Chapter 4 - Retreat

  The fire-lit glow of the burning bandit camp faded into the dense darkness of the forest as Greg and his party pushed forward. The sounds of shouting and confusion remained distant for now, but the half-orc knew better than to assume they were safe. If the bandits mounted a pursuit, it wouldn’t be long before they were on their trail.

  Greg turned to Sienna, who was already scanning the forest floor with sharp eyes. "Now we can take our time covering our tracks. But we still need to keep moving and find a safe spot to rest up for the night."

  He fought back a yawn, his muscles aching with exhaustion, but a glance at their ragged group told him they were barely holding together. Trevor supported Vannis, who was still weak from captivity, and Aren staggered with fatigue. They needed to stop soon, but not yet.

  "Come on, one more hour... then we call it quits."

  Sienna gave a silent nod, moving ahead to obscure their path while Greg kept watch. The others followed, their steps slow and labored but determined.

  * * *

  After a grueling stretch through the uneven forest, Sienna raised a hand, signaling a halt. "I hear water up ahead. A stream. We can use it to mask our trail."

  Greg exhaled, relieved at the prospect. "Let’s cross. We can grab a quick drink, refill our skins, then push another twenty minutes before finding a place to bundle down."

  When they reached the water, Greg tested the footing first. The stream was about fifteen feet across, knee-deep at its deepest point. With a careful step, he gauged the slickness of the rocks beneath.

  "Stay close and follow my steps," he instructed.

  Rolling his shoulders, he waded through the current, guiding each member of the party across. Even Vannis, though weary, managed to make it without slipping thanks to Greg’s firm instructions.

  Once across, Greg nodded toward Sienna. "Now that we’re safely over, we shouldn't have to worry as much about covering our tracks. But we still need a good place to rest."

  Sienna took point again, searching for a concealed campsite while Greg kept watch. His darkvision cut through the night’s shadows, ensuring no threats lurked nearby.

  It wasn’t long before he spotted a promising location—a fallen tree forming a natural overhang against a rocky outcrop. Thick underbrush obscured it further, and the ground beneath was soft with moss and leaves.

  Sienna glanced at it and gave an approving nod. "This'll do. Good eye, Greg."

  * * *

  The group collapsed into the soft earth, their bodies surrendering to exhaustion. Greg let out a weary chuckle, turning to Sienna with an appreciative smile. "Glad we stumbled into you."

  Sienna smirked but didn’t reply, merely rolling her shoulders as she settled into her post.

  Greg exhaled, looking at their barely-conscious charge. "Get your lord situated," he grunted at Aren, "and tuck yourself in too." He handed over what little rations he had left.

  Then, turning to Sienna, he hesitated before asking, "Would you mind taking the first watch? Just wake me when you need to switch."

  She waved a hand dismissively. "I've got it. You’ve done enough for one night. Get some sleep."

  Too tired to argue, Greg lay back, the weight of the night’s battles pressing down on him. The rustling trees and distant chirps of the forest formed a familiar, almost soothing backdrop as he slipped into much-needed rest.

  * * *

  Greg awoke naturally in the pre-dawn hour, his instincts honed from years of survival. The forest was still draped in cool mist, the light barely creeping past the thick canopy.

  Sienna sat nearby, bow resting across her lap, her eyes locked on the treeline. Her form was still, but Greg caught the tension in her shoulders.

  "You should have woken me," he grumbled as he pushed himself up.

  Sienna smirked but didn’t look away from the woods. "Didn’t have the heart to. You needed the rest."

  Greg rolled his shoulders, still sore but much recovered. "Anything happen while I was out?"

  "Nothing too close. If they’re looking for us, they haven’t found us yet."

  Greg nodded, exhaling through his nose. "How are you holding up?"

  Sienna finally turned to him, the weariness evident in her sharp eyes. "Tired. But I’ve gone longer."

  Greg studied her for a moment before offering, "You should get a few hours in. I doubt we'll move until the sun is higher anyway."

