The next day is hotter than ever, and Oerth's sun shines out of a cloudless sky. However, a blot of smoke mars the northwestern horizon...the direction that you are riding.
You move forward carefully.
At the peak of Sadgill Pass you find the source of the smoke.
Up until last night the top of the pass was also the home of several hundred gnomes, who made a living collecting tolls as well as trading and supplying the travelers along this trail. Now, as you ride into the settlement, all you see are gutted holes in the hillside, still spewing smoke, and the bodies of scores upon scores of gnomes, lying before their entrances. Most of the corpses have been hewed and mutilated. Regardless of the world you are from, it is easy to recognise the work of orcs, though none of their bodies are present. If the gnomes cut any of their attackers down, then the victors took away their dead.
You ride slowly through the scene of carnage, keeping an anxious eye out for the assailants, your noses wrinkling thanks to the smell of the festering corpses.
"Hullo," says Robert, drawing up suddenly, "Here's a live one!"
He points at a pile of gnome corpses. Near the bottom, all but covered by mutilated bodies, the head of a breathing young gnome sticks out of the pile, staring back at Robert in wide-eyed surprise.
Lo runs over and starts to unpile the bodies, to pull the live gnome out as quickly as he can.
"Are you alright?" he asks, hoping he will be told what has happened and by whom.
Drandar also helps to free the gnome from the pile.
"Lad, what happened here?" he asks.
As the others assist the young gnome out of the pile, Zanax scans the area for evil.
Fishing the gnome out from under the pile of bodies, you find him to be bloodied (apparently with his own blood as well as others) and weak from blood loss. He has what was a nasty wound in his chest, now partially healed.
Orlon cast sa couple of cure light wounds spells on him.
"Orlon, do you want to expend more spells or should I use my talent to heal him the rest of the way?"
Orlon's spells heal the wounds completely, though he is very weak and unable to stand without help.
You all see a stocky gnome with frizzy brown hair and dark brown eyes. You judge him to be around 5' in height. His hands are gnarled and he is missing a lower front tooth. Around his right wrist is a leather strap which is attached to a hammer. He is dressed in leather armor that looks fairly new, except for the signs of recent battle.
"I am all right, I think," the gnome replies, shakily. "How long have I been unconscious and what has happened to the rest of my village? Did you help fight off the orcs and the black rider?"
One of the elves in the party responds. "We don't know how long you were out or what happened here. We only just arrived. We were looking for any other survivors."
He grimaces. "How many orcs and who was the black rider?
"I am Darian Trist and these others are friends of mine. We help you and any other survivors as best we can."
The gnome stares blankly at the elf. He stands up, wobbling a bit, then slowly gazes around him. After a moment, he looks at the elf.
"I'm sorry, what was your question?" he asks.
"Orlon, you wouldn't happen to have a detect life spell handy, would you?"
"Let me check." Orlon thinks about it for a minute, then replies, "Lo and behold, I happen to have prayed for one today. That's a spell I don't use much.
"How would you like me to cast the spell? I mean to say, any particular gnome body?" the cleric asks.
"Oh... I was thinking you could use the spell to check the area. I guess it doesn't work that way?"
"The spell is only good on one being," Orlon answers back.
Darian looks around at the devastation and sighs. "I was hoping we could locate other survivors. If there's no magical way, we'll have to do it by hand."
Orlon pulls his sleeves back. "Let's start digging."
Darian nods and helps lay the gnomes out side by side, checking for anyone that is still alive.
Zanax dismounts and begins to assist in the search for survivors.
You spend the rest of the afternoon searching through the corpses left by the orc raid, but find no other survivors. Gonzo goes into the gnome tunnels, and finds nothing but more bodies, many mutilated by some sort of animal.
Zanax turns invisible and levitates upward to scan the area.
The area seems to be peaceful.
"Malbar, could you show us a map of the area? I remember where things are in relation to each other, but most of these folks have never been on this world."
Malbar rummages through his pack and finally produces a map.
"We are at the bottom right," he says, pointing out the Cairn Hills, "The Greyhawk Ruins are northeast of Greyhawk."
"What now?" asks Robert anxiously, looking about. "I think we should be well away from here by nightfall, in case whoever did this pays a return visit. And what should we do with the bodies?"
Zanax harumphs. "I, for one, would not mind seeing whomever did this return and pay for this heinous crime."
"If we are interested as to what happened here, I can cast 'speak with dead'. Otherwise, let's move on," Orlon suggests.
"Orlon, that is a most excellent idea. Please, converse with some of the dead and see if you can discover who attacked them and how many there were."
"That will help us decide if we should stay and try to take out those who did this or move on because we'd fall before them as this peaceful village did."
"As for the bodies, I think we should make a funeral pyre. It's better than a mass grave..."
Zanax turns to the young gnome. "Unless your people have a preference..?"
The gnome looks at the mass of bodies.
"No one else left alive," he shakes his head in disbelief. "Are you sure? I guess it will be better to burn them, than leave them to the animals."
"Then we will do that. Let our cleric talk to some of the dead to see if we can get a better idea of how many attacked you. Then we will build the pyre and burn them so that they can be at peace."
Orlon finds a body that looks like it was a chief/leader of some type. He then casts speak with dead on the body, waiting for a response.
The eyes open and gaze sightlessly about.
