as it was obvious that the elf was clearly aware of his and his friends mistake. Instead he spoke of their funeral. "I will take care of your fallen comrades. A funeral pyre it shall be. We honor them and prevent their from being taken by the dark land again. Rest and recuperate. My comrades fought to save you before, they will not want to see you fall quickly." With a smile at the elf, he moved off to deal with the fallen, offering a grim smile and a thanks to any that assisted him.

They first gathered some wood, since the bodies were already piled. Then the pyre was set alight. It didn't take long. They young elves (Well, for elves they were young) were gone from the world. It was such a waste.

With that act done, Trossach moved back to the rest of the group and prepared to move out. They needed to find the supplies that had been left behind by the elves. They would prove very useful and were conveniently on the path they needed to follow anyway. As they prepared to move out he spoke to the elf again, "Stay behind me if combat happens. Use your bow to support us, but in your injured state you don't want to get to close."

Ochit heard the elf say he needed more rest before being ready to move but time was not a luxury the party had. He walked over to the elf, picked him up and draped him over his shoulders. "Rest, there. Walk for you." Ochit got ready to move.

OOC: Think of a fireman's carry.

Morrígu shot Aren an absolutely lovely smile as the others made ready to head to do. There was not much for her to do but wait. They were going into that nasty scar. She didn't want to go, it's filth called out to her and crawled along her skin. But there might be food there, and she was growing hungry.

Reynard joined Trossach in collecting some wood and setting alight the bodies. As they burned, Reynard used his limited knowledge on religion (+2) to give them something of last rites. Giving a brief spoken ritual, he concluded with, "Dei vos curent." He turned back to the party afterwards, and prepared to depart.

Aren, which Reynard had now learned the elf's name was, was picked up by Ochit, who was in no mood to wait around. This suited Reynard fine. Watching the rations in his backpack disappear was not sitting well with him. Walking over to Ochit, he said, "I will stay beside you. If we are attacked, I should be able to cover and Aren you with my shield. That should at least give you time to react."

(OOC: Hopefully my Latin is correct. If not, well I guess Reynard only knowing bits of 'an old language' from his parents fits)

Aren thanked everyone, especially Trossach and Reynard for the respectful treatment of the dead. As the bodies burned, he looked at them, his face sad but still composed. As Ochit picked him up, he thanked him and said

"I only need a short rest before I can walk. Maybe another 10 or so minutes.".

As everyone's attention was inevitably turned towards the blackened decayed land, he asked

"So what's the plan? How are we going to get past the zombies?"

Trossach looked at the elf when he asked, "how are we going to get past the zombies?"

He lifted the chain of his skyhammer and said, "a few of us are more than just pretending at this sort of thing. I wish I could say we had a glorious plan. But we took out the last zombies without much trouble. This should crush a zombie and keep it at a distance. That is my plan."

He then looked at his companions and continued. "Come. Lets keep moving. Those supplies will help and we still need to complete the mission. Just be careful if we start to see black stuff coming out of the ground. We will need to protect some behind our shields and hammers."

After the rest, Ochit picked up Aren and the group went onward, not really having a plan other than eliminate all zombies.

The air grew still, the environment just felt.. Foreign. Dark. A slight chill crept around you even though the sun beat down from above and the heat was oppressively suffocating. As you creep further into the desolate land, the sand itself seems to darken and upon closer examination, it turns out to be nothing more than ash.

Aren looks visibly worried and he says to everyone in a mutter.

"It wasn't like this before.". He looks nervous but points further north west, "our packs should be an hour longer that way. That was when we first encountered the.. corpses.".

The next hour, progress was slow, a wary eye kept out for any enemies. Eventually, the packs were found and supplies were replenished. ((will get an extra 4 days for everybody)

Aren gulped as he saw the broken and torn packs, he looked around extremely nervously. If everyone stopped at the exact same movement, there was absolutely no sound, the land felt dead. Hollow.

It felt like this land was sapping at your very strength. But still, the journey pressed on, walking further north west. The threat of zombies was always prevalent but surprisingly, nothing was seen.

At the end of the eight hour walk, when the sun was setting and talk of setting up camp was made, in the far distance a sudden blast of wind was made, wind that shifted ash and sand in everyone's face, your eyes, your mouth, your clothes. It clung to your skin and the urge to cough is unbearable.

As the dust begins to settle, everyone brings their eyes to the gust of air and surprisingly, a lone structure stands tall, about a story or two tall but really small. Like an old tower of some kind... You guys might be able to get there in about an hour and a half or so but the sun will set soon.

What will you guys do? Set up camp to avoid the cold or press on in the dark and try to get to the structure?