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The second one quickly falls to ground, not being able to defend itself from Rook's sword as it tries to get up. It's back split open from such a slice. However, the other one manages to gain some posture and try to grab her, it making a gurgling-snarling sound as it does so.

These undead are already visibly damaged. Having slashes and even an arrow or two stuck n them with rotting physiques.

Her sword plunges into the second just as she sees the third moving in and she immediately tries to bring her blade up to slash at the monster's arms. But her sword caught, just briefly, in the rotting flesh of the second undead and it manages to grab a hold of her arm with its cold hands.

"Dog!" she cries desperately, wishing she would have named the mutt by now, "Help!"

The undead proceeds to try to bite her arm and fingers with it's broken teeth. It's face can be seen partially rotten away with skull poking through, and one eye glazed over and glossy.

Pentre and his group have now stumbled upon the barricade that blocked Rook's way once before. The ground still littered with arrows, caltrops, bear traps, and other hazards which might be lurking under the mud.

“I don’t think it wise to stop here,” Dresala explained, “I sense a foul magic at work here.”

“She’s right,” Arun-Ja agreed, “we might as well move on; I doubt the sorceress would have left anything alive, much less unspoiled.”

As it pulls her hand toward its mouth, Rook tries to wrench her sword arm out of its cold grasp, desperately trying to free herself. What would become of her if she was slain by one of the witch's minions? Would she become like them? A mindless thrall in service to the witch? It was a fate that scared her worse than death.

Until now, the black and tan dog had hung back, growling at the undead creatures but nervous to jump into the fray. "Magnus!" she gave him a name on the spot, one that meant power and might. Then she made a sound like a bark... a call for aid from the animal. Which, if it worked, she'd be glad Pentre was not there to witness for surely she'd be labeled a witch as well.

As she pulls her hand away from it, the undead loses an arm in the process and falls over having lost balance. However, upon the landing, it cracks it's head over a rock in the mud and is effectively defeated. The dog runs over to finish the job biting it's neck just to make sure it stays down, having grown some bravery seeing it be defeated. Now all Rook has to deal with is getting the zombified arm off of hers.

For half a second, Rook felt relieved that she'd broken free from the undead. But as she realized the cold hand was still tightly grasping her sword arm, a new wave of both fear and revulsion swept over her.

She backed away from the bodies, using her left hand to try to pry the zombie's fingers loose from her arm.

As she tries to pry the hand from hers, it only holds on tighter. Whatever magic that's inhabiting this thing is still animating it. After a few more seconds it finally lets go and drops to the ground, attempting to crawl away using it's fingers before lying motionless. It's not too far to the monastery now.

Meanwhile, Pentre's group is still facing the problem of how they're going to get around the barricades and traps in the road.

“I thought I heard something,” the Breton cautioned as she peered around the barricades, or as much as she could see, “it seems that the foul power used here still lingers. Proceed with caution, if indeed we must stay; my light shall protect us, if need be.”

Rook took a shaky breath as the hand finally let go, rubbing her arm where it had grabbed her, then pulling up her sleeve to see if it had broken the skin. It would bruise for sure, but luckily its muddy fingernails had not punctured through her shirt.

"Let's not get that close to them next time, eh?" she tells the dog, who is cautiously pawing and sniffing at the arm.

Heart still pounding hard, she climbed back aboard Hobo and continued on toward the monastery, trying to not envision finding Leo as one of the undead. Though of course, the more she tried not to think about it, the more that image crept into her mind.

As hobo continued, the path took a twist and a turn, before finally ascending uphill and coming into view of the monastery. A large stone building designed with spires and a tall bell tower in mind, bigger than any church comes into view in the background. It's arching doorway cracked ajar with debris and left over siege equipment in front of it, and some of it's stained windows broken. Yet, it still stands.

However, it's what lies in the foreground that matters the most. The garden, and the clearing leading towards the monastery is rife with signs of battle and bloodshed. Countless bodies of the undead fill the foregrounds, as well as a few monks, and numerous Auft Templars, guards of the monastery. Their tunics and armors inlaid with the sigils of Lady Auft, now dirtied by the sodden ground. Fired arrows, crossbow bolts, swords, polearms, and even a few ballista bolts lay, or are impaled into the ground before the monastery. It seems it's inhabitants put up one hell of a fight.

