Chapter 1 / Episode 6: "The Undead and the Unseen"
Fireseek 8, 576 CY
Morning in the Kron Hills
The grey, overcast sky cast a pall over the caravan as it trudged along the muddy southwest trail. The Kron Hills loomed larger with every mile, their steep ridges and dense thickets creating an oppressive atmosphere. The adventurers had grown accustomed to the grim silence of their journey—broken only by the creak of wagon wheels, the plodding steps of oxen, and their own hushed conversations.
In the back of one of the carts lay the lifeless bodies of the merchants and drivers who had been slain days earlier. Their corpses had been loaded carefully with the intention of returning them to Hommlet for proper rites. The sight of the tarp covering them weighed heavily on everyone’s mind, a constant reminder of their losses.
The Horrors of the Road
As the caravan reached another fork mid-morning, the adventurers chose to continue southwest. Hours passed with no sign of trouble, but unease hung in the air. That unease turned to shock when the silence was broken by a low, wet sound from the rear cart.
The bodies beneath the tarp began to stir.
“They’re moving!” Kure the Acolyte cried, clutching his holy symbol.
One by one, the dead merchants rose, their eyes glowing faintly with an unnatural light. The air filled with the stench of decay as they stumbled forward, their bodies contorted and swollen. The group sprang into action, weapons drawn, fighting to contain the sudden attack within the confines of the caravan.
But these were no ordinary undead. When struck down, their corpses collapsed into pools of dark, oily water that hissed and bubbled as if alive.
The Fall of Craddock
In the chaos, Craddock the Mad, the group’s dependable ranger, fell to the claws of one of the undead. His companions barely had time to grieve before his lifeless body began to twitch.
“No... not him,” Slash the Bard whispered, his voice shaking.
Craddock rose again, his eyes hollow and unseeing, a pawn of whatever dark magic had animated the others. The group was forced to confront their friend in a desperate and harrowing battle. Kure called upon his divine power to strike the undead Craddock down, but the victory felt hollow.
The Bandits’ Harassment
The group pressed on, shaken but resolute. Their grim task was interrupted by the return of the bandits who had been dogging them for days.
This time, the attacks were relentless and cruel. The bandits darted in and out of the trees, striking from the shadows and melting away before the adventurers could retaliate. The assaults continued sporadically, forcing the caravan to halt repeatedly and sapping the group’s already strained resources.
“They’re not here to kill us outright,” Lornan Calihye muttered, his half-elven eyes narrowing as he scanned the treeline. “They’re wearing us down.”
Jed Bonebridge, his armor splattered with mud and ichor, growled in frustration. “Let them come closer next time. I’ll show them what it means to fight!”
The Eighth Day Ends
By nightfall, the caravan was utterly spent. They found a place to camp, but the adventurers knew rest would be fleeting. The dead merchants’ transformation, the loss of Craddock, and the relentless harassment by the bandits had left them battered in body and spirit.
The Kron Hills, dark and unyielding, offered no comfort as the group settled into another uneasy night. The distant howls of wolves punctuated the silence, a reminder that the dangers of the wilderness were far from over.
As they huddled around their meager campfire, the adventurers knew one thing for certain: whatever awaited them in Hommlet, it couldn’t come soon enough.
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