  She watched him, gauging his sincerity, before sighing and stretching out her legs. "Alright. But wake me at the first sign of trouble."

  With that, she lay back, her exhaustion catching up almost immediately. Greg adjusted his seat, his keen eyes scanning the forest as he took over the watch.

  The morning stretched on in peaceful quiet. The embers of the fire glowed faintly, and the rhythmic sounds of the wild surrounded him.

  By the time the first rays of sunlight pierced through the trees, Trevor and Aren began to stir, rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

  Greg turned, nudging Sienna awake. "They're up."

  She blinked, stretching before shaking off the stiffness. "Guess I was out longer than I meant to be."

  Greg chuckled. "Bear’s habit. Hibernate when I can."

  Sienna smirked, shaking her head. "Let’s see how our ‘lord’ is holding up."

  Aren checked on Vannis, who stirred groggily, his voice hoarse. "Still alive, then. That’s a welcome surprise."

  Sienna crossed her arms. "You can start with explaining why those bandits went through the trouble of keeping you alive."

  Vannis exhaled, rubbing his face. "I suspect it’s because I was worth more alive than dead."

  Greg listened as Vannis recounted details of the attack, the mention of a mysterious cargo piquing his interest.

  "What’s this about another merchant carrying peculiar cargo?" Greg posed the question as a statement of fact.

  Vannis hesitated. "A man named Feldon Varro. He had a locked wagon, always guarded. I never saw what was inside, but whatever it was, the bandits wanted it."

  Trevor furrowed his brow. "We saw wreckage, but no special wagon. If it was there, someone took it before we arrived."

  Sienna’s expression darkened. "Then someone else is after it."

  Greg rolled his shoulders. "Well, that’s a problem for another day. Our job was getting you out. Now we head for Ormstead."

  Vannis nodded slowly, still piecing together the events in his mind.

  Greg turned to Sienna. "Can you get us there?"

  She smirked. "If you don’t mind cutting through the woods, I can get us there faster."

  Greg nodded, glancing at Trevor and Aren. "Anything to add?"

  Trevor shrugged. "We get him to Ormstead, we get paid. Simple."

  Aren, however, frowned. "What if the bandits are still searching for us?"

  Greg gave a confident grin. "Then they’ll regret it."

  Sienna slung her bow over her shoulder. "Let’s move before you start charging him for every step we take."

  Greg smirked and rolled his shoulders. "Well let’s get to it."

  With that, the party broke camp and set off toward Ormstead, the weight of the night’s trials behind them, but the uncertainty of what lay ahead lingering in the air.

  Chapter 4.5 - Pursuit

  The morning air carried a crisp chill as Greg and his companions pressed on through the thickening forest. Golden beams of sunlight filtered through the canopy, but the deeper they ventured, the more the shadows seemed to stretch and twist unnaturally.

  Sienna led the way, her sharp gaze constantly scanning ahead, ensuring they stayed on the safest path possible. Trevor and Aren kept close to Vannis, ensuring the merchant lord didn’t lag behind, while Greg took up the rear, his senses on high alert.

  For a time, the journey was uneventful, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves beneath their boots and the distant calls of birds. However, after an hour, Sienna suddenly signaled the group to halt, her hand raised in warning.

  “Something’s ahead,” she whispered, crouching low. “Could be nothing, but we’re not alone.”

  Greg instinctively tightened his grip on his greataxe. “Where?”

  Sienna pointed toward the brush fifty yards ahead. “Movement. Can’t tell if it’s an animal or something else.”

  Trevor adjusted his grip on his sword, his eyes narrowing. “If it’s bandits or worse, I’d rather not have them at our backs later.”

  Aren shifted nervously, already recalling the ambush from the night before. Vannis, on the other hand, exhaled sharply, his worry evident.

  Greg considered their options before speaking. “Do you see any path around? You know, should it be some nasty forest fiend taking a snooze?”

  Sienna gave a slight smirk at his attempt at humor but nodded. “There’s a way around, but it’ll cost us time. No guarantee we won’t stumble into something else either.”

