Ben is removed from his hook and brought back to consciousness, though he is still seriously injured. In fact, several party members are in bad shape, most notably Norion and Rath, both of whom will bear scars and/or permanent damage from their encounter with the Horned One and their subsequent brush with death.

But, all are alive, which is more than can be said for Bruno and Monvo.

Inas looked on as Ben opened his eyes. It seemed that the lure of coin had overridden the delights offered by the gods in paradise, at least for today. "A great victory was won this day, but not without cost. Our companions gave their lives in battle, valorous to the last. Their names should live on in song. Come, we have much to do."

Leaving eagle to tend to the wounded, Inas began to check the other bodies in the chamber. He suspected all were either dead or beyond saving, but wanted to make certain rather than leave any souls here to slowly wither and die. With a cloth wrapped around his face he began to lay out the dead. Without the necessary tools to bury any bodies he felt that a communal pyre would be fitting, with Monvo and Bruno on top.

As he moved he looked at each body to see if there was anything to identify them, be it a name or home village, something that might allow the group to report back to the families so that they could try to mourn and move forward. Bad news was better than no news in this situation, he felt.

Rath gives Ben a weary smirk. "Welcome back."

Despite his grievous wounds and fatigue, Rath takes only a moment to drain his water skin and then moves, slowly and deliberately, to assist Eoinsson in the grim task. He does remember the recent trouble with the rot grubs, and, torch in hand, he makes efforts to burn out any parasites that might infest the strewn and hanging corpses before anyone handles them.

Despite the grim surroundings, Rath is still mercenary enough to assist in the collection the valuable leavings.

Saliq hugs Ben joyfully. "Thank the gods you made it... er, because it would have been difficult to find another thief."

A little embarassed the illusionist glances at the others. "I agree we should have a funeral for the fallen but we best hurry; I want to be out of here soon."

All told, the adventurers recover 32 mostly intact bodies from the Horned One's lair. Most of these unfortunates are human but there are also a few half-elves and halflings counted among that number as well. Most of these were likely farmers and laborers culled from the surrounding villages of Windham, Newstead and Salt Flats, though the notable exception is an armor-clad half-elf in advancing state of decay. This is definitely no commoner.

The half-elf, a male of indeterminate age, is outfitted in exceptionally crafted plate mail armor that gleams brightly, even in the gloom of this dismal place. The half-elf also wears a beautiful golden locket fitted with several sparkling gems. The locket is molded in the shape of The All-Seeing Eye of Ioun, Goddess of Magic, wherein the sclera is an opaque, smooth Chalcedony gemstone, inside of which is set a magnificently cut Sapphire, depicting the iris. Three smaller, pampel-shaped Sapphires hang from fine gold chains below the central eye.

Within the half-elf's leather shoulder satchel, the party also finds a polished silver goblet set with eight gemstones which run around the circumference of the goblet (Amber, Alexandrite, Amethyst, Carnelia, Garnet, Jasper, Jet and Pearl). Each gemstone is surrounded by arcane runes which are inscribed into the side of the goblet.

Also inside the satchel, are four potions filled with liquids and what looks like the broken shards of three vials which have shattered, their contents staining the satchel's interior.

Beneath a pile of bodies near the half-elf, the party also finds a sturdy oaken staff, atop which, a snake's head is carved, with two polished obsidian gemstones set for the serpent's eyes.

Additionally, the party recovers about 1800 loose gold coins and a handful of wedding bands and crudely crafted necklaces and earrings from the deceased, perhaps providing some clues as to the victims' identity, should one be so inclined to attempt to notify loved ones in the surrounding villages.

Finally, while clearing the lair of bodies, someone discovers a well, covered by a heavy limestone lid. The lid is about four feet wide and three inches thick.

This task takes several hours and it is very soon near the end of the day, nightfall rapidly approaching.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:40, Sun 28 Dec 2014.

Ben (barely) makes his saving throw versus hug, and managed to survive Saliq's hug with a smile. He then lays down on his side and rests while the others search the room.

Once they are done he will gently sip at some water, then stagger to his feet.

"Well Saliq, is this your home? It's a bit of a fixer upper, but it comes with an interesting history."

He glances at the bodies for a moment, but recognizing none he moves away, unconcerned. Life tough around here and he simply glad not to be among their numbers.

"Norion, spot anything unusual in the make up of the walls or anything?"

Once done, he will slowly search the room for traps.

