Report to the Flaming Fist and other authorities: The Undead

[gimchi]

Shialla makes the long trip to Baldur's Gate specifically to express her concerns to a ranking member of the Flaming Fist. She approaches the sarcastic Captain Norton outside the Fist headquarters and tells him she wishes to make a report. The Captain launches into a tirade about half-arsed adventurers, useless parasites, misguided zealots, and whiners that waste his precious time. When his stream of invective begins to slow, Shialla says one word. "Undead." The Captain jerks a thumb to the door behind him and they both go inside.

At his desk the captain opens a ledger, dips a quill in ink and says, "Name?"
"Shialla."
"Last name?"
"Shi'arroh."
"Current place of residence?"
"Friendly Arms Inn, Tradeway South."
"This have anything to do with the Undead attack on the City a while back?"
"That's for you to judge, I simply have information to give."

The captain studies her a while. "I don't like your sort at all."
Shialla returns his stare evenly. " I am not overly fond of bad-mouthed pencil pushers in pretty white uniforms. Have we done with the pleasantries now?"

The captain leans back in his chair and grunts. "Speak up then girl I don't have all day."
Shialla begins to tell him about the men seen raising undead in the last few months in the areas around the Friendly Arms Inn. She tells him about her companion Zalvius Curiata who has sworn a private oath to bring summoners of the dead undone. The Captain begins to scribble faster and faster.
"In the Orc caves you say? With a warlock? You have any names?"
"The Cloakwood too? How many? Three? Three? And a Half-Orc with the last?"

She leans forward, nods her head and continues. "Yes, and this in particular worries me. It was the half-orc called Grog. Well known around the Friendly Arms. Always seemed a decent sort to me on the occasions I have seen him. Even saw him help some merchants guard a caravan a while back. But here he was aiding a necromancer who had summoned a a shambling mummy to do his bidding. He defended this man, and became quite hostile when Zalvius confronted the necromancer - but here's the troublesome thing."

She places her hands flat on the desk and gathers her thoughts before continuing.
"He told us that the necromancer is doing the work of the Lord, bringing death in the Lord's name. He followed that by saying that he, Grog, is working for a Master now .. and he was clearly not referring to the man he was with at the time."

Captain Norton hisses between his teeth as the full import of this sets in. "Something powerful behind the scenes then. A Vampire Lord perhaps? A Lich Lord?"

Shialla shrugs. "Possibly. One other thing though. When Grog spoke it was not as I remembered him, nor any other half-orc I have conversed with. You know how they are often somewhat childlike in their speech and thought patterns?"

"Dimwits most of them." The Captain nods vigorously.

"When Grog spoke it was like listening to a brilliant scholar. Perfect diction. Perfect grammar. Perfect syntax and structure. - And whom are you wizard? - that was his first sentence. And - Fool wizard you have no idea of what I am part of - was another sentence I remember clearly. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It occurred to me then that he may be possessed."

The Captain continues to write for a few moments, mumbles something about syntax, then places his quill on a dry blotter.
"So why didn't you do anything about it?"

"I am not the law Captain. I defend myself when I need to. I kill whatever directly threatens me. I do not make a habit of fighting when there is no immediate need. Study your manuals of war Captain. Always choose your battles, on ground that favors you, if you have a choice."

The Captain nods sourly, then checks the facts once again quickly.

"Orc caves, a necromancer named Marance in company with a tall warlock wearing highly ornate full-plate. This man's identity has also been confirmed by Sir Haeman, Knight General of the Order of the Silver Rose."

Shialla nods.

"Outer Cloakwood, a necromancer named Michil Grinsin, who was thrashed to within an inch of his life by your friend Zalvius, and who has not been seen since."

Another nod.

"Deep Cloakwood, a large, red-haired man keeping company with a vampire. No other description?"

Shialla shakes her head. "It was evening and the light was fading fast."

"And finally an average sized man who summoned and un-summoned a mummy, and in company with the half-orc Grog? Do you have a better description of this man?"

Again she shakes her head. "It was dark, and I stayed at half bow distance ready to strike if needed. Zalvius will be by sooner or later and give a detailed description. He's a fair hand with a sketch as well."

The captain closes the ledger with a snap. "Well, good of you to report this girl, I'll pass it up the ladder."

He stands and thinks for the briefest of moments about offering her his hand, then changes his mind. Shialla notes his hesitation and smiles to herself.

"May you be blessed with abundant paperwork," she says as she leaves the room.

She walks to the Blade and Stars Inn where she guesses she will have some peace and quiet, and drafts three letters. The first two contain the information she told Captain Norton, and she addresses them to the Order of the Silver Rose, and the Order of the Radiant Heart. The third letter she pauses over for a moment, and then writes quickly.

"To the Lords and Ladies of the Duchal Palace. Given the recent attack on the city by walking undead, and given the spate of necromancers appearing in surrounding regions - the Flaming Fist has pertinent information - may I suggest that you offer substantial rewards for any who can bring in live necromancers for questioning. There are many decent sell-swords around at the moment, who would brave anything for good gold coin in their pockets. I could gather a small crew should you be interested in having accountability from your bounty hunters."

She signs the letter with a flourish, seals it, and pays a scrawny street lad 30 coppers to deliver all three letters. "Come back here when you're done and I'll buy you a meal too."

The lads eyes flash with happiness and he darts away.