The party approached the door, stepping over ten, maybe twenty bodies to get to its massive handle. They could hear crying within and didn't hesitate. They forced the door open, while pushing the bodies aside, and within came a sound that sent a thousand needles down their backs.
"Ah, fresh meat!"
Standing before them was a large demon, its small horns protruding from its skull. In its hands was a huge cleaver covered with chucks of flesh and blood from recent kills. Around the creature were hundreds of bodies, some stacked in piles - most in pieces as they must have been dismembered out of joy. The floor tiles were soaked with blood.
It was obvious this den was setup as a proud display - a trophy room perhaps to all that this things has killed. It was a mere display of power or accomplishment. It was a sight that would make any caring man puke.
To its side was a girl, her clothing torn to rags and her body red with blood as she scrambled on the floor trying to get away. Her attempts were failing her as she climbed across several bodies, slipping through them as easily as a child climbing up a muddy hill in the rain. Her screams echoed loudly throughout the chamber - desperate cries for mercy.
The Butcher turned its attention away from the girl and rushed the party - his great cleaver smashing down on them with precision, cutting deep into everyone he managed to hit. Some rushed in to save the girl, some rushed in to attack the creature. It didn't take long for Ivan to get singled out - it was as if this butcher knew a holy man would make a welcomed piece in his work of art.
Some were out in the hallway, firing magic and arrows - Astorol and Ivan were the only two left in the room, fighting their fears, and facing the blows of a wailing axe.
The girl was protected by Farador but it didn't take long for her to think otherwise - Farador was not all that convincing that he'd protect her and she went running off into the distance. It was only expected since she wanted to be nowhere near the creature that hacked away most of the people she had known and loved in town.
The party eventually destroyed the monstrosity and led the girl to safety. It was Astorol who got the final blow.
The girls name is Gillian, barmaid of the Rising Sun Tavern.
From the words of Farador:
"It's obvious the town folk were led here to be slaughtered. Men, women, and children too. The question is, did Lazarus know he was leading them to their doom? If he did, then I can't wait to meet him."
DM Notes: Here is a quick demo video showing the pathway to the Butcher:
http://dorpond.rptools.net/demos/DiabloButcherWalkthrough800/DiabloButcherWalkthrough800.html
Low Resolution Version:
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
The dead walk and they’re hungry
The party made their way to the second level of the monastery and they immediately noticed a change; upstairs there were thugs and scum - here there are undead. It started out with flaming skeletons who threw balls of fire without hesitation. Later, it was even more frightening – zombies. The sheer thought of being eaten by the dead is enough to make anyone uneasy.
The party entered the area with little caution at first, led mainly by the sounds that mimicked the moans of someone in pain. When they entered, they were shocked by the visions they saw; bodies, blood, and worse than that, feeding. The dead were on their knees, hovering over their food as they ripped, and tore at the flesh of recent victims.
Before the party could take action, they were rushed. It was as if these zombies were coming out of the woodwork - smelling the living.
There were even a couple dogs, half rotten; their growls now more terrifying than ever before as their maggot filled throats gurgled deeply with every roar.
The party quickly got overwhelmed. They struck a few of them down but were soon surrounded. Then, off in the distance, they heard cries. They heard the cries of a young male pleading to an older man.
In from the north, they walked in; a man carried a boy over his shoulder – the boys leg was missing, cut clean by something sharp and swift. Blood was rushing down the man from the thrashing stump.
The zombies could smell fresh blood and turned to the man. He was forced to drop the boy and fight back, but in mere seconds, he was knocked unconscious. The boy scrambled away, using only his arms to pull himself. His screams were louder, now more desperate as ever as he saw his hero being munched on by the foul creatures.
Some of the party recognized the man as Griswold, the blacksmith in town. He was one of the best craftsmen in the land, obviously trying to save the boy from this wrenched place.
The party was torn – do they save themselves as they are surrounded, or do they rush in deeper to save Griswold? Ivan knew what had to be done and rushed in next to Griswold while sacrificing his own life to save that of another. He managed to get in and heal Griswold. Needles, the Elf of the party, shined as he fired arrows rapidly at the slow monstrosities. With Elven precision, he was dropping them instantly by firing arrows through their mush filled heads.
