A Murmur of Moonshadow: The Water of the Wards

It was quickly noticed, upon the first explorations of the the ruined keep, that the corruption that so infested the forest without did not appear to lurk within. Indeed, this discovery lured a great many into a false sense of security; though this fallacious comfort was soon lost when many of the first patrols did not return. Of course this was nothing compared to the horror bought about by the return of these patrols as shambling mockeries to the sanctity of life.

The discovery of the reason behind this seeming isle of purity amidst an ocean of corruption owes itself to the return of an overdue ranger with his companion slung over his shoulder.

The moons were setting, and the mists rising, as he stumbled back to camp. By this time, only the brave or foolhardy dared set foot outside the wards, even under bright lunae light. Down the overgrown path he came, one step after another, the dead shambling three steps behind, their silent pursuit of their former companions an all too common sight for failed expeditions. The gate guards were quick, already it had been learned that the dead could not come within the wards, though their patience at waiting without, unmoving and slowly rotting, still unnerved many.

On he came, wounded, his companion thrashing and screaming in his arms, hope blazing in his eyes. The mists this night were unusually thick, the walls were already slick with droplets of moon-dew, the ground already soaked.... This night the treacherous ground claimed its victim and the ranger slipped upon the last step to safety, his head dashed against the very walls he had sought to reach. His hope extinguished and his burden falling against the dripping runed wall as the gates closed to seal off the oncoming dead.

Both lay there, safe from the dead that halted but a step away, quickly dispatched by trained men upon the walls. The ranger's companion quickly quietened as soon as the water touched his skin, the guards thought he too had expired. However the sudden renewal of his screaming disabused them of this notion, the sudden coherence in it shocked the guards into action, his rescue swift and organised. It transpired, when the man was in and his companion had been `prepared' so as to avoid cruel revival, that he had breathed deep of the black fungi and could remember naught but the most horrific nightmares till awakening against the warded walls. No trace of the black fungi remained and one of the brighter healers quickly realised that not only would water taken from the warded walls push back the black fungi, it would also aid against other forms of corruption inflicted by the forest. We finally had a weapon against the forest and, surprisingly, against out own dead.

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