jmclarke
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IABD 51: Setting Up Camp
🕑 Added 2025-04-14 22:16:41 +0000 UTCAs Matthias gingerly picked up a ghoul’s corpse in the living room of their hermit house, it struck him that no essence had risen from the thing and entered his shadow after it had died.
It was later in the morning, the Stonebreaker family was now hard at work clearing their new home of hundreds of years of filth, debris, scattered bones and other rubbish created by the ghoulish horde that lived around the abbey.
Some of it was dry and desiccated, but most was wet and crusted in layers of vile, mysterious filth. Matthias and his siblings regularly choked, gagging on the terrible stench, even through the cloth kerchiefs wrapped around their faces. The young greatfolk had been so focused on the disgusting work—and shutting out the stomach-churning miasma—that it hadn’t occurred to him that he hadn’t seen anything leave the ghouls’ corpses.
The body he was holding had been cut down by slashes from his sword, its shins twisted by his tendril and its skull caved in by his warhammer; he could see that it had been his attacks that had finally ended the creature’s life—gruesomely, at that—but he would swear before Amon Koth himself that nothing had left its shadow when it died.
Nothing had drifted from the shadows of any of the ghouls he’d killed, unlike the dead gnoles and demonic-beast tiger.
He was by no means any great scholar from Ostari or one of the magnificent Chalek-Baalite philosophers, but it didn’t take an especially clever mind to notice the difference between these creatures and the ones he’d slain in the past:
‘Did my shadow absorb the essence from the gnoles and the demonic-beast tiger because they had been alive until I killed them?’ He picked up the scrawny ghoul corpse with a single, gauntleted hand, swearing he was going to boil the metal gloves when he was done; they were coated in layers of that nasty, unrecogniseable wetness. “Perhaps my shadow doesn’t claim the essence of something I’ve killed if they’re already dead; like these ghouls. But why the difference? And what does it mean exactly? I’ll have to remember to ask Mistress Polla.’ He thought; ‘Even if she doesn’t know outright what it all means, she might have some insight: maybe some other monster in the world takes essence from living things, but not the undead. …wait, did I just call myself a monster by using the words, ‘some other monster?’
Matthias looked down at his shadow-tendril, which he was using to gather bones and other debris into piles. As much as the tentacle felt natural to him…it was kind of monstrous, wasn’t it?
‘Maybe I’ve become some sort of monster,’ he thought. ‘A living thing touched by death that absorbs the essence from other creatures’ shadows…which sounds like something a monster, not a human, giant or any other sort of mortal, would do. Bah, I shouldn’t think that way: they called Bregindoure a Beast for much of his life because he was branded with the Rune of the Berserker. I won’t be like them and refer to myself like they would.’
He looked at the remains of the ghoul he was holding.
‘This is a monster; an abomination only living to devour and kill and gorge on flesh.’
He looked around the living room: his family had already cleaned up much of the grisly debris from the house, but still—
“Death and rot are everywhere around here,” he whispered. “It’s a shame: I wonder who these corpses were? Who did all these bones belong to?”
“No doubt time has erased the answers to those questions, Matthie.” Bregindoure picked up a pair of ghoul corpses, hurling them out the front door like they were no heavier that a nest of dead mice.
“Do you think some of the bones belonged to the hermit monk that used to live here?” Dagma dragged a mutilated ghoul body outside. Refuse—carried by The Gift—floated behind her.
“I do wonder that myself,” Bregindoure called after her, beginning to gather more debris in gloved, dinner plate-sized hands. His expression turned grim. “You know what bothers me?”
“What?” Dagma asked, coming back in after dropping the corpse onto the growing pile outside.
“What wouldn’t trouble you in a place like this?” Matthias squinted up at rafters covered in filth.
“A good point, but what specifically bothers my mind is…maybe that monk was among the ghouls we killed in here earlier. Imagine that? You spend your entire lifetime in quiet contemplation, serving your chosen deity, only to end up as an undead monstrosity that gets butchered in your own home.”
