Discussions are made, but eventually, it is decided that the road for the pilgrims should be safe enough - especially in light of the obligation of the party mages, and the fact that the Lysorans would only bear escort for so far.

Poultices are applied, wounds are bandaged, food and water are shared.  The starving pilgrims are pathetically grateful for the good that is done for them, though as the two groups diverge - with three of the pilgrims obviously hurting even more than ever before - it does cross Cedric's mind that perhaps it would have been seemly to share the gift of the Radiant Father's healing.  Hopefully, no evil will cross their paths, as even the most optimistic individual must know that this sorry lot could scarce withstand a single kobold.

Nearly two hours later, darkness has fallen on the road, though the sticky mist has not dissipated in the least... and if anything, the odd sounds are more frequent.  Once or twice, the party could swear that the sound of maniacal giggling can be heard nearby, but no further attack is forthcoming.

Suddenly, a wooden palisade seems to materialize directly in front of the companions. A lone guard stands at the gate, lantern at the ready. "Right, then!" he calls, hand nervously clenching a spear. "Who goes there? State your business!"

Once satisfied with the response, he lowers his spear and examines the group. "Fair enough. Ye may enter the town of Crandel, but cause no trouble.  The road toll is a falchion each..." his gaze fixes on Ch'dau and he pauses and murmurs under his breath.  "Sweet Mother Miellyah..."  The guard swallows nervously.

"The road toll for normal folk is a falchion each.  The beast will pay five falchions, and agree to keep 'is blades in peace knots while inside these walls." He grips the spear tighter.  "Do we understand one another?"

Okay.  It seems like the majority are convinced to part ways with the pilgrims.  Is that what I'm hearing?

From what I understand, our healers have bandaged the wounds of the pilgrims as best they can.  Even so, you have three with more serious wounds - the leader has broken ribs, two have major gouges from the giggling monster.  There are bumps and bruises among the group, as well.

I am aware the Gib has no intention of expending healing magic on anyone unless he feels it is a critical need, and only after combat.  Will Cedric expend any spells on the injured pilgrims?

These folk are fairly hungry.  Does anyone intend to share any food (or cast such a spell) for them? 

Or are we taking our leave at this point, wishign them the best on the road, and continuing to Crandel?

In the interest of moving the game along, you guys can discuss whether or not to offer escort here.  We need not carry on an in-character conversation/argument that can take days to resolve.

Cast votes here, hash it out, etc.  But I'd like to move to the next game post as opposed to arguing for days. 

The pilgrim shakes his head.  "The Shine is holy, and the ground is consecrated.  We travel to offer sacrifice and worship.  Outsiders may not enter the grove itself.  We could have you walk with us a portion, but you could not go all the way."

The bearded pilgrim shakes his head at the bladesinger's query.  "We did not enter the town itself.  We lack the coin to pay the road toll, let alone for an Inn; also, our journey is pressing, so we did not tarry."

He continues.  "The palisade itself was strong, though, and the guards at the gate seemed unworried.  Brother Keldwin bought plums from a cart near the gate; if the town were besieged, I would not think that the vendor would be hawking fruit outside the walls. No, I do not think the evil from the road had entered the town."

Rather than go round and round in the game thread, let me clarify a few things:

* The party has expected to reach Crandel by nightfall.  Even allowing that the pilgrims are much slower than the adventurers, there is no way that they have endured these attacks for four nights between here and the town.  This would mean that the attacks had to have started west of Crandel.

* The pilgrim leader will agree to the above - they have walked the same road in the opposite direction, yes, but their starting point was well to the west of the town, their journey is much farther than four total days.  These are country folk, not surviviors of the town.  That isn't to say that the town is not in jeapordy, but that they didn't come from it. 

* The pilgrim leader has provided information that the road is no safer near the town, which is presumably patrolled.  If it matters, you have not seen any issues on the road farther to the east, which did appear to be as safe as wilderness roads ever are.

