Dawn broke over the Brotherhood's farm compound, the sunlight struggling to pierce through the mist hanging low over the fields. The wooden palisades loomed ahead, their towering spikes glistening with dew. Guards patrolled the walls, their heavy boots thudding rhythmically on the walkways. Behind them, smoke rose lazily from chimneys, the acrid scent of burnt refuse wafting over the quiet fields. The compound was alive with the sound of livestock and shouted orders.
Weylan crouched behind a cluster of bushes, his shadow melting with his surroundings.
Selvara perched on his shoulder in raven form, her head cocked, sharp eyes scanning the compound for any sign of trouble.
Skorr lay flat in the tall grass nearby, his duskgnome form blending into the shadows of the terrain.
Ulmenglanz stood farther back, her bark-textured skin and mossy green hair making her nearly indistinguishable from the surrounding foliage.
William knelt beside them, his long coat blending into the muted tones of the early morning. He pointed to the cattle pen near the east wall, where dozens of cows milled about restlessly. “There,” he whispered. “We release the livestock to cause a distraction. The guards will scramble to contain them. Once the chaos starts, we slip into the main house and head for the cellar.”
“Simple enough,” Weylan muttered. He wasn’t sure that would work. Even with a distraction the compound was a wide-open area, easy to guard. On the other hand, he had expected a lot more guards. “Let’s just hope those mercenaries are as slow-witted as they look. There’s fewer than I expected, but there could be a lot more inside the buildings.”
Selvara’s feathers ruffled, her beady eyes fixed on the guard tower nearest them. “Caw”, she croaked softly, her head tilting.
William glanced at the bird, seemed to expect something, then simply shrugged and turned to Weylan. “It's low plague. Like the tides, the revenant numbers have receded.”
“They’ll hear us before we even get close,” Skorr said, his violet eyes flicking toward the nearest guard. “We need a quieter approach.”
Weylan was prepared for this. He reached into his belt, pulling out a tiny vial wrapped in leather strips. He held it up to the raven. “Dire-bear sweat,” he explained. “The alchemist that sold it to me guaranteed that one drop near livestock will make them go crazy.”
Selvara flapped her wings, but before the raven could grasp the vial and lift off, Ulmenglanz stopped her. “Wait… There’s something wrong.” She crouched, pressing her hand to the earth. Her green hair shimmered faintly as her eyes closed in concentration. “There’s a blight nearby,” she said softly. “A source of rot and corruption...”
William looked up. “Undead guardians?”
“Could be undead… But there’s only one source of this evil magic. The compound is… well… there’s death and pain and suffering. Their livestock seems to be treated horribly. But… it’s mostly natural. I don’t think there are undead inside the compound.”
Skorr looked around. “Can you locate the source?”
The dryad nodded thoughtfully; one hand pressed against the ground. She concentrated. After a while, the group around her started fidgeting and shuffling their feet. More than half an hour had passed when the dryad finally stood up. “It’s outside the farm compound. Follow me.”
The croup crept silently through the woods, keeping a safe distance from the wooden palisades of the compound. Ulmenglanz led them farther into the woods, then stopped. They were about four hundred steps north of the farm, deep in the woods. Everything seemed normal at first, then even Weylan noticed something was wrong with the plants. “The undergrowth over there seems ill. The ferns are pale and the moss is dry and crumbling.
Ulmenglanz nodded. “Well spotted. There’s something down there. About three feet below.”
Skorr removed his backpack and took a small spade from its side holster. Without a word, he started digging.
Weylan suppressed the urge to whistle. Duskgnomes could dig fast.
The others took up sentry posts since no one else had thought to bring digging tools on a stealth mission. Skorr didn’t mind. The earth was surprisingly easy to dig. Or less surprising, since someone clearly had dug up this patch not too long ago.
They did see a patrol, but even William, a city boy by nature, was annoyed by how easy they were to spot. They stomped through the wood near the compound loudly talking and joking around. They did not expect any form of attack.
