Sirion was enjoying his time in the roadside inn. As usual, he found that by sitting by the fire (his favorite place - he loved the warmth and hated being cold and wet) he could relax and let the "adventure" fade from his muscles. And as invariably happened, he soon found himself deep in a conversation with the locals about the goblin cave, the local mountains and various threats to local safety - such as a group of bandits that kept getting mentioned.

He was busy with his conversation and watching Kestross (something that rarely failed to amuse him, for the man worked so hard at being amusing) perform when the old man sat down at the table with his companions. Seeing this, he stood, apologized to those he had been speaking with, claimed his spear from the wall next to the fireplace where he had placed it and his wine from the table and moved over to see what was happening. He was in time to hear the invitation to aid Dalhurst. As the old man left, Sirion watched him go in curiosity. It was a cryptic offer and not the most informational.

After their guest had left the room he looked back at his two companions sitting at the table. "Well, I don't know anything about our guest tonight or about Dallhurst - if you do I'd love to hear it. But we are short of quests at the moment."

The Mountain Road:
Upon reaching the mountain road days later Sirion got to meet the two others who appeared to be a part of this quest. He immediately liked the dwarf. Paladins could be a bit stuffy at times, but this one clearly had his heart in the right place and his head on straight - how much more practical could you get than a full wagon train? Sirion was more than willing to take a ride.

Zilvra was a bit more of a mystery. There was a lot of hostility there - while not aimed directly at Sirion, it did appear to be aimed at the world at large. There was also some odd parentage, but being a sorcerer Sirion knew how difficult those questions could be. And pointless. She was herself, not her parents - again a lesson sorcery had taught him. He tried to speak with her a few times, but tried to avoid being overly pushy. There would be time.

He greatly enjoyed the first part of the trip - he always enjoyed traveling and doing so with no fear of running out of food or wearing your boots out was a joy. So he walked or rode, spoke with his new companions, and simply watched the countryside roll by. The world was full of great scenery.

It was also full of foul weather. He really hated rain. When the downpour started he simply tried to stay dry and move quickly. Upon arriving in Dalhurst, he would have had a hard time explaining how grateful he was for the tavern and the fireplace.

Undead? Sirion sighed. He had to admit he had been hoping for more goblins. He didn't know that much about undead, although he did have a few surprises for them if it came to that.

And it appeared it would indeed come to something. Predictably, Kestross was the first to jump in and offer his aid. The man had flair, no doubt about it. The whole hat swishing thing was something Sirion could never have pulled off. Nor would he have tried. But it was a very Kestross thing to do and, flashy or not, it was also the right thing to do. Sirion was pleased to see that the others all seemed to agree; even the gnome would set aside his shoemaking for this fight.

After all of the others had said their bit, been handed the book, and started to move out, Sirion stepped forward and smiled at the mayor. "We will do our best for your town. Nobody should have to live in boarded up rooms afraid to leave their homes."

As he exited the mayors building he caught the tail end of Arvin's comments, ",and you can explain what you're going to do to help us here in Dalhurst." "We are going to explain?" thought Sirion to himself as he trudged through the rain and mud. Did the old man lead us here just to push us into the mayor's office and disappear again? He had never really expected the man to aid with any fighting, although he strongly suspected he was a lot tougher than he let on, but he had assumed that at some point he would share some information. Something more useful than "Go to the mayor's office and ask what you can do."

They arrived back at the inn while Sirion was pondering the lack of useful information from their guide. Moving into the warmth of the building he breathed deeply of the warm air and looked forward to reading the history of the town. Perhaps something useful would be there. At the very least they needed a clue about where to start. Sirion quickly took up his usual place by the fire, leaning his spear against the wall next to him.
As Kestross sped up the stairs, taking the book with him, the sorcerer decided he'd start with the obvious question.

"Anyone know anything about the undead? One advantage to fighting goblins was that once you killed them, you could be pretty sure that they were going to stay dead. But once you bust up a skeleton, how do you know it is going to stay busted? It was already dead after all."

