The temperature had plummeted to a sub-zero freeze, and the gentle snowfall had rapidly picked up in volume. The forest was dark and quiet, the kind of quiet that only thick snow can provide, and visibility was about sixty feet under the trees. Errol was slapping his arms against his sides to warm himself, a futile gesture in this chill, and contemplating the warmth of his sleeping furs yet another hour and a half away. An eternity.
He thought he saw movement out in the snow, yet still no sound emerged from the woods. Straining his eyes, he could see a figure moving toward the camp shambling through the dense icy snowpack, but it was too dark to make it out clearly. Leaning over he woke Tanis, hoping his friend’s keen vision might help. More figures began to be seen, also heading to the camp. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes Tanis was just able to make out the features of the first figure when Arturius shot bolt upright out of his furs, eyes wide and face pale, “To arms, to arms,” he cried, “the foul thing is upon us!” ~
The fight was between hordes of zombies that emerged from an unnatural snowstorm that seemed to follow the creatures into camp. Ancient undead corpses frozen solid in the cold, yet still able to move and fight, stumbled out of roiling flurries of dense snowfall. Clumsy and slow, they still overran the camp and when a blow from one of their frozen weapons landed, it did terrible damage to its victims.
As the party battled, and slowly it appeared they would have the better of the fight, the dense snowfall parted away from the camp to reveal an ancient Wight dressed in antique elven armor entering the fray. He lifted one claw-like hand and out of the snowstorm ran undead goblins sporting terrible wounds in their flesh. The melee became desperate, and it began to look as though it all would end here in these frozen woods. Then a mighty brown bear charged into the fray and set upon the zombies, and a white owl sailed into the fight and transformed into Alannah the Druidess. With healing spells and a magical staff she helped to turn the tied and the zombies were put down, however the Wight remained. Every strike from its mighty mace laid low one of the companions, though they circled the ancient knight and laid blow upon blow against its armored hide. Spell, missile and blade clashed against the abomination seemingly doing nothing to slow it down.
Then, after receiving a mighty attack from the Wight that demolished his shield, Arturius impaled the knight with his glowing magical blade, and there was a flash of light, and the baroque armor collapsed in an empty heap with no sign remaining of the Wight which had occupied it. Wounded, exhausted, and numb with cold, the companions retired to their tents for the remainder of the night and in the morning decided to divide the loot.
The trip back to Longsaddle was uneventful and a warm welcome was had at the Gilded Horseshoe from Master Pug and his family. There was an uncomfortable moment when the good innkeeper objected to a bound criminal being kept in his establishment, but it was smoothed over with soft words and promises of immediate resolution in the morning. The next day Arbor Grayle was taken to Master Renfrin and much was discussed…. (to be revealed next session).