The party spent the night resting and
recuperating in Reidoth’s watch post. There was enough room for the adventurers
to stretch out and catch some sleep. Sleep, however, did not come easy. Outside
the reinforced walls of Reidoth’s cottage, they could all hear the ever-present
wail of the walking dead, and the drum-like pounding of fists against the walls
and doors. “You’ve riled them up something fierce,”
Reidoth sniffed. While the other party members slept, Siegfried
cast a sending spell to his Lord’s
Alliance contact in Phandalin, Sildar Hallwinter. “Pups
know. Pups pissed off Gilded Eye. Bob has documents, refuses eyes. Met Reidoth
in Thundertree, Cleaning house before Neverwinter. Facewalker attempted Alec.
Intercepted assassin.” The reply from Sildar was immediate. Troubling
news. Need details on Gilded Eye situation. Facewalkers sound like the Black
Spider’s work. Protect Alliance assets and ensure documents delivered to
Neverember posthaste. “Interesting,” Siegfried muttered to
himself. “Interesting indeed.” Radegast also sent a sending message to her mother, Mialee Moonflower in Evereska. “Mum,
I need your help. I'm in Thundertree, headed to Neverwinter, I can't do this.
Please mum. Can you bring me home? I love you.” Her mother replied, in Ancient Netherese: Child,
keep your wits about you; your rapier handy. Meet at Halueth’s Stead in three days. And hush! Those with
ears to hear are near. Radegast shuddered. That morning, Reidoth and his assistants
served the party a breakfast of tubers and leafy greens. “Oh, my compliments to the chef,” Siegfried
said in a tone most unctuous as he surreptitiously sprinkled spices from his
spice satchel onto the druid’s offerings. As the party attempted to down their meals,
Reidoth busied himself at his alchemical worktable, tossing pinches of ash into
a bubbling tabletop cauldron and hemming and hawing at the results. Stemly was
perched nearby, bobbing his head in time with the druid’s murmurings. Erwen, eager to learn from the elder druid,
stood at Reidoth’s side, offering his assistance. “So,” Varien said, dumping his plate’s
contents into what he hoped was the compost pile and not the druid’s larder.
“What is the source of the corruption that has defiled Thundertree?” Reidoth cleared his throat. “My boy,
finding the source of that corruption is why I’m here!” He waved a hand at a
shelf upon which were stacked rows of jars, each one potted with several inches
of the now-familiar ash. In each jar, a seed had been planted in the ash. In
some of the jars, the seeds were merely dead husks, while in others, what had
sprouted from the ash was an unspeakable horror in miniature, held prisoner by
the jars’ screwtop lids. “It’s my intent to restore life to the
ashen soil here,” Reidoth said. “You might have noticed that the plants in
Thundertree, if they grow at all, grow quite strangely.” “So you’ve found out precious little then,”
Bob muttered, taking half a step back from the rickety shelf. One of the jarred
horrors was beating vine-like limbs covered in tiny suckers against the glass. Reidoth frowned. “I do my best work in
isolation.” “Can
you point us in the direction of the most corrupted quarter of this village?”
Varien said. “Young fool,” Reidoth croaked. “You want no
part of what Thundertree has to offer! Have you not noticed that your welcome
hasn’t been particularly warm?” “What, the undead out there?” Varien
scoffed. “We can handle them.” “You think the undead are troublesome?”
Reidoth cackled. “They are but gnats! A cloud of mosquitoes, and if you stop to
slap them long enough they will bleed you dry. But they are not the worst of
what Thundertree has to offer. I beg of you, leave now with your lives.” “We have a paladin of Sune who loves
nothing more than killing undead,” Bob said. “We’re not going anywhere anytime
soon.” Reidoth harrumphed. “Kill one, and five
more rise to take its place. I can avoid them just fine, but you? You will
continue to attract attention the longer you remain here.” “We are here for good reason,” Bob said.
“Mirna Dendrar of Thundertree.” “I know her,” Reidoth nodded. “Her family used to live here before they
had to flee ahead of the ash cloud and the undead that infested this place. She
has asked us to recover a family heirloom from the herbalist’s shop that used
to stand here in town.” “Look,” Varien said. “If you say you do
your best work alone, who are we to argue? We will get out of your hair.” Reidoth’s frown took on a thoughtful curve.
“Hmmm. Now that you mention it, since you’re here, and since you’ve enjoyed the
gift of my hospitality this night, perhaps there is something you can do for me
in return.” “Name it,” Varien said. Reidoth turned to his plant assistants.