He then looked towards the half-orc bartender. "Pynn, I suspect it is in high demand around here lately, but anyone around here sell holy water? And is there anyone that might have books with information on the undead? We may need to do some research beyond what the history describes."

And with that he settled into his seat by the fire and waited for either others to answer or Kestross to return with the book. If the man didn't immediately start to open it and read, Sirion would offer to do so. He was curios.

Apon the ending of Zilvra and his discussion, and the acknowledgment of the hideous weather, Delacard wasted no more energy on words, intent on simply reaching the inn before he was soaked to the bone. Though most of the rain slipped over his fine mesh of steel, he was far from water proof, and by the time his short legs got him to safety, he just knew he would be miserable. However, unlike the others, he had no interest in a room, as before, and instead moved with the Wizard to sit near the fire, pulling up a chair and stripping the armor. It was no quick task, and he had barely removed his vambraces and shoulder guards when Sirion spoke.

"Anyone know anything about the undead? One advantage to fighting goblins was that once you killed them, you could be pretty sure that they were going to stay dead. But once you bust up a skeleton, how do you know it is going to stay busted? It was already dead after all." He asked, before requesting knowledge of holy water from Pynn.

"Can't says I know alot about em, but fer what I was taught, but it be hard to get back up if yer appendages be destroyed." He says with a good natured grin. "Figure destroy the body beyond usefulness and it'll be dead fer good, or at least unable to pose a threat. Fire works good too, I suppose..." he finishes, continuing to remove his plate mail and set each piece close to the fire to dry. Once done, he rests back in his chair, trusting the heat to dry him out as he awaits the reading of the book. He would order no Ale tonight, though a plate of hot food might be welcomed in a while...

There was nothing like a public inn to cheer drizzled spirits; with such foul weather outside and a warm, crackling fire to greet them, Kestross knew this would be a good time to get a bit of relaxation into the afternoon before their mission was ready to begin. He was full of excitement, and, eager to go about sharing that excitement with his companions, intent upon stirring up a bit of song and dance. Perhaps even some of the townsfolk would come and join them if they knew what fortune was coming about to befall them- yes, they would dance with the heroes of their very own town! That, of course, would remain to be seen.

From the stairs he strode into the centre of the room; to the far wall, most everybody had settled into the chairs surrounding the fireplace. Kestross strode towards them, greeting each in kind, and, before sitting down himself, noted Sirion's attentive gaze.

"Hmm? Oh, right- all right then, I'll bring it down in a sec." With that, he placed his trumpet on one of the unclaimed armchairs, wheeled about and dashed back up the stairs. Evidently, the cryptic book the mayor had given them had piqued the sorcerer's interest; Kestross knew he would glean far more information from it than he would himself, and admired him for his ability to understand such things so much more easily.

Almost a half-minute later he returned carrying the ancient tome with a platter of mutton and cheese resting on top of it. Handing it to Sirion, he explained "I tried to keep it as dry as possible- the book, that is, not my supper. I think the pages may have gotten a bit wet, but it'll still be okay for reading." Then he removed the platter, carried it back to the chair where his trumpet was waiting for him, and replaced it with himself. Zilvra was sitting just before him in the opposite chair, right next to the hearth, her face illuminated softly by the glow. He smiled broadly; perhaps the music would wait for a little while longer.

Sirion took the book from Kestross.

"Give me a moment to see what we have," he said as he opened the volume. "If you want I'll read anything interesting out loud."

As the party members gathered around the fire to dry off and enjoy a meal, Kestross came forth with the ancient book and handed it to Sirion. As the others sat and ate, Sirion skimmed through the book, hoping to find any passage that would relate to the undead. Many pages of the book were filled with nothing but the history of Dalhurst, those who mayored the small town, the development of the Inn and Town Hall. Nearly halfway through the reading, a passage about the Wizard the Mayor mentioned showed up. Although brief it did tell of a tower he had built into a nearby mountain almost a mile away from Dalhurst. Not much detail was given as to where exactly the tower was located, nor whom this wizard was. Sirion read on to no avail. Nothing about undead was mentioned, and the wizard and his tower remained a mystery.