However, a spark of hope flies through the air, as faint voices can be heard coming from the doorway. What seems to be an armored man, sporting a great helm and coat of plates, peeks through the crack in the doors, aiming a loaded crossbow at Rook. "You! You undead?! State your business before I put a bolt in ya!" He yells angrily.

The lord of Vallan was far more concerned about Aria than the rotting scattered corpses that he could smell nearby

Given that Illumia insisted on being able to sense darkness perhaps it meant Aria was simply starting to feel hungry so he came close to the woman speaking in a lower voice

"When is the last time you ate? Are you... Getting hungry?" Quizzed Toyle swallowing hard as he asked, watching her carefully well aware of what and who she was

Pentre paused by the barricades and looked at Illumia and Arun-ja, the sorcerers

"Can you ensure us a safe passage to the monastery? Perhaps a shortcut or a workaround?" Quizzed the warrior keen to get there with minimal losses and delays

“I’ll see what can be done,” he replied, “but unless portal magic is functional here, don’t expect a miracle.” He took a moment to inspect the area, noting the construction, the weak places against the strong, and charted the paths around, most of which took more than a few hours to venture.

It wasn't quite as terrible as she feared, but very nearly and she picked her way slowly through the debris. Had the witch's army destroyed every village upon the island? She felt suddenly in very much over her head, thoughts even turning, momentarily, to lending her aid to Pentre. Ugh... she'd rather take her chances against the witch.

When the voice called out, her head snapped in that direction and she stopped Hobo so that she would not seem aggressive or a threat to the speaker.

"My name is Sarah Rook, outrider with the Blackmarsh Company, sir! I intend no harm!" she called back. "Vallan is destroyed... so I seek survivors."

"By Auft, we've got a live one! Get over here fool, we need to hear the news!" The man says, relaxing his grip and heading on inside the monastery, pausing to open the doors a little wider.

Meanwhile... "Uh, erm no, but it's been a while. The last execution was about five days ago I think? Though that fight in the dungeon did take a lot out of me." Aria whispers back, trying not to let their companions hear.

Arun-Ja would find something interesting in his searches. While inspecting the barricades and what not on the road, he catches a glimpse out of the corner of his eye what seems to be a secluded pig trail leading through the wilderness. It cutting straight through the forest towards the monastery. It might be hard on the feet, but it should take less time to travel than the winding road!

Rook dismounted and hurriedly led Hobo toward the open door. If there were undead still lurking out and about, she had no intention of leaving her trusted steed out to become zombie food.

“I think I found a shorter path,” he called, noticing the small road possibly used by pigs not too long ago, “I’ve no idea where it ends, but it doesn’t feel as dangerous or as long as the others.”

“We should still be cautious,” Illumia added, “we’ve no idea of knowing if this sorceress’ undead guard the path; tread lightly.”

As Rook neared the door, the sounds of the monastery grew louder. Soon, she would see the inside. The foyer is in view, it's wooden seats lying near the front doors, stacked into makeshift barricades. The floor is tiled stone, and the interior is dim with a few braziers and lanterns lighting up the inside. The two doors to the main chamber is cracked slightly open, and the others which lead to the two hallways are closed.

Around the Foyer are various people sat on the floor or stools. Monks, priests, apprentices, templars, craftsmen, and some others. Some patching themselves up, others sobbing in the comfort of others, some simply sitting down keeping to themselves, and others staring off into nothingness akin to the thousand yard stare. The man from before sits down on an unoccupied stool and speaks again. "Tell us, and speak up. We must hear the news."

Around this time, Lord Toyle's and Pentre's party would exit the pig trail, coming out at around the left side of the battlefield which was previously a meadow or even a garden. They bodies still lie motionless, with the many weapons impaled into them still serving as mementos of a previous conflict.

Rook leads Hobo inside, his horseshoes tapping loudly on the tiled stone floor. Her eyes scan the foyer, looking for Bertram, an older fletcher that she often bought her arrows from, a bit disheartened to not find him amongst the gathered crowd.

She returned her gaze to the man that had addressed her, her own eyes troubled as she brought no good news to these people.

"Vallan is burned," she said. "I rode up to it this morning to find it still smoldering, the gates smashed, bodies in the streets. The witch's doing. There are some who survived. Lord Toyle and a few of his knights. Some commoners as well and... travelers."

She did not elaborate further on the lizard-like creature, Arun-Ja, still unsure what to make of him herself.

"Was the attack here just last night as well?" she asked, trying to put a timeline together in her head. Had the witch split her forces? Or simply attacked one and then moved to the other?