Disquiet Dead
Searing 12, 124
The Kythera Expedition was bedeviled with a hundred small setbacks and surprises over the course of its first month; but these things were to be expected. Ooklo was an experienced commander, and well-versed in the peculiar dangers of the jungle and plains of central Ecith. Between his scouts and the shield team's timely intervention, even the minor threats which popped up on the march were generally taken care of before the satchel team and the flood hippos arrived. Given the success of the journey thus far and the sheer amount of time spent on the road, it would not have been much of a surprise if Major Alua had grown complacent- but she did not. Indeed, as they drew nearer the Imperial Marches, the Shield Team's commander seemed to grow increasingly on-edge.
And not without reason.
As the Flood Hippos drew near to the old ruins of the Imperium's advance, strange and worrisome messages began to return from the Windwalker's scouts. Tales of fully-armored phantasms on the edges of sight, watching the scouts from a distance, of noises in the dead of night like the hissing of pistons and the whir of gears. Finally, on the night of the 11th of Searing, those asleep in the forward camp were wakened by the sound of distant explosions to the south. Alua dispatched scouts at once, and the rest of the Shield Team waited for their return, unsure whether to return to sleep or prepare for engagement. Certainty would not come that night.
On the morning of the 12th, however, Alua called a meeting of the Shield team, as well as those among the Satchel team who were in the vanguard of the convoy. She did not wait for the entire group to assemble, and stragglers were still stumbling into the hastily-erected pavilion on the river's edge when she began to explain the situation.
"I assume you all heard the commotion last night," she said, clearly not preoccupied with pleasantries, "Our scouts have looked into it, and I've just got back the reports. It came from the Imperial Marches."
The Major turned to the chart which was tacked up on a stake, a rough map of Northern Ecith which showed a dotted line following the river down to Kythera. She stabbed an area on the southern section of the map with one finger, practically glaring at it.
"There has always been a certain level of undead activity in this region, ever since the armies of the Imperium met their end here. Now, however, it seems that the haunts have consolidated into a rough simulacrum of the order they had in life." The Major sniffed, clearly unhappy to give the Commonwealth's arch-enemies even that much credit, even in death. "The Great Witch says that she believes this to be an aftereffect of the Eclipse, an imbalance in the aether which comprises those souls. I'm not interested in the whys, but we need to know whether these restless spirits are a threat to the convoy before the Flood Hippos enter the Marches. If they're organized and aware enough to see us as a threat, the hippos aren't going to be able to avoid a night attack."
Waving again at the chart, the Major turned back towards the people who had assembled in the little pavilion.
"I need some people to go down there, discover the extent of the issue, and either neutralize it or confirm that we can pass safely. We've only got about three days before the convoy gets in close, so you'll need to be in-and-out. Any volunteers?"
