The party members collected the items left behind by the fleeing Gilded Eye patrol. There were enough ghast masks for each person, as well as healing potions and crossbow bolts. Erwen emerged from a thicket, his hands and cheeks full of raspberries. “Did I miss anything?” he asked. “Ah, small man,” Siegfried’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve returned with my axe, I trust?” Erwen chewed and swallowed as he looked at Siegfried. He decided not to share the news that he had been searching the undergrowth for signs of animal life and had found nothing — not even an insect. The region was devoid of the usual sounds of bird and squirrel, and that Erwen, who usually felt right at home in forest environments, was unsettled by the unnatural silence of the area near the hedge. He looked down to where his pet houseplant was nestled inside his cloak. “It’s just you and me now, Stemly,” he whispered. Siegfried fitted the mask over his head, securing it to his breastplate and taking a few experimental breaths. “I say,” he said, his voice muffled by the tongue-like alchemical filtration tube. “There is a modicum of discomfort, but a fair trade for a clean pair of lungs, wouldn’t you agree?” “How do we know these are even going to work inside that miasmic soup?” Bob said in exasperation as the other party members began donning the masks. “It’s all right, Bob, we’ll test them,” Varien said, hitching a thumb at Siegfried. “By sending him inside first.” Alec’s snort of a laugh sounded like a horse’s neigh through the leather mask. “Capital idea,” Siegfried said, drawing himself up to his full height. “A noble should always lead his lesser into battle.” He confidently strode towards the hedge. Varien stuck out his boot of striding and springing and sent Siegfried sprawling. The paladin then extended a hand and helped the half-orc to his feet. Siegfried shook it off, turning to Varien. “Are you sure you put all my parts back into their proper place, good sir?” “Oh, it’s safe to say I put you in your proper place,” Varien replied, his smirk hidden beneath his ghast mask. Siegfried unlimbered his axe and aimed it at the hedge, which was in the process of devouring the plant growth that Siegfried had hoped would have taken root to keep the poisonous ash cloud at bay. He cast his eldritch blast and began sawing with an arcane version of the axe held in his grip, sending ghostly images of the magic axe in and out of the break in the hedge, sending bits of greenery flying in all directions. “I’ll hold the door open for you all,” Siegfried shouted over the din. The party members began to tromp inside, led by Varien, followed by a wary Radegast, who had braided her hair and tucked it out of the way before fitting the mask over her head. Bob and Alec walked reluctantly behind, and then it was just Erwen and Siegfried. Erwen looked at the broken stems and shredded leaves that had accumulated shin-deep before Siegfried. He then stared up at the half-orc, his eyes watering behind the oversized goggles of his ghast mask. “How could you?” he asked. Siegfried loomed over the Halfling imperiously. “Pity is unbecoming of your station, half man.” Erwen blinked at the slur, and then scampered through the break in the hedge. Visibility dropped to near zero as the party ventured into the unknown beyond the hedge. The needle blights and twigjacks, if there were any left, did not menace them as they continued in the direction of Thundertree. Varien cast light on Fiendsbane. The sword’s glow beat back the murky haze, but not by much. Erwen looked, fascinated, at the swirls of ash and other particulate matter as the party moved through the fog. Siegfried tried not to think about his intimate familiarity with the ash and cinders of his nightmares. He realized that if he continued to let his mind wander, it would take him to some unsettling places. He decided to mend fences and be the bigger half-orc in a situation that called for a noble’s tactful touch. “Listen, Trevelyan,” Siegfried said to Bob as the party trudged through compacted ash. “I apologize for the way I spoke to you before. I appreciate the good work you’re doing for the Lord’s Alliance.” Bob grunted a muffled grunt. “You there, other Trevelyan,” he said to Alec. “Take this and let it guide your path.” He unsheathed his moontouched longsword and handed it to Alec. “Thanks,” Alec said, admiring the blade’s workmanship. “May its moonlight guide your path,” Siegfried said. The longsword in Alec’s hands began to glow with the light of a full moon. It occurred to the party members that the ashen gloom was so thick that telling the time of day was next to impossible. As Alec made a few practice swings with the longsword, Erwen watched the tendrils of the fog follow the arc of the blade, caught by the wind. As flakes of ash eddied in the wake of Alec’s movements, the Halfling had an idea. He cast warding wind on himself. A strong wind began to blow, dispersing the fog, or at least pushing it back to give the party a better chance to examine their surroundings. They were in a realm of shadows, a dead place where naked tree branches and brittle undergrowth were caked in a coating of white and grey ash that blew away as Erwen stepped forward. “What could have done this?” Bob asked. Siegfried set his jaw. “A volcanic eruption in the Crags, nearly 40 years ago.” “40 years ago? But I’ve seen what happens after a volcano erupts,” Bob said. “The volcanic soil is so rich that new life takes root in the ashes.” He pointed to the drooping dead limbs of the trees that stood here and there. “Why has that not happened here? Why has the ash not settled?” “Perhaps it was not an ordinary volcanic eruption,” Siegfried shrugged, keeping the rest of his thoughts to himself. Bob looked around and then his eyes narrowed. “Look there, a path!” he pointed at a ribbon of compacted dirt that Erwen’s warding wind had uncovered with its scouring strength. Erwen nodded as if he’d planned