Dagma made a face. “Not a very nice thought.”
“No, and it’s also a grim end…but I suppose any end in this place would be a grim one: either being eaten by ghouls or becoming one.” Matthias gave the remaining ghoul corpses a somber look. “We should be careful that we don’t end up the same way as them.”
“Matt is right. You must be careful, my children.” Beggahasta said as she emerged from the kitchen.
The warrior woman—her sword still resting on one shoulder—was carrying a sack filled with gruesome contents under her other arm while a stream of rotting matter floated behind her, supported by The Gift.
All sorts of disgusting things were congealed in that large rotting ball, nearly as wide as a grown man was tall; the pile of filth had to squeeze through the kitchen doorway because of its massive size.
Matthias noticed rust-coated weapons, mouldering clothing and pieces of broken armour protruding from the mass.
“Some of the bones I found in the kitchen looked like they’d only been here for a few weeks,” she said. “Which means people have continually been meeting their end in this place, even likely since Windstone first fell. You cannot allow yourselves to join them, my children.”
The Stonebreaker siblings replied “Yes, mother!” with the same kind of discipline as when they’d said: “Yes, knight!” to Sur Friya back in Barrowgate.
Matthias’ mind drifted back to his old teacher.
He wondered what she would have made of this place…and of all the death here.
He also wondered about Altaizar’s reaction; it was too bad the mage hadn’t come to the abbey with them. No doubt something about this place would have fascinated him or, at least, it would have once all the grim work was done.
“Once we’re finished cleaning out the house,” Beggahasta said. “We can fetch the water barrels and provisions from Polla’s carriage: we’ll have enough food and water to last us for the better part of a week, but we’ll need to gather firewood soon. We still have to cook later. Though, the thought of cooking or eating in that kitchen makes my skin crawl.”
She nodded to the outdoors. “As for all the filth and the bodies in the courtyard? Polla and I will us the Gift to burn those. We still have lots to do; so, are you just about finished in here?”
“Almost done,” Matthias said.
“Good, I want this place cleared out by afternoon.”
The Stonebreakers continued working, the task was much easier as Beggahasta and Dagma used The Gift. Though the brothers were able to make easy work of the bones and ghoul bodies by using their massive builds and incredible strength—collecting and lifting piles of debris—their strength couldn’t help them remove years of accumulated grime and filth on the walls, ceilings, floors and every other square inch of surface in the house.
With coarse brushes, they began scrubbing the stone and wood, but a few quick words from their mother had the filth lifting itself off the wood and stones, gathering in clumps then floating through the windows and front door, joining the growing mound of refuse in the courtyard.
When the sun passed over its zenith, Beggahasta called for them to stop and after a quick inspection, announced; “It is livable now, and that will have to do while we take care of more pressing tasks. One thing to keep in mind, my children, whether in the Wolfwood or in life: handle tasks by order of urgency and finish off less pressing matters later. For now, come. We must clear the courtyard around our home and prepare our defenses.”
Following their mother outside, the Stonebreaker siblings joined her among the ruined stone and ghoul bodies.
“Collect as many of those large stones as you can and pile them around the house’s outer wall.” Beggahasta pointed to the catapult stones and other rock debris. “Do not lift anything that you cannot carry, be sure to stack what you can. By the end, I want to see an entire layer of stones around the house’s outer wall. And—Hold on for a moment.”
She was looking up at the abbey, a frown taking her features.
Matthias followed her gaze, catching movement in the gloom of the windows in an upper floor. Ghouls were clustered there, watching his family’s every movement.
They were eerily still, but Matthias could feel the hunger emanating from their eyes, even at his distance. “They’re watching us, probably looking for us to let our guard down.”
“Then they need to be taught a lesson.” Beggahasta bent at the waist, casually lifting a rock the size of her head. “A very final lesson.”