OOC I notice an unclaimed healing potion on the treasure page, any chance it is with us?

In reply to Ben Scristos (msg # 314):

Saliq smiles, seemingly giving Ben's joking suggestion serious consideration. "Perhaps... at the very least it doesn't seem to have current owners."

The illusionist moves off to help the others take care of the dead.

Reaching into his pack, Ben pulls out a potion from an earlier adventure, removed the wax seal that had sealed it, and consumed the contents.

Closing his eyes, he feels the sweet burn of it disseminate through out his body, similar to fine brandy, but unlike alcohol the burn spreads to all of his extremities, as well as down his alimentary canal.

"Better. Not gonna run a mile anytime soon, but indeed better."

He tips the vial over and takes the last few drops on to his tongue.

As he searches the walls for trap and/or secret doors, Ben continues to chatter about the future of the keep.

"Clean it out, not that hard, get a wooden palisade up on the open end of things, with a gate. Not too hard."

Once he has finished with the wall, he will examine the well.

"Once we're a bit healthier we should open this up. Anyway, we need to have a road laid out, hire some folks to watch the place and stop it from being infested by vermin and wild life. Maybe hire someone to come out and evaluate the land for what crops would grow best around here. We should be able to make this place habitable and profitable in under a decade, no problem."

Norion glances around the upper level of the keep, for anything unusual, beyond the damage of time and war.

"Ah canna help too much yet with the cleanup..." not only is he nearly dead, but one arm is broken and dislocated at the shoulder.  "Yah cannot burn these bodies unless yeh have magic ta' do it, would take a hundred trees ta burn fifteen bodies rightly, takes a lot ov heat, ah'll be back, ah must search below ta be sure there isn't an open gate to the other world, ah can see in the dark, so best go on, ah'll call fer if ah need to..." With that, he begins to pick his way through the rubble down into the depths of keep.

ooc: Eagle indicated he hit us all with 1 more CLW, if true, Norion could use it, otherwise, a decent splinter will kill him again

"Norion's right," Rath mutters. "About the fire, I mean." It's not the first time Rath has warned his companions about the challenges of burning bodies properly. He looks to Eagle, squinting. "Can you? Burn an adequate pyre, with your magic?"

___

Rath makes sure to hold the trinkets and wedding rings aside -- all those potential identifiers of the lost townsfolk and villagers -- not quite sure what he intends to do with them.

At a rest period, Rath examines the collection, but he's thinking about Monvo and Bruno, and he talks about the arrangements with Ben, Saliq, and Inas. "Bruno's got no family, none that he ever talked about. Well, he never talked about anything, of course, but I understand he's got no one. Died with Monvo the closest thing to a brother. Deserved better. Not that anything in this world is about what we deserve."

He pauses, scratching his neck. "Monvo's folks live in Stormhaven, leastwise they did up to a few years back. They won't be mournful. His Papa mourned that loss a long, long time ago, and his Mama would probably kill him herself is she saw him again. Still, they should know." Resolved to an unpleasant task -- worse, maybe, than the sorting of the dead they were doing now -- Rath hesitantly adds, "I should be the one to tell them."
___

Rath stands and stretches, works himself up to a new task, feeling self-conscious and out of place. He takes the token of Pelor, the one he wears on strings around his neck almost all the time, and handles it roughly in both hands. "I don't know the formal rites. Don't know the words to say to put these spirits to peace. But I do think that nothing I say is going to bring a God to do anything He wasn't going to do already, and I got to think that He'll light their way to someplace warm and restful. Someplace not so hard as this one." Still clutching that sun-symbol, Rath walks among the dead. "I'm not the one to bless you," he tells them apologetically. "But be blessed. Lay quiet and be blessed, if you can. Pelor light your way."

Finally, he sits, off by himself for some long moments, and pulls the amulet from around his neck and shoves it deep into his rucksack. After that long quiet, he hisses, "Damn You." It's not Rath's first blasphemy, but it may be his shortest, and his most sincere.

Ben searches for, but does not find any traps within the ruin of the keep's west wing. The place is in shambles though. Apparently neither demons, hill giants, dread ogres, nor norkers have any sense of tidiness if the state of the keep is any indication. Clearly this was not a priority for the Horned One: it's lair is in a word, filthy.

Though the Horned One damaged much of the make-shift shanty town that had sprawled across the courtyard, this area does not show the general filth exhibited in the keep's west wing. At least whomever lived here knew enough not the crap where you eat, because demons have no such compunction.