After less than an hour, Skorr’s spade struck at wood. He dug the hole easily big enough to work in, so he had no problem expanding it to uncover the wooden box. It was about the size of a human. Cleaning up the top, he saw runes burned into the wood. “Can someone identify that stuff? There's runework on the crate and an onyx inlaid on the top.”
Selvara flew down and almost started talking when she remembered William and her role as a mere familiar. She studied the script and flew up. She looked at Weylan, shrugged with her wings and cawed.
Weylan scratched his head. “Probably means it’s safe?”
William arched an eyebrow. “Your team’s familiar can detect magical traps?”
Weylan shrugged. They had never explained who’s familiar the raven was. Which had quite irked the nosy investigator. “Sometimes? How should I know. Familiars don’t come with instructions.”
William once more decided to ignore the fact a shepherd should not be able to get a familiar. And that he moved through the underbrush just as silent as the dryad. The duskgnome seemed to be quite challenged for a ranger class, but he’d heard the race was more suited to caves and the underground kingdoms that supposedly existed. More things to investigate.
It took some effort but the team managed to lift the crate and lay it down on the ground.
William scanned it. “This side is up, like in any normal casket. All sides are covered in runes. I have no idea what they do. You?”
Ulmenglanz climbed into the hole and came back up shrugging. “This is the source of the blight. It has seeped into the ground and from there up into the plants. It’s slow, but in a few months, this will be a dying patch of land.” She went over to the crate, touched it, and concentrated. “The feeling of rot and filth was almost gone after we moved the crate. Now it's slowly starting up again. I’d guess the runes are designed to slow the spread of corruption, to make it less obvious.”
Everyone else shook their heads. William sighed. “Should have thought to bring a mage. Well, we have disturbed the site, if we just leave it, even one of the dumber patrols could stumble upon it if they do a wider sweep.”
Skorr eagerly pulled out a crowbar and started opening the crate. Before he could start, Selvara flapped her wings and a zone of silence descended on the area. William turned around sharply, but he hadn’t seen anyone casting. Innocent faces looked in all directions but his.
The lid of the crate fell soundlessly to the side. They all gathered to look inside. There was the unmistakable form of a dead body, but no explosion of evil magic or something similar dramatic. It was just a barely decayed corpse. It didn’t even smell. Selvara dispelled the zone of silence.
“That’s him,” William said, his voice tight. “The description matches.”
Ulmenglanz stepped forward, her fingers brushing the air above the body. “The decay is slow... they’ve must have used preservation spells.” She paused, frowning. “Something’s not right.”
As if in answer, the corpse twitched.
Weylan swore, drawing his sword-staff as the illusion dissolved to reveal Luthgar’s real body. His pale, bloated form was marred by strange sigils carved into his flesh. His eyes snapped open, glowing with a sickly green light. With a guttural snarl, the undead farmer lunged at the group.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Trap!” Skorr shouted, drawing his war-pick.
The undead breathed in and opened his mouth, but another well-timed zone of silence from Selvara stilled his alarm cry.
His tongue vibrated, spittle flew and the noxious miasma of death and decay left everyone turning away retching.
William cursed. Weylan suppressed a grin. Their employer probably wasn’t sure they’d remember his orders during the planning session. In case he’d already been turned, they needed to take Luthgar alive… not dead… intact! If they killed him now, his body would dissolve, since the world considered him a monster.
The undead tried to climb out of the casket, but Ulmenglanz pushed him back with her quarterstaff.
The shadows of the trees seemed to move of their own accord and the grasping hands of Luthgar found no purchase on the suddenly frictionless casket. Skorr jumped inside the crate and simply stepped on the body, while Weylan pulled out a hammer and long nails from Skorr’s backpack and started nailing the feet to the casket, while the dryad and Skorr held him still.
Weylan was glad he couldn’t hear the sound of nails scrunching into bone and flesh.
Arms and hands came next. Then Skorr got some earth and squashed it right into the still moving mouth of the zombie. He got almost bitten twice, until he rammed a branch into its mouth sideways to keep it open. Then he poured water from his canteen into the opening until it blubbered over. A few more of the extra-long nails and the zombie was unable to move. Then Skorr used his spade to bury the head in earth and finally returned the lid and nailed it shut. Selvara dropped the silencing spell while everyone dropped to the ground exhausted.
