Ch'dau and Aranwen rush forward, both deftly sidestepping the fleeing forms of the half-starved pilgrims.  Fortunately, it seems that the attackers are, if possible, even less spry than the travel-weary pilgrims. For a moment or two, it looks as if the Lysorans may be able to break free. As they frontline fighters of the party slip past the first few pilgrims, the mist opens momentarily. 

Revealing a scene from a nightmare.

The flesh of the attackers is a pale, greenish-gray - where it still remains whole. In many places, skin and flesh alike hang loose or are missing entirely, revealing bone underneath. The eyes are wide and empty, staring vacantly (provided that the eyes are not missing altogether); yet somehow, you instinctively know that these abominations can see quite clearly.  Two of them have firm grasps on wailing pilgrims, and wordlessly, the kazari and the bladsinger split up to save the afflicted.

Then, the true terror reveals itself.

One creature seems to be in much better physical condition than the others. Where the majority seem to be slow, awkward, animated corpses shuffling along... this one is different. It appears to be a twisted mockery of a human, but it does not seem to be in the same state of decay as the others. It grins broadly, revealing a mouth full of crooked fangs, then begins giggling in a maniacal fashion as it leaps among the terrified pilgrims. It rends about with claw and fang, and every person it touches either falls to the damp ground or freezes in their tracks altogether.

As the melee is joined, you find yourselves outnumbered - there are a solid dozen of the creatures that Gib correctly recognizes as zombies.

Initially, these provide little resistace; Ch'dau drivs one falcata through the chest of a zombie and sweeps his second blade across its throat, nearly decapitating it.  Aranwen, now fully in battle trance, sings her wordless melody as she dances among the carnage.  The bladesinger easily sidesteps a clumsy swipe from a walking corpse, then ripostes and drives her blade through the creature's rotting brains.

Gib raises his blade aloft, and calls out to Therassor to come to the aid of the party, to drive these undead from the field.  When he does so, a few of the creatures do turn and run.

Kith takes her opportunity to flank a zombie threatening Ch'dau, driving both of her blades deeply into its flesh.  Midge finishes an incantation, creating a physical wall of worce betwen himself and any would-be attackers. 

And then, the press of numbers begins to work in the favor of the undead.  A blow bounces off of Gib's shield, but another strikes him from behind.  Aranwen deflects the attack of another - at the loss of its hand.  Kith pulls back from a grasping attack, only to find herself ironically flanked as she is struck hard from behind. 

Ch'dau fends off an attack, rending another zombie nearly in two, but hears the gigling too late as teeth and fangs sink into his forearm.  Instantaneously, the kazari can feel a dank, unholy chill creep into his very bones - then suddenly, he is unable to move or act!

Initially, Cedric has hung back with the spellcasters, but as he sees the tide beginning to turn, he moves forward.  Holding his holy symbol aloft, he cries out for Solanis to turn the undead from their course - and the Lord of Light sees fit to drive several more from the field.

Aranwen fights her way towards the immobilized form of Ch'dau, and rakes his blade along the flank of the giggling monstrosity.  The strike spins the creature around, and it fixes the bladesinger with yellow eyes and flicks its tongue at her.  It leaps, raking its claws along her forearm, then rushes away into the mist.  The sylvari feels the unhaoly chill enter her own body, but it is a passing distraction at most; the pain of the filthy claws is far worse than the old coldness, and she is able to continue the fight without difficulty.

One of the zombies shambles after the fleeing pilgrims, presenting the spellcasters with a shot.  Midge is deadly accurate with a bullet from his sling, and an instant later, a pair of energy bolts fly from the fingertips of Atharis, where they bury themselves into the damaged zombie, causing it to topple to the ground.

Meanwhile, Aranwen, Gib, and Kithran are able to cut down the remaining attackers, and suddenly, the only noises left are those of the moans of the wounded pilgrims.

The fight is over.

Boo!  Hiss!

I am sending out character sheets, and will try to get a game post up later today.

Holy cow, man!  That is *amazing*.

That's fair.  Never assume that your character knows something - Brom rolled for knowledge on the giggling thing and failed.  Eol has played this part of the adventure before, so *he* knows what it is, but his character does not.

I will always reveal information that yor characters should possess.  If you think something is off or you are missing, you can always ask for a knowledge check, widom check, etc.

Yep, this information is straigth out of the monstrous manual.

>Like most undead, zombies are immune to sleep, charm, hold, death magic, poisons, and cold-based spells.

Those are very cool!  I'd love to see more.

We're glad to have you!  It can take some getting used to, and like all things, PBP takes pratice. 

When you're sitting around a tabletop, a lot of it is "I draw my sword and attack the troll."  Whereas for a play by post game to be fun to read, you have to put more effort into descriptive writing. 

Why is your character attacking the troll?  What is he thinking?  What is he feeling?  What does he look like as he does so?  Etc.

I invite all of you to really pay attention to how Eol Fefalas, Bromern Sal, and PrincessAli post.  You don't have to write novellas like they do, but the detail they put in, the way they get into their characters' heads, really makes it so much more fun to read what they write. 