She drew her arm back, keeping her focus on the window.
Planting a foot, she twisted her body and swung her arm in a fluid motion.
The stone was in her hand in one breath and flying through the window in the next.
A crash followed a thud as the stone connected with ghoul bodies, the wet sound echoed through the courtyard as skulls ruptured like overripe fruit, shattering the undead watching them.
All through the abbey screeching ghouls fled from the windows.
“Nice throw, mother!” Matthias congratulated her.
“That it was!” Bregindoure whistled. “But what was the lesson you were teaching them…how to die?”
“I was teaching the rest of them not to get too comfortable.” She smiled in satisfaction. “And that lesson is also a lesson for the three of you. If an enemy grows too comfortable, then they become bold. When they become bold, they become dangerous. I was once part of a patrol in the Wolfwood that was trailed by dire coyotes for three days. The patrol’s leader—an arrogant man from Kingsport—said he didn’t want us wasting time on the animals and ordered us to leave them be. Well, the dire coyotes grew comfortable when they realised we weren’t going to drive them off. ‘Comfortable’ turned to ‘bold,’ and that was how we lost three good warriors when they were asleep one night. Never let an opponent become too comfortable, understand?”
“Yes, mother!” her children replied.
“Good, now let’s gather this rock. And quickly.”
As the family collected stones—Bregindoure hoisting massive boulders above his head, Matthias rolling smaller ones, Dagma carrying even smaller stones—while Beggahasta continued teaching her children.
“Remember, most things in the world have survival instincts.” The warrior-woman stacked an immense boulder beside one of Bregindoure’s. “Including many of the undead. If you know that, you can take advantage of it.”
“But these ghouls were throwing themselves at us without a care for their own safety.” Matthias pointed out, rolling a boulder beside his mother’s.
“True, and that can happen when whatever drives an undead overwhelms their need to keep ‘living’, but what’s important is that the lord of ghouls now fears me. It will keep the others from wasting themselves by charging us without a care. Because their leader is cautious, the rest will be cautious. Keep that in mind when dealing with the mindless undead—though ghouls have rudimentary will—they can still be very dangerous. If something with a mind is commanding them, however? Those, you can scare; that’s when undead without thoughts or wits go from engines of hunger and hate, to behaving more like people or animals.”
“I’ll remember that” Matthias said, glancing up at the abbey.
He put the thought aside, focusing on piling more stone.
About a half hour later, stone surrounded the house’s outer wall in layers of boulders and smaller rock, piled up, forming an obstacle to deter the ghouls, though the family had also worked up an incredible sweat.
Luckily, Polla approached them, bringing boxes of food and barrels of water with her. Her apprentice followed close behind. “Here you go. Ellian and I have finished clearing our house of debris and cleansing it, so I thought you could use something to refresh you. It’s thirsty work we are engaged in.”
“Oh, thank you!” Matthias said, wiping his brow, eagerly taking a barrel as she lowered it to the ground.
The Stonebreakers quickly gathered by the water barrels, ladling big gulps of the cool fluid down their throats. Ellian drank some too, though he sipped more delicately than the northern barbarians.
“Mistress Polla,” Matthias got her attention. “I was wondering about something strange that happened, or actually didn’t happen with the undead.”
“What would that be?” she asked him.
“You know how I told you that this strange essence floats from the shadows of things that I kill then enters mine? Well, it didn’t happen with the ghouls. Nothing left their shadows. I was thinking that I don’t absorb the essence from the shadows of undead things. Would you know why?”
“Iiiiinteresting.” Polla’s owl-like eyes narrowed in thought. “I might have a thought as to what the difference is, but we would need a variety of undead to test it on.”
“Wait, a variety of undead?” Matthias asked. “What do you mean?”
“Ghouls don’t have souls,” Polla explained. “They have some of their twisted memories of life, but they are not a type of undead that keeps or traps their soul within their physical form. Some uncommon forms of undead do keep their souls. Perhaps the essence is only drawn from something that has a soul when you kill it.”