William grinned. “That must have been the most surreal and ghastly sight I’ve ever witnessed.”
Ulmenglanz knocked on the casket. “That should hold him, but how do we move the whole thing? Luthgar was a big man and this thing is made of thick pine planks.”
Weylan paled and turned to William. “When we went home and you asked what we’d do if we found a zombie, I had the idea to just nail him to a plank or something. That’s why Skorr brought so many nails. I didn’t think we would have to carry him.”
Skorr shrugged. “We just get two long branches and nail them to the casket. Then we can carry him just like at a funeral. Or you two do that, since I’m too small to team up with one of you.”
Since no one got a better idea, they went with it. Then Weylan took out on of their blankets and wrapped it over the casket to hide the runes. Weylan and William hoisted the thing on their shoulders and stomped forward. There was really no way to do that stealthy. They had to stay between trees and on the best paths. It was hard work, but they made good time. Ulmenglanz changed place with William from time to time, since he didn’t have more than the bare average of strength and constitution. Skorr scouted the way ahead and kept far enough in front, to be mostly out of sight. Selvara flew above them but, but her vision was restricted inside the wood.
They got halfway around the compound, when Skorr hurried back to the team. “Trouble ahead. There’s a patrol making a sweep. More than a dozen, probably more. They’re spread out far, impossible to avoid. Not even if we leave the casket, unless we drop it and ran in the opposite direction, deeper into the wood.”
Weylan and William sat down their load and the group gathered to a whispered discussion. Ulmenglanz looked around. “We could bury the casket here. It won’t disturb nature much if we come back to retrieve it tonight or tomorrow.”
William shook his head. “I have studied the Brotherhoods methods. Most of their members are quite dumb, but they always mix in someone with the needed abilities. Therefore at least one of them will have a skill or feat to sense hidden people or objects. You three can escape, but I’m a city dweller with no stealth skill. I’ll stay behind and cause a distraction. They probably won’t harm me if I’m just a wanderer in the woods.”
Weylan shook his head. “If there are no witnesses around, they will surely kill you. Just to take your shoes. Are you ok with that?” Since he knew William was from another world, he should have no problem with dying, since he would respawn. Unless he feared losing a level, which at level 3 would be quite craven. He waited for William’s reaction.
The investigator pondered the question, then shook his head. “I’m not yet ready to die. At least not without dire need or for a worthy cause. This would be a quite pointless ending. Any other options? There’s not much time and I’m not good with planning under pressure.”
Before anyone could answer, men armed with bows emerged from behind the trees. Clad in robes covered with green and dark brown scraps of fabric, with some twigs and leaves mixed in. Even Skorr hadn’t seen them already surrounding the team.
Their bows and short swords looked quite cheap, but workable. One pushed back his hood and greeted them: “Hold! Who are you! This is a restricted area!”
Weylan ground his teeth. The brotherhood really had a clever one planning their tactics. They had a team of stealthy rangers sneak in front of the obvious group. He looked around. They were completely surrounded. The trees were sparse enough to allow the archers to shoot at them. Even one arrow hit would slow them down enough for the main group to catch them. He gulped. He had thought of a plan in case they were caught, but it was completely crazy. But what choice did they have?
William opened his mouth to speak, but Weylan stepped forward, laid his arm around him and gave them a friendly smile. “Gods above, you scared my pants off. I first thought you’d be bandits. But you’re obviously some of the heroes that were sent from another world to protect us. Well met! Sorry for intruding on your land. We are just taking a shortcut from the hunting lodge of our dear friend Norgrim, may he rest in peace, to the city. It was his last wish to be buried in the cemetery near his late wife.”
The leader squinted suspiciously. “Aren’t NPCs supposed to be burned after death?”
William clasped his hands solemnly. “Of course, but Norgrim here was a firm believer in the church of Nistrul. I myself tend more to the teachings of Lieselotte, but there’s a god for everyone as they say. It’s a family tradition. Even after the Necromancers war they stayed faithful.” He pressed his hands to his mouth as if he’d said too much, then looked around as if seeing the armed men around him for the first time. “You… don’t mind an old man holding on to his beliefs, do you? We’re no followers of Nistrul of course. We just intend to give an old friend the funeral he always wanted.”