Time wore on, plates were cleared and mugs emptied. Although before anyone could head up to their rooms, the door slammed open. A guard, completely soaked, stood in the doorway. "Arvin, we need your group now! The undead are clawing at the gates!" Arvin got up and went over to the guard. "Young ones, grab your gear. Meet me at the gates." With that, Arvin took the guard and left the Inn. Pynn went in to the back room, and a few seconds later came back to the main room with a wooden shield and large axe in his hand. "You heard Arvin, gear up and I'll take you to the gates."

Zilvra ate some food, and drank water, as the night progressed. From the looks of it, the book had little information of use. Glowering down her plate, she continued to eat. She would much rather be on the field, hunting the source of the undead, than sitting inside accomplishing nothing.

Later in the evening, Zilvra still waited, hoping something of note would be discovered. She rotated her empty mug in circles on the table, making a dragging noise as she did so. She'd never had this much free time in forever. "Does anyone have any cards or-" She began.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and a guard stood soaked in the doorway. Immediately, pushed herself up from the chair she had been seated on. "Arvin, we need your group now! The undead are clawing at the gates!"
Not waiting for a response, Zilvra ran up the stairs. Her current armour would not be ample for a real fight. Dawning her armour quickly, but carefully doing up all the straps properly, she buckled her weapons on, and headed downstairs. Not waiting for anyone else, or taking the time to see if they were still there, Zilvra immediately dashed outside. She knew where the gate was, Arvin did not need to show her. Drawing her Falchion, she ran towards the gate. No undead was going to get through that gate while she still drew breath.

(OOC Zilvra puts on her banded mail, but does not do it hastily.)

"Arvin, we need your group now! The undead are clawing at the gates!"

Sirion looked up from his reading as the call to arms was sounded. It seemed reading time was over, not that it had been very productive. Still, if the current mayor had been doing his job (Which was probably a big if) the text should bring events up to date - and information on how the recent undead infestation had begun would probably prove helpful. But that would have to wait.

Sirion stood up, shut the book, and grabbed his spear. "I'll put the book in my room for safekeeping and meet you all back here in a moment."

So saying he ran upstairs to his room (Which he hadn't actually picked yet - how about room 4 if it is still available?) and tucked the book into the little chest in the room. Unlike the warriors he didn't have any armor to get on - he was ready. So he grabbed his spear again and headed back down the stairs.

He was not a fan of charging off without the group together. It was rarely wise. So he paused for a minute in the taverns main room waiting for the others. If they all just ran through and off to the gates he would join them. Otherwise he would wait for them to gather and they would go as a group. But they obviously couldn't afford to wait long. "Undead clawing at the gates" didn't sound like a good thing.

As the afternoon slowly began to transition to evening, Kestross could feel himself drifting. He pondered this briefly as his eyelids grew heavy, but found he could not keep his thoughts coherent. The sound of the rain outside was soothing; the fireplace seemed to be casting him deeper and deeper into his chair. He reached lazily for his trumpet beside him, but felt no motivation to play. The only people around him were his travelling companions, whom he ordinarily was happy to entertain, with or without extraneous company- it was always more fun to stir up excitement when it included the presence of a band of merry travellers, whose unfamiliar faces brought with them a night of opportunities without regrets or repercussions- but the eerie stagnation of the town had disturbed him. Whole buildings and infrastructural blocks were dilapidated, with boarded windows abound and cracks in the cobblestone streets. The townsfolk themselves looked even worse, drained of anything resembling joy or even contentment. The euphoria he'd experienced earlier that'd come from the mayors elation compiled with heroic fantasies of restoring Dalhurst to beauty had faded, leaving him with unrest that robbed him of his own comfort. Even when he'd just sat down, he'd still been fairly cheerful; it was as if his emotions had been flipped upside down and soured.

