Jim became aware of his new surroundings, a wooden cabin, a barracks of a sort. The smell of death and the heat of flames was immediately felt. A half dozen men stood behind barricaded doors staring at the confused priest whose appearance had been summoned.
Stepping forward from the group, a warrior whose family crest carried the same symbol of Pharasma that was Jim’s order, offered his blood stained hand in grim greeting. “I am Caravose and we are the last. The Black Tar Orc’s have our cabin surrounded and will soon burn us out.”
“Your faith is rewarded,” responded Jim, “I can summon water to put out the flame…” Jim’s voice trailed off to the sound of the men’s grim laughter.
“There are over five hundred orc’s out there, enhanced by some dark wizard of death.” Caravose explained, “I didn’t pray for you to save us from death, priest. I brought you to prevent them from turning us into undeath as they do all the others….
