When they awoke the next morning, there was a light snow falling. There were some new faces. For one, Dingus Bobingus had returned. There was also a third giant hulking menace in the form of Ulrich Gud, a 6’8” paladin with a glowing axe and an occasional Russian accent, and a mysterious hooded assassin who introduced himself as Feloriel Mithyeaseer. Dingus and the two newcomers say they’ve teleported here from a desert, where the sun beat down on them relentlessly for an unknowable period of time. Dingus, for one, is glad to be back, and he’s got a nasty sunburn.
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| Too spooky. |
They hiked up the mountain. Towards evening, Ulrich began to get a tingling sensation in his head that told him there were undead creatures near. They came upon a pathway into the forest, where they could just make out a crumbling church and an old graveyard. The party agreed it was too spooky, and continued on up the original path.
Soon, the path was running alongside an aqueduct, clearly of imperial design. They saw a guard tower up ahead, in which a fire was burning. Sneaking up to the base of the tower, they could hear bickering goblins up above. They lured one down and killed it. They climbed up and killed a second and a third, and discovered a little boy tied up.
“Thank you for saving me!” he said. “But please, come with me – orcs have tied up my family to eat them for Christmas dinner! They gave me to the goblins because I was littlest!”
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| Zombie goblins. Undead. |
Ulrich didn’t trust the kid and brandished his axe threateningly in his face. Timmy, the boy, was terrified and swore not to betray them.
In the meantime, several goblins had lurched out of the woods and were shambling towards them. The gang kicked the shit out of one until it was almost dead. They told the child that, to earn their trust, he would have to stab this goblin to death.
In a frenzy, the boy attacked it, but despite plunging the dagger in over and over, the goblin kept coming. They tried killing it themselves, but it still wouldn’t die.
“The legend must be true!” said the boy. “You can’t kill zombies on Christmas!”
More zombies come staggering out of the trees. Timmy leads them up the road and through the woods to his family's hut, the zombies in slow, shuffling pursuit. There are five worgs guarding the cottage, and inside they hear screams of pain and coarse laughter.
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| Orc shaman. Way dead. |
Peeking in the window, they saw a large Orc Shaman, adorned with magical trinkets, and several other orcs grilling the severed legs of the boy’s father over the fire. Dingus and Feloriel climbed to the roof and blocked up the chimney, filling the cottage with smoke. Dr Sleaze snuck around back and inspected the chicken coop, discovering a bag full of ears. Droog, Baron and Ulrich utterly destroyed the worgs out front.
At the same moment that Droog, Baron and Ulrich bust in the front door, Feloriel and Dingus drop down the chimney, and Dr Sleaze hops in a back window. The scene inside is utter chaos, as blood flies and the family screams. Timmy appeared, and charged the Orc Shaman with the dagger – someone fired a killing shot as the orc was about to decapitate the boy.
As orc blood is soaking into the floor, a window is busted in and a shambling figure starts climbing in the window moaning for brains. But the clock strikes 12:01, and the zombie suddenly looks much healthier. “Uncle Farg!” the boy says. “He’s come for Christmas dinner!”
They all sat down to a celebratory dinner of Father’s leg steaks. They patched up Father’s leg stumps, and tapped a large barrel of wine to get him drunk enough not to feel the pain. Merry Christmas, everyone.
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