The very thought of it is just so sad... people cannot live this way... can't think... but... the very thought...
---

"Arvin, we need your group now! The undead are clawing at the gates!"
The urgency in the guard's voice was just enough to startle Kestross back into the land of the living. In a surprised and half-drowsy stupor, he could see the others jumping to their feet and scuttling to the stairs, presumably to get ready; even Pynn, the bartender, had withdrawn an axe and a wooden shield. Giving Kestross a nod, he called out to the open "You heard Arvin, gear up and I'll take you to the gates."

"Well, there we go, then," Kestross murmured. He sat for a moment as he recovered from his awakening, and shook his head. That's enough for now. Throwing himself from the chair, the trumpet sitting beside it was then bundled hurriedly into his arms and carried with him back up the stairs. Even in the midst of his haste, he took a slice of ginger care in placing it down upon his bed, then continued to arm himself. A shirt of light chain-mail was shrugged over his torso, and his wide-brimmed hat, nearly dry (though he might have to replace the now-battered feathers), was crooked back upon his forehead. Next came a wooden buckler, strapped firmly to his arm, and, finally, a rapier in his right. The long, thin sword was his medium in battle, as well as one of his most prized possessions. He kept it well, and it gleamed in its condition.

With a nimble leap, he alighted before the foot of the stairs, fully assembled and ready to go, where Sirion was waiting, likely, for the others. It was not the sorcerer's policy to run off without company, so Kestross stood beside him in kind. "Looks like we arrived at just the right time," he muttered. "Tell me, though- how long was I out? Surely it can't be dark out already."

Delacard had the time to enjoy only half of his meal when the door of the inn was opened hard, causing the Dwarf to half choke on a chunk of fatty mutton in surprise.

"Arvin, we need your group now! The undead are clawing at the gates!" A voice cried, belonging to one of the town guardsmen, the poor man soaked to the bone, and pale with fear. Arvin, with the readiness of a man half his age, jumped to his feet, ordering the party to gear up, and was off after the guard. Dropping his plate instantly, the self-titled Paladin of Creht and began strapping on his armor. Heavier than most, it would take him the longest to don, even in his haste, and his sputtered curses almost drown out the voice of Pynn, saying "You heard Arvin, gear up and I'll take you to the gates."

With haste the party organized themselves in the main room of the The Grey Leg Inn, the Half-Orc stood ready and waiting by the door. Even without armour on, and only wielding his axe and shield, it was obvious Pynn knew what he was doing. ,font color="black">"Come on everyone, I'll take you to the gate. Hopefully it's just a small group this time around." Opening the door, Pynn turned and took off at a jog in to the rain soaked night.

The party followed Pynn through the muddy streets and the pouring rain until they came upon the western gate. Almost a dozen guards were nearby, some bracing their shoulders against the gate, others standing with spears and halberds at the ready. "Pynn! Get your arse over here and help us out! There's twice as many as them as us out there tonight!!" As Pynn ran over to the gate, one of the guards motioned for you to come to him. "Glad to see some more bodies that can help us fend these retched creatures off. Sergeant Jessop's the name. Come with me, I'm going to need all of you to help clear the scragglers who drifted around the walls."
As you followed Sergeant Jessop to the Eastern gate he explained how for the past three months Dalhurst has had no contact with the outside world, and everytime they tried their messenger would vanish in the mountains. It was only the past two months where the undead started to show up and attack the small town. "I'm sure you've probably been told all of this by the mayor but it still boggles us. No one knows how this happened and the mayor thinks it has something to do with the wizard who lived here long ago. Anyways enough rambling, you need to help me clean these undead off my walls." A couple of guards opened the eastern gate for you, and the moment everyone was outside the gates slammed shut once more. With nothing but dim torchlight from the walls, Sergeant Jessop starts to lead you to the first group of wandering undead.

In short seconds, Kestross and Sirion were accompanied rapidly by the rest of their companions. Delacard, only just finishing the assembly of the heavy suit of armour he carried, was still grumbling, but his intention was just as genuine as that of the others', if not, likely, a great deal more so. Kestross gave him a nod, then scanned the rest of the room. Something was not right. As he was about to puzzle over it, Pynn's voice replaced his concentration, calling their attention.