“That’s…I don’t know how to feel about that,” he admitted.
“Don’t feel any way about it. It’s simply a theory and could very well be incorrect. If you find an undead with a soul one day, test it on them then.
“Um, what types of undead have souls?”
“The most common would be ghosts, of course,” Polla said. “And if we were speaking figuratively, this place would have plenty of ghosts for you to test yourself on. And who knows…perhaps not all undead within Windstone or beneath it are ghouls. I do wonder what that eye symbol on the forehead of that ghoul lord meant. I believe we will find out, eventually. Or perhaps not. Who knows what awaits down there.”
“Yes, who knows?” Matthias agreed.
“Well, all I know is that we will need more water before long.” Bregindoure eyed the water barrel critically. “I swear we went through a quarter of it.”
“We won’t always use that much, but you are right: we will need a water source soon.” Beggahasta eyed the stagnant puddles on the cobblestones. “Those won’t do.”
“There is a river to the north,” Polla said. “About an hour’s walk. I can give directions and landmarks.”
“We’ll go find it then. We can search for it when we fetch firewood…which we should do right away, come to think of it.” Beggahasta watched the sky. “We will need to have these bodies burned and be safely in our houses by nightfall. Polla, can I trust you and Ellian to gather the ghoul corpses while we are away…oh, and perhaps investigate the other houses to make sure they’re not occupied?”
“We’ve already checked the houses, and they’re empty. While you’re gone, Ellian and I will gather the bodies and other flammable debris, move my carriage to our house, and I will set up the wards. Be careful out there; come evening time and I don’t see you; we will come looking for you.”
“Thank you,” Beggahasta said. “Matt, Breg, Dagma. Get your weapons. Let’s go gather that firewood, locate our water source, and survey the forest from ground level. These things will prepare you for the Wolfwood and for other journeys you will make through hostile terrain in the future. Come along then, let’s move.”
###
Author's Note
One thing I love in RPGs is granularity when it. comes to camping. I think I played too much Dragon Age Origins when I was younger, which put a very strong image of a 'party camp' in my mind.
As such, I always put a lot of thought into 'what does the party's camp look like' when it comes to staying in a dangerous area. Probably also comes from the first D&D campaign I ever played, which started off with us raiding a city that been destroyed by a giant meteor, kinda like the Mordheim game.
In that we had be pretty careful with how we camped since everything was so dangerous.
Another campaign my friends and I played in was in a city that got dragged to a nightmare realm of darkness. There we had to fortify the tavern we were stuck in, which was our only safe zone.
Point is, I put a lot of thought into camp fortifying, lol. As you can see from this chapter!
Cya tomorrow!
Comments
ZJJ
I have to say, I'm glad I wasn't eating anything while reading this... it was somewhat nauseating. I would say I hope we don't get lots more gross descriptions but... ghouls.
Decide
I expected Begahasta to use the stones to create a fortified wall. I'm kind of surprised she didn't here.
Cj Evans
Is it actually possible to play too much Dragon Age?
Lon
I like this whole "we need to secure a camping site" aspect, it's quite refreshing. Another thing that is refreshing is that Matthias, Breg and Dagma all have their mother beside them, so she can share her wisdom with her kids with no need of any of them needing to found about those things alone. Sure they will probably still suffer some of that, but they will be quick to remember what they were taught. And I would like to point out that when Matthias talked about his shadow not getting a soul piece from the ghouls, Ellian was there and probably heard about Matthias shadow. Because Polla said in chapter 48 “I command the air not to carry our words to my apprentice’s ears.” so it was an one time thing and not like "... Not carry our words about this subject to my ..." And no such command was given here.
mant06
One theme common with undead is unfinished bussiness and the investigation to uncover and resolve them. Would Mathias's dream abilities allow for that with souled undead? Could he create something to act as phylactery(soul anchor) in his dream space?