Returning back to the well...

The well's limestone cap is still intact and though there are no locking mechanisms keeping it in place, judging by its size, it probably weights over 600 pounds. Needless to say, it will take a few people to move it aside to see the state of the well on the other side.

Inas nodded in agreement about the pyre. Without wood it would be tricky. "I have several flasks of oil that should help with the task, and I'm sure that we can find some wood here to get it going. A mass pyre should require a lot less wood."

He looked over at Saliq. "Do you seriously mean to claim this place as a home? A place of demons and evil doing? It would take more that some planks of wood and the work of a decent carpenter to rebuild this place, you would need the services of a whole army of priests to remove the foul stain of evil." He shook his head. "I suggest we cleanse this place with fire. Let flame lick the walls and set these poor souls free. Afterwards let nature reclaim it for her own. Let bird and bat roost in it's high vaults, and other creatures shelter behind its crumbling walls."

Shaking his head, Ben leaves the others to their drama. Evil leaves no stain, and if making this keep a bastion of peace to protect the local area, it would be nothing more than a justice.

"Mayhaps we can keep the bodies long enough for the families to claim their kin? Some of them anyway."

In reply to Ben Scristos (msg # 321):

Eagle sat in quiet contemplation as the others talked, seemingly indifferent to the death or the treasure. In truth he had never channelled so much of the earth spirit at one time, and was both exhausted, elated and slightly scared by the power he had wielded - bringing both life and death to the battlefield.

After a while he notices the condition of his friends, all whom had suffered the demon's wrath. In turn he lays his hands on Norion, Rath and Saliq, invoking Melora's grace to give them some succour.

As he brings himself back to the present he wonders what the night might bring.
'We are tired and wounded. We should stop fussing about ten year's time and wonder about right now. We can camp here or return to the village before dark - both brings its own risks.'

He stops for a moment. 'Perhaps if I took the form of a bird I could seek help from the village - they could come end masse to identify their dead. I have little energy to defend us here if I stayed.'

OOC:1:50, Today: Eagle rolled 16 using 3d8 with rolls of 6,2,8. clw x 3: norion, rath, saliq.

Guys the DM is hinting more than once about nightfall - presumably there are still some ogres floating atound ? Think we need a plan to get us through the night!

Norion nods to this last,  "'tis only four, maybe five hours walk back ta' town, a bat should make that distance in little time, the townsfolk should 'ave a chance ta' claim their lost ones, have their clergy do proper rights fer them and bury 'em proper, they might be able to lend a hand as well.  Eagle, could you return with some horses and a wagon, it would help us get our findings back to town.  Thank you fer the healing, almost feeling alive again."  Norion has gathered his armor and weapons back, after cleaning the armor, he puts it back on with help, then ties his injured arm tight so it won't get further injured or be in the way, and will soon be armed again.

"I dunnah think the Ogres are brave enough ta' return but if they do, we'll be ready..."


ooc: did the number of dead found include the ones that were left out on the plain, the ones the giants were dragging home before the battle started?  If well is in good order, I would think the ruin could be restored in time.

Not listed as treasure but there are a lot of chains around, those on the plain, and those hanging from the roof, those are probably pretty valuable to a blacksmith.

"I agree with Norion and Eagle, we best focus on the here and now," Saliq said. The illusionist was looking a little healthier thanks to druidic attention. "Especially giving the dead the proper rites." A devout worshipper of Sehanine himself he was always concious about the role of the gods.

"I'll be more use in the morning; my magic is all but gone and I need rest to regain my focus."

Glad the others had heard his words, but apparently not the source, Ben proceeded as if they were to spend the night.

"The Eagle shall fly at dawn then, and in a few hours time, the locals will say 'the Eagle has landed', auspicious words for any time or place."

Based on condition and cleanliness Ben suggests they make camp in the Shanty-town above. He offers to take a six hour watch atop the parapets, watching for ogres, giants and any other stray irritants that might inhabit the night. "I will use my grappling hooks and rope to put down a rope ladder. If I see anything that I feel I should continue to watch, or that is coming too fast for me to get down and warn you, I will drop several of the plentiful fist sized rocks over there," he says, pointing well away from the spot picked for camping.