"Come on everyone, I'll take you to the gate. Hopefully it's just a small group this time around." He flung open the door and hustled out the door, ushering the party with him in his haste. As they began to follow, one after the other, Kestross waited until he was the last one out; then it hit him.

"Wait! Pynn- Where's Zilvra?" How he could have missed the warrior's presence was entirely beyond him. Apparently, nobody else seemed to notice either. As a nauseating fear began to flush into his blood, he tried again. "Where is Zilvra?? We're missing her!" But it was too late- the room had been emptied, and nobody answered him anywhere. Frozen in place, if only for split seconds, Kestross struggled to well up a pinch of logic- a terribly difficult effort, exacerbated only by the demands placed on his position in their present situation. Unable to come up with anything creative or rational, he convinced himself- certainly against his preferences- that, wherever she was, she could probably handle herself, and tore out through the door after them.

As he ran, he strained to make out some familiar landmarks, with his companions already being a good ways out of his eyesight. After a few near-wrong turns and a very close tumble into a substantially-sized mud puddle (his trousers didn't exactly come out clean nevertheless), the tall sillhouette of the gate came swimming toward him through the downpoar at last. He was fortunate enough to catch the party as they were in the middle of leaving the village through the open gate, and expended a final desperate effort to bound his way after them before it closed. Coughing and sputtering from his flight and securely in their company, he addressed them.

"No need to worry... huff... Kestross... cough... Kestross is... present...! Whoo!" He stopped to cough some more before straightening up, at which his mood changed substantially to see Zilvra standing in the group a few metres away.

"Zilvra!" He gasped. "Thank the Gods you're all right!" Then he paused to regard her, still grinning widely, before catching himself and regaining some composure. "...I mean, yes, ahem, you are here. And safe. And we have a, ah... a mission to do."
Now visibly red-faced, he straigntened his hat, clicked his heels, and nodded in self-assurance. "...Yep. We're all here. And..." The armoured man with the halberd was obviously unfamiliar. "...And who are you again?"

---

((OOC: If the party starts walking as Kestross is talking, he walks with them, and babbles as they go. The big baby needs his little doses of attention whenever he wants them ))

Sirion followed Sargent Jessop out the Eastern gate. As he passed out of the gate he looked quizzically at the solid wall of defense that was being left behind. This seemed weird to the sorcerer. Admittedly, he hadn't been in many sieges. Well, in truth, he'd never been involved in a siege. But he heard about them, and to his knowledge those who had the benefit of big defensive walls generally stayed behind those walls. That was the whole point of a wall. To be a wall between you and the bad guys. And to give you the advantage of position.

"Sargent Jessop," the sorcerer asked as he moved out of the security of the town's defenses, "I'm sure there is a reason - I admit I have never defended a town from the undead before. I just want to learn as much as I can about fighting the undead from those that have survived doing it for a while. But why are we leaving the security of the walls? If we stayed inside couldn't we pick them off as they tried to climb over? Why expose ourselves if we could eliminate them from safety?"

As he awaited an answer to his inquiry, Sirion mentally prepared himself for the task at hand. If there was room, "burning hands" was likely a good choice on the undead. If not, he always "disrupt undead." The title said it all. He gripped his spear as he strode towards the combat that was surely lurking ahead.

Zilvra had sprinted upstairs to don her banded mail. She was in no way going to not properly put it on though; if, in her haste, she did not strap it on properly, she would be much less helpful against the undead. With her Falchion, she was more than confident that she would cut her way through the undead. Besides, if a couple of guards with a picket fence could defend it, so could she.

