As the adventurers rested, their weary limbs craving respite after the trials they'd endured, they were disturbed by the faintest movement at the tavern's door. Chamomile, the wolf companion, growled softly, the low rumble vibrating through the room, as Vincent’s keen eyes caught sight of a figure standing in the doorway. A gaunt man, pale as death itself, stood silhouetted against the dim light. His tattered gray robes fluttered like the remnants of a forgotten era around his thin, almost skeletal frame.
Vincent's hand instinctively tightened around his sickle as his gaze sharpened. There was something unnatural about this man—he was no local. Vincent’s suspicion grew as the man’s labored breath filled the silence of the room. The stranger gave a curt nod toward Vincent before speaking in a voice like rustling parchment, "You must be the ones I've been searching for."
Vincent’s brow arched, his grip still firm on his weapon. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The man paused, then revealed his purpose. "I was sent by Leinad. He seeks an elf and a halfling—two who were sent to this town before me. I tracked them with ease, following the trail of undead corpses that led me here to this very tavern. I’ve also been hired to help deal with the infestation of the dead in this area."
Vincent considered the explanation, and after a moment's thought, he used his quarterstaff to nudge the halfling, Chord, awake. As Chord stirred groggily, the man continued, "I am Douglas, a wizard. Leinad sent me after he lost contact with you. I am to assist in matters of the arcane, should you need it."
Chord, now fully awake, quickly filled Douglas in on everything they had learned thus far—of the curse on the town, the strange happenings, and the trials they had endured to reach this point. Understanding began to dawn in Douglas’s eyes. He suggested they seek out more answers: how to lift the curse, how to enter the temple, and, most pressing of all, who Lady Tyton truly was.
As they ventured out of the tavern, the adventurers spotted a house that stood out among the others—opulent and grand. The mayor’s residence, clearly, with its towering stone foundation, elaborate columns, and intricate carvings on the doors and windows, all screaming wealth and power in a town otherwise built in haste and practicality.
The door, reinforced with steel facets and a complex locking mechanism, loomed before them. Chord, ever eager, urged his companions to attempt picking the lock. Douglas, fumbling for his thieves’ tools, approached the mechanism with caution. However, his efforts were met with a sudden jolt—the internal gears shifted, and a wooden bolt shot out from within, striking Douglas squarely in the shoulder.
They managed to pull the bolt free and staunch the bleeding with hasty bandages, but the adventurers knew their next move would require a bit more finesse. With no other immediate recourse, they circled around the building to inspect the windows.
At the back of the house, they found a large, arched window adorned with stained glass and intricate lead inlays. A simple latch on the inside beckoned, and with Vincent's jeweler’s kit, they carefully pried loose the glass, allowing them to unlatch the mechanism. With practiced ease, they slid the window open and climbed inside.
They found themselves in a lavish bedroom, where silk sheets and velvet beddings lay atop a walnut-framed bed inlaid with gold. The furniture was delicate, the lace curtains shimmering with the faintest touch of opulence. For a moment, they rifled through the belongings, grabbing anything of value, before moving on to the next room.
The dining hall awaited them. But as they entered from the bedroom, they were accosted by an eerie azure mist—a swirling, magical fog that filled the room with an unnatural chill. At the center of a grand banquet table sat the mayor, surrounded by two youthful men and their wives. The mayor’s sons, perhaps, but they appeared as pale and lifeless as the man himself. The feast around them, once a grand spectacle of delicacies, now appeared putrid and rotting.
The image shimmered before them, and Vincent and Douglas, both adept in arcane matters, quickly dispelled the illusion. What remained was a horrifying sight: the mayor, now a wight, his skin leathery and decayed, with the corpse-like bodies of his sons and daughters-in-law seated at the table. The undead creatures remained rigid, frozen by the wight’s unnatural will. The food, now nothing more than maggot-ridden remains, spoke volumes about the corruption festering in this place.
The wight raised a goblet, his gaze fixed upon Douglas. "Ah, you must be one of Lady Tyton’s envoys," the mayor’s voice croaked.
Chord opened his mouth to protest, but was quickly silenced by the wight's disdainful command. "I will not waste my time with demis," he sneered, the word a venomous insult.
The Human, Douglas, forced to be the diplomat, attempted to parley with the undead creature, his words laden with deception. But the mayor, shrewd and ancient, saw through the ruse with ease. With a commanding gesture, he ordered his sons to attack.
The battle erupted in an instant. Chord moved swiftly, his fist crashing into the temple of one of the zombies before it could strike. Chamomile, sensing the danger, lunged at the wight as Vincent muttered ancient incantations under his breath. The wolf's form crackled with lightning, its fur dancing with arcs of power that singed the undead mayor’s rotting flesh.
Douglas, standing firm, summoned a protective aura of white light, blinding the zombies and shielding the adventurers from harm. The undead lashed out in fury, but their strikes found no purchase.
Vincent conjured flames, sending them arcing through the room, while Chord tripped one of the zombies and unleashed a flurry of punches that put it down for good. Douglas, his hands a blur of motion, hurled bolt after bolt of arcane energy at their attackers.
In the chaos, Douglas found a vial of lantern oil and, with a knowing smirk, hurled it at the floor beneath the enemies. Flames erupted in a sudden blaze, catching the wight and his undead spawn in a fiery inferno. The mayor, now ablaze, collapsed to the floor, his unnatural life snuffed out.
With the undead threat vanquished, the adventurers searched the house for more clues. In the mayor’s study, they uncovered a deed to the town—detailing the ownership of the land and the transfer of power in the absence of the archwizard Archibald. According to the document, the town's leadership would fall to a council of town figures, including the heads of local businesses and guilds. The deed was signed by noble families, adding weight to its authenticity.
Armed with this new information, they turned their attention to the temple, finding its door sealed tight by a slab of granite etched with powerful arcane runes. They knew it had been crafted by the dwarven smith, Theresa, and that a trick would be required to open it.
Their search led them to her humble stone house to the north. Inside, they found little by way of personal belongings, but among the dwarven schematics in her desk, one paper stood out. It contained the designs for the temple door, along with a cryptic message: "I keep the combination inside the forge. Need I act to open the temple door?"
The group returned to the Smithy, determined to discover the key. Chord and Vincent, exhausted from their travels, took a much-needed rest while Douglas remained behind to inspect the forge. The forge itself burned with an intensity that made it impossible to approach.
Douglas, ever resourceful, had a plan. After hours of quiet work, he emerged, the smell of burnt rodent hair lingering in the air. He had found what they needed—the cipher to unlock the temple door.
With this new knowledge, the adventurers pressed onward, the mysteries of the town and its cursed inhabitants still beckoning them into the unknown.
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