  Greg weighed the risks, then decided, “We can sneak past it.”

  Sienna nodded, and with careful movements, the group began weaving through the dense underbrush, doing their best to remain unnoticed. Greg moved as lightly as he could, his footfalls surprisingly quiet for someone of his size. Sienna, as expected, moved with practiced ease. Trevor and Aren did well enough, though Trevor’s armor creaked slightly, but Vannis nearly tripped over a hidden root. However luck was on their side.

  As Greg moved, he caught a glimpse through a break in the foliage—a massive bear-like creature curled in a shallow dip in the earth. Its fur was dark, matted, and coarse, with thick, jagged scars across its form. But what struck Greg most was the unnatural green glow pulsing faintly beneath its hide.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  His grip tightened around his weapon, his gut twisting at the sight. It was the same eerie glow he had seen in the dire wolf the night before.

  Sienna signaled him forward, but he hesitated for only a second longer before following. He didn’t need to know more. Whatever had cursed that wolf had clearly spread to other creatures in the region.

  Once the group was far enough away from the beast, they picked up their pace, pushing further along their chosen path. The encounter left a lingering unease among them.

  “That… was unsettling,” Trevor muttered after a time.

  Greg exhaled through his nose. “I definitely saw a greenish glow… as if coming from within,” he admitted.

  Sienna frowned. “That makes two creatures now.”

  Trevor rubbed the back of his neck. “Great. First undead wolves, now undead bears? What’s next? Deer with glowing eyes?”

  Aren, who had been quiet, swallowed hard. “We should warn Ormstead.”

  Greg nodded. “Does the town even have a standing militia?”

  Sienna shook her head. “Not really. A captain and a small troop, they’re not equipped for this.”

  “Then we better make sure we get there in one piece,” Greg said firmly.

  The group pressed on, but Greg remained ever watchful, his instincts telling him they weren’t entirely alone. Birds took flight in the distance, and the forest grew unnervingly silent at odd intervals. No signs of pursuit were obvious, but something—someone—was out there. Tracking them. Watching them.

  Determined to get ahead of their unseen observers, Greg urged the group to push on without delay.

  * * *

  As the day stretched on, the group kept a steady pace, only pausing briefly to forage for food. Greg’s attempt was met with utter failure, as Sienna had to smack a handful of poisonous berries out of his grasp.

  “This is a bad spot,” Greg muttered, trying to save face. “Let’s just keep moving.”

  More hours passed, and as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, Greg’s instincts flared with unease. The usual sounds of the forest—chirping insects, rustling leaves—had begun to dwindle.

  “We’re being watched,” he murmured under his breath.

  Sienna tensed. “How do you know?”

  Greg’s eyes swept the darkening treeline. “Birds are taking flight behind us. Forest’s too quiet.”

  She cursed softly. “Then we need to find a place to rest, somewhere defensible.” Sienna eventually led them to a natural rock overhang, nestled against a ridge with a small trickling stream nearby.

  “This should do,” she decided. “Good cover, fresh water, and defensible if we need it.”

  Trevor and Aren wasted no time setting up camp, while Sienna kept a sharp watch. Greg, however, had other plans.

  He knelt, closing his eyes and reaching out through his Spirit Seeker connection, hoping to attune himself to the land. Silence met him. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that signified something unnatural had tainted this forest.

  When he opened his eyes, he exhaled sharply.

  “I heard nothing…” he admitted, but the frown on his face told Sienna everything she needed to know.

  She nodded solemnly. “That’s worse than hearing bad news. The quiet means something’s out there—something the animals fear enough to leave.”

  Trevor shifted uneasily, Aren tensed, and even Vannis seemed unnerved.

  Greg straightened. “We’ll stay here for the night, but be ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

  He set up a watch order, ensuring two people would always be awake while the others rested. The plan was simple—watch the night, then push on at first light.

  * * *

  Sienna and Trevor took the first watch, but theirs passed uneventful if not for the uneasy silence. It only worsened for Greg and Aren.

