Our adventurers respond to the sounds of shambling undead with vigor. Boarding-up windows and blocking doors with magic, prayer and as much debris as could be found in the crumbling church.
Still the unrelenting force of the zombie horde made its way though. each wave of undead forcing them to replenish their defenses.
Nameless soon found out that even though his physical body was constructed of un-living matter[wood, stone and metal] the small shard eminating necrotic energies made him a prime target of their would-be invaders.
Short work was made of the forces, and as dawn's first light crested the peaks of the Dawnforge mountains in the east, the horde shrank back into the mire of the Witchlight Fens, the sun's radiant light too much for them.
Finally able to get some sleep after a night like that, the group made haste to the shattered tower the halfings had directed them to.
Half a day's travel south took them out of the march and into an open grassland, small groups of trees dot the landscape and the edges of the southern reaches of the Harken forest could be spotted in the distant east. Unrelenting rains and a thick fog surrounded them as they made their was up the hillocks to the base of the tower where a small camp and a sputtering fire awaited them.
Men dressed in drab clothing, calling themselves masons in the service to a suspicious man named Celik, heralded the group's arrival with a shower of crossbow bolts. After a quick skirmish, with Celik left dead, and one rogue escaping the group's ire, the last crossbowman drops down a hole punched into the base of the tower ruin, bringing the arrival of our adventurer's to his other companion's attention.
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