“Petunia, retrieve the you know what
for me, there’s a good girl.” Petunia obediently slithered on her
root-like legs and disappeared into the humid mass of plants in the greenhouse,
seeming to meld with the other greenery almost instantly. The creature returned momentarily with her
vines wrapped around two man-sized bundles, which she laid carefully on the
wooden floor. Bud looked solemn. “Oh, man,” he said. Varien moved closer to get a better looked.
The bundles were indeed man-sized, and also man-shaped, not to put too fine a
point on it. They looked like bodies wrapped in layers of fine spider’s silk. Bob’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the
bindings. “What’s this, Reidoth?” Reidoth turned to Erwen and handed him a
pair of forceps within which was secured a dried hunk of herb. “Hold this over
the fire, there’s a good lad.” The druid moved to the bundles and from his
robes pulled a small wooden blade, whittled to a knife’s edge. He carefully cut
away part of the bindings and gently spread them apart. There, nestled amid layers of silk bindings
and desiccated, though pleasant-smelling leaves, was the face of a fresh
corpse. Human, the young man’s neck had been savaged with terrible bites, as
though from a wild animal. Or, more likely, the shattered teeth of a ghast or
zombie. Varien’s hand strayed to his sword. “I
assume you have a reasonable explanation for this, Reidoth?” Reidoth’s expression was forlorn. “The
zealots of Helm’s Hold send their bravest boys to combat the evil in
Thundertree, and this is the inevitable result.” Reidoth sighed. “They too
ignore the signs and tread on ground they have no business treading upon. These
funeral rites are the least I can do to return their bodies to the earth in the
hopes that their remains will enrich this blighted ground so that one day life
may spring anew.” “Funeral rites, eh?” Varien said, nudging
the corpse with his boot, half-expecting it to spring up and attack. “Where did
you find these bodies?” Reidoth shifted uncomfortably. “To the
east, in town. There they fought, and there they died.” “What have you been doing with them?”
Varien asked. “I have been burying these bodies on the
grounds outside the tower to the north in the hopes that they will nourish the
barren soil and bring life back to this blighted place.” Reidoth knelt and
began rearranging the bandages. There was a flash from the alchemist’s
table and Erwen stumbled back, bearskin cape singed, as whatever he’d been
holding over the candle exploded. “Rotten luck, Erwen,” Reidoth said. “At
least we know that combination of herbal remedies is no friend to fire.” Trailing smoke, Erwen ambled over to the
body beside Reidoth and gave it an examination. Aside from the underlying reek
of decay that was beginning to waft from it, the smells from the wrappings and
layers of dried leaves and buds were quite pleasant.
“How long has this one been dead?” Erwen asked. Reidoth scratched his bearded chin. “Less
than a tenday, I’d say.” “Great!” Erwen chirped. “Let’s reincarnate
him!” Erwen began casting the reincarnation spell. If Siegfried wore a timepiece he would have
checked it. “Now, I don’t know about this,” Reidoth
said hesitantly. “After all, I spent a great deal of time preparing this body
for a proper burial.” “Let the Halfling do his work,” Bob said. “Fair enough,” Reidoth said. “Now, the
task. I would like you to take these prepared remains,” at this he paused and
looked at Erwen, who was busy over the first of the two bundles. He pointed at
the second wrapped corpse. “This particular set of remains, and bury it on the
grounds of the tower.” “Sounds easy enough,” Varien said. The
paladin turned to Bob. “Let’s roll this body bag into your bag of holding .” “I am not,” Bob said insistently, “feeding
a dead body into my bag of holding .” Reidoth glared at Varien. “Now, and I
cannot stress this point strongly enough, do not enter the tower to the north
of the burial ground. I beg of you. No good ever comes from it.” “Really?” Varien said. “Bury the dead,” Reidoth continued. “Pray
over them as your religion dictates, but do not tarry there.” Erwen checked Reidoth’s cupboards and
retrieved jars of oil and greasy unguents, which he mixed with scooped handfuls
of ash from sacks stacked near the greenhouses. “My boy, I hope you can pay for those!”
Reidoth muttered as Erwen continued to cast the spell, though he was interested
to see what would happen in spite of himself. Erwen shaped the gluey mixture into a
roughly humanoid form. A vortex of ash and dust began to circle, slowly and
lazily at first, overhead while the druid worked. Erwen waved his hands in an intricate
series of somatic movements. “I call for the soul of this departed paladin to
find his way to a new home!” There was a flash of lightning from within
the vortex. Everyone took a step back.