  The forest grew unnervingly still. The half-orc felt it in his bones—it was a stillness that preceded danger. The usual sounds of crickets and rustling leaves had vanished entire, replaced by an oppression that sent a prickle down his spine. As Greg scanned the trees again for the umpteenth time, his gut twisted.

  A figure.

  Just at the edge of his darkvision, humanoid but unmoving. Watching.

  Greg’s fingers tightened around his greataxe. He turned to Aren and whispered, “Wake the others. Now. Quietly.”

  Aren hesitated but obeyed. Meanwhile, Greg kept his eyes locked on the treeline.

  The figure remained still. Too still.

  Then, in the blink of an eye—it was gone.

  Greg exhaled sharply. When Sienna joined him, she crouched low. “What did you see?”

  “Something unnatural,” Greg muttered. “We’re leaving.”

  Sienna glanced around warily, adjusting the grip on her bow. “I don’t like this. I felt something’s been watching us for a while now.”

  Trevor held his spear at the ready, his expression grim. “Do we know what?”

  Greg exhaled deep. “We might if we don't hurry our asses.”

  Within minutes, the camp was packed. Vannis groggily protested but was quickly silenced by Sienna’s sharp glare.

  Greg took point, his voice low but firm. “No torches. Stay close. We’re losing whatever that thing is.”

  The group moved swiftly but carefully through the dense foliage, keeping low as they slipped between the gnarled roots and uneven ground. The moonlight above barely broke through the thick canopy, leaving them in a world of dim shadows and shifting silhouettes.

  But then—crack.

  Greg’s foot came down hard on a rotten branch, shattering it beneath his boot. The noise echoed unnaturally loud in the silence.

  Every muscle in his body tensed.

  A low, guttural growl answered from the trees. Then another. And another.

  From the shadows, they emerged.

  Hunched, elongated figures slithered forth from the blackness, their grotesque forms jerking unnaturally with every step. Their limbs were too long, their joints bending at angles that defied nature. Sunken eyes glowed with a faint, eerie light, and their mouths—far too wide—twitched and gnashed as if struggling to form something close to speech.

  The unnatural silence broke with the sound of their collective breathing—a sickly, rattling wheeze.

  The air turned foul with the scent of rot. Then, in an instant, they charged.

  Greg barely had time to shout before the first creature lunged straight at him. With a roar, he swung his greataxe in a vicious arc, the blade carving deep into the undead’s torso. It shrieked—a sound like dry leaves scraping against stone—but did not fall. Instead, its body twisted unnaturally, as if trying to knit itself back together.

  “The hell—?!”

  Trevor intercepted another, bracing his shield against the monster’s assault. Clawed fingers scraped against the steel, screeching like nails on slate. With a grunt, Trevor shoved the thing back and drove his spear through its midsection. The creature convulsed but didn’t crumple like a normal foe.

  Sienna loosed an arrow, striking one of the monsters clean through the eye. It stumbled, jerking its head unnaturally, then kept coming. This time on all fours.

  “Not dead yet?!” she hissed, nocking another arrow.

  Aren extended a hand, and fire burst forth, engulfing one of the monsters. This time, the thing shrieked as flames consumed its twisted flesh. It writhed, clawing at the fire licking up its limbs, before finally crumpling to the ground, unmoving.

  “Burn them!” Aren shouted. “They’re resisting normal wounds!”

  Greg didn’t need to be told twice. With a savage roar, he wrenched his greataxe free and drove it downward again, cleaving into the monster’s twisted spine. This time, the thing collapsed, its body withering into a grotesque husk.

  “Or put 'em down hard!” he called to the others.

  Trevor, seeing an opening, swept low with his shield, knocking another creature off balance before driving his spear through its exposed throat. The thing let out a sickly, gurgling wheeze before finally collapsing.

  Sienna nocked another arrow, this time dipping the tip into the still-burning corpse Aren had ignited. With a twang, she sent it flying, striking a creature in the chest. Flames ignited across its body, and it thrashed violently before crashing to the ground.