The guards doubled over laughing, slapping their knees. “No. No problem. Really. We’re members of the Brotherhood. We… we are quite tolerant concerning others’ beliefs.”
Weylan started heaving up the casket and prepared to wave the patrol a merry goodbye, but the leader of the group stopped him: “However,” He held up his hand with an evil grin, “we can’t just let anyone take a shortcut through or area. You will have to follow us to our base.”
More enemies appeared from trees around them. Even the not especially talented revenants of the main group had managed to use the time to surround them.
Ulmenglanz gripped her quarterstaff harder and Skorr put his hand on the war-pick on his back.
Weylan looked around. Then he forcibly relaxed with a relieved look on his face. “Ah, so you’re here for the quest. I feared you’d be too few to defend us against the Goblin Ghost Wolf Riders.”
The leader frowned. “The what?”
Weylan continued and a red light shone from his forehead, signifying he was about to issue a quest. “The escort quest! Oh, if some noble heroes were ready to escort us and the body of the deceased into the city. There will be a reward if we make it safely to our destination. I must warn you though, if one of our group should fall, a penalty will be levied against all quest takers.”
One of the archers groaned. “I hate escort quests…”
The leader weighed his head. “I don’t know… we’re not supposed to stop until we’ve patrolled the whole perimeter. The boss doesn’t tolerate disobedience. And an escort quest… Nah. Forget it.”
He waved them through.
Weylan nodded gratefully and they carried their burden to the edge of the forest where they’d left the wagon William had provided. After heaving the casket on board, they rode away to the city.
Ulmenglanz looked around to check if anyone spied on them. Only after she was sure they were alone did she smack Weylan on the arm. “Never again suggest that I in any way approve of the church of blight and death.”
Weylan rubbed his arm wincing. “Sorry. I didn’t exactly have much time to invent a complex story featuring you as the distant aunt, raised by tree people, that always opposed Norgrim’s belief but could be persuaded to help us at least transport him to the city.”
She thought about it, then nodded.
William shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand how they didn’t even bat an eye at our group. Duskgnomes are still rare since the revenants have started to take their forms only weeks ago, as I understand it. Dryads are even more rare.”
Weylan shrugged. “They were noobs. Freshly spawned into our world. They have no concept of what is normal or not. They probably wouldn’t find it strange to meet a unicorn or a dragon.”
William looked at him suspiciously. “So, you’re a questgiver?”
“Everyone can create a quest. It’s not hard. Once you’ve issued a system created quest, you get some access to create and modify quests more thoroughly.”
The investigator rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Say, what would have happened if they’d chosen to take the quest?”
Weylan answered by making the quest information public. Until then it had been set to only be available to anyone who actually took the quest.
“Silent Escort”
Type: Escort Quest Level 5
Objective:
Safely escort team NPCS and Luthgar’s reanimated body to the church of Nistrul in Mulnirsheim for ritual confirmation of his time of death.
Details:
The Brotherhood will stop at nothing to reclaim the remains of Luthgar the Blind. Your mission is to escort the body through hostile territory and deliver it to the city without being intercepted. Speed, stealth, and vigilance will be your greatest allies.
Failure Conditions:
Losing possession of the body.
Destruction of the body.
Death of a member of team NPCS.
Failure Penalty:
Loss of reputation with team NPCs and William the investigator.
Rewards:
30 Gold from the personal funds of the Questgiver.
Variable XP for successfully evading threats.
“That’s the text they would have gotten? They'd have killed us on the spot!” William sounded incredulous.
Weylan shrugged. “I can’t lie or put false information into a quest. Most of it still is created by the Voice. Warning them of a penalty probably did the trick. The quest descriptions seem to get longer and more descriptive lately. I don’t know if that’s the Voice improving her style or just normal for higher level quests.”
William shook his head in mock defeat and mumbled about how he hated improvised plans.