"Who disturbs me in my sleep?" the corpse asks in a hoarse whisper.
Orlon then proceeds to ask the gnome, "Who killed you?"
"A big black orc," comes the whispered reply, "Under the command of a man who smelt of the grave."
Meanwhile, the monk helps with the building of the pyre.
The gnome helps, as well. Occasionally he stops and gazes upon the face of a deceased gnome. During the course of the afternoon, his expression gradually turns from sadness and despair to anger and determination.
Finally, those close to him hear bits of a soft oath, "I swear by the blood...to avenging...complete extermination...face of this Oerth. So pledge I, Kairos, redeemer of Sadgill."
He turns to the party and proclaims, "I am Kairos, the last gnome of Sadgill Pass. I thank you for your help with this terrible chore of putting the dead to rest. I can no longer stay in this place. Whither are you bound and do you need a strong right arm that can wield hammer or dagger?"
"Another strong arm is always welcome," replies a middle aged man who has toiled in silence up to this point. "I am Malbar of Furondy. We are on an errand at the behest of two arch mages from another world, Earth. They have charged us to retrieve Robin, one of the four fabled Swords of Disco Dancing, which they say is secreted away deep in the Greyhawk Ruins. We arrived here through the Terragate a few days ago and are on our way to those ruins now."
"Well met, Kairos, I am Lo, a stranger in this world as well, but I will help you revenge your people, as evil is something that must be stopped cold and quickly!" he replies.
At this point you become aware of the fact that you are being observed.
Another gnome watches you from close by. He is a bright-eyed little gnome hardly three feet high, with a wizened face like a lumpy old potato, and tufts of hair sticking out in all directions from the top of his head.
Darian turns to Kairos, "Someone you know?"
"A friend of yours?" Lo asks the gnome he rescued about the newcomer.
"My uncle," Kairos answers. He runs over and speaks excitedly in gnomish.
The other gnome replies in a few brief, dejected words in gnomish.
Drandar joins in, as does Darian.
Darian looks at Orlon. "Was the man undead?"
Orlon answers, "Nothing else smells of the grave."
Darian shrugs. "Grave digger?"
Orlon shakes his head. "Nah, I doubt it."
Orlon asks the talking head, "Describe the man who smelt of the grave. How many other minions were with the man who smelt of the grave, and from what direction did they come from?"
"He was robed and his features could not be seen, but he was man-sized. There were hundreds of orcs with him. I do not know from which direction they came."
"More importantly, which way did they go?" Zanax asks.
"Yes, which way did they go?" Orlon asks the gnome-head.
"I do not know. I was dead by then."
"I thought that's what you'd tell me," Orlon sighs.
Orlon then cancels the spell and listens to the gnomes.
Darian looks at the others. "If we weren't already on an urgent mission, I'd say we take care of these orcs and the undead guy. Considering the circumstances, I think the best we can do is to tell the guard in Greyhawk and hope that they send help the gnome's way."
Darian spits. "I hated to have to say that."
The smaller gnome looks up, the first time he seems to have taken note of anyone but Kairos.
"Please excuse me," he says in common. "I am discombobulated. Well, that's not my name, no, there wasn't, except insofar as it sometimes seemed to big folk that all gnomes will be discombobulated. And in my experience that was perhaps because..."
Suddenly he trails off. "Sorry, where was I? Oh yes, my name. I'm called...well, obviously I was here in Sagdill pass, when there was a Sagdill pass." He looks at Zanax. "No, what am I thinking? You wanted to know which way they went."
He sticks out a small hand. "Baddenkohrlmspf Herr'Dei. Non-gnomes just call me Badd. They went north."
Zanax shakes the gnome's hand. "Zanax."
Kairos turns to the strangers from Earth.
"My uncle wishes to accompany us as well. Is that OK with you?"
"That will be fine. We're headed to Greyhawk on urgent business. I'm truly sorry about your village. We will talk to the guard when we get to Greyhawk and see if they can't send someone back to take care of the orcs and the undead."
"Thank you," says Badd, in common. "There were hundreds of orcs, anyway, and you are but a few."
He fishes in his backpack for a moment, then walks up to Darian and opens his small fist.
"Would you like some raisins?"
Darian chuckles. "While orcs can act like a swarm and overwhelm you, there are ways of dealing with a swarm. A few dozen fireballs and other such spells thrown from above would winnow down the odds."
Darian takes a couple of raisins from the gnome. "Thank you. Would you like some wine?"
Darian offers his wineskin.
The gnome reaches up for the wineskin. He takes a small draught then hands it back.
"Thank you" he says, then he offers the raisins round. "Fireballs....fire..." he looks around at the burnt wreckage of the village, and shivers.
Badd is a very small unkempt gnome dressed in dun with a grey travelling cloak, and a bow and short sword across his back. He looks pretty morose right now.
Lo surveys the damage.
"Time to move on," he says, as he knows they have a mission to fulfill.
Zanax then turns to the party's guide. "What lies north of here?"
"More hills," replies Malbar, "And eventually you come to the Nyr Dyv."
When the burning of the bodies is done, you set out. It is dinnertime, but none of you are hungry for some reason. Kairos and Badd ride with the dwarves. The trail you are following leads northwest, down the side of Sadgill Pass, and into a valley.
By the time you stop you are some eight miles away from the ruined gnome hold. You post watches this night, but you are unmolested.