There were more opinions on their next direction than there are points on the compass. The ranger’s logic rang true once again, and the team skirted the dangers of castle, camp and country by staying on the road. The castle was the darkest beacon of danger; each step leaving Stroud’s home behind them made them feel safer. At the river’s crossing the adventurers bravely challenged the stony guardians which turned out to be harmless gargoyles silently watching the waters pass under.
As the sun peaked and started its way West, the adventurers came upon another architectural wonder – monolithic warriors carved from stone guarding the gate in their path. And if it were not enough of a deterrent, the skeletal cavaliers gathered at their feet were for any mortals.
But mere mortals these were not. The Heroes of Oakhurst, from barbarian to warlock and tortle in between, gritted their teeth and flung themselves into the fray. Maulduk and Krill created a staggered front line while Seisha and Eiric began to pummel the soulless creatures from afar. Patchy skin pulled tight across the Clydesdales beat like a drum as the wind rebounded from their charge. The adventurers realized quickly they were outnumbered and all looked bleak.
But prayers of a good death were not the only heard that day. Like a wave crashing into shore, a holy duet sprang from the very center of the clerics. Honu’s neck stretched skyward, his baritone voice floated briefly in the air till the healing notes touched down on the shoulders of Krill and Maulduk. Tenor tunes reached a high-er calling and drove half of the evil forces away, turned away by the Cleric of Knowledge commands.
Vicious strikes were made on the remaining; blasts and bow, grease, and greatsword; yes, the clamor of destruction was near complete. Nearly, for the all-powerful destructive force of Shatterspike made only the sound of a bell without its clapper. The sweet swishing did not end in a satisfactory crash. The forester, fed up with missing the mark flung the errant blade off and made a bead on his enemies with his bow. Finally, the sweet twang of catgut provided the results he craved. And is on cue, Shatterspike itself flew up from the ground and buried itself into the bony skull of a foe.
Perhaps the sword thought itself an arrow instead. Dutifully retrieved and then returned to its master, Krill looked to the group. Seisha, with Ireena in tow, reminded them of their charge. Again six heads and twelve eyes peered at the map, settling on a spot not too far. The spot grew as they closed the distance into a dilapidated windmill. Krill and Eiric shuddered at the sight, underlined by the cautious cawing of a crow. Before they knew it, Seisha and Krill mistook the bird for a clay pigeon and began target practice. Tinkerer and cleric yelled “fowl” and as the crow met the earth, Krill paid a kindness upon it.
Evening snuck up on them slowly and they considered what would be the lesser of two dangers – camping on the road or becoming uninvited guests to the denizens of the windmill…
XP: 375