While looking for the best spot to camp, Ben will also search the ramshackle buildings for anything of value, especially books, papers, or noted which might inform them about their foes. He will also keep a keen eye out for anything that reminds him of Lord Myron of the family Talas. This all had (to Ben's lurid imagination) that cad's spoor all over it.

As he climbed to his guard post to lay down the rope (and reminding the others to bring him some dinner when it's ready) Ben gets the lay of the land, marking certain landmarks in his head and checking for any sign of life. Once he has settled in to his watch, he will spend some small amount of time wondering about the lizard men whom he hoped had returned home, how he would explain his new scars to his mum, and wondering what completely different tale he will share with interested ladies. Somehow he felt the truth inappropriate as it would scare his mother to greatly, and would probably be scoffed at by the ladies as ridiculous. It was, he thought chuckling to himself, quite ridiculous. He was beginning to doubt it himself.

Perhaps he could share the truth in the form of a bedtime story for his little siblings, and his new nephew whom he had yet to meet.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:21, Tue 30 Dec 2014.

Saliq is surprised but grateful to Ben for his offer of taking up watch. "Well try not to catch a chill at least. If we're lucky at all - and granted we usually aren't - you're in for a long boring night looking at nothing."

The illusionist also promised to bring dinner. His mind was soon turning to other matters however. Since leaving Stormhaven he had come close to death more than once. He still hardly dared think on the eyes of the dragon and the feeling of his skin turning to unfeeling stone. And now the demon... Saliq shivered and drew his robes around him. What would have come of him if he had ended up like poor Monvo and Bruno? He did not even have an apprentice to carry on his training an it had been years since he had seen his home. The exiled prince slowly settled into a long and melancholy evening.

"Wake me at midnight," Rath suggests to Ben, before the thief heads for his lookout. "But give me some warning. Otherwise, I might skewer you like a fish, and I don't want to do that."

After eating lightly, the battered, shredded fighter settles down on a hard surface near the remains of the cooking fire and rests, motionless. After a long time, he says quietly, "Musfara? Do you have enough magic left to conjure some small light? The darkness is ... annoying me."

Saliq waved his hand and muttered some arcane word and a lit candle came into existence floating gently near Aldo's head. It did not actually shed much illumination but it was something.

"Enough to read by," the illusionist said, smile rueful.

---

OOC: Saliq casts Phantasmal Force.

Norion watches Ben move into the tower, "Ben will watch from above, Eagle, Ah
hate to ask knowing you've born so much of the weight of this battle, but many hours will pass wasted if word isn't given ta' the towns mayor.  If yeh think you can get there safe, an' rally the word, please do.  We will hold this fort, wotever comes.  Warn them ov' the dire view, families may naught handle it well, we'll do wot we can to lesson the blow in tha mornin'.  They may know this place if described, so close to their towns, but from the Ford, we followed Ogre tracks, ours are added to those too, ah think they mostly knew their kin were dead, but let them naught know the horrors they may have faced before theh died...

Inas and Rath, rest well, Saliq and I will stay awake long as we can, then it'll be yer turn to hold till dawn..."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:12, Tue 30 Dec 2014.

Recognizing that precious daylight is rapidly slipping over the western horizon, the party decides to spend the night within the ruined keep's courtyard, rather than risking an overland twilight trek through the Forlorn Hills. Having resolved the matter, the party sets up watch rotations and a goes over a few basic strategic considerations before settling in for the night, eager for the morning to arrive.

Then darkness comes.

Shortly after sunset, the party hears muffled howls, screams and moans coming from somewhere within the darkness of the west wing.

The night will not go quietly it seems.

Looking down, Ben makes sure the others respond. He was dubious about leaving his post, regardless of the potential for interior threats.

After eating a hearty meal to replace the energy expended by the arduous battle, Inas slept well. He had learned many years ago to get sleep when offered and never take it for granted. With his cloak used as a pillow and his blanket wrapped tight he kept reasonably warm.

When the warning came he hurried himself awake. He quickly lit his hooded lantern and scanned the area looking for threats. Maybe it was just the voices of night-time foragers echoing through the old stones... but maybe not. He held his sword ready in one hand, the lantern aloft in the other, and waited in silence.

Inas shines a lantern into the darkened west wing and, while standing outside, looks around for the source of the awful sound, but sees nothing unusual. Well, except for the fact the place has been used by a demon lord as a macabre torture chamber and slaughterhouse.

The noise is definitely coming from somewhere in the grand hall, but where?