The humanoid form began to pulse with a rainbow-like chorus of colours that
played over its surface. Nearby, the dead body deflated as its dormant life
forces were channeled into its new form. The vortex intensified, and the body
began to move. Still radiating a thousand colours, it
stood before the assembled party. Its shape began to sharpen, with the oily
rainbow being slowly replaced by muscle, tendon, and red skin. “Neat!” Erwen said. The creature emerged from the vortex,
shaking its horned head as it regarded the adventurers with solid black eyes. A
stink of sulfur permeated the druid’s cottage as the vortex evaporated, leaving
behind low-lying clouds of black smoke. “Oh, no,” Varien whispered. OH
YES , Fiendsbane shouted. IT’S FIENDSBANE TIME! The sword began to rattle in its scabbard. Varien staggered as he was suddenly gripped
by a pounding headache. FIENDSBANE
IS THIRSTY FOR FIENDSBLOOD, the sword snarled
inside Varien’s psyche. DRAW ME NOW AND
SHEATHE ME IN THAT ABOMINATION’S TORSO! Varien bit his lip until he drew blood.
“N-no,” he struggled to stay in control of his body. To his astonishment, he
saw his own sword arm moving against his will towards his scabbard. Siegfried grabbed at Varien’s sword. “Yield
unto your wielder, ploughshare!” “Piss off, Siegfried!” Varien said, pulling
away from the half-orc. “I haven’t lost control, but believe me, if this
monster gives me any excuse at all, I’m ready to go.” AS AM
I, Fiendsbane hissed, ending its psychic attempt to
take control of Varien. The creature standing before them staggered
about, as if trying to use a body not his own. Siegfried readied an enthrall spell, to be cast on the contingency that the situation
escalated. “Where am I?” the once-human paladin said
in a thick, throaty whisper. He coughed up a wad of wet ash and spat it out. It
sizzled on the floor. “You’re in Thundertree,” Bob said. “What day is it?” “The 7 th of Tarsakh,” Varien
said. “Now, you will answer our questions. Who are you?” “The 7 th ?” the creature said,
confused. “That doesn’t make sense. We set out from Helm’s Hold to Thundertree
on the 30 th of Ches!” Varien grit his teeth. “Again, who are
you?” He cast zone of truth . “My name is Darven Evandar,” the creature
said, straightening up to his full height. “Paladin of Helm. Where are my
companions?” Varien frowned. “They’re dead, as you will
be if we don’t like the answers you give us.” The creature’s eyes widened into bleak
pools of void as he caught sight of his crimson skin and clawed hands. “W-hat am I?” he cried. “It would appear as though you’ve returned
to life as a Tiefling,” Siegfried said. The Tiefling’s eyes flashed with sudden
anger. He rounded on Erwen. “And this is your doing? What have you done?” “Eep!” Erwen said. Sensing that the
situation was escalating, Siegfried cleared his throat and cast enthrall . "Varien, Erwen, Fiendsbane,
the Recently Deceased, this is clearly an upsetting turn of events for some of
us more than others, but violence and incontinent fury is unbecoming of us as
guests to our new friend and neighbour Reidoth-” “Not now, Siegfried!”
Bob hissed. “Now if you children need
an adult to help you settle your petty squabbles then I am afraid you'll be
stuck with me because the Druid has more interesting matters to attend to, and
it is an asshole who raises the dead on another mans carpet only to spill blood
on it." “Nobody’s listening,
Siegfried!” Varien shouted. “You dare use magic on me, to try and get
inside my head?” Darvin snarled at Varien. “You dare?” Varien drew his sword and stepped forward.
“Yes, I dare.” Radegast drew her lightning bow and put a bolt into the floor just ahead of the toe
of Varien’s boot. There was a flash of lightning energy. Varien threw up his
shield just in time to block the wave of lightning, but Darvin wasn’t so lucky.