* Just an FYI - while Lysoran temples and shrines are typically open to all, a group on a pilgrimage to an isolated shrine may not want an escort may only be allowed to let non-worshippers so close to the shrine.

Haha, fun reading indeed!

Two of the party member - Midge and Atharis - are supposed to be meeting with a contact from the Secret Storm (the order they belong to).  They have both been instructed to make all possible haste. 

Does that preclude you from taking a week's diversion?  That's your call.

Addressing the pilgrim leader, Arancon asks "How long has it been since these fiends first started attacking? Have you any idea where they may have come from or what could have provoked these attacks? Perhaps something strange occurred just before the attacks started?"

The bearded man blinks three times, his gaze unfocused.  He takes so longer to asnwer that the bladesinger begins to worry that he has perhaps lost conciousness, yet remained on his feet.  But answer he does, in a choked voice. 

"We have endured this for four nights, now.  Once, twice a night.  They come, they kill, they take." A sob escapes his gaunt frame. 

"What provoked this, I cannot say.  We had hoped that reaching Crandel would end this, but it seems as bad here as it did on the road to the west."

The pilgrim leader is shaking with emotion.  "We are simple folk!  We seek only to honor the Blue Lady!  We have harmed no one, taken nothing, done nothing unsuual at all!  We stick to the road, camp at night, eat the food we brought with us.  Why would these monsters trouble our path?"

Another sob escapes him.  "You will excuse us now, please.  We thank you for your aid, truly.  But we must pray over our fallen.. and Lysora forgive us, we must leave them.  We have not the strength to dig holes or gather stones, and hve learned the cruelty of or enemy - if we tarry to dig, we may as well lie down in the holes with them, for our doom is sealed.  We will not survive another attack.  Our only chance is to get as close to the Shrine as we can, and hope that their attention is diverted for long enough for us to escape their notice."

He moved away from the party, and the survivin pilgrims move to pray over their dead comrades.

I fully concur.  Blackthorn, that post was excellent.  Way to step it up!

I posted a small update, just to give the pilgrims' answer to Gib's query.  No point to add a day or two on to the decision making process.

After the battle ends, Gib seeks out the leader of the pilgrims.  The bearded man is staggering; if you had to hazard a guess, you would suspect that he has at least a couple of broken ribs.  He fares better than several of his companiions, however - two own deep gouges in their flesh, thanks to the claws of the giggling monstrosity, and three more lie dead.  Only a half dozen pilgrims still live... if one could call their half-starved, shambling existence "life".

 "How far is it to your destination," the claric of Therassor asks, "and will you truly be safe there?" 

The bearded pilgrim shakes his head.  "The Shrine is perhaps three days' journey from here.  Will we be safe?  Only the gods can say.  This is good country, the roads under King Jarom's rule have always been safe.  But in these times?  Who can say?  The road ahead must be safer than the road behind us.  All we can do is have faith... and keep moving."

The fixed gazes of the three bodies on the ground stare into the dusky sky and mock the simplicity of the holy man's words.

Ch'dau will be fine, the paralysis is temporary.

Health:
Ch'dau - minor wounds
Arancon - minor wound
Gib - moderate wound
Kithran - minor wound
Midge - unwounded
Cedric - unwounded
Atharis - unwounded

Stiffened?  That sounds a little... rude, man. 

How did you know?  I'd call the tiger man a priority target in any fight.  That critter isn't stupid.

Ch'dau and Arancon 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.  Arancon, now fully in battle trance, sings his wordless melody as he dances among the carnage.  The bladesinger easily sidesteps a clumsy swipe from a walking corpse, then ripostes and drives his 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.  Arancon 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.

Arancon fights his 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 him.  It leaps, raking its claws along his forearm, then rushes away into the mist.  The sylvari feels the unhaoly chill enter his own body, but it is a passing distraction at most; the pain of the filthy claws is far worse than the old coldness, and he 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, Arancon, 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.