  The tide of battle began to shift.

  Greg and Trevor moved in tandem, cutting down the remaining creatures with brutal efficiency, while Sienna and Aren supported from the rear, keeping any stragglers at bay while shielding Vannis cowering behind them in the bush. One by one, these monsters fell, but their bodies did not fade like typical undead, nor did they fully rot. Instead, they twitched and convulsed, as if trying to get up even after being destroyed. But finally, after several agonizing moments, the forest fell silent once more, save for the heavy breathing of the party.

  Greg planted a boot on one of the corpses and wrenched his axe free, his muscles still taut with adrenaline. “That was new,” he muttered, wiping dark ichor from his blade.

  Trevor wiped his brow, grimacing at the strange, lifeless forms. “They fought like animals. But not like any undead I’ve ever seen.”

  Aren knelt beside one of the fallen, inspecting its grotesque form. “These weren’t ordinary undead. Something changed them. Twisted them into something worse.”

  Sienna retrieved her arrows, her expression grim. “Whatever’s happening in these woods, it’s getting worse. And fast.”

  Greg looked at the others. “No more wasting time. We make for Ormstead. Fast. These things were hunting us, and I wanna be long gone before more of these things show up.”

  No one argued.

  Weapons were sheathed, gear adjusted, and with one last glance at the fallen creatures, the party turned and fled into the night. They continued to push forward through the darkened forest, now racing against whatever horror was spreading its grip over these lands.

  Chapter 5: Arrival

  The journey through the forest stretched into the dead of night, each step forward marked by the relentless exhaustion gripping the party. Greg led the march, pushing on despite the fatigue gnawing at their bones. The earlier battle with the twisted undead still weighed heavily upon them, but the promise of reaching Ormstead kept their legs moving.

  The sky had begun to lighten, shifting from the oppressive black of midnight to the soft purples and grays of dawn. The air remained eerily still, yet the signs of civilization slowly emerged—wagon tracks embedded in the dirt, wooden trail markers carved with simple sigils, and, finally, the scent of burning wood from distant chimneys.

  As they crested a shallow hill, Ormstead came into view.

  Nestled against rolling hills, the settlement was modest but sturdy, encircled by a wooden palisade reinforced with sharpened logs. A small river ran along its side, and a simple wooden bridge stretched across the waters, leading to the town’s main gate. A lone watchtower stood above the entrance, its flickering lantern barely illuminating the figures of two guards standing watch. One leaned lazily against a spear, while the other rubbed sleep from his eyes.

  As the group approached, the more alert of the two guards took notice, nudging his companion before calling out, "Hail, travelers! State your business in Ormstead!"

  Vannis, his robe stained and weatherworn, shifted uncomfortably before turning to Greg, clearly expecting him to handle introductions. Greg sighed inwardly, stepping forward as the others remained cautious.

  “Hail, friends," Greg called out, his voice rough from fatigue. "We are but a small company seeking refuge after a night toiled in those woods." He motioned behind them. "Might we be granted entry?"

  The older guard squinted, shifting his grip on his spear. "That so?" His eyes flicked to Vannis at Greg’s side. "And who might you lot be?"

  Greg placed a firm hand on Vannis’s shoulder and nudged him forward. "We’re accompanying Lord Vannis here, of Daggerford. His caravan ran into a bit of trouble on the road, but we managed to get him here safely enough."

  At the mention of Vannis’s title, the guards exchanged skeptical glances. The younger one spoke up, "Lord Vannis, huh? Didn’t expect a noble to be travelin’ with some mercs instead of a proper escort. Where’s the rest of your train?" His voice carried a note of suspicion.

  Vannis coughed and adjusted his outfit with an air of practiced patience. "If it'd please you to care... I was traveling with an escort, but unfortunate circumstances forced me to rely on these capable individuals instead."

  "If that’s true, then where’s the rest of your caravan?" the older guard pressed.

  Vannis hesitated just a moment before answering smoothly. "Bandits. Undead. Take your pick. We were lucky to make it here at all. Now, if you would kindly open the gate?"

