Gemma placed the poop on top of her spellbook
Durn placed the poop on top of their food.
Apparently, commoners could earn a few coins by searching pastures for dried up dung if they paid a farmer for the privilege. She’d had no idea that could be a job. But here she was out in the fields looking for poop. They were both carrying big, square, (and well used) wicker baskets on their backs, in the bottoms of which they’d stashed sacks containing their belongings. And they were piling poop on top of it all.
It had been easy enough to leave Amber. Durn told the guards he’d run out of drinking money and was dragging this serving girl out with him to help make a few coppers. He seemed to be well known to them, which made sense considering there weren’t many dwarves in town. He kept them laughing while they conversed, and no one spared her a second glance during the exchange. All she’d had to do was wear her hood and avoid eye contact.
Now they were beyond the pastures, having discreetly moved away from the farmsteads and deeper into the wilds. The cow pies could be used for fuel when dried, Durn explained, and the grasses the cows ate were actually somewhat aromatic coming out the other side. She realized they wouldn’t get far tonight since it was already dusk. Durn thought it might take three days to get to Boulderham, two if they were lucky. Gemma sighed inwardly. There was a lot of flaming poop in her future.
Before long they had a small fire going, well hidden in a copse of spruce trees. Gemma was a bit reluctant to eat her dinner, even though she knew the dung hadn’t actually touched any of the food. The meal consisted of some cured meat and a hard bread-like provision, twisted and coated with salt. Durn said they were a dwarven creation called “pret-sells” or something. They were good for long journeys and went well with the whiskey that he had in abundance.
Which was another new experience. She was offered her first taste and suddenly couldn’t eat her dinner fast enough to ease the burning sensation in her throat. How Durn could drink it so easily was a mystery to her! But with some merry encouragement from Durn she drank two small glasses and found it was rather enjoyable. After dinner was finished she felt warm and tipsy and was able to sleep easily. He chuckled to himself and reclined by the fire, nodding off as well.
* * *
The air had that fresh smell you only get when you’re outdoors and away from everything. The sun hadn’t come up yet but he could sense dawn wasn’t far off. His face was cold but he was otherwise comfortable wrapped in his coat and blanket. The weight of his axe was reassuring, his hand on the grip as it rested on his chest. But had he heard something?
Zeff’s eyes popped open, but he didn’t move. He lay still and listened. Nothing. Maybe he’d only been dreaming. He sat up and looked around. The eastern sky was just starting to grow brighter but it would be some time before the sun peeked over the distant mountains Nothing looked out of place, so why did he feel uneasy?
The sky continued to brighten. Zeff tried to appreciate and be part of the stillness but something was off. Dessa eventually stirred, attempting to simultaneously stretch and retain the warmth of her bedding. Failing to keep out the cold she sat up, looked around, and casually noted how quiet it was.
And that was it. It was actually too quiet. No birds, no rodents, not even a breeze. He stood and got a better look at their surroundings. “We shouldn’t stay long. I don’t think it’s safe here.” Dessa woke up fully with that comment and stood up to look around, attempting to perceive the threat that was hidden from Zeff.
They decided to break camp after a quick breakfast. Zeff collected fuel for a fire while Dessa prayed to her god, seeking guidance and blessings for the coming day. He did a short circuit around the camp, spiraling out wider in search of things to burn. He had a fair armload when he wandered near the hobgoblin’s resting place.
Zeff approached the scene with intensifying unease. Sagebrush obscured the body, but he could tell from the lack of movement that the vultures were gone, adding to the quiet. Stepping closer, he could see over the brush, getting an unobstructed view of the body… of a vulture. The hobgoblin corpse was gone, replaced by the mangled and half eaten scavenger.
Where the hells was it? A groan from behind him gave him his answer. The hobgoblin rose from its prone position, very obviously dead, and shuffled toward him. It was between him and the camp, where he’d very inconveniently left his axe. He dropped the firewood except for the sturdiest piece, which still wasn’t much of a weapon. “Dessa! Axe!” He swung the stick, hitting it on the elbow to seemingly no effect except for splintering his makeshift club. The zombie responded with its fist, slamming Zeff in the chest and eliciting a grunt of pain from the half orc.
Zeff noticed two things. The painfully obvious fact was that the zombie was much stronger than a living hobgoblin would have been. But it was also much slower, practically standing still in front of him instead of following up with another strike. He was inclined to just run away from it, drawing it away until he could circle back and get his weapon, when Dessa gave a battle cry and shot it with her bow.
Zeff found himself staring at the point of an arrow poking from the zombie’s chest, but it didn’t seem to bother it much. It spun toward Dessa, who was frantically readying another arrow even after the first one didn’t hurt it. Before it could pummel her Zeff gave it a hard sideways shove and knocked it off balance. He charged past it, grabbed Dessa’s wrist and half dragged her towards the camp.
He looked over his shoulder to see the zombie recover and begin to follow. “That wasn’t my axe!” He roared. Dessa snatched her hand from his and gave him an angry look as they reached the camp. She turned to face the unholy creature while Zeff leapt across the site and snatched up his weapon.
He raced back to Dessa, who was facing the approaching zombie with a bent bow. Zeff moved between them as he charged. Dessa managed to scream “No!” as she released the bowstring. The shot went wild, missing Zeff and the zombie, while Zeff swung his axe, missing while trying to avoid getting shot in the back.
The undead hobgoblin wasn’t hampered by friends or thoughts of self preservation. It managed to land another painful hit on Zeff, whose side convulsed in an attempt to mitigate the pain.
Dessa saw the need to change tactics. Touching Zeff’s back, she prayed “Great Erastil, by your will, give this idiot the strength to finish the hunt.” Zeff felt the blessings of the deity flood through him, easing his pain. He would definitely overlook the name calling for that! Without hesitation he brought his axe high above his head, and then down in a two handed swing so forceful that it cleaved the zombie from shoulder to hip while simultaneously pile driving it to the ground.
It was quiet again, but the world seemed calmer now that the undead threat was destroyed. A few small birds left the cover of the brush and flew away. “Are you alright?” The question came from both of them at once, and was followed by a mutual chuckle and a sigh of relief. A fire could wait. They hastily broke camp and started after the remaining hobgoblins. Whatever dragged off the other body wasn’t something either of them wanted to meet.
Back on the trail, Zeff smirked and held up his weapon “An axe looks like this, by the way.” Dessa tried not to smirk back.