Ivan drew the attention off Griswold but was now getting all the attention. The zombies were biting at him and succeeding. It looked hopeless.
The party did all they could and put Griswold's life first. It was a sacrifice worth taking because in the end, Griswold regained consciousness and got out alive. The boy he was saving, was Wirt.
This was only the beginning - Griswold explained that the undead were only a small portion of the horrors that lied ahead. Wirt cried out that the Butcher severed his leg and that most of the town folk fell to his bloodied axe. It was the worst thing any of them had ever seen. Bodies.... So many bodies....
They all agreed - this Butcher must be destroyed..
From the words of Needles:
"No, I am not surprised at all. I am top marksman in the Elven militia so it is no surprise to me that I took out those two zombies in one shot. The fact is, most people tend to lose their cool when surrounded by animated corpses, which is totally understandable; let's face it, they stink, they are covered with maggots, and their decaying teeth are not too pleasant when they are gnawing into your shoulder."
Needles smirks for a moment and turns serious again.
"listen, they are predictable; they are slow and tend to group up. The others fail to see this. Just stay on the move and they can't eat you. Shoot an arrow through their head and it's over with - move on.."
The party entered the area with little caution at first, led mainly by the sounds that mimicked the moans of someone in pain. When they entered, they were shocked by the visions they saw; bodies, blood, and worse than that, feeding. The dead were on their knees, hovering over their food as they ripped, and tore at the flesh of recent victims.
Before the party could take action, they were rushed. It was as if these zombies were coming out of the woodwork - smelling the living.
There were even a couple dogs, half rotten; their growls now more terrifying than ever before as their maggot filled throats gurgled deeply with every roar.
The party quickly got overwhelmed. They struck a few of them down but were soon surrounded. Then, off in the distance, they heard cries. They heard the cries of a young male pleading to an older man.
In from the north, they walked in; a man carried a boy over his shoulder – the boys leg was missing, cut clean by something sharp and swift. Blood was rushing down the man from the thrashing stump.
The zombies could smell fresh blood and turned to the man. He was forced to drop the boy and fight back, but in mere seconds, he was knocked unconscious. The boy scrambled away, using only his arms to pull himself. His screams were louder, now more desperate as ever as he saw his hero being munched on by the foul creatures.
Some of the party recognized the man as Griswold, the blacksmith in town. He was one of the best craftsmen in the land, obviously trying to save the boy from this wrenched place.
The party was torn – do they save themselves as they are surrounded, or do they rush in deeper to save Griswold? Ivan knew what had to be done and rushed in next to Griswold while sacrificing his own life to save that of another. He managed to get in and heal Griswold. Needles, the Elf of the party, shined as he fired arrows rapidly at the slow monstrosities. With Elven precision, he was dropping them instantly by firing arrows through their mush filled heads.
Ivan drew the attention off Griswold but was now getting all the attention. The zombies were biting at him and succeeding. It looked hopeless.
The party did all they could and put Griswold's life first. It was a sacrifice worth taking because in the end, Griswold regained consciousness and got out alive. The boy he was saving, was Wirt.
This was only the beginning - Griswold explained that the undead were only a small portion of the horrors that lied ahead. Wirt cried out that the Butcher severed his leg and that most of the town folk fell to his bloodied axe. It was the worst thing any of them had ever seen. Bodies.... So many bodies....
They all agreed - this Butcher must be destroyed..
From the words of Needles:
"No, I am not surprised at all. I am top marksman in the Elven militia so it is no surprise to me that I took out those two zombies in one shot. The fact is, most people tend to lose their cool when surrounded by animated corpses, which is totally understandable; let's face it, they stink, they are covered with maggots, and their decaying teeth are not too pleasant when they are gnawing into your shoulder."
Needles smirks for a moment and turns serious again.
"listen, they are predictable; they are slow and tend to group up. The others fail to see this. Just stay on the move and they can't eat you. Shoot an arrow through their head and it's over with - move on.."
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