The Tiefling screeched in a torrent of Abyssal curses as lightning played over
his naked body, scorching him. Bud cried out in alarm as his bushy head
burst into flames, and Reidoth flew backward, every hair of his beard standing
on end. Outside Reidoth's
cottage, the ghasts and zombies paused in their pounding as the sound of
lightning strikes and assorted screaming erupted from inside. A pair of undead
eyed one another uncertainly before resuming their assault on the cottage. “By the power of Sune, I call forth a
guardian!” Bob shouted, conjuring a spectral Seraph of Sune, which loomed
intimidatingly large in the small confines of the cottage. “Put up your weapons, everyone, and stay
where you are!” Bob said. To the guardian, he commanded, “Strike anyone who
makes a hostile move.” In an effort to distract Varien, Siegfried
disguised himself as the wight he used to intimidate the Gilded Eye patrol, and
lurched forward, snarling. “Good heavens!” Reidoth shouted. Bob’s Guardian of Faith interpreted
Siegfried’s action as hostile and attacked with a swing of its spectral sword. Siegfried dodged the worst of the attack
but took a glancing blow of radiant energy. “What’s this now?” Varien shouted. Siegfried lumbered forward, intending to
land an illusory bite on Varien to distract him. There was a shrieking sound behind him as
Petunia’s petal-lips split over to reveal rows of jagged teeth. “Oh dear!” Reidoth said. “She thinks
there’s been a perimeter breach! Petunia, stand down! And everyone else, this
is far too much excitement!” Erwen cast watery sphere in the midst of the melee. A five-foot wide sphere of water snapped
into existence, floating above the floor. Varien and Radegast dodged out of the
way of the floating liquid, as did Darvin, but Reidoth, Siegfried, and Alec
were caught up in the liquid. The water doused Bud’s flaming head. “Ah,
thanks brah!” he said weakly. The spectral Guardian of Faith was not affected, standing impassively. Siegfried let his disguise melt away and
sat cross-legged, holding his breath and thinking about sentient swords. Reidoth turned into a frog and swam to the
edge of the sphere, attempting to break its surface tension. Alec let a stream of bubbles out of his
nostrils as he thrashed about. Darvin ran towards Reidoth’s worktable and
grabbed for a farmer’s sickle, charging it with magic energy. He spun about and
brandished the weapon at Varien. “You may have turned me into a monster, but
I am still a member of the Order of the Gilded Eye, and in the name of the Holy
Watcher, you shall be brought to justice!” “That’s music to my ears, Evandar,” Varien
said. “Because now I don’t feel guilty about doing this.” He cast a vow of enmity on Darvin and stabbed him with Fiendsbane. There was a spray of blood from the impaled
paladin that coated Radegast, who stood behind him. Fiendsbane made a pleasurable sound that
embarrassed Varien. There was a radiant flash as Varien
released a divine smite that lit
Darvin Evandar up from within. Darvin’s eyes widened in shock and he
dropped the sickle. He smiled as blood began to run from his mouth. “Y-you
turned me into that which I fought against,” he struggled to say. “But now, I
am cleansed.” He sagged on Varien’s sword, dead. As Darvin fell away from Varien, Radegast
stepped up smartly and slapped Varien across the face. Varien caught her hand before she could
land the blow. “Don’t,” he warned. “Y-you!” Radegast said, enraged. “Hey, he was going to attack me!” Varien
said. “Before we knew he was an asshole, I gave him every chance.” There was a sickening sound as Fiendsbane’s
blade absorbed the blood that was dripping from it. “Have you ever met a Tiefling?” Radegast
asked. “Yes,” Varien said. “They don’t necessarily
need to be killed, but I asked him his intentions, and he didn’t give me any
details, so of course I’m going to slay him.” “Is that zone of truth still up?” Radegast
said angrily. “Because here’s a truth for you – you’re insane!” Varien ignored Radegast and knelt down
beside Darvin’s prone body. He began to pray a funereal prayer. Bob dismissed the Guardian of Faith . “But why?” he whispered to himself. Suddenly he
felt a pain in his arms. Looking down, he uncovered his forearms and saw new
scales had sprouted, each one a golden colour edged with green. Bob frowned at
this development. Erwen released the watery sphere , which splashed down into the greenery. Siegfried and
Alec picked themselves up. Reidoth-frog hopped away. Varien finished his prayer and opened his
eyes. To his sudden shock he saw that Darvin was looking directly at him, a
terrible smile on his face.
“The Ashmadai walk in Thundertree,” the
dead paladin croaked. Varien blinked and looked at Darvin again.
The Tiefling was still dead, his eyes staring off into the distance and his jaw
slack.
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Turning back into
human form, Reidoth kept his rage in check as he began preparing the Tiefling
corpse for burial, pointedly ignoring everyone in the room.