  The two guards muttered to each other before the older one shrugged. "Alright, alright. We ain’t in the business of turnin’ away folk who ain’t causin’ trouble." He signaled to his companion, who disappeared into the tower. Moments later, the heavy wooden gates creaked open just enough for the group to pass through.

  "Welcome to Ormstead," the guard grumbled. "If lookin' for a safe place to rest, you’ll be wantin’ the Rusty Stag. Just keep whatever trouble you found on the road outside our walls, aye?"

  Inside the settlement, Ormstead exuded a quiet resilience. Thatched-roof homes lined the muddy main road, and a few townsfolk were already stirring despite the early hour. The smell of fresh bread and woodsmoke lingered in the crisp morning air.

  Greg lingered behind as the others moved forward, turning back to the guards. "He wasn’t joking about the bandits and undead, you know. I’ve already had my fill of both." He reached into his pack, producing the strange stone collar he had taken from the undead dire wolf. "Between this, a cursed tree, and those twisted corpses we had to cut down a day’s travel from here, something is very wrong in those woods."

  The younger guard paled. The older one frowned deeply, taking the collar with a wary grip. "Ain’t seen work like this before..." he muttered.

  Greg crossed his arms. "I’d raise the alarm if I were you. Those bandits we ran into? They weren’t the only ones out there."

  The older guard chewed on his lip before nodding. "Captain Eldrick should hear this. You get your rest at the Stag, but when you’re fit, report to him at the barracks. If what you’re sayin’ is true, we’ll need to act quick."

  Handing the collar back to Greg, the guard stepped back. "Go, get your rest. Sounds like you earned it."

  Greg gave a nod of thanks and turned on his heel, catching up with the others as they made their way toward the inn.

  * * *

  The Rusty Stag was a simple but well-kept establishment, its wooden sign carved with the image of a stag’s head adorned with a crown-like wreath. Warm light spilled through its windows, the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread drifting from within. Inside, the common room was lively but not rowdy, a few patrons nursing drinks while others engaged in quiet conversation.

  Behind the counter, a stout woman with graying auburn hair polished a mug with a practiced ease. Her sharp hazel eyes flicked to the party as they entered, lingering on their travel-worn state.

  “Newcomers, huh?” she mused, setting the mug aside. “And by the looks of you, not just passing through for a leisurely visit. What’s your business?”

  "Beds, please," Greg said, his voice strained from exhaustion. "How much for a room or two?"

  The innkeeper gave him a once-over before replying, "Five silver a night. Two rooms should do fine—unless Lord Fancy over there needs his own space."

  Vannis sighed, producing one of the few gold pieces left from his concealed pouch. "Two rooms will do. And whatever warm meal you have left this late."

  The innkeeper took the coin, nodding. "Stew’s still hot. I’ll have it brought up."

  She slid two keys across the counter. "Up the stairs, second and third doors on the right. Keep the ruckus down—I like my customers breathing when they wake up."

  Greg exhaled, feeling the weight of travel lifting slightly at the prospect of a real bed. "I’ll share a room with Sienna," he announced bluntly. "Too tired to try anything funny."

  Sienna rolled her eyes but didn’t protest, snatching the key before Greg could. "If you snore like a dying mule, I’m kicking you to the floor."

  Across the hall, Trevor, Aren, and Vannis claimed the other room. Greg let out a sigh of relief as he sank onto the mattress, letting the exhaustion take him.

  As sleep claimed him, the dangers of the forest faded—for now, at least. The battle for Ormstead would wait for another day.

  part 2 is fully posted.

  Again, it is roughly 90% accurate to the actual gameplay.

  Which did not happen in the gameplay. But I had enough with the fourth go-around of inputs to splice together enough from each rendition to re-create the scene that had happened.

  Retreat in his expectation to be well-compensated for his rescue.

  I will probably go back at some part to run that entire conversation back through the ChatGPT as its own scene to try and get a better result.

  But all-in-all, not a bad second draft.