Lavanda-26
It feels good to be out of the rain. I write this from within the Nivertois Mill. The group lulled to sleep by raindrops tapping on the roof. I’m soothed by warmth as the water evaporates off my fur thanks to the roaring fire in the nearby hearth—courtesy of Goat, whom apparently can vomit fire now with a twist of its tail from its companion, Urne. That dragonkin is a strange one…
Shortly after our scrap with that damned elf and dwarf we continued on our mission to investigate the whereabouts of the envoy working for that rich old bat, Fabiola. I could care less about Kharchu’s whereabouts, but there’s gold to be had to repair my hive and procure some new throwing blades. We didn’t make it far when the blue-haired elf caught up with us. No bother hiding—she’s not stupid enough to lose to us twice. She had the nerve to ask to join our party! (Funny how a hammer to the head can change a person’s attitude towards you.) I don’t trust this woman. She made her intentions known that she wants Goat. What’s to stop her from taking off with it in the night when we lie down? She claimed that everything she’d come to know up until the moment she got a lashing from us was all a lie. Said she saw something special in our party. The elf’s hair was blue but her tongue was silver because the group was foolish enough to allow her to accompany us. I, at least, had them compromise by putting her in restraints at night. I’ll be damned if she stands watch. We gave her the dignity of not tying a bell around her neck to know her whereabouts at all times.
As we continued on to our destination earlier today, I couldn’t help but notice the land had seen better days. Broken down carts, houses burned, wells abandoned, gardens overgrown with weeds… despite the return of a few settlers, this place has been stripped of soul. The others say it was one of The Profane over 100 years ago. I get an uneasy feeling here…
We approached the mill, which was flanked by large, upright flat stones stones with blue runes inscribed on them. Urne and Riv surmise it’s some sort of magical connection to the hill, predating the construction of this mill. Maybe there is some further purpose to them, but we’ll probably never know. I noticed a bush nearby that seemed out of place. Damn near lost my footing when I went to investigate. It was intentionally covering up a hidden wagon trail. Didn’t want to get too off track, so we’ll investigate that on the morrow.
The sign above the door said “Nivertois Mill Historic Society.” Wisps of smoke smoldering from the chimney suggested recent activity here. We knocked on the door, but no answer. The dragonborn and little girl failed to pick the lock. Riv and I got clever. Noticing small slits in the stone, Riv turned into a snail and my bees assisted by forming a hand for Riv to rest on. They elevated Riv to the slit above and he slithered his way inside. He changed back to his bipedal form and unlocked the door us. The inside was more cozy than I imagined. Fully furnished, artifacts of the Mill’s history, and a ledger on the table documenting donations to the museum, scribbles and notes that suggested boredom from whomever was employed here. We looted the chest because the Mill was no longer in need of investment, and that’s when we noticed a trap door to the cellar.
The smell down there reminded us of our encounter with Nucruk: death and decay. The entrance faintly lit by the sconce nearby, it revealed that we were actually in a cave. Riv conjured magic to light the way from us and noticed some mushrooms nearby for foraging. But as he got close, we were all deafened by a blood-curdling scream. What Riv attempted to forage was a shrieker! He tried to torch these damned things, Olivia finished it off with a bolt through its cap. My sensitive ears praised her.
But silence did not return… Brom sensed another noise not too far off. He used tremorsense to locate the sound and we headed towards it. Brom cried out, “Zombie!” Despite the danger nearby, I’d pay a silver to see the funny look of startlement on his face. Brom used his magic to bring a part of the cave down on the animated corpse. It lay face down under the weight of the rubble. Bold put it out of its misery with a blow from his hammer. Right before its corrupted brain scattered across the ground, it uttered “Brent—”. Whatever that meant. But still, other noises persisted. I had Riv light my torch for more light down here. Now that we could see better we looked around the space. Urne triggered a floor trap and jumped out of the way as a rotating saw blade emerged from the wall at breakneck speed, stopping just before Olivia and Riv. The saw was close enough to trim the eyebrows off the little girl’s forehead. A very inviting cave, indeed.
Further inside, we were caught off guard by more zombies. I embarrassingly lobbed a dagger with incredible inaccuracy. I will never hear the end of this from my companions. Olivia put a bolt in its eye, and Riv removes its torso from its legs. The lower half of it soldiered on for another step before collapsing near the upper half.
We encountered a third zombie that seemed docile; It just stood there. We were going to let it be until Olivia sunk a bolt into its rotted flesh and chastised us for going soft on these necrotic nitwits. With the hostilities gone, we took in our surroundings. Paintings decorated the walls that appeared ancient. Olivia found remains of a small camp that was recently established. Inside a tent we discover a journal. Reading the journal under torchlight, we learn that it documented years of thought from it’s owner—Kharchu. Pages of her life on paper, as an angsty but ambitious teenager, to her rise as a professional working for Fabiola. Recent entries discuss the sinking of the fleet. From there, the notes got more cryptic. Names like Phantephon Thalus’thur, Ethenia Mephisei’thra, and Orphea Iphitos’thur were repeated, and several circles and arrows pointing to the word, “maelstrom.” The final pages grew dark… A harrowing ambush drove Kharchu and her companions out of Mellow Stand, rendezvousing here. The final entry was 13 sets ago in this cave—Her companion Garreth was gravely wounded, but they dared not venture out in search of healing potions, fearing their ambushers would find them. Korat wouldn’t sleep because she heared things nearby. Kharchu decided to scout the area to make sure it was safe… No further entries were written…
My hope is that we slayed their killers today and brought peace to their souls. My fear is that the zombies were what became of that doomed party.