She was loathe to admit it, but she had a bad taste in her mouth. It wasn't the regular undead, unless there was a massive horde, that bothered her. It was whatever was controlling them. She had heard tails of liches and Death Knights, but had never heard of any nearby her town. The ones in the tails she was told as a youngster were as powerful as an army, and only the mightiest of heroes

Chuckling, Zilvra chided herself. Things that powerful were only of myth. Sure, there were some monsters that she couldn't bet, but nothing that could destroy an army. It wasn't like there would be anything anywhere near that powerful attacking this village. Slinging her Falchion across her back, Zilvra walked down the stairs. Not waiting for anyone else, she marched out the door, lowering her visor on the way out.

She only left moments ahead of everyone else. She walked, albeit quickly, to the gates. Her armour slowed her down, and would tire her out if she ran to quickly. She did a last minute check of the gear on her. She had left all her camping gear in her room, as it would only serve to slow her down during the fight. Keeping her sword unsheathed, she kept the dull side of it resting on her right shoulder. She would be ready if anything would attack.

Arriving at the gate, Zilvra noticed the guards were focusing on keeping the gate shut to keep the undead out. It made sense. The average villager would be unable to protect themselves. Zilvra hoped there was some sort of tower or platform for archers. Otherwise, that gate was simply delaying the inevitable.

"Zilvra!" He gasped. "Thank the Gods you're all right!" Then he paused to regard her, still grinning widely, before catching himself and regaining some composure. "...I mean, yes, ahem, you are here. And safe. And we have a, ah... a mission to do."
Now visibly red-faced, he straigntened his hat, clicked his heels, and nodded in self-assurance. "...Yep. We're all here. And..." The armoured man with the halberd was obviously unfamiliar. "...And who are you again?"
Zilvra stared at Kestross through her helmet, her eyes narrowed like the slit in her visor. "Yes..." She said, drawing out the 's' in a monotone drawl. She turned as the Sergeant turned to address them.

The party followed Pynn through the muddy streets and the pouring rain until they came upon the western gate. Almost a dozen guards were nearby, some bracing their shoulders against the gate, others standing with spears and halberds at the ready. "Pynn! Get your arse over here and help us out! There's twice as many as them as us out there tonight!!" As Pynn ran over to the gate, one of the guards motioned for you to come to him. "Glad to see some more bodies that can help us fend these retched creatures off. Sergeant Jessop's the name. Come with me, I'm going to need all of you to help clear the scragglers who drifted around the walls."
Though she had wanted to hunt down the source of the abomination menace, Zilvra would make do with this. As much as glory, and a quick resolution, was on her mind, defending the population was more important than her longing for a conclusion.

As you followed Sergeant Jessop to the Eastern gate he explained how for the past three months Dalhurst has had no contact with the outside world, and everytime they tried their messenger would vanish in the mountains. It was only the past two months where the undead started to show up and attack the small town. "I'm sure you've probably been told all of this by the mayor but it still boggles us. No one knows how this happened and the mayor thinks it has something to do with the wizard who lived here long ago. Anyways enough rambling, you need to help me clean these undead off my walls." A couple of guards opened the eastern gate for you, and the moment everyone was outside the gates slammed shut once more. With nothing but dim torchlight from the walls, Sergeant Jessop starts to lead you to the first group of wandering undead.
"A wizard may have started this, but 5 feet of steel will will end it!" Zilvra confidently stated, making a slash in the air to prove a point. Previous inhibitions had vanished, replaced with an all business attitude now. She could not falter on the field of battle. She still had that bandit chief to hunt down.

"Sargent Jessop," the sorcerer asked as he moved out of the security of the town's defenses, "I'm sure there is a reason - I admit I have never defended a town from the undead before. I just want to learn as much as I can about fighting the undead from those that have survived doing it for a while. But why are we leaving the security of the walls? If we stayed inside couldn't we pick them off as they tried to climb over? Why expose ourselves if we could eliminate them from safety?"
Not waiting for the guard to respond, Zilvra had her own answer. "Well, the palisade isn't exactly a castle. I don't think the Dalhurst has much in the ability to repair it either. Besides, what better way to deal with undead than to take the fight to them?" A feeling of cold and calm came across Zilvra. She had no personal hatred of undead. At least not to the extent of bandits. She would fight this battle tactically, and effectively.