Our recent foray into the troubled town of Ashwood proved to be a descent into a nightmare far deeper than we initially imagined. Drawn by the desperate pleas of our friend Talia, the innkeeper of the Rook's Rest, we arrived to find a once-charming village cloaked in an oppressive gloom. The heavy rain and darkened skies seemed to mirror the despair that had gripped the hearts of the townsfolk.
Talia’s words painted a grim picture: an ancient evil had stirred beneath the local church, the Church of Lithander. Father Bracken and several brave, or perhaps foolhardy, souls had vanished while excavating a long-sealed section of the crypts. Their disappearance was followed by more, trails of blood becoming a terrifying testament to the horrors that now lurked within the sacred grounds. Fear had choked the town, and we were their last hope.
Before venturing into the unknown, we encountered a grieving man in the inn, his loss a stark reminder of the stakes. He spoke of his family being taken by creatures that defied easy categorization – seemingly human, yet rotting, and accompanied by the stench of ash and sulfur. His description stirred a chilling memory within our ranks: tales of infernal zombies, animated by dark magic, radiating a fiery inner light, and carrying a deadly wasting disease.
The church itself was a scene of devastation. Broken doors and shattered windows offered little resistance to the elements, and the air within was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and sulfur. A gruesome trail of blood snaked through the ruined pews, past the remains of a shattered statue dedicated to the morning lord, leading towards imposing metal doors adorned with a golden sunset. Corpses lay scattered, some burned beyond recognition, others brutally mangled, all facing the entrance in a final, silent flight.
Our investigation led us to Father Bracken's journal, its final entry hinting at the source of the trouble: the expansion of the church's crypts into a long-sealed area. This confirmed our fears that the missing townsfolk were likely trapped below. The heavy golden doors, despite a broken lever, eventually yielded to our efforts, revealing a dark, foreboding stairwell.
The descent into the crypt was treacherous. The stone steps were slick with fresh blood, a grim omen of what lay below. One of our party learned this firsthand, a sudden slip sending them tumbling into the darkness, landing amidst a horrifying pile of bloodied bones teeming with maggots.
The crypt opened into a chamber with pools of stagnant blood, the air heavy with the stench of decay. Corpses lined the walls in shadowy alcoves, their states ranging from the freshly deceased to the long-rotted. The thickest trail of blood led us to another sealed door. Beyond it, a larger room held a pulsing gem atop a pedestal, its light casting eerie shadows on more alcoves filled with the remains of warriors. Here, we were met with the animated dead: skeletons and a sinew priest, guardians brought to unlife by the corrupted energy of the gem.
Our exploration of the crypt revealed further horrors: pale, emaciated figures devouring the bodies of priests, and more infernal zombies, their fiery gazes burning through the darkness. One of these undead was identified as a “book,” a malevolent entity from ancient lore.
In the deepest parts of the crypt, we discovered evidence of dark rituals and sacrifices. A door sealed by blood magic led us to a chamber with an obsidian altar and five mahogany coffins, each bearing a name. The spectral form of Eliza, a woman tragically murdered, lingered here, seemingly bound to her remains. We learned that the five individuals whose names adorned the coffins were likely her killers. After a confrontation, we were able to defeat Eliza, hoping to finally grant her peace.
Emerging from the darkness, we returned to Ashwood, bearing the weight of our experiences. Talia and the remaining townsfolk were deeply grateful for our intervention. Though the cost had been high, we had managed to quell the immediate evil, destroy the undead plaguing the town, and perhaps bring some measure of closure to the tormented spirits within the crypts. Our reward of 150 gold pieces felt meager compared to the horrors we had witnessed, but the gratitude of the saved and the knowledge that we had stemmed the tide of darkness was a reward in itself. And as the dust settled, we found ourselves hardened, our resolve tested, and ready for whatever new challenges lay ahead, now as fifth-level adventurers.