I love battle.

And again - sorry about the silver screen stuff.  It gets way worse.

The veterans of my games already know this. 

When combat is joined, I tend to handle more than one round at a time, else fights can last for weeks.  Nobody wants that.

So when you post your character's actions, be sure to let me know your strategy.  I.e. - melee attacks against he closest enemies, stay back and protect the mages, fight defensively unless people are serously wounded, then use heal spells, cast magic missile here, then look for a chance to web the outliers, etc. 

I will clarify as best I can, but the more detail you add, the better.

And I have advanced the main game plot.  No need to let this hang out all weekend.  If anyone has anything else the wanted to ask the pilgrims, we can possibly backpost, but they were not in a chatty mood - they wanted to get away from here as quickly as possible.

The number of enemies is unclear; the settling dusk and thick mist make it impossible to make out what is beyond the pilgrims.  All you can tell for sure is that there are multiple moaning shapes coming onto the road and into the pilgrims, who are attempting to flee.  At least one shape is much faster that the others, and is giggling like a true madman. 

It should not yet be dusk; normally, it would be an hour or more before dark began to fall.  But the accursed mist does its level best to choke out the sun, and the daylight fades quickly.

"Sir," Gib starts. "Kind sir," he adds. "Who are They and pray tell, what has befallen you? What should we be prepared for? Please, stop and share your knowledge with us that we may not fall prey to the unknown of which you infer."

The leader of the pilgrims shakes his head.  "We have traveled far, lost most of our supplies and a third of our number.  They come at night - the restless ones.  They never stop.  They never tire."

He stops, and his gaunt face fixes as he stares into nothingness.  "As bad as they are, the laughers are so much worse.  They are cunning, and merciless."  He glances towards Kith.  "And they seek the fairer sex... we have lost brothers, but all of our sisters were taken by them."

The pilgrim shakes his head.  "We have tarried too long!" he wails.  "We must go, with haste!  The Blue Lady's blessings be on you all."

The tattered group makes it perhaps thirty yards or so down the road before the giggling starts.

At first, it seems as if the out of place sound comes from one of the pilgrims, but you realize that it is, in fact, coming from beyond them. Then come the moans - first, the moans of fear from the pilgrims, then the moans of several figures emerging from the dusk.

The pilgrims scream in panic. Their leader cries out. "Lysora save us, they have come!"

At that, a dark shape rushes from among the emerging figures, darting in among the scattering pilgrims who scream in terror.

It gets so much worse.

Okay, folks.  We now have your standard D&D fare rolling along... and I hope that you will enjoy the horror twist I just dropped via silver screen moment.

The young mother to be cried out in agony and fell to her knees as the pains ripped through her abdomen yet again.  Her attendant quickly materialized to check on her, but as usual, the accursed blonde bitch just patted her hand patronizingly and spouted useless platitudes about how "motherhood was hard" and "it's normal to have some discomfort from time to time" before helping her to the bed and leaving her alone.

Discomfort, my shiny arse she mused darkly. 

Even though this was her first child to carry,the young woman was no stranger to babies.  She had younger siblings, and growing up on a farm, had even been elbow deep in a cow's nethers a time or two when the calf wouldn't behave when the time came to make its entrance.  She was no fool, and knew full well that pain that felt like one was being cut open from the inside was not normal - especially not when it was unfailingly accompanied by blood in her smallclothes afterward.   

But the attendant refused to listen, and the midwife had not managed to make it by for two weeks, now. 

She was so alone.  Her family had not visited in longer than she could remember.  The baby's father... the truth of the gods was that she didn't even remember the baby's conception, let alone the father's identity.  Garrock had died on the wall nigh on to a year ago, she hadn't been close to a man since.  She supposed there must have been too much wine at the Solstice, but still...

Her thoughts were interrupted by her own scream.  The pain was back, but far, far worse, with her guts clenching in as if they were trying to turn her body inside out.  She felt the gush of wet warmth soak the bed and pool around her bottom, heard the fluid drip against the floor beneath.

The attendent stepped back through the doorway.  "Ah, it seems that it is time," the woman observed mildly. 

Time? No!  It had not been long enough!  The babe should not be here before Pfier at the earliest!

The young woman panicked, tried to cry out, tried to warn that she should have nigh on two months before the baby arrived... but she found that she could only shriek; coherent words were impossible as the internal tearing began anew with her next contraction. 

The useless attendant was at her side now, dabbing at her her face with a cool, damp rag.  "There, there, dear..." she cooed.  "Some pain is to be expected at the miracle of birth."

Gripped in the throes of an agonizing contraction, the young woman's eyes shot open in terror.  Her gaze had settled on her distended belly, but it was not the mound itself that drew her attention, but the tiny claw that now extended out through the skin, some three inches beow her navel.  Her agonized shrieks took on a tenor of mindless terror, but the attendent merely squeezed her hand and smiled. 

In her panicked state, the young woman tried to get up, tried to call for help, but had not noticed the three robed men who entered her room.  She could do little to fight them as they grabbed her arms and legs and held her down on the bed. 

The claw was soon joined by another, then another.  The young woman screamed and sobbed, desperately begging for aid, but the attendent simply smiled and hummed tunelessly as the contractions truly set in...

Cue cheesy 70s music...

bow chicka bow bow

The party takes up defensive positions as the group of shuffling walkers slowly closes the gap between them.  As they approach, moans can be heard from the slow moving group - moans of pain, of fatigue, at fear of the sight of the well-armed party of adventurers blocking their path.

The travelers are human men, clothed in ratty gray and light blue robes.  They are filthy from the road, damp from the oppressive  drizzle, and half-starvd by the look of them... and they certain;y appear to be in no way threatening.  Several lean heavily on staves, but no other items that could be construed as weapons are visible among them.

Their leader - a slightly less gaunt human with a stringy, dirty beard, calls out in a scratchy voice.  "Block not our path!  We cannot tarry here, not with what stalks this road at ight.  We seek the blesed shrine of Lysora in the Taverton wood; we dare not stop, lest we never reach it."

He fixes the party with a baelful gaze.  "You would do well to be off this road come nightfall.  They are coming.  They never rest!"

His companions groan in agreement, and the pilgrims shuffle past the party, headed south and east at a relentless - albeit it slow - pace.

Looks like we have a party leader nominated. 

Okay, folks - I'm going to go ahead and make my next post.  Oz, you can jump in whenever.

I know that more than half of you are new to the Inn, and (obviously), new to me as a DM.

If you would be so kind, try to add a little flavor to your posts.  Share with us what your character is thinking, feeling, etc.  Ideally, posts should be a minimum of two to three short paragraphs, butif you go longer, that's awesome.  Read the posts by Eeol Fefalas, Bromern Sal, PrincessAli.  Note how much fun they are to read, how they really bring those characters to life. 

In a play by post game, you're comitting to months of reading a collaborative story.  It can take some getting used to, but I think a little more effort makes the game so much more fun for everybody.

Thanks!

I had intended to cap this game at six players.

When we were at five and needed a player, I had reached an understanidng with a guy that was going to join the Inn to make a mage.  A new member joined (GrinNoCat) and sent me the concept for Midge, and I approved it.

Turns out, this was NOT the new player I had expected.  Oz_magiccity joined the next day and sent me his mage.  Which also happened to be a Secret Storm Evoker.

I hate to tell him "no" to playing altogether.  So I am going to bump the party to seven, and just add bad guys/hit dice/terrible things to make the game still fun (read: deadly).

So, meet Atharis the Meek.  Youngest of four boys, alway a target of bullying as a child.  Atharis seeks magic - and the power it brings - so that he may be known as Atharis the Great.

I have suggested Transmuter to Oz; this gives him plenty of access to blaster magic, yet allows him to have enough of a different approach - and variety of spells - to add variety to the game. 

So, here is what I'm looking at, in terms of marching order

Aranwen
Gib
Kith
Cedric
Midge
Ch'dau

If I'm wrong (flip flop the second cleric and the mage?), say so. 

Sheets are done for Ch'dau and Aranwen, save a couple of minor items here and there. 

Kepe in mind that as a cleric of Therassor, Gib is a competant warrior, too.  He's not going to match the brute strength of Ch'dau or the skill and finese of Aranwen, but he will hold his own in any battle; his base THAC0 is only one point lower that you guys.  Of course, Ch'dau gets bonuses to hit for specialization and strength, and Aranwen gets them due to racial bonus, specialization, and silly skill level... but Gib is no pushover.

You don't say?

I will roll for you and provide this in your character sheet.  I don't hand out max HP, but I do tend to reroll generously... as you need the HP in my games. 

Reminder: you have all been together at least two or three months.  You may not know one another's deepest, darkest secrets, but you are familiar with basic personalities and such.  You've completed one adventure together, ridding a village of a reasonably organized band of bandits. 

I have gone ahead and tossed out two intro posts to the game; you may all jump in and post now. 

Please note that you should always post your character's thoughts and intentions, but never the results of actions unless I have already provided them to you via PM.

We should probably figure out party leadrship before this goes very far.  You can handle that however you want, but experience tells me that you need somebody in charge - even if everyone votes on actions - as disorganization kills parties.

One final admonition - this is a horror flavored game and I am an evil DM.  I will be very surprised if every character survives this adventure.  That is no fault of anyone here, it's just reality.

And speaking of death - we have three players who have never adventured in Audalis.  Please note that death is pretty final in this world.  This is not Greyhawk, where death is a worse than normal boo-boo, but you can always drag your friend to the corner healer for a resurrection before rigor sets in.  Resurrection is draining to the gods, and is reserved typically for true heroes.  Most who die, die.

Divine casting is funneling the miracles of your deity.  The typical person will view a divine healing as a legit miracle; raising from the deal is the stuff of legend.