it. “This way!” he said. The party members walked cautiously forward several dozen yards, warily examining each shape that loomed out of the haze, which resolved into dead tree trunks as they approached, many half-uprooted and leaning precariously, caked with a buildup of ash. Gradually, the trail became an old, overgrown lane with ditches on either side choked with the brittle remains of vines and brush. There were more trees, some of them at least 30 or 40 feet tall, their upper branches disappearing into the dome of swirling ash at the outer reaches of Erwen’s warding wind spell. Someone had driven a post into the middle of the path ahead of the adventurers, and on it was nailed a sign. The sign had been hastily lettered in a panicked scrawl. “DANGER! Plant monsters AND zombies! Turn back now!” The sign appeared to be spattered with dried blood. Siegfried drew out his pen and neatly added “Siegfried Thann was here” to the sign. “Small man,” he said to Erwen. “What do your druidic talents tell us about this place?” Erwen scratched his head. “I usually speak with plants when I’m visiting somewhere new, but these plants are dead and aren’t going to tell me anything.” “Fair enough,” Siegfried said. He peered into the fog. “I say, are those buildings ahead?” “Finally!” Varien said, striding forward into the roiling ash just out of range of Erwen’s magic. “Let’s get on with this.” Sure enough, the angular shapes of man-made structures began to reveal themselves as the ash billowed away in Erwen’s wind. Varien, Radegast and Alec approached the nearest building. Cowering in the shadow of an old, dead tree was a crumbled stone cottage with no roof. Tangles of dead weeds were rampant around the building’s perimeter. Varien stepped forward and then froze. “What’s that?” he asked. Ahead of him, where the dirt road wended its way past other dilapidated structures, was a curious site. The path was studded with white statues, humanoid in shape and frozen in place. “Did Thundertree have a lot of heroes to immortalize?” Varien asked. He approached the nearest statue. The statue depicted a humanoid figure in mid-stride. Varien poked the statue in the midsection with Fiendsbane. There was a crackling sound as fissured opened up from the point of impact, fracturing the outer surface of the statue as the figure began to move. Chunks of ash fell away from the creature’s face, exposing a mouth of sharp teeth and a tongue that lolled out like a length of grey rope. Varien blinked as he recognized the look of undead cunning in the creature’s sunken eyes. “Raw meat!” the creature shrieked, expelling a cloud of ash from its lungs. Other nearby statues began to stir. “Not today, zombo!” Alec shouted, swinging his new longsword, hacking deeply into the creature and severing one of its arms. Radegast backpedaled and nocked an arrow into her bow, loosing it. The arrow found its target, spearing the ashen creature. As the arrowhead plunged home, a flickering glow began to emanate from deep within the creature’s midsection. “Look there! It’s gonna blow!” Radegast shouted as a warning to Siegfried, who was approaching with his axe in hand. There were howls from within the fog as more undead creatures awakened and began to shamble and bound towards them like broken marionettes, their limbs jerking unnaturally as they lurched ever closer. “Not today, zombos!” Bob shouted as he gave a cutting side-glance to his brother, gripping his holy symbol as he stepped up and faced the approaching undead. “The power of Sune compels you to flee from Her brilliance!” He cast turn undead and felt a sensation not unlike Sune’s lips brushing his own as he spoke. The gleeful howls of the rampaging ghasts turned to panicked shrieks as several of them cringed at Bob’s divinely-channeled presence, turned tail and fled back into the fog. Not all of the undead creatures were affected by Bob’s censuring prayer, namely the ghast menacing Varien. It hissed as it opened its gaping maw, smoke curling up from its torn windpipe. “Raw….meat!” it repeated, its tongue lolling. “Enough of this!” Varien said, swinging Fiendsbane in two deft strikes. To his surprise, as his blade sliced deeply into the ghast’s abdomen, a gout of flame spurted out, searing him. The ghast, now fully engulfed, fell apart in two distinct pieces as it crumbled to ashen cinders. There were groans from the cottage as several undead tumbled out of the window and began rushing at the party members. The ghasts were on them in a heartbeat. Radegast dodged a clawing attack from one of the ghasts as Siegfried deftly parried a flurry of blows from another. “Have at you!” Siegfried snarled, jumping forward. His target did not react in the way he expected, making no attempt to parry and instead opening its jaws wide to sink his rotten, broken teeth into the half-orc’s shoulder. “This was poorly thought out!” Siegfried bellowed as the ghast pummeled him from its point of purchase. Bob readied another prayer as a ghast loped towards him with feral single-mindedness. Bob closed his eyes as the undead launched himself at him, only to hear a bong as Varien extended his shield arm to block the creature’s attack. “Thanks Varien, that was-aagh!” Bob’s thanks were interrupted as the creature crawled over Varien’s shield and clawed at him. Reflexively, he cast shield and the ghast’s attack bounced off harmlessly. Siegfried tore the ghast away from its perch and threw him down. “I like you!” he shouted. “I’ll kill you last.” He cast booming blade and swung his axe at the ghast, connecting with a spray of ash and smoke. Alec cast fire bolt at the nearest ghast, which missed, and followed through with a sword attack, which also missed. “Okay then!” he muttered. Erwen nodded encouragingly at Alec. He then dropped his warding wind spell and wildshaped into the form of a giant elk. He pawed the ground and rushed towards the nearest knot of ghasts as the